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nelson mandela bay's family lifestyle
author:
theunis pienaar
soul convergence
photography:
zuko, lifegate photography
issue:
6, winter 2008
Pasta is one of my favorite winter-dishes and in Nelson Mandela Bay there is no better place than Sue Herbert's “The Soul Kitchen” to take in a plate of freshly made. Sue shares the secrets of her “Ravioli with Sage Butter” and tells the story of how this Kitchen came to life. In a sense The Soul Kitchen is the perfect convergence of two mystical histories. The one started just after the First World War, in Schoenmakerskop, the other was born in the late fifties in India – if it is possible to put a starting date on any history. In 1920 Dr Leith built a holiday home for his family of eight. Ann Gilchrist, one of the surgeon's six children, still lives in the village and eagerly recalls the fantastical times they had in their beach house. With every vacation, they were each allowed to invite one friend along – you can only imagine the joy and laughter shared by twelve children on holiday. “We had breakfast and then rushed to the beach – not allowed inside again until six in the evening. On the veranda, mother would serve sandwiches or fruit for lunch, only to see us dwindling down to the water for the rest of the afternoon. At night we would sit by the fire place, tell and listen to stories. From day one this was a home, gradually filled with memories of love, acceptance and shelter.” What is now Sue's home, has always been a place of kindness and charity. In 1945, the surgeon's children all grown up and out in the world, he decided to give away this home - an act of immense charity. He worked closely with “The Little Company of Mary”, a group of Catholic Nuns who provided medical care. He donated the house to these ladies as a holiday home where they could find rest and respite from their service. While “The Little Company of Mary” was enjoying the home that now bears the name “”chocolat”, another history started unfolding in India. “My family was very colonial,” Sue recalls. “On my father's side, I was the fourth generation to be born in India. My father was a banker, his father a civil servant and my great grandfather a coach maker. In those days banking was already “global”. After the Second World War my father was posted to Kenya and that is where he met my mother. Her grandfather trekked from Bloemfontein to Kenya, making her the third generation to be born there. After they got married, still with the bank, they returned to India – to Madras in the south of the country, what would now be known as Chennai. “We lived in India until I was six. We also spent some time in Ceylon, but most of my formative years were spent in Kenya, Uganda and Tanganyika. A lot of the places where we lived were very isolated and my life was cosmopolitan. We had much more freedom than you would have had in South Africa, at the time. We had no concerns about race or culture. It was a rich life. People were in and out of our house – a multifarious crowd with diverse ideas and origins. Living where we did, our guests were always a source of fresh news - friends and colleagues entertaining each other. I fondly remember hiding behind the sofa, listening to all the fascinating stories our visitors would tell or visiting my grandmother at her guesthouse on the coast of Kenya, near Mombasa. The “White Rabbit” it was called. There we would meet even more interesting travelers while she served us with the most scrumptious prawns. “It must be imprinted on me, part of who I am, to be hospitable. You know, there weren't any hotels or even all the communication tools we have today. People had each other and even strangers were welcomed as friends. We lived outdoors. We had freedom. We had connection. “You might wonder how my love of Italian food came about? After Prep School I came to Cape Town, to the Springfield Convent to finish my schooling. There I met Renata Puccini. On weekends and some short holidays she would show me the hospitality my family was showing in East Africa and her mother would make the most delectable Italian dishes.” After finishing school, Sue was off to England. There she did a secretarial course, met her husband and had three beautiful children. “I started working as a secretary, but administration was never really my thing. At one stage I was a make-up artist at the BBC and I also worked at a shop called the Face Place. I was happier using my hands - doing something creative, surrounded by activity and people. I enjoyed cooking for my family. It was always about more than feeding them. It was about getting close.” Sue's husband was a graphic designer - interestingly enough, he was born in Uganda and had a childhood very similar to her own. In 1989 they moved to Nelson Mandela Bay, where he eventually became head of the department at the PE Technikon, in that same discipline. “My parents retired here, from Kenya. They bought a lovely place out at Beachview and that introduced us to this wonderful city.” In 1996 life suddenly changed for Sue. “He was only fifty and he suddenly died of a heart attack. It was so unexpected to lose John. The same year my mother passed away. I started Intsimbi Beads, later in that year. Perhaps it was part of the grieving. Or perhaps it was my way of staying busy, so that I would not have to face the grief. “Early in 1997, Ben, my eldest, died in a motor car accident. This was really a difficult time. My way of dealing with it was putting even more effort into Intsimbi. The business was an enormous success – in 1998 I received the Business Woman of the Year award from Liberty Life and Fair Lady. It was during this very bewildering time that Sue's path converged with that of the house, built by Dr Leith. “I liked Schoenmakerskop and was somehow attracted to this house. One day I was having coffee at Sacramento and my regular waitress said I should go and have a look at “the Nun's house”, she was certain it was up for sale. The moment I stood in front of the house I felt, this is mine. I phoned and asked about 'St Helen's', as it was then called, only to be informed that the place was already sold. The disappointment! Three months later someone telephoned me, enquiring if I would still be interested in purchasing 'St Helen's' and so it is 'mine'. Although their paths converged in 2001, the convergence of souls would come over time. “Intsimbi had to die first.” It buckled under labor action and the closing of international markets after 9/11. “Its failure was as much a blessing as its success. It forced me to continue. I grieved more for the death of my husband and son and mother in 2003, than when the loss originally came.” In 2006, five years after purchasing 'St Helen's', The Soul Kitchen was conceived, to be born in 2008. “It was Nina, Maine and Adel, three very dear friends who encouraged me. I was always having friends over. Cooking the curry I grew up with in India or the pasta I got to love at the Puccini house in Cape Town. Friends were bringing friends, who brought other acquaintances. 'St Helen's' was full of life, again. It was connecting people and healing. “And so The Soul Kitchen was eventually born at the start of this year. It is perfect and I do not mean that in a pretentious way. It is just that I cannot see myself anywhere else. It is what I was meant for and it is what this house was meant to be.” “In October of 2006 I was invited to the birthday of a friend in England. It was supposed to be a short visit. Eventually I took 16 months to return home. I spent time in England. I visited the United States. I went to Mexico. I visited my sister in Kenya. Everywhere I went I collected recipes and tasted food - shared it with people. In Italy I did a cooking course with real Italian 'mama's'. I realized what I must have always known: food is more than just a substance that keeps us alive. It sustains us. It is one of the purest pleasures we have. It is communion.” “And so The Soul Kitchen was eventually born at the start of this year. It is perfect and I do not mean that in a pretentious way. It is just that I cannot see myself anywhere else. It is what I was meant for and it is what this house was meant to be. “To me it is a way of serving. We share the cooking. I show you how to make the pasta or curry from scratch – using simple ingredients. We take our time and have a common experience. In it we discover something therapeutic. What I remember enjoying at my grandmother's 'White Rabbit' and our homes in India and East Africa. “As we cook and taste and eat, we share stories. We are reminded that life is very transitory and that we can only hold things lightly. As we take respite from adversity and hardship, we discover that 'something good' is bound to happen. “The Soul Kitchen is a place of meeting people and feeding friendship. It is slow and natural. It is generous and enriching.” It truly is. We visited Sue for the first time in April, with the birthday celebration of a friend. It is an experience as rich as the two histories that has been fused. The “Ravioli with Sage Butter” is magnificent and you will not go away without making new and precious friends.
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