If you cant beat them….Don’t Join them

So the baby is born and the book is opened. Then the priest says ‘Ok babies name must start with letters U, V, Z’…whatever. So now you know, if you gort terrible names blame the priest.Names like, THAMEN, SIVAN, MARIEMUTHU etc

Then the baby is around 40 days old, still trying to take into this new world and what we go and do.

1. Shave their hair off their heads….hence the Nine boy look

2. Put thick thick kajol in the eyes….Now I know why so many Charous are blind and why we like bright bright colours.

3. Bang one brass tray with a spoon next to their ears….Now you also know why we listen to so loud music

4. Put one 22 Karat gold bracelet on the hand…Hence the thick thick dog chains we wear on our hands. Like my bra Thamen (One blinged black ugly charou) At night you only see the bracelet moving.

5. Intoxicate the baby with Lobaan….we get used to smoking foreign stuff from a young age

6. Attach one Pen Knife to you….hence the violence in us (hold me ekse, you know who I am eh you know who I am. My mother put lobaan for your father, and you pumping your mouth ye!)

7. Feed your mother with thitha thitha chow, and then she breastfeeds the baby….hence the brown tan, cos all your cells gort burnt

So when a baby is born in the family, the Couzies already know, here’s a Chuttey Jol coming our way. Free chow, limited dop’s and hours of gossip amongst the men and women.

You heard Shushi, how that one’s daughter pulled out one brand new BMW from the box. Who bought new car Rheena? That one man, Mistry’s daughter Varooosha. Apparently she earning double digit salary now.

And the ballies….

Hey maam, what happened to that ou, I check he dont like to pull in by the possie no more. And my vrou chooned me he’s dopping it up one way now.
I’m sure he gort some maache (money) problems.

Anyways, now that the gossip is on and the action is happening.

The Ma pulls in with the new born. Grand entrance, brand new sari specially bought by her ma from India. The new born is slaaning one pokey outfit brought from Singapore by the Poowa. So these people are doing well.

And must just ask ONCE, or tell it one time. Soo nice sari you wearing…then you must sit back and here the whole Khatha about the sari and how they bought it.

After a while the first Aunty vyes to carry the child, and the first words. So pretty the baby, mera nana muna bacha, who troubling the baby (Now the only person troubling the baby is you, you old cow, with your annoying voice)

Then she goes on to say, ooohhh the baby look just like the fathers family, but she will say this in front of the mothers side family and then vice versa. Just to cause some sparks.

Charou’s yawl are too hot to handle.

Eh boy go bring one 2lt coke and come by Sureel’s Mercedes Benz with sportspack.

JHB Charou

Can’t Beat Us

You know, with the price of petrol nowadays, I am getting squeezed dry. Up, down, up, down, up, down… every day I’m vying to the hospital to check the ma-in-law, who needed a leg op. I dare not ask the vrou to skip a day. You know what that will be like! Anyway, medical aid and all, she’s relaxing in Umhlanga hospital.
My family troops in, waving at connections, all heading for the same ward. As we entered, the facial xpressions on those (white) patients and their visitors was one of shock. “Is this an invasion?” they must have been thinking. They only had one, maybe two, and in some cases, no visitors, but for the charou patients – there was a dozen around each bed.

Before long (someone must have branted us), the guard appeared at the ward entrance: “Three visitors per patient,” he said with authority, and we meekly trekked off to the lounge area. But there was no place to sit. Seems like this poisa (police in isiZulu) had already made his rounds in the other wards. Every seat had a charou warming its expensive looking leather.

“Where’s Bommie,” someone asked (not her real identity, to protect blowing her cover).”The three daughters stayed behind with ma in the ward, so where’s Bommie?”

It was later revealed, when the time came for a visitor change, that Bommie turned around and started talking to the lonely patient in the next bed, as the poisa did his round (sheer brilliance!).

So, next time you have to go visit hospitals, take a tip from Bommie, and more of you can get in. You can’t beat a charou!

Anyway, I am sure that these hospital lahnees (many of them are charou doctors) know that we have close-knit families. Why don’t they have a special ward for us? I know they can’t segregate by race, since it will be against the constitution and all, but maybe they can call it a “Big Family Ward”.

Invariably all charous will end up in this ward. Maybe we can share the breyani and chops chutney and borrow some of the next-bed auntie’s podina chutney. Just the other day, I ended up with a bowl of “sugarcane” herbs and rice for starters topped with “running fowl” curry.

Yah, us charous are like that. And if any connection didn’t vie and visit the ol’ lady in hospital, the talk will be: “Yah, they only know to come sing and cry when it’s too late.”