I touched my past.                                                

Saturday nights were alive with excitement and anticipation. Many waited the whole week, anxious as to the next ‘surprise’ on offer on the big screen! It came in the form of classic Shakespearean drama, with the finest music and playback singing thrown in. The ladies boasted the latest hairstyles and hairdos, some standing as tall as the Eiffel Tower and showed-off in full splendour! Their eyeliner was as thick as crayon and many imitated their heroines. Whiffs of hairspray choked the air and the fashion buffs hoped a likeable suitor will take notice.

There was joy and tears when the theatres emptied, with running mascara spoiling the Picasso-like make-up. For the few who found themselves emotionally tangled in love and intrigue after watching the movie, followed up with the obvious rush to buy the latest sounds on vinyl in the music-bar close by.

In sport, all ages were invariably anxious as they waited in bated anticipation as to who their next opponents were to be. In summer and winter, all eyes were focused on the great weekend clashes that unfolded in front of adoring fans on Queenspark!

Business was key to the area thriving and the neighbouring ‘dorp’ had its very own ‘red square’, scene of many politically motivated protest marches and rallies. The many dance halls were not short of all of its ‘lang-arm’ heroes and heroines.

Gang warfare in its true sense never really existed and was mostly a myth. In fact the ‘ouens’ or ‘klevas’ were the ‘custodians’ of security, protecting the young and the aged and guarding everyone from any ‘foreigner’ who dared invading their territory and pilfering from unwary and defenseless inhabitants. Many colourful characters, full of life and not a care for their hardships, roamed the streets and proved in fact to be, the ideal guards.

There was a shortage of places of instruction, so morning and afternoon classes ensured everyone was accommodated and got a fair education. Yet, the little ‘dorps’ still produced captains of industry, instruction, medicine, politics, (resistance politics then), football and cricket.

In the streets, you were always surrounded by the finest aromas, some selling the imported and most palatable of spices, others stirring their pots for evening and Sunday meals. Those aromas filled the air for many blocks and they also attracted the people of ‘no-colour’, shoppers, to be enchanted and mesmerized by that which is unique for the taste buds!

It was home to the samoosa and curry ball, and the Sunday morning treat – the Cape koeksuster. Fish and chips were the staple diet and when the ‘special’ hit the streets, a new taste sensation was the talk of the town. From Ajmery to Akhalwaya’s the choice was limited but completely satisfying.

I miss all that which made up my youth. As a ‘lightie’, nothing compared with that lifestyle. I ruminated that even in the face of extreme subjugation through racism, Fietas - the special people of Fietas; through the guidance of its towering leaders, still managed a certain special quality of life. Secular and religious education, quality radio and the ‘bio’ for entertainment and sport formed the basis of that lifestyle.

Today all that is lost. Tread or drive through and very little reminds you of what life was once like. I’ve tried to illustrate to my children, but they can’t even draw some inference or perspective. Treasured photographs and clippings restored my anxiety from time-to-time. It helps in some way to understand and see life through a lens, every so often.

I walked into Solly’s Corner in Fordsburg not so long ago, recollections of my youth all came flooding back. I was choked with waves of emotion, joyous and sad. The food was the same and the shop hasn’t changed much but ‘Yunie-Boy’ Akhalwaya and his brother Mahmood have lost their duck-tails, graying and I hesitate to add are slightly rotund at the waist too.

Recently, on a very cold afternoon, I felt for something light but tasty. So I parked outside the old Avalon cinema, where a huge and classy fabric store has just opened. Lyric, a stones throw away is derelict and depressing and was once the top cinema with the latest releases.

Old Kentucky, the café and take-away next door displayed the banner headlines of The Citizen and The Star. As I stepped in, Uncle Ebrahim, who somehow manages a smile with a frown and his nephew Mohammed, invited me in with a warm greeting. They were not busy, as they usually were in the heyday. I looked up above them and saw the original menu, in the hand-writing of late brother and dad, Uncle Sam. All that was on the menu was still available. I was lost for choice and I was entranced as I turned to observe the little take away. It looks so much smaller. The pin-ball machine is replaced with new arcade games.

There up above the mirrors were the old magazine snap-shots of the greatest football team that triumphed and won the Jules Rimet trophy for a record third time way back in 1970. They are all now ruffled at the edges and colourless. Brazil’s giants of that era, Rivalino, Jarzinho, Tostao and Pele still adorn the now ‘sacred’ walls. I smiled and soaked myself gently in nostalgia.  

The toasted steak was no different to the countless times my teeth had bitten into the sandwich. The huge chicken rotisserie, that was the first available in Jo’Burg, was no longer there nor was the special milkshake machine!

We talked soccer, cricket, politics and about the ‘new’ clientele, if any. “Not really”, I am told, the older generations have introduced the new. Many from Fietas, Fordsburg and surrounds who have made their lives elsewhere, still stop by and grab a bit of what’s best for those in far off places.

Uncle Ebrahim wants to remove the old pictures. Mohamed argues about the memories it brings back to the countless faithful who still enter the shop. The action shots are still an attraction, he says. I suggest to Mohamed to restore and laminate and replace them to their rightful place. Ebrahim is, according to his nephew always outvoted on the issue.

In burgeoning Fordsburg one is no longer lost for choice these days, but Kentucky and Solly’s Corner, for what they mean to me, will always take me ‘back’. My kids have been converted.

Fourteenth street, the original mall and flea-market, is desolate and a distant memory. Fietas really only has the two Mosques to allow you to ruminate, but very little if anything else still exists. Twentieth Street has many ‘velds’ now, no Star Cinema, no Dawoods Café. The butcher and Chinese shops are but a memory and the former Queenspark ground is a monotonous spread of concrete for a new bus service and the old Girls school now serves as offices.

The toasted steak was thoroughly and eagerly enjoyed during the conversation. I will always return to Kentucky for my take-away-of-the-week. For some unknown reason, as I stepped out, the Carpenters song “Its yesterday once more” rang in my ears. I left the shop, knowing that I had just touched my past.