Our land has such deep wisdom, and our people have a depth that comes from struggle and suffering. Tannie Maria connects with all of this in both the long, slow cadences of the land and the sharper, faster bursts of modern humans. She still talks to her food and tells us about it in loving detail, thank goodness, and she still dispenses touching wisdom through her love-and-recipes column, but there is more. The third in this series has a sharper edge. It feels more attuned to 2020 realities without losing the wisdom of the ages.
I loved the way she steps out beyond the original Ladismith microcosm while staying true to the origins of this down-to-earth, wise, funny, kind series. Sally Andrew dedicates the book to people who live and die in the struggle for justice and I believe she, in turn, does them justice. Please bear with her (and me) as we traverse the difficult terrain of South Africa's divided past and present - she does it as honestly and positively as I have ever seen. Of course she touches many wounds along the way.
She responds explicitly to the critique that staying in the cocoon of white Afrikaner culture with some coloured people may be true to the community she writes about but avoids the greater context of the land in which they live, and how they come to be so separate from the majority of this land. I think her response is brave, authentic and a gift - particularly to her white brothers and sisters, which includes myself. She brings in just a sliver of our struggle history, still giving attention to the few whites who fought against apartheid, and yet I feel she honours the whole of our nation in the process.
The arrival of the tall dark stranger on the Ducati is filled with archetypal stereotypes, including South Africa's yearning for black leaders who are perfectly strong - and she soon becomes deeply human. Again, it is our truth in this land that we often see only the skin and not the underlying humanity. At least Andrew keeps a healthy distance from the "I don't see race" brigade.
So our intrepid pair of brave black journalist and scared white tannie make their journey of discovery, of pain and betrayal, of the radical differences in life experiences of black and white people living side by side, of their own wounds and their own courage. If it sometimes feels melodramatic that's because South Africa is a living melodrama, dammit.
The real point the author makes, for me, is that white people in this land can stay in the game, be real and courageous and contribute to a better life for all, even when we are not really wanted as the captains of the teams. I think she does this by writing with a deeply healing, loving connection with the languages and cultures of this land, and bravely reaches out to honour and love a much greater variety of our kaleidoscopic mix than before. I am grateful for the way she doesn't translate every Xhosa or Tswana word, just as for Afrikaans, and the way she brings many cooking traditions into the mix without being too purist about any of them.
And beyond our human fiemies and fiefies, she continues to love and honour this land, its rocks and trees and rivers and dust, its birds and animals, and the gifts and guidance they patiently offer to humans. With healing intent.