A Little Bowl of Asia in South Africa
- Calvin Stevens
- Mar 16
- 12 min read
This is how Chinese, Indian, and Indonesian food came to South Africa and influenced local cuisine.
Near the heart of Johannesburg, the most populous city in South Africa (and my home!), resides one of Africa’s largest Chinatowns in all its majesty. Poised beyond an archway that makes you feel like an emperor entering his palace, the town is just over 10,000km away from the Chinese heartlands.
Cyrildene (西里尔德纳) is one of those suburbs you visit to get the best price on the best food. I, myself, have been there on numerous occasions in the past few years to try out a variety of authentic, Chinese dishes.
As my Mandarin teacher always says, the best way to win the hearts of the Chinese is first through enjoying their food and then speaking their language.
Being the adventurous foodie that I am, I’m constantly on the lookout for new foods and recipes to try on my own. Unfortunately, making several round-trips to China is, much to my dismay, out of my budget range; so I have to compromise as best I can.
And the Chinatown in Cyrildene is simply the best place for this.
From the Yat Kee Chinese Supermarket where you can buy an endless supply of fresh vegetables and Asian spices or sauces, to the mouthwatering smell of dim sum and Peking duck wafting through the doors of the Shun De (顺德) and Fong Mei (周未) restaurants, there is no shortage of quality taste.
Oh, and did I mention the tea shops?
Funny that — it was just last year in one of these tea shops, Simplicity Tea Shop, I believe, where a friend and I were surmising how Asian food had managed to make it’s way to Africa’s southern tip, of all places.
Upon later research, our initial supposition was largely on the right track: there were three main groups responsible for the importing of Asian cuisines.
Second only to Indians (who make up about 1,2 million of the country’s inhabitants), the local Chinese community numbers between 350 000 and 500 000. Outside of Asia, South Africa has the 5th largest Chinese diaspora.
Then there are the Cape Malays, a large Muslim ethnic group descended from the likes of Indonesia, Malaysia, and Myanmar, who make up a generous 200 000.
Beyond those three groups, other ethnic Asians barely feature in the thousands; so it’s safe to say that between the Indians, Malays, and Chinese, our main repertoire of Asian foods most likely came from either one of these groups.
Which of them you’ll likely encounter (along with their food) will also depend on the region: the Indians generally reside around Durban; the Cape Malays are a big populous in Cape Town; and the Chinese mostly covet the Johannesburg area.
Coincidentally, my university’s cafeteria is a prime example of when two such cuisines come into fierce competition.
Coddled on either side by an Indian restaurant and a Chinese restaurant, the poor café gets caught between two snaking lines at around lunchtime each day. The choice of lunch, of course, is always a bonus and usually there’s a great hubbub of students standing in the cafeteria debating between the two.
Just the other day, myself and an Indian friend were waiting in line outside the Chinese place when another friend of ours (also Indian) blurted out to us, in jest, from the other line: “Your mom would be disappointed!”
To which the reply from our side was: “At least I’m ordering it with rice!”
And, true to his word, my friend added rice to his order before he turned to me and said: “I like Chinese food, but I think my heart is still too-Indian to choose noodles.”
A slice of India
The first documented Indians to arrive in South Africa were indentured labourers brought by the British to the then-called Natal Colony (now KwaZuluNatal) in 1849.
The gist of it boils down to the fact that, between 1860 and 1911, the colony needed labourers to work on the sugar plantations.
And India (British Raj) was just the right place to import said labour from.
Thereafter, South Africa and India’s histories would be inextricably intertwined — the story of South Africa’s Indians is a long one, one which we unfortunately don’t have the time for right now; so for a general overview you can read more here.
Despite the tragedy that brought our two countries together from across the ocean, a cultural diffusion occurred, sprouting a myriad of beautiful wonders.
One such wonder was food.
Firstly, the majority of South Africa’s spice culture can be attributed to the arrival of the Indians.
Chutneys, curries, and samoosas have been a major hit amongst the locals. Lamb and chicken curries are a particular favourite here with the use of cayenne pepper and paprika becoming widespread in other dishes too.
Durban — known as the “largest Indian city outside of India — became home to the Durban Curry which uses masala (making it spicier than it’s Cape Malay counterpart) and is distinguished by its additional incorporation of carrots and potatoes.
Then there is our famous Bunny Chow or kota.
You see, in South Africa, there is a big culture around “hand-food” (which, I guess, explains why Indian cuisine was a match made in heaven), and where there was a fondness for “hand-sized portions”, we meant handheld.
Thus, the marriage between bread and curry was brought about as a result of people hollowing out entire loaves of bread and stuffing them full of curry. Even more bizarre, in modern times, they’re sometimes stuffed with French Fries, cheese, and atchar.
Now, if that sounds weird, I implore you to think about it for a moment.
Okay, maybe adding French Fries is a bit weird; I digress.
But us South Africans are a practical people: if naan goes with curry, then why not just put them together in what is essentially a naan-curry sandwich?
They’re found all over South Africa nowadays, but if you ever happen to be in Durban in particular, it’s simply a must-try. If the curry is done well, it’s absolutely scrumptious, I promise!
A Sliver of China
Before the British, there was the Dutch East India Company, and in 1658 a ship carrying convicts from Batavia arrived in Cape Town.
For the first time in recorded modern history, the Chinese stepped foot onto the southernmost part of the African continent.
The Chinese remained rather low-lying throughout much of South Africa’s history, however. For 300 years thereafter, their numbers remained relatively low — China, simply, wasn’t a main source for acquiring slaves, unlike other parts of Southeast Asia.
As a result, their culture and food rarely propagated.
That is until 1994.
After the end of Apartheid, a flood of Chinese immigrants (particularly from Guangdong 广东 province) started arriving in South Africa, bringing with them a host of modern Chinese culture and cuisines.
Interestingly, Chinese food has retained much of it’s authenticity across South Africa with authentic Chinese restaurants being favoured over so-called “Westernised” takeout iterations (Kung Fu Kitchen being the largest franchise in this regard).
Chopsticks were also more widely introduced via these restaurants; due to the relatively recent spike in the popularity of Chinese food in South Africa, however, chopsticks have somewhat lost their traditional customs and symbolism. Although, I do think this is partly due to the very modern, cosmopolitan attitude in South Africa — so it’s not uncommon to see a mixture of hands, forks, spoons, and chopsticks being used.
Chinese cuisine, as a whole, is a rather peculiar thing in Africa. It’s highly beloved due to it being very cheap, ubiquitous, but most importantly flavoursome.
Remember how I said South Africans love those handheld meals?
Well, as you can imagine, Chinese cuisine — and most East Asian dishes, for that matter — can be seen as “dainty” in this regard, adding to that peculiarity. But, as always, there’s certain foods we love and give our own spin.
Dumplings, for one, are generally larger in size than they are in China, and they can be packed with mince and corn, or even spinach and cream cheese.
Another favourite are shengjian baozi.
These, however, have a unique variation in South Africa called the Braai Bao: rather than having them pan-fried, they are cooked over the flaming grill of a braai.
What is a braai, you might ask? Well, that could make a whole other article but, in a very simple, rudimentary description, it can be equated as the South African barbecue; equatable to the barbecue in the same breath that Xiao Hong Shu (小红书) is likened to Instagram.
The specific intermingling of Chinese and Afrikaans culture brought about such creations as the Braai Bao. Moreover, you can often find Chinese teas being paired with desserts and sweet treats such as melktert, our honey-doused pastries called koeksisters, and amagwinyas.
My Mandarin teacher makes an exceptionally good jasmine tea and, personally, I find it pairs very well with melktert which has a cinnamon, milk-based custard that complements the jasmine fragrance.
Koeksister and amagwinyas, meanwhile, make for great partners of the Braai Baozi when you have large family gatherings.
And, speaking of braais, Korean barbecues have also becoming increasingly popular in recent years. The funny thing regarding Korean (and Japanese) cuisines in South Africa, however, is that they were predominantly propagated by the Chinese.
The Japanese and Korean communities in the country barely surpass 10,000 members, so your local Sushi Bar actually has a higher chance of being run by a Chinese than a Japanese.
That’s one of South Africa’s golden rules: never assume!
When it comes to people and food, we’re about as cosmopolitan as it gets.
A smattering of Indonesia
In 1692, Islam arrived in Cape Town with a shipment of slaves carrying Sheikh Yusuf. Then, in the 1700s, another group of enslaved Muslims, notably with Tuan Guru, arrived from Indonesia.
The basis for Islam in South Africa was accredited to these two men, and their work in establishing a local Muslim community in the Cape Colony led to the eventual culminating of the Cape Malays.
Similar to the case with the Chinese, the Cape Malay population began intermixing with the local Dutchmen (and the later Afrikaners) in the 1800s.
Roast vegetables (which are peppery and loaded with turmeric and garlic) were one of the main staples that started making appearances alongside Afrikaans “vleis”, or meats.
Likewise, mild green curries (predominantly vegetable and fish) were also introduced by the Malays to the Cape, being not quite as spicy as their Indian counterparts in Natal. From these curries, however, sprang a number of other curious creations including frikkadels and South Africa’s famous bobotie (which is found barely anywhere else in the world).
The word “bobotie” is surmised to have come either from the Malayan word boemboe, meaning curry spices, or the Indonesian (Javanese) dish bobotok which, ironically, is nothing like bobotie at all.
In either case, the Dutch adoption of the word was likely a result of a mispronunciation or a misinterpretation of the original recipe.
So I guess you could say the invention of bobotie, a dish so profoundly steeped in South African culture, was a happy accident; it was, essentially, the bizarre offspring sprung from the loins of two continents whose histories were destined to be intertwined.
Such has been the story of Africa and Asia for millennia.
South African distinctions and classifications
“Asian cuisine” occupies a strange place in South Africa’s local lexicon. Part of it is due, I’d say, to naivety while another is because of historical reasoning.
Cape Malay food has adapted and assimilated so well with other South African dishes that it is has largely earned its place in the “uniquely South African” category. You’ll never hear the words “let’s go eat Cape Malay food” unless you bump into a foreigner. The only time “Cape Malay” is used is when describing a certain type of curry, namely green curries or curries with a fish base. And that, really, is just a way of signalling “this curry isn’t going to take your head off!”
Indian food, meanwhile, has snuggled into an entire category of it’s own. For some reason, Indian cuisine isn’t necessarily associated with “Asian cuisine” at all — for South Africans, it is distinctly unique. In fact, if us South Africans were responsible for labeling all the regions of the globe, we’d probably have categorised India as it’s own continent.
If Europe is a separate continent, then why can’t India be one too?
But, to defend my people from premature criticism, this has its roots in our complicated history under Apartheid. During those dark times, “Indian” was an entire racial category that was distinct from “Other” Asians (due to the sheer volume of Indians that dwarfed all other Asian ethnic groups); and this has somewhat continued into the present, manifesting itself in the minds of the public as denoting Indians (including their food and culture) as a separate entity from the rest of Asia.
Luckily, little to no harm is attached to this distinction any longer; since the main baggage of Apartheid ended, few people have gone up in arms over this strange classification.
Then, finally, there is what we call “Asian cuisine”; and as you can already guess, this roughly includes any food with origins in East or Southeast Asia. Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, Thai, etcetera… all are “Asian food”.
Notably, they’re often associated with chopsticks.
The big reason for this, I hypothesize, is because of the relative “newness” of these cuisines in South Africa.
As I mentioned before, Chinese cuisine only became more widespread post-1994, and likewise the same is true of all those other Asian cuisines as well as the use of chopsticks. So, in a sense, the authentic, yet-unchanged nature of these foods still give off an exotic, foreign image.
Naivety and change
Admittedly, us South Africans are a bit naive in the department of “Asian cuisines”.
For the most part, we’re barely able to distinguish the difference between Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, or Thai food; hence they get lumped together under that all-encompassing category.
Even I was guilty of this.
I specifically remember my first encounter with chopsticks.
Our family rarely ate takeouts but, when we did, we usually just ordered pizza. One day, however, when I was maybe about 6 or 7 years old, while my parents bought my sisters and I a pizza, they ordered sushi for themselves. And, naturally, the sushi came with two pairs of chopsticks.
I was a fussy eater back then (unbelievably so) and refused to try sushi — why would I eat that weird, foreign, seaweed-covered, rice-filled, bundles of raw fish? Gross!
Oh, how my childhood naivety pains me. It’s honestly a miracle I turned out to be quite the adventurous foodie, but that’s a story for another time.
What did amaze my sisters and I, strange food aside, however, was the peculiar pair of sticks you ate with; because, living in South Africa, “Asian cuisine” isn’t all that common outside of the few Chinatowns, so seeing chopsticks for the first time was like discovering a cool new party trick.
Despite vehemently avoiding a taste of the sushi, my sisters and I curiously tried our hand with working the two sticks.
Needless to say, this was no easy feat, but it was a fun challenge and we actually ended up making many mini games out of them. Picking up Smarties using chopsticks and racing your opponent to take those smooth, circular candies from the one bowl to the next became quite the amusing entertainment at many parties.
Of course, at the time, I asked my parents why they ate sushi with chopsticks. Why wouldn’t you just use a knife and a fork or, I don’t know, maybe a spoon?
Well, sushi is Asian cuisine, they told us, and many Asian foods are eaten using chopsticks.
And thus, the umbrella term was forever associated with whatever food you ate with chopsticks.
Fortunately, curiosity (perhaps fate) has led me down the rabbit hole that is the deep interest in Asia’s diverse range of cultures and foods. Similarly, South Africa as a whole, I suspect, is getting better in this regard too.
Not only do we have close relations with our fellow African states in today’s world but we also have tight ties with many countries in Asia.
Coincidentally, in a twist of fate, the likes of BRICS (which recently included Indonesia) has brought South Africa together with India, China, and Indonesia once more. Their is a growing exchange (culturally, politically, economically) between our countries and, food aside, there is a greater sense of shared community and world views.
With these positive connections in mind, I have much hope that naivety will soon be a thing of the past and our Africa-Asia friendship will grow stronger than ever.
So, as odd as the old saying sounds, food really does bring the world together.
Who knows, we may just become friends over a hearty meal.
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Further Reading:
Man, D.L & Yap, M. (1996). Colour, Confusion, and Concessions: The History of the Chinese in South Africa. Hong Kong : Hong Kong University Press.
Nienke Boer. (2016). Settlers and Laborers: The Afterlife of Indenture in Early South African Indian Writing. Research in African Literatures, 47(4), 21–35. https://doi.org/10.2979/reseafrilite.47.4.02
Park, Huynh & Chen. (2010). Faces of China: New Chinese Migrants in South Africa, 1980s to Present. African Studies, 9(1), 286–306.
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