On the transmission of memes in the Greater RGC

"Memes" are defined as a units of cultural information that can be transmitted from one mind to another. The term was coined by Richard Dawkings in 1976. Examples would be tunes, catch-phrases or styles of clothes. Some meme theorists use evolutionary theory to describe the way memes propogate themselves, much as a virus would. Certain memes would spread more efficiently and therefore survive, whilst others would die out.

I would like to focus, if I may, on the transmission of certain memes in a well-defined area, that is the greater RGC (Rylands Gatesville Cravenby).

In the late 1980's, a fast-food shop in Rylands used the words "Great Gatsby" to refer to a sandwich made up of a french loaf filled with potato chips and deep-fried cold meats, seasoned and covered in sauce. It is unclear how the name of a literary character came to be used to for a food item, but due to the popularity of the product, the name stuck. It was interesting that it was not just a new word which was born, but a completely new meaning for an old term. Gatsby lovers would have their favourite stockists depending on their particular preferences. Super fisheries in Athlone added mango atchar (pickle) to their formula, whilst the Golden Dish in Gatesville produced the UberGatsby, the mother of all Gatsby's, with a combination of sauteed beef steak and eggs in addition to the standard chips and sauce. The price and size of one Gatsby meant that it would usually be shared amongst 2-3 individuals. The liquid accompaniment to this hearty but dietetically unsound meal was usually an ice cold coke, but some Gatsby purists would argue that this was too harsh, and that a fruit juice and dairy cocktail called Fiesta (pronounced "Fees Ta" by the locals) was the only way to compliment the dish. It is important to note that advertising was limited to the shop-window at that time, so most clients came in based on the recommendation of others, conditions perfect for viral advertising, and the transmission of memes.

It is worth noting that, even within a seemingly homogeneous group, sub-groups exist within which certain memes are dominant. Rylands and Cravenby are separated geographically by a very small distance, and famiilies living in the two areas may seem to share common ancestry, and therefore one would assume that there should be very few cultural differences. This is not the case. Take clothing for example. The average male Cravenby-dweller of the late eighties and early nineties could often be seen in a pair of formal trousers, dress shoes and a long-sleeved shirt, (frequently very vividly coloured, sometimes paisley) while Rylanders were more comfortable in casual attire. English was more commonly spoken by Rylanders while Cravenby-dwellers spoke Afrikaans or spoke English more commonly (ahem) One needs to question why this apparent isolation of meme pools existed. I believe that the fact that Cravenby exists North of the Boerewors curtain has led to meme contamination by the population of Parow and Belville. Indians in Rylands believed that their cousins in Cravenby were a backward lot who dared to continue to grind their spices by hand and cooked tough cornish hens for their gatherings. Their counterparts in Cravenby probably thought the Rylanders were too damned liberal, had the gall to pay others to work in their shops and were to blame for everything subversive from "the boycotts" to PAGAD.

Affirmative repetition

It could be argued that gossip (or "skinder") has some positive aspects with regards to social interaction. After all, some relationships are based chiefly on the frequency of gossip-exchange encounters and the perceived quality and authenticity of the stories involved. I believe that there is a heirarchy of gossip-mongers (or "skinder-bekke") which has developed over years as the art has been perfected by individuals, and as the art as a whole has evolved.

The markers of good skinder are
a) level of familiarity with the person involved

b) perceived authenticity, ie can it be corroborated by more than one skinderbek

c) the degree of perceived immorality of the act which the story purportedly describes. Note that inter-region as well as inter-individual variation with regards to the idea of morality means that really good skinder needs to be skillfully and meticulously targeted. Telling a 22 year old university student in Rondebosch that her best friend is a lesbian might be a good story, but telling her aunt in Cravenby that she goes out with her non- Indian, non-muslim friend during Ramadan and doesn't wear a scarf borders on creative genius.

d) audience participation is important as it validates the story at the time of presentation, but also increases the chance of it being is passed on, (see b above)

Affirmative repetition, a common linguistic practice on the Cape Flats, can therefore be seen as an extremely powerful tool. This is probably easier demonstrated by means of a dialogue.


Skinderbek A: Sy gaan mos uit in die Pwasa (she goes out in Ramadan)

Skinderbek B: Pwasa, ja (Ramadan, yes)

Skinderbek A: Maar weet Bhabi, sonder 'n doek ( but you know sister-in-law, without a scarf)

Skinderbek B: 'n doek, err ( a scarf. yes)

Skinderbek A: is 'n skander, ne (scandalous, isn't it)

Skinderbek B: 'n skander, is waar weet Bhabi (scandalous, it's true sister-in law)

Smuggling Bombil and the Art of Pusch-in

It seems quite sensible to the rational man that an airplane has a finite carrying capacity, and excess weight is not a good idea, in a Newtonian sense at least. Perhaps it is because our forefathers travelled for months by steamship that a tradition of overpacking has been maintained over decades, despite progress in baggage materials and the shelf-life of food. Seasoned white travellers with their ultra-lite Samsonite are scoffed at, we prefer the family pethi, the trunk still marked with the signs of that first journey on the Truro, kept at the end of the bed ready for the next grand trek. The smell of Bombil (dried fish, known as Bombay duck in English) fills the air when it is opened, as much an insect-repellant as it is a deterrant to any customs officer who would dare open it for inspection. "Aaah", cries the matriarch with a pang of nostalgia, her turmeric-stained hands clasped to her bosom. "The smell of the motherland"

The art of Pusch-in is passed down through the generations, and is characterised by the systematic disregard for the basical principle that no two objects may occupy the same space at the same time, with specific reference to luggage. Relatives, aware of an impending journey, traditionally try to get the most impractical object to challenge the Puscher, and points are given for not only the number of extra objects, but also their size and the potential for incurring a fine or establishing alien vegetation at the country of destination. Failure to include an object is seen as a personal insult to the party bearing the gift, resulting in an honour-deficit which may take years to resolve. Teams of specialist Puschers have been established, and may be seen packing with fervour accompanied by the call of "Pusch-in, Pusch-in", and hence the name.

The Great Indian Wedding part two, deconstructing the wedding speech

Let me start by saying that I don't think I would be as comfortable or confident at doing a wedding speech as the more established MC's (who, it may be argued have a stranglehold on the vocation). I will therefore not be too critical about the actual delivery, but choose to focus on the content of the speech at an Indian wedding in Cape Town. Note that I refer to the speech in the singular, because I do believe that there is just one speech, having been passed down the generations with only the occasional variation. (Regular subscribers may remember the concept of memes)
Some of the recurring themes and stock-phrases below may illustrate my point.
"the universal greeting..."
"respected elders, brothers and sisters, beloved children..."
"it gives me great pleasure.."
"without further ado... (frequently erroneously "further adieu")

The introduction usually paves the way for the guest speaker, whose arrival at the podium is usually heralded by the sound of scarves being repositioned from the neutral position (ie on the neck) to the position of humility (ie on the head) executed by women in the audience with military precision. ("No, Chand-bibi, you have to wear a scarf, even if it's in your neck!")

The main purpose of the main speaker seems to be to inspire feelings of guilt and cultural inadequacy: women and men are constantly reminded of their roles in society and how they are failing to fulfill them. Women especially are targetted for not being better wives, and husbands for "not teaching and looking after your womenfolk". The topic of divorce is a common thread in the wedding speech, as is filial obligation. Bollywood movies are increasingly used as a template for emotional blackmail, used to justify actions and attitudes between the married families (ref to the great indian wedding part one). The movie Baghban, for example, has been cited as "something every family should see!" by MC's at recent weddings, which usually inspires mutterings of "it happened to Amitabh, it can happen to us" from the members of the audience. (Let me just digress for a moment to say that Baghban is crap, an awful movie with dismal acting, and no purpose other than to rake in the rupees of prospective mothers-in-law who, after watching it, will develop an unhealthy fear of their future daughter-in-law..) A healthy dose of hellfire and brimstone are added to the mix, and served as an appetiser before the main meal

The Great Indian Wedding part one

What the west fails to understand is that an Indian wedding is not so much a union of souls as it is a clash of wills. Anyone who has been through an Indian wedding will realise that it is not the couple that gets married but the respective families which marries you. As such, it is not your day, but your parents'.

The idea of social standing is not unique to the Indian culture but it could be said that no other culture defends it as vigorously. One needs to save face, and the concept of a small informal function to save money and ensure intimacy is completely alien to the average asian family. The armbands worn by some Christians with the reminder "What would Jesus do?" or "WWJD" could probably be replaced by an 18 Carat gold bangle with the inscription "What will the people say?" on the arm of someone from an asian background.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that our funeral services are really modest affairs, but a family wedding is the one occasion when we can show the rest of the community what we have and what we are prepared to spend. It is thought that "Bling" is of Afro-Caribbean origin. Having been to many asian weddings, I'd like to challenge that. Western couples spend money on rings, and traditionally the value of an engagement ring should be approximately that of the groom's monthly salary. Indian families in Cape Town need to buy similar rings, but also need to fork out the cash for gold Indian jewellery and TWO outfits for the bride. The guest lists are enormous, often greater than 1000. Those who are not invited, will be offended. We do not have the drunken brawl, but what we do have is the family feud you take to your grave.

Recently, catering for the wedding reception has been taken care of by prfessional companies, with elegant tableware and extensive menus. My childhood memories of weddings in Cape Town are of wooden tables covered in rolls of white paper, folding chairs and plastic bowls of steaming Akhni with a sideplate to serve the food. No posh fruit punch in crystal glasses then, but frosty 200ml bottles of Marshall's or Amla soft drinks. The pineapple flavour was always popular, but there were the die-hard iron brew fans. Every table had a bottle-opener. There were no waiters in ridiculous waistcoats then, just family members forming a human chain to serve all of the tables and respond to calls of "Chicha, bring nog aartappel!". Before the advent of the wet napkin (or more recently the lemon-scented linen napkin warmed in the microwave) we tore off strips of the white paper on the tables to clean our hands. Remember, no fancy silverware either so everyone (including the obligatory token white family) ate with their hands. We didn't have desserts, no fancy cakes or little heart-shaped ice-creams. A polystyrene cup filled with hot sweet tea which had been brewing for hours was usually available in the foyer, poured from yellow enamel kettles (probably the same ones used to wash guest's hands earlier). Any domestic efforts to replicate the flavour of the legendary "kargana tea" were bound to be met with failure.