It was a Saturday morning in the suburbs of Gauteng, and Katlego was already in his gown, socks pulled high, a mug of Ricoffy in hand, surveying his kingdom like a true kasi veteran who had made it to the ‘burbs.
His wife was in the kitchen trying to play music on the smart speaker.
“Hey Siri, play Brenda Fassie.”
Silence.
She tried again. “Hey Siri, Brenda Fassie.”
Katlego walked in, took a sip, and said, “This is why I told you we should’ve just bought a Hi-Fi system. Three knobs: volume, bass, and Brenda!”
Just then, their son barged in dramatically.
“Mom! Dad! The Wi-Fi is down!”
Katlego didn’t flinch. “Hayi suka, boy. Back in my day, we went to the internet café. You had to book time. Ten rands got you twenty minutes. You kids get panic attacks if Google doesn’t load in five seconds.”
His son blinked. “What’s an internet café?”
“It’s like McDonald’s, but for printing and downloading songs with viruses.”
Lerato rolled her eyes, still fighting with Siri, while the boy ran off to reboot the router like a millennial technician in crisis.
Just then, the power flickered. Loadshedding.
“Ow! Not again!” his wife shouted.
Katlego calmly walked to the drawer, pulled out a big blue candle with melted wax stains and stuck it in a chipped mug.
“We move,” he said, lighting it like a ritual.
“Kat, get the inverter!” his wife added.
“Hawu, inverter? Babe, in the 90s, we used to play Ludo by candlelight. That’s when families bonded, and people cheated. Where’s the vibe?”
He sat down and opened the fridge. “Eish. The power’s off. The bread is soft. No toaster.”
He looked around and reached for the non-electric braai toaster from the garage. “Ekse, when last did you taste real toasted cheese made on the stove? These kids don’t know!”
His son returned, still fuming about the Wi-Fi. “I need to submit my assignment!”
“Write it out on paper,” Katlego said, handing him a Bic pen and an A4 exam pad.
“How do I upload that?!”
“You don’t. You staple it and take a taxi to school. Ask anyone at the rank for directions. That’s how we found our way around. We didn’t have location pins, just vibes.”
His wife gave him the side-eye. “Kat, the washing machine’s not draining.”
He nodded seriously. “Go get the plunger. We’re taking it back to basics. And if that fails, call Bra Joseph down the road. He’s not a plumber, but he knows things.”
Eventually, everything fell apart: the microwave stopped working, the kettle tripped the power, and the alarm wouldn’t stop beeping.
Katlego sighed and declared, “Today, we are living like it’s 1997.”
They braaied wors with wood, played Ludo under candlelight, and even dusted off an old shoebox full of family photos—printed, not digital.
And for once, his son wasn’t glued to his phone. He was listening to stories about cassettes, encyclopaedias, and the great Mr Video.
“Dad,” he said, “what’s a cassette?”
Katlego smiled, picked up a pen and said, “Let me show you how we used to rewind them. This… this is how real men fixed problems.”
And for the first time all day, nothing was broken.
[End]
Welcome to South Africa – Jou Ma Se Boek
Welcome to South Africa – Jou Ma se Boek includes an A4 book, with an enamel cup, packaged in a premium box. It’s a coffee table book that details the extraordinary life of an ordinary South African. Personal deliveries (JHB, PTA, Midrand) will include the shopping bag.
326 in stock (can be backordered)
