Sunday in South Africa is traditionally a big day for braais. And I have to confess, I’m not a big fan of them. Oh, I love braaied chicken sosaties (the ones made with thigh meat are the best). I enjoy the relaxed atmosphere, the Sunday afternoon smell of smoke, the soothing burble from sport on the 42 inch LCD TV, the pleasantly desultory passing of time. Apart from our hatred of Sanral, the braai is probably the one thing that unites all South Africans, regardless of race or class.

But braais require commitment. You need to clear vast swathes of space in your diary to attend one, because you know you won’t eat within four hours of arrival. I have lost count of the braais I’ve attended where the combination of alcohol and an empty stomach has turned me into a slurring, bad-tempered lunatic who would like to do nothing more than stab the host with a long and very sharp fork.

This is the timetable of the average bring and braai:

First, you arrive on time (15 minutes late, to be polite). Let’s call this T.

T +05:00 Haul out drinks and braai food, accept offer of glass of wine, make small talk.
T +00:10 Introduced to fellow guests, most of whom you don’t know. They’re preferable, however, to the ones you do. This is going to be fun.
T +00:30 Host starts to think about maybe starting a fire. More guests arrive. You’re sitting smugly in the corner and you’re not moving for anyone.
T +00:45 Host looks for firelighters and matches. Awkward conversation with fellow braai guests you don’t really know. Will need to ingest more alcohol in order not to be completely socially inept.
T +01:00 Host starts fire with assistance of other males in party.
T +01:30 Inspection of fire reveals that not much progress has been made, fire will need stoking.
T +01:45 Bright spark comes up with idea of chucking on a bit of petrol to get things going.
T +01:50 Temporary excitement as braai flames reach the height of the roof before dying down.
T +02:00 Second attempt to start proper fire. You curse the fact that you’re driving and wonder whether it’s safe to risk a third glass of white wine. Probably not, which is sad because when you’re in a drunken fug it’s easier not to notice the glacial progress of time.
T +02:15 You’ve switched to Coke Zero. Male activity around the braai suggests that something is happening.
T +02:30 It turns out that nothing is, in fact, happening. By now you have run out of things to say to your fellow guests so you flee to the kitchen to make a cursory attempt to assist with salads.
T +03:00 Braai fire success! Blood sugar levels now dangerously low; coupled with alcohol this has made you restless and irritable. You look longingly at the paper plates, wondering whether you’ll ever get to put anything on them.
T +03:30 Coals now judged to be ready. First meat placed on braai.
T +03:45 First meat ready. Sadly it’s not yours, so you’ll have to wait to eat.
T +04:00 Chicken sosaties finally placed on braai. You’re not cooking them yourself because you’re a girl and want nothing to do with the actual process. Besides, you never interfere with a man’s braai. It’s a rule.
T +04:30 You finally get to plonk a couple of sosaties on a paper plate. All you can think of is going home. You look for an opening, hoping to settle into the slipstream of the next couple to leave.
T +05:00 Everybody seems to have glue on their backsides. You announce you are leaving.
T +05:15 Finally get to car.
T +05:20 Complex gate won’t open, have forgotten access code, security guard won’t let you out.
T +05:25 Security guard finally relents and lets you out after angry queue builds up behind you.
T +05:40 Arrive home in bad mood but grateful to have avoided any Metro cops on the way.
T +05:50 Realise you’re still hungry, so make yourself a peanut butter and honey sandwich and eat all the ice cream left in the freezer.
T +15:00 Send the host an SMS thanking him for the lovely braai.

I know the founder of National Braai Day and I support his cause. But he really should be advising people that next time, before you go to a braai, make sure you eat a good meal first.

Author

  • During the day Sarah Britten is a communication strategist; by night she writes books and blog entries. And sometimes paints. With lipstick. It helps to have insomnia.

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Sarah Britten

During the day Sarah Britten is a communication strategist; by night she writes books and blog entries. And sometimes paints. With lipstick. It helps to have insomnia.

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