Ramadaan on Dorp Street

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“I look forward to the month of Ramadaan, as it is a time for me to give back. Every morning, when I wake up, I can’t wait to be here.” Uncle Dickie gestures for me to have a seat on the plastic chair beside him. He lifts a one-metre-long wooden spoon and begins to stir the soup in the first 100-litre pot.
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Allah, Subhanahu Wa Ta Ala (the most glorified and the highest), states that it is incumbent on all Muslims to fast during the month of Ramadaan. We fast by giving up all food and water from dusk until dawn, as it is one of the five pillars of Islam. When I was younger, each day during the month of Ramadaan, just before Magrieb (sunset) and iftar (the meal eaten at sunset to break fasting), I would have to send koekies (cakes and savouries) to my neighbours here on Upper Dorp Street. As I was a little boy, sending koekies during Ramadaan was the highlight of my day. Excitedly, I would stand and marvel in the kitchen of each of the neighbouring families, ready to exchange with them what my mother had prepared.

As I’ve gotten older, and the demands of the nine-to-five have become more time-consuming, I’ve noticed that it’s been hard to uphold the month-long custom of exchanging koekies for iftar with one’s neighbours. In recent years, specifically 2020 and 2021, COVID-19 has also stripped us of truly connecting with our neighbours, but with restrictions subsiding, it is good to see many are beginning to uphold the custom again.

“Am I truly that busy that I can’t take an hour and a half to send koekies as I once did?” was the thought that popped into my head today, so I decided that pandemic or not, I would not wait until Eid al-Fitr to see my neighbours. So, as I stand on my stoep, looking up at the two rows of houses, I make the niyyah (intention) to pop around to each home and ask my neighbours what makes Ramadaan so special here on our street.

The first home on my routine was always the Solomons, as they live directly across from me. Previously, I jolted up each of the ten steps that lead to their home, but now, at age 27, I take my time climbing each step – because I’m older and must save my energy while fasting. After two knocks at the door, which is always open and welcoming to everyone, I enter and bellow, “Asalamualaykum” (May peace be upon you), into the home and to all its inhabitants. The home smells of tantalising spices, because Tharwah Solomons is busy with her daltjie (chilli bite) mixture. In the kitchen, she stands hunched over a large, plastic, grey mixing bowl, twisting her hands in the doughy concoction. The home still looks the same, as I remember; the only difference is that Oumie (Gadija Solomons) and Dede (Abdullah Solomons) (Rahmatulla Alay Hum – may God’s mercy be upon them both) are no longer here with us.

“You know, Oumie never used to make daltjies,” Tharwah begins to tell me, while adding a little crushed chilli into the bowl. “In every street, there’s always one lady who makes the best daltjies, and in our home, we always depended on the late Aunty Naylah Cassiem Khan. When she passed away, I taught myself after watching a YouTube video, and here we are.

“Ramadaan is very exciting, as it is one month when everyone is at ease. People are more giving. You get to see one child who never prays, pray,” Tharwah relays, as she turns on her gas stove, while we both stand in anticipation of the oil heating up. “I also like that everyone becomes humble and giving, especially here in Bo-Kaap. We still see people uphold old traditions.”

Into the kitchen walks Tharwah’s cousin, Labeeqah Cassiem. She points to the opening of their yard door, and she joins in on the conversation. “Here we are, busy in the kitchen, and we might not have the time to sit down and recite the Quran ourselves, but we are lucky to listen to recitation over the speaker from Leeuwen Street Mosque – that’s what also makes Ramadaan in Bo-Kaap so special.”

Tharwah finally takes the first scoop from her daltjie mix and twists off any extra pieces hanging from under the metal spoon, and with one intricate flick, a small dollop of daltjie mix falls into a ball in the hot oil, while I stand watching her, impressed with her dexterity. Before I leave her home, she hands me a plate filled with daltjies, reminding me that I shouldn’t forget to give her a review.

Tharwah Solomons, 33, showing off her impressive self-taught daltjie skills

Two houses from me live the Noordien clan. The semi-detached houses on our side of the road were all built the same, approximately 35 years ago, and as I enter their home, it’s like walking into mine, but just the walls are painted differently and the furniture is different, too. The kitchen is filled with smells of soup and spicy tomato pizza sauce, as Aunty Rachmat and her daughters, Hajiera and Naeemah, are collectively preparing food for iftar.

Rachmat Noordien, 66, stands proudly, pictured with her daughters Naeemah Noordien, 32, and Hajiera Noordien, 42, outside their home.

Hajiera, the eldest daughter, reminisces about her childhood here on Dorp Street. “What makes Ramadaan so special here on Dorp Street?” Hajiera repeats, thinking before answering. “What I remember from the month of Ramadaan is how Dede used to walk down the road every morning for suhoor (the breakfast meal consumed before fasting) and knock loudly on each neighbour’s door to see that everyone was awake –”

“Do you remember Dede?” interjects Aunty Rachmat calmly, as she dices green pepper on her wooden cutting board, and I nod respectfully, telling Aunty Rachmat that I could never forget him.

“I also remember how we could walk over to Aunty Beira’s house, and we were allowed to sit and eat whatever she made for iftar,” continues Hajiera. “And, when your mom would make bread, she would go out of her way to make some for our home as well. If our family needed to freeze soup, and there wasn’t space in our freezer, we could take it next door to Aunty Naylah. In Hout Bay, where I currently live, you don’t get that.

“I also like the fact that when it was the last five minutes before the athaan (the call to prayer that also signals the time to break fasting), some neighbours would be outside, sitting and waiting. I remember how in those last five minutes, I could see my aunt in the flats, and I’d stand in the middle of the road and jump up and down and wave at her. Those might seem like silly things, but I could never forget those memories.”

Into the kitchen walks little Raqeeb, Naeemah’s son, in his blue salaah thobe, ready to join his Aunty Hajierah in taking koekies away. “COVID has taken so much away from us, but we are trying to pass the tradition on to the next generation. My nephew goes to mosque now, and tonight he and I will excitedly take koekies away,” Hajiera adds proudly before they walk, hand in hand, out the front door.

Little Raqeeb, 6, and his aunty, Hajiera Noordien, 42, en route to take koekies to the neighbours on Dorp Street

Next door to the Noordiens is the home of the Ismails. After knocking on their door, I’m told that Uncle Sedick Ismail, the patriarch, and known to many as Uncle Dickie, is not at home, as he is at the Bo-Kaap Cultural Hub volunteering at their annual Ramadaan soup kitchen, so I decide to walk up to seek him, because there’s still a lot of time before iftar.

“Zubayr! Salaam!” greets Uncle Dickie in the same melodious tone I’ve heard from him for my entire life, after I enter the yard section of the Bo-Kaap Cultural Hub. We shake hands and I ask him to share a few words.

“I look forward to the month of Ramadaan, as it is a time for me to give back. Every morning, when I wake up, I can’t wait to be here.” Uncle Dickie gestures for me to have a seat on the plastic chair beside him. He lifts a one-metre-long wooden spoon and begins to stir the soup in the first 100-litre pot. “It does not matter if the person has a Porsche or Merc, because the soup we make here is for the community and anyone in need,” Uncle Dickie continues to explain. “I want to encourage the people out there to do everything with love and passion. When we volunteer and give zakaa (almsgiving to those in need), we do not do it to show off to other people. We must always have good intentions, because everything we do must be to please Allah.” As Uncle Dickie moves to the third pot and stirs with precision, I’m reminded that we as Muslims should not view the five pillars of Islam in isolation. For instance, we understand that fasting and performing our salaah (prayer) are interconnected, and I also realise that we must not forget about how it is important to give zakaa, especially during the month of Ramadaan.

Sedick Ismail, 62, at the Bo-Kaap Cultural Hub, completing the final preparations of the pots of soup before it is served to those in need

Ragmat Khan, 81, and Naseba Edwards, 82, graciously offer their time at the soup kitchen each day.

After returning to Dorp Street from the Bo-Kaap Cultural Hub, I walk towards the home of the Kalam family, which is situated directly opposite the Noordiens and Ismails. As a child, I jetted in and out of their home, because their mother, Aunty Beira, had the only house-shop here on Dorp Street. If I wasn’t sent over to Aunty Beira to buy a 1,5-litre returnable Coke bottle, I was buying either ice suckers or small packets of chips, and, depending on the season, my friend circle and I would be buying Aunty Beira’s tols (spinning tops), gatties (marbles) or klappetjies (fire crackers). Those are all memories now, as both Aunty Beira and Boeta Ismail Kalam (Rahmatulla Alay Hum) are wafaa dunya (departed from this world).

While entering their home, I try not to think of Aunty Beira and Boeta Ismail with sadness in my heart, as we should commemorate and cherish the memories we have of those who are no longer with us. To my left, in the dining room, sits Salie Kalam on Aunty Beira’s chair, and at the end of the passageway I see his wife, Faziela, in the kitchen preparing for iftar. I ask him to join me in the kitchen, so that I can hear about his memories of his beloved parents.

“Here in Oumie’s house, it didn’t matter who you were, she would give, and people respected her for that. She also loved children. I still remember how the children would come support her tuck shop, and because it was Ramadaan, Oumie would just give the chips and other stuff away.” Salie pauses as he takes a seat on the wooden staircase behind him. “What can I say about Oupie?” Salie thinks aloud, and his eyes begin to light up as he reminisces about his late father. “In the mornings, he used to make kwaai (nice) porridge and give it to the neighbour’s children. He also loved sitting on our stoep, sharing his memories of both Bo-Kaap and District Six. Both my parents just liked to give. When the children came with koekies, Oupie would give them a R2. You could write a whole book about them – they took in so many children, and now they’re all big.”

Salie Kalam, 52, stands proudly in his lounge, after taking me back to the chair that the late Aunty Beira Kalam always sat in.

I ask Faziela to share her thoughts, and she begins with saying, “I love the neighbours here on Dorp Street,” as she swaps a pasta bake from the oven and places a tray of mini pizzas in. “Where I grew up, some of the neighbours were stiff or didn’t even look at us, so we didn’t send koekies to everyone on our road. When I turned 14, the tradition of sending koekies died down, and only years later, when I moved to Bo-Kaap after marrying Salie, which was 16 years ago, I learned the true value of neighbours. The people are friendlier and livelier here. For example, I can ask for coconut for the koesisters or spinach for the daltjies. Even though we might have differences, the people of Bo-Kaap still care.”

Faziela Kalam, 45, preparing for iftar in the same kitchen where the late Aunty Beira Kalam once did

There is a stillness in the air, and I’m once again reminded of the gap Aunty Beira’s and Boeta Ismail’s passing have left on their home. Salie agrees with me, and adds, “I miss my parents the most in Ramadaan, especially on Labarang (Eid). It’s sad not seeing them in the morning. I don’t get to make them breakfast and coffee. I miss seeing Oumie sitting in her chair in the dining room and Oupie on the stoep, talking to people. Although they were so different, they were both loving.”

Next door to the Kalam family is the home of Aunty Mymoena and the late Boeta Sedick Ahmed. Shervaan Cummings, their grandson, opens their front door, and I’m instantly welcomed by many smiles from the extended family members who are sitting around in their lounge. Shervaan calls his mother, Zubeida Rose, and we all take a seat.

“Ramadaan in the community of Bo-Kaap is special because it’s the time of year that people in the community unite,” states Shervaan, starting our conversation.

“Ramadaan gives the community a good, calm vibe, especially as we get to see people’s manners change for the good and we get to see people’s imaan (faith) bloom,” adds Zubeida. She darts around the room and encourages her nieces and nephews also to speak, but they are too shy to share. Zubeida sits and thinks about what she wants to say next, before she flashes another excited smile and continues, “We get the same feeling each year from each other. You get to see the spirit of Islam from every individual, as we remind each other to do good, share and spread love. You also get many people who give zakaa, and it’s an honour for that person to help the less fortunate. Allah hears and sees us when we do good! But the best part of Ramadaan is the quietness of the homes before Magrieb (sunset prayer time). Everyone is waiting for the athaan, and I believe it brings people together, as everyone is on that same level.”

Zubeida thanks me for my time and for allowing her and her family to be included in this piece, but I remind her that I’m most grateful that she and Shervaan have shared their thoughts. Each home on Dorp Street plays an integral part of our community, and I surely could not have written this piece without the Ahmed/Rose family.

An excited Zubeida Rose, 48, sits with her eldest son, Shervaan Cummings, 20, as they share their experiences and thoughts of Ramadaan.

My route is almost over, as there are three more houses at the end of Dorp Street to visit. Next door to the Ahmeds is the home of the Osmans. Their front door is also open, and I knock loudly for someone to hear me at the end of the stretch of passageway. Washiela Osman, in a long, black, cascading burqa (a female garment that covers the entire body), pops out and signals for me to enter their home.

It has been a long time since I last saw Washiela, and after exchanging many pleasantries, I ask her if she’d be willing to share a few words. She politely agrees, despite being busy in the kitchen after a long day at work. “Every day, I’m still learning from my mommy, and I try to instil those lessons in my children. With my youngest son, Gameem, we try to incentivise him to fast and go to mosque – and he jumps at those opportunities – until he’s old enough to do it of his own accord,” Washiela smirks. “But there is a lot of sacrifice involved during this month. For me, the day can be difficult, because I’m up from five, go to work, see to the kids and their schooling, and prepare for iftar with my family, but I try to manage my time and I try to be a good Muslim.”

Like many of my neighbours I have spoken to today, Washiela also misses her late father, Boeta Hassiem Osman (Rahmatulla Alay Hum). “You know, just last night my mommy and I spoke about my father, as every year, at this time of the month of Ramadaan, he would be at the mosque to perform his itikaf (a period of staying in a mosque for a certain number of days).” Although she is smiling, Washiela possesses melancholy in her eyes, as she reminisces about her beloved father. “If he were still here, he’d send me to buy polony, cheese and bread so that he could share with the men at mosque. In fact, I think he would’ve left tonight.” She stops and double-checks her calendar on her phone. “Alhamdulillah (Praise to God), I still have so many memories, as my father passed away during Ramadaan in 2004. May Allah grant my father and all the deceased a high place in jannah (heaven), insha’allah, (God-willing).”

Washiela Osman Pead, 38, handing her son, Gameem Pead, 6, a plate of koekies to take to the neighbours

At the end of the one corner of Upper Dorp Street is the home of the Christians. Presently, Redewaan Christian, known to many as Boeta Billy and the patriarch of the Christian family, is 82 years old and the eldest person living here in our section of Dorp Street. I know Boeta Billy for being a pious man, as he is always seen walking to and from mosque for every salaah waqt (prayer time).

After I enter their home, Boeta Billy reminds me to sit down on a comfortable wooden chair close to their front door as he calls his son, Uncle Ebrahim “Hiema”, and his grandson, Meekaeel. They usher me in to sit in the lounge, and as the men of three generations of the Christian family sit before me, I decide to ask them about the importance of family during the month of Ramadaan.

“My father has always been a steadfast Muslim, and he is an example to us all in this house,” begins Uncle Hiema. “He’s our leader, and we all follow. I remember when the COVID restrictions subsided, he jumped for joy just because he could go to mosque. I’ve learned that you must live your life by leading by example; therefore, I always try to say encouraging words to my son and grandson, especially this time of the year. The values you have in Ramadaan must carry on throughout the whole year.”

Meekaeel, Uncle Hiema’s son, nods and begins to share his thoughts. “I’ve learned important traditions from my father and grandfather, like going to mosque during every waqt, being with my family at the boeka (iftar) table, reciting the Quran and completing the taraweeh (evening prayers) with my whole family at Chiappini Street Mosque.”

I ask Meekaeel whether he shares any of the lessons that he has learned from his father with his nephew, and his face lights up. “You know, my nephew – when he is here in our house – follows everything that I used to do. He also gets excited by helping my Ouma and going to the neighbours. I was in matric and had to take koekies away!” Meekaeel laughs and shakes his head. “But I’m glad my nephew will get to do the same. Also, when I make salaah for Magrieb, he will come and stand with me and mimic me, and I often tell him that when he’s older, I will take him to mosque. So, for me, Ramadaan is a special time, especially in this household, as there is a different feel here; our family is more united.”

Three generations of the men of the Christian family outside their home, pictured from left: Meekaeel Christian, 20, Ebrahim Christian, 54, and Redewaan Christian, 82

Although their home is on the corner where Dorp Street and Pentz Street intersect, my route would not be complete without visiting the Mohamed family. Everyone knows the matriarch, Aunty Kubra, for her koesisters, and her daughter Taahira for her friendly and infectious personality. I’m also most impressed with the Mohamed family and their efforts, as every night I can expect a knock on my door from one of Taahira’s helpers. There are no young children in their home, so Taahira gets one of the children in the neighbourhood to send koekies for her family – I find that most admirable.

It is almost Magrieb time, and Taahira sits relaxing on a chair in her dining room, as her helper has sent all the koekies to all the neighbours. I know how busy she gets, so it’s the perfect time to chat to her about getting others to send koekies for her. “The older one gets, the more responsibilities we have, and sending koekies away became harder. In our road, there was a little boy at the time who was always eager and willing to do a lot for my mommy and me, and then I had the idea of asking him to send koekies away for us,” she smiles, as she lets me in on her memories. “I also gave him a little reward at the end of the month, as it would show him how appreciative I was for his help.”

Taahira leans forward and places her hands on her left knee. “I just like the koekies concept, and I like that there will always be certain aunties making certain things: Aunty Soudah will send the perfect potato fritters, Aunty Tiempies will send the most delicious chocolate cake, Aunty Rachmat sends this waffle type of icing sugar treat, and we can’t forget about the late Aunty Naylah’s perfectly round and perfectly tasting daltjies. I’m grateful for the fact that in my community, the neighbours have never stopped caring. Sometimes, when you have had a hard day at work, seeing the neighbour’s children walking into my house in their salaah thobes (praying attire), scarves and kufiyahs (headdresses) cheers me up.”

Taahira Mohamed, 41, sharing her thoughts on what she calls “the koekies concept”

Salaam, Charles,” exclaims Uncle Fagmie Solomons, also known to many as Papa, as I make my way back home after the end of my journey. When I was younger, my father and I would walk up to Leeuwen Street Mosque for iftar with the other men and boys, and en route, Papa would be standing on the stoep, waiting for me, to share one of his Ramadaan jokes. My favourite joke was when he’d say, “Yoh (wow), Charles, the fast is going fast, hey?”

But instead of telling me a joke, he stands on his stoep peering over Dorp Street. Most days when walking home after a long day, deep in thought, I would hear him shouting, “Salaam, Charles!” from across his stoep, with a bright smile matching the brightly painted walls behind him. I was automatically obliged to forget about my troubles and respond to him by wishing him peace. As I grew older, I realised that Papa was my daily reminder that life is too short to spend time wasted on fretting about our days – the same way in which I always had to wash away my troubling thoughts to greet and talk to Dede, Papa’s father, when I returned home from school and university.

Fagmie Solomons, 65, also known as “Papa”, looking over Dorp Street before Magrieb

“You must enjoy Tharwah’s koesisters for boeka (iftar) tonight!” I knew he was going to share a joke with me before turning and walking to the door.

“She didn’t make koesisters, Papa, she made daltjies!” I respond while giggling.

Ja, but it looks so dark like a koesister,” he continues to joke before taking one final step inside, and I just shake my head with laughter.

As I stand on my stoep, scanning Dorp Street, waiting for the muezzin (the man who performs the call to prayer) to sound the athaan, I reflect on my childhood here on Dorp Street. Just as the colours of our homes have changed over the years, and our ou mense (the wise elderly) are slowly leaving us, I, too, am changing and getting older. I’ve just seen the next generation scurry in and out of the different homes and up and down our street, and my heart smiles, knowing that they are yet to create the many memories of Ramadaan, as both my neighbours and I have. Although Oumie, Dede, Aunty Riefah, Aunty Naylah, Aunty Beira, Boeta Ismail, Boeta Sedick and Uncle Hassiem are no longer with us, by listening to the stories of my neighbours today, I know that they have instilled the important life lesson of giving into us all, and insha’allah (God-willing), I know we are passing it to our next generation.

It was reported that the prophet Muhammad, Sallallahu Alayhi Wa Sallam (peace be upon him), once said, “Treating one’s neighbour with kindness, and being a good neighbour, will result in an increase in one’s share of daily bread,” and my hope is that we, here on Dorp Street, never forget that hadith (saying of Prophet Muhammad).

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Kommentaar

  • Eyamamiya Jaca

    This is one of the best essays I have ever read. I learned a lot about the religion and I love the fact that everything I wanted to know about this religion I now know. This is so interesting and keep up the great work! You are most definitely one of my favourite writers.

  • Well articulated. Loved the pictures and stories of individuals sharing about their experiences on the month of Ramadan.

  • Hi, I love being part of this community, would not change it for the world. Love our tradition of sharing with your neighbors.

  • Wow, thank you, Zubayr, for an exemplary picture of the spirit of Ramadan in the midst of the COVID pandemic.

  • Iekraam Najaar

    MashaALLAH, you brought back mamories of my childhood lol. Truely things have changed and with that change we need a reminder of what the meaning behind our traditions in Ramadam is. Shukran, thoroughly enjoyed this

  • Shireen Jaffer

    Beautiful memories ... could have been from people in Salt River or any other suburb. But alas each suburb have their own "papa, Oumie, uncle Dickie" but all have the same unique gift of giving during Ramadaan. Another wonderful piece of work and the photos just added face to the beautiful memories. Shukran

  • Tharwah Solomons

    I love this, could not have read this without shedding a tear. May Allah keep us this close and grant all our deceased Janna tul fierdouse Ameen

  • This really tugged at my heart strings!! An amazing article, this made me feel very nostalgic and also shows an amazing insight to the culture and traditions that occur during the month of Ramadan💗💗

  • Aslmwbr. Dit is a baie mooi opsomming van Ramadaan. Dorpstraat het baier goeie families. Ek sal so groos gewees het as ek daar moet opgegroei het. Baie tramakasie vir die opsomming, baie mooi.

  • Abieda Soeker Charles

    A beautiful recollection by you, my son and our wonderful neighbours. A tradition that will continue for many years to come, In Shaa Allah. I love that you visited them before iftar and that they reminisced while preparing their koekies.

    An excellent essay on a beautiful topic.

  • Hi, this is Megan, former resident in Dorp Street. It has been six years since we have moved from Dorp Street and till this day my children want to know when are we going home. My neighbors made our stay feel like we had family living around us as myself and my husband had so little family left in Cape Town.

    I remember moving in and on this day there was this little boy Jamal who introduced himself and politely just made him comfortable ...

    I told my husband what a lovely neighborhood - everybody greets and everybody seems to know everyone.

    This was great as our previous rental in Tamboerskloof Camp Street neighbors were non-existent, everyone in their own world.

    It's nice to look down sometimes and greet another human being, lol.

    Coming back to the little boy he must have been in and out of this home before we moved in.

    That he felt he could fall asleep watching TV with my kids.

    It was the next day that I truly saw the loving nature of this neighborhood all the warm smiles and even a warm savory loaf from aunty Bieda ... Miss this aunty to bits.

    Spending our first Ramadan in Dorp Street was amazing ... We kept getting a knock on the door and within five minutes our table was filled with cookies, Koeksisters, Samosas ect there was no need to make supper during the month of Ramadan in Dorp Street.

    Loved our time living in Dorp Street ... Regards to all, we miss you guys.

  • I enjoyed reading this, very well written. I liked seeing the picture of “crispy” in here, lol. You are always making us so proud ❤️

  • Mishkah Bassadien

    Maasha Allah what a heart rendering tale Zubair 💚 shukran for sharing this part of your world with us. Beautiful 🤗😇

  • Ongeag dat jy nog altyd 'n bedagsame persoon was, wat jy doen het 'n groter impak op ander. Ek is trots op jou.

  • Faldeelah Valentyne

    Mashaa allah, Mr Charles
    The nostalgia of reliving my childhood memories, brought a tear to my eyes 😢, praying that our next generation would live out this tradition of neighbourly love and caring, in shaa allah ameen. May Allah bless you abundantly always 🙏🤗

  • Brilliantly written with great attention to detail. It allows you to live in the moment of tradition, kindness and holiness.

  • Mogamat KAMEDIEN

    Baie boeiende stukkie leesstof - puik werkstuk. Die uitstekende artikel neem die leser saam op 'n kultuurtoer wat Ramadaan net voor boekatyd beteken vir die die talentvolle skywer en sy bure in Dorpstraat, te Bokaap.

  • Akhule Narwele

    I love how you took us into the Islam religion. It was very interesting and I love the relationship the community in Bo Kaap has.

  • Sisipho Ntswabi

    Beautiful piece, Mr Charles. It gave me an insight into the religion and it was educational too. ❤❤

  • Somaya Davids

    Wow, Zuby. This article really took me down memory lane. Always miss Bokaap when it comes to Ramadaan. A place where traditions are being carried out. The air is literally entangled with the aroma of spices and all things nice. That loving and caring neighbours. Where we believed that your child is my child. Shukran Zuby for reminding me of my years in Bokaap. Well done. I enjoyed reading your article.

  • Adibah Soeker

    As always, you have once again written a beautiful piece! Altyd trots op jou, neef. Keep on sharing your work with the world. I for one am grateful!

  • This is so wholesome and heart warming!
    Amazing piece Zubayr.
    Bo-Kaap is really a force of culture to be reckoned with.
    Looking forward to many more articles like this. :))

  • Maa shaa Allah. What a beautiful piece. This took me down memory lane in my own community in Salt River. May Allah SWT allow this beautiful tradition to continue amongst all the generations to follow.

  • Amina Bardien Soeker

    Fabulous, masterpiece, Zubayr! Keep celebrating Ramadan tradition in Dorp Street and wherever your path leads to.

    This is my 1st Ramadan without my daddy, who returned to Allah 29th April 2022, 30th Shabban 1443. Janatul Firdous upon my parents, Ismail Soeker, Asma Ismail Soeker. I'm elated to keep on paying it forward in the many neighbourhoods I lived, and in my children, just as my parents instilled neighbourly boeka treats, sadaka, fitra. They are illustrious icons of sharing and caring Islamic principles, values, traditions and mainly unconditional love. Their legacy, lineage, memories continues in us all.

    Bokaap, where my heart lives forever and always, Ameen! Shukr Allah for the hands who raised me and for a humble up bringing!

  • Such a beautiful essay. Your writing really emphasised the hurt felt by those whose loved ones have passed on, but very heartwarming how the generations that still live, want to carry on these beautiful traditions.

    I truly love the imagery as well.

  • Thank you so much for sharing your experience of the spirit of loving generosity shared at Ramadaan by the residents in Dorp Street. I love the way you weave the world of your childhood and the present together. It has touched my heart.

  • Thank you again for allowing us to be witness to this very holy and personal time, your spiritual journey. I am certain that many prayers were made by you and for you to be able to do what you do.

  • Adiel Kamalie

    Tramakasie for that wonderful walk with you into your neighbours homes and their willingness to share personal stories and photos. I smelt their kitchens and stood next to them and you. Now go have a lekker Labarang and keep the spirit going beyond Ramadaan, InshaAllah.

  • Beautifully written, warms the heart. Traditions in bokaap still going strong, community love at its best… Shukran for sharing, x.

  • What a beautiful piece, Zubayr. Such rich history and cultural resources that is preserved in this.

  • This is by far my favourite. The way all the details are vivid. The pictures just enhances the readers view. Once again wonderful piece, sir👌🏿❤

  • Mash’Allah my friend. Very well written. It felt as if I have been a part of Ramadan in Bo-Kaap for all these years while reading it. The pictures add the perfect finishing touches. You’ve outdone yourself with this one 🙌👌❤️

  • Zubayr, it's so wonderful to have such immersive writing coming out of Bo-Kaap. You really pulled on my heartstrings with this one.

    To hear you recalling the magic of Dorp Street so vividly is making me think back to my own memories of the lower half of the road, where my own mother used to send me in a rush of paper plates and serviettes.

    But also, I'm feeling such nostalgia for my younger days playing across from your house. We used to see how high we could go on the swings in the park, and then we would catch those tiny snakes in the bushes that poked out of the neglected concrete.

    Things were so simple then. Aunty Beira was our main plug for sweets and borr, and every time we ran out of string for our "tols", she would cut us a new section for 50 cents.

    And then, when November came around, she always stocked the best selection of klappetjies and sky rockets. We used to catch on so much nonsense up there. I hope you remember those days as fondly as I do!

    It's also so special for me to see the faces of Boeta Billy and Boeta Dicky. Inshallah they will be with us for many years to come.

  • This is amazing! I really learnt a lot. Thank you so much for sharing this experience, Zubayr.🌹

  • Berenice Bosch

    Wow – what an amazing essay; so touching and nostalgic!🙏🙏🙏🙏 It brought back memories of my childhood when our neighbours used to bring us cookies and delicious treats. I even bought a book called Indian Delights years ago, as I simply love spicy food. You write beautifully, Zubayr. You took me on a trip down memory lane — to a time when communities connected in a very special way. Keep up the good work, my dear. Please take care and stay safe. Lots of love and blessings. 🙏 🙏 🙏 🙏 🥰🥰❤️❤️🌻🌻

  • Lallie Pillay

    A really amazing experience reading The Beauty of Ramadan with compassionate, loving, unconditionally caring neighbours.

    Sharing and believing in being humble, who all became close family.

    Sharing names, memories and pictures is priceless.

    YOU ARE AN AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL, DISCIPLINED STORYTELLER.

    MAKING EVERYONE FEEL SO SPECIAL.

    I ALSO ENJOYED YOUR PREVIOUS STORY OF THE SEASIDE.

    CAPTURING EVERYTHING SO VIVIDLY.

  • Du Quesne du Plessis

    I am so very blessed to have become a part of the Bo-Kaap community. The daltjies NaZ sends over every night for Iftar has become a highlight. I love each and every one of my incredible neighbors and the sound of children playing at night at dusk is music to my ears!

  • Bilqees Baker

    I finally got down to reading this beautiful piece. Ramadaan is behind us and for this reason, your story makes me feel happy and sad. Zubayr, please don't stop writing. You have a way of recording events and places with emotion. Your stories are written records for future generations. Many attempts have been made, with good intentions, to record oral history in Bo-Kaap. You have done it! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

  • Johann Symington

    So, ons het in Leeuwenstraat gebly regoor die moskee. Maar nooit koekies gekry nie. Skoon jaloers na die lees van die baie mooi artikel.

  • Kulsum Effendi

    I thoroughly enjoyed reading this article. It took me back to my childhood, growing up in district 6. What a wonderful childhood it was. Alghumdulillah.

  • Albertina Oldjohn

    I now know the meaning of the greeting "asalumalaykom". Wow, what a good read and understanding more about Ramadaan. Thank you.

  • Bilqeez Jacobs

    Loved reading this 🙂 Thank you for sharing and taking us back. Great childhood memories in Dorp Street! Alghamdulilah.

  • Kashiefa Edwards

    Oh what a beautiful poignant reminder of growing up in the BoKaap. When you move out to the suburbs all of those traditions slowly disappears. Neighbours live for themselves, youngsters that grow up do not want to walk to take "koekies" away. That feeling of "you are part of a community" (djy is almal se kind) is just not there.

    Thank you/tremakaasie Zubr for the reminders of the love and care of a true community life.

  • Ayesha Matthews

    Beautiful story mashallah. Living abroad all these years you tend to forget the daily blessings of home and this story and people reminds us where we come from. Bokaap, Dorp street, there will never be such a unique, rich in history, fun-filled neighbourhood like this. May the almighty cover you all with protection and shower his richess blessings on all your homes Ameen.

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