District Six

My dad took me with him one day when I was very young, to District Six. He had business there or had to see someone, I don't recall why. I do remember him leaving me in the car and telling me to keep the doors locked and stay in the car, it was dangerous here.

I recall being scared all on my own for a little while and then interest took over.
Many people on the street, many chattering voices, screeches of laughter. Lots of movement, people of all ages, shapes and sizes. I did not feel scared any more, so I cranked open the window.

To this day I don't remember the details of the place as sharply as I remember the smells. The indefinable mix of rich Malay cooking and many people in a small area. I loved it, I wanted to go out exploring but my dad's warning held me in the car, leaning out through the open window and looking goggle-eyed at the world, big old Table Mountain standing solidly in the background.

One other thing aside from the smell, the sounds and busy movement of people, was the powder blue colour of a house along the street. Though the other houses were probably also all colours I only remember that one. I thought the house was pretty and had I been allowed to wander around, that's where I would have gone to.

Not too long after this, the area was forcibly emptied out, the people transplanted on a dusty plain miles away from anywhere, and the houses bulldozed. I did not understand any of this and was upset when I saw it. I seem to remember a church that was not mowed down with the rest of the houses for many years, standing deserted and lonely in an area of nothing. And then, one day, it was gone too.

It was a shameful thing. I have only these few bright memories like postcards in my mind. I wish there were more but that's all I can dredge up: the sun was shining. Colour, movement, open-mouthed head back laughter, teasing and running kids, and oh that smell that glorious smell.