Food From My Dad

Missing dad (Baba). Not all the time, since he passed on to ancestor territory some years back. But there are certain things that make me miss him. He left me a big inheritance: carpentry and painting which makes the hardware store one of my favourite hang-outs.

Baba introduced us to spaghetti. I’m the eldest so I was the unofficial parent taught to ‘take care of your brother and sisters’.  Hands up if you don’t like being the first-born.

Baba showed me how to boil water, put a little salt and add the spaghetti. He put some margarine so that it doesn't stick to each other. He didn’t call it pasta. I only realized it was part of the pasta family when I got to England for further studies. Baba showed me how to drain the spaghetti and put it aside. He cooked onion and tomato in cooking oil for a few minutes, then added ground beef. He then mixed it with the boiled spaghetti.

We also took the bus to Wentworth. That is where his employer had a warehouse that stocked basic grocery items for his employees. We always came back with spaghetti and macaroni. We liked spaghetti more that macaroni because it wiggles. At first, we were scared of the little snakes but learned to love them.

What would Baba say if he hears that I add beans, cheddar cheese and biryani spice to the spaghetti? He would approve.

By: Nonqaba waka Msimang.