Childhood Memories of a 90s Coloured Kid
This blog post is about growing up coloured in the good old days, written in celebration of Heritage Day
Heritage Day brings back so many memories of how we grew up on the Cape Flats in the 90s. Life looked very different back then. Things were simple, people cared about one another, and neighbours felt like family. We didn’t need fancy clothes or big-name brands to feel proud of who we were. Places like Bonteheuwel, Manenberg, and Mitchells Plain raised us, and we carried that pride everywhere we went.
Respect for elders was part of life. You didn’t dare answer back or poke your nose in grown-up talk. If you did, you knew the belt, shoe, or wooden spoon waited for you.
Government schools taught us the basics, and discipline came from both teachers and parents. We walked to school in groups or on our own and knew the way back without fear.
Once the chores were finished, the streets were ours. We kapped tol, played cricket and tennis on the tar, or climbed trees till the streetlights came on. Games like hide and seek, huisie-huisie, marbles, hopscotch, cowboys and crooks or toktokkie kept us busy for hours. Holidays meant church camps, youth clubs, and running wild with cousins. Friday nights often meant youth group at church, and holidays were packed with church holiday clubs and camps.
Breakfast often meant mieliepap or Jungle Oats, and if you were lucky, you got a slice of Penny Polony or a warme worsie on bread. Our ouma made coconut slices and toffee apples that pulled at your teeth, and Friday evenings were special with slap chips and fish or wors and eggs. Ice cream from the lorry was a rare treat. For a few cents, you could buy your favourite sweets from the huis winkeltjie. Aunties sold paape, slangetjies, popcorn wrapped in old phone book pages, ice blocks, toffee apples, bompies, and papsakke.
There was no bottled water in the fridge. We drank straight from the tap or hosepipe, and no one thought twice about it. Clothes were either sewn at home or handed down from cousins. If you wore no-name takkies, no one cared. Television sat in the corner, but most of us were outside, playing barefoot in the rain. Excitement in the house came when the landline rang, because a call was a big deal.
The night before school holidays ended, or on a Saturday evening before church, our mothers had strict routines. By 6 o’clock, you had to be indoors, bathed, and ready. Breeze soap was the usual, and if you were filthy from playing outside, the lemoen sakkie came out for a serious scrub. Boys got their hair clipped at home with the old manual cutter, while the girls sat down for tight plaits that had to last through the week. Everyone went to bed clean and prepared for the next day.
Looking back now, we can see how those years gave us something rare. People often say coloureds have no heritage, but that way of living was a heritage in itself. Life carried a sense of togetherness, and every street corner had its own story. We miss those good old days when rules felt firm, treats felt earned, and every family played a part in raising the next generation.
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