Geskryf deur: Nelet Kok
I’ve never dreamt of a white Christmas
I have dreamt of a bakkie pudding.
Every year, leading up to the bazaar, I make a mental list of things I’d like to see and do at the bazaar.
The pudding table
A frozen meal or two
Curry and rice.
Pancakes! Never, never forget the pancakes…
The list may take on a different order for you. Getting some hearty and happy things (things in this instance mean mainly food) I support my community. Bazaar, to me, means seeing people I haven’t seen in a long time and chatting over a great cup of coffee. It means a slow Saturday morning.
I grew up with the kerk bazaar: we lived around the corner from church and it was always held in the church hall. As a six-year-old, I remember walking to the church early in the morning, so that we could get our hands on the freshly baked goodies from the Vrouediens. No selling was allowed until the event was opened with prayer, so you had to be there early to put your hand on the cake you wanted. The cake table later turned into cupcakes and then various baked goods. We were home by 9 am to do our weekly chores.
Some things have changed – like the colour of my hair – but my love for the kerk bazaar hasn’t.
Melville’s bazaar is no different, still every year, except for 2020, the bazaar gathers the community. I even roped my mother in; she was baptised in the church many moons ago. Even though she no longer knows anyone in the church, she loves attending the bazaar.
It seems the sun shines a little brighter.
Smiles are a little more relaxed on the day of the bazaar.
And, I, I got pudding first thing.
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