Shopping in the Neighbourhood

I was feeling very mellow, having just completed a 10km run and shower. As I stood outside the local supermarket in pursuit of a Saturday newspaper, I saw Piet braaing wors under the Brazilian pepper tree. And I just knew this was for me.

Drawn by the inviting smell of barbecued sausage drifting off the coals glowing in the brazier, I placed my order. Piet took a length of sausage out of his coolbag and placed it on the fire. “I do not sell cold wors” he said. “This is freshly braaid”. He greeted a lady approaching his stand, and assured her that her order was ready. With which he handed me a pair of tongs. “Keep turning it while I attend to her.” While he handed her a prepared order of two rolls with sausage I turned my breakfast on the coals.

Piet told me that he had retired from the mines in Potchefstroom ten years ago and now lived in Southfield – just down the road from me. He supplements his meagre pension with this weekly sausage stall. “I have made many friends” he added, as passing pedestrians greeted him. One lady, with purple “blue-rinse” hair complained bitterly that she had given him her address and he had not come to tea with her. He good naturedly greeted her, and suggested that she ask his wife to tea too.

I took my sausage off the coals and wrapped a roll around it, along with some tomato and onion mix. And enjoyed being part of the life on a local street.