The Shop now	View from across the road	The Spices
The Original Counter	Yunus	The Shop now
The Original Menu	The Authentic Door	The Original Sign

'I left the shop knowing I had touched my past'

SATURDAY nights were alive with eagerness, 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 splendour. Their eyeliner was as thick as a crayon and many imitated their heroines. Whiffs of hairspray choked the air and the fashion buffs hoped a likeable suitor would take notice

There was joys 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 suspense, with bated breath and anticipation as to whom their next opponents were to be. In summer and in Winter, all eyes were focussed on the great weekend clashes that unfolded in front of adoring fans on the brown sand of Queenspark.

Business was key in 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 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 aged and guarding everyone from any "foriegner" 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 accomodated and got fair education. Yet the little "dorp" still produced captains of industry, instruction, medicine, politics, (resistance poilitics 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 color", shoppers, to be delighted, enchantedand mesmerised by that which is unique 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 their towering leaders, still managed a certain special quality of life. Secular and religeous education, quality radio, the "bio" for entertainment and sport formed the basis of lifestyle.

Today all that is lost. Tread or drive through very little reminds you of what life once was like. Ive tried to illustrate it to all my children, but they cannot 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 Sollys 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 hasnt changed much but "Yunie-Boy" Akhalwaya and his brother Mahmood have lost their duck-tails, graying and I hesitate to add the slightly rotund at the waist too.......

By Aslam Khota