If you plan to invite friends round for a braai on Heritage Day (Friday, September 24, but Saturday will also do, or both), send us your address by filling in the form below, and we’ll send you an apron like the one our colleague Vuyo Vezi is modelling on the right.

We were inspired to do this by Jan Scannell at braai4heritage.co.za and his patron, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who explains it all in this video:

All we ask is that you send us pictures.You can do that by going to globalsouthafricans.org and clicking on the submit a post button.

Tell us where you’d like us to mail your apron:

Seven years down the line and I got to meet a real beast – a Boeing 737-800. With nearly 70 tonnes of take-off weight, 27K of thrust on each engine and approach speeds of over 200km/hr, this airplane wants to be flown and there is no time to dilly dally. This is a real machine.

So when King Shaka International opened just over three months ago, it brought with it new challenges. The airport is the gateway to KwaZulu Natal and is the first to be built in South Africa in over 50 years. While many a tourist and local traveller marvel at our latest R 6.8 billion construction designed by Osmond Lange Architects and Planners, I managed to make my own history – mastering a perfect landing with the beast at King Shaka International.

The beauty of the area is somewhat distracting as one approaches the airport which surrounded by the lush green KwaZulu Natal hills and the sugar cane plantations and a view of the calming dark blue Indian Ocean. I have to counter the urge of the attractive distractions and focus on landing the beast.

To any pilot it’s simple. Focus on a perfect approach, anticipate any changes in surface conditions, and cut the thrust at the right height and touchdown! A perfect landing!

Having decorated the Cape Town skyline for over fifty years many adults now reminisce as to what they thought the purpose of the steaming towers. On Sunday standing at the bridge over the Liesbeeck River, I asked a few what they thought of the towers as children. “For a very long time I argued with my Dad that they cook rice in there for the poor kids”, “That was like the biggest breyani pots on earth!” “I thought they make salt and pepper in there” “Those towers were the reason why I studied Chemical Engineering” So each Cape Townian has a special story about the Athlone cooling towers.

I remember when we drove past there on hot summer days and as we took the bend onto the N2 from Jan Smuts drive, I would find the water gushing down the towers absolutely fascinating. And then…a sharp stench would hit my nostrils. I would be totally disgusted. It was only years later that my Dad told me that it was the effluent plant across the Cooling Towers that cause the stench.

On Sunday thousands of Cape Townians gathered to witness the demolition of the Towers. In less than twelve seconds, it disappeared. Cheerio Athlone Cooling Towers! The Cape Town Skyline has changed forever.

In just the first five days of August, the HFHSA volunteers built three houses in the Mfuleni township in the Western Cape.  Two of the building sites were manned by businesses that were doing their bit for the community through their corporate social responsibility projects. The remaining site was manned by a mix-’n’-match of volunteers who wanted to give back to society in some way by really getting their hands dirty.  I was in the latter group, and am truly happy to say that it didn’t matter that we didn’t know each other before the work began – by the end of it, you would have sworn we’d been working as a group for years!

Dugga, dugga, dugga… [translation:  cement and sand mix used for building… (NOT “dagga”  -- marijuana --  as a foreign volunteer wondered wide-eyed why we would be chanting about this as we worked!)] Dugga, the glue that holds it all together, is a lot harder to make than it looks! It required agility and a strong back as we morphed into a human blender mixing cement, sand and water by scooping, watering and stirring.  It was dugga that got slathered like butter on the sides of the bricks in order to glue the walls in place.

Gooi, gooi, gooi… [translation: throw, throw, throw].  There is an art to flinging bricks through the air. The most essential part of the technique is to keep your eyes on the bricks at all times, lest you shed some skin (or bash some bones) for lack of concentration. It’s all about finding the groove – both of the brick (where you intend grabbing it), and the rhythm with which you snatch and pass it along.

It was, at first, a shock to discover that the bricks being caught and thrown would be actually passing through your own set of hands.  The bricks were rough and heavy, in stark contrast to ungloved skin, soft and smooth with pretty pink nails. But the sense of accomplishment at seeing the piles of bricks turn into a wall is beyond imagining. Even though some nicks and cuts resulted in bruising and a little shed blood, the exhilaration of being part of creating a legacy for a family was enough motivation to put your heart and soul in it.

Because HFHSA takes pride in the houses they build, with safety and quality being the top of their list. In fact, the walls were erected by professional labourers from the community who were hired to assist the newbie volunteers. We, the volunteers, took pride in being the “handlangers”  [translation: lackeys].

The new home owners had qualified for the programme by meeting with sweat equity and by participating in its educational modules.  The new home owners had previously volunteered to help others build their own homes. They also attended classes by HFHSA geared to help them look after their new asset, learn about good nutrition, budgeting, and other life skills. By the time they’d built their own homes, they were already part of a broader community.

To be honest, the initial thought of hard labour was so terrifying that it nearly deterred me from participating. However, I’m here to tell you that through the experience of working alongside fellow South Africans and some foreign friends to help realise another person’s dream, I found all the fear, apprehension, exertion, and sweat a very small price to pay in exchange for witnessing the tears of joy on the new proud homeowners’ faces.

You don’t need special skills to help somebody better their life in South Africa. All you need is a willingness to use your hands and get down to uplifting someone else. Don’t just sit there… GET INVOLVED!  Click here for HABITAT FOR HUMANITY SA’S WEBSITE…

When he first encountered the school in Soweto, Pepe thought he had to become part of the change in the lives of those children. In 2004 they began hosting the Rock 4 Aids Benefit Concert, which is an annual concert whose proceeds go to AIDS education it later grew into a foundation.

The objective of Rock 4 Aids changed slightly as a foundation, when Pepe realized the need for better education facilities and resources. It is now building up reserves for One School At A Time, where he will be climbing Mount Kilimanjaro to raise funds for the development of a school library in Soweto.

He has, till now raised R200 000, and through the per-metre climb of 6 000 metres plans to raise even more. They are also hosting the benefit concert later this year in November, where they intend to raise an additional R200 000.

His climb begins on the 4^th of September 2010, which they plan will slowly develop a different mindset in everyone’s involvement in education.If you would like to get involved view the video below, take a look at a document they have developed here and send Pepe an email.

We’d love to share your stories, photos and videos as well. Drop us a line.

In my culture, a name is not always earned through virtue. Often names are awarded to point out interesting or amusing characteristics. I remember my teenage sister getting grounded by my horrified father when she rolled down the car window and called out her friend’s name who was walking in the street!

Names were a term of endearment that poked fun at the same time. I knew a guy called “Slang” [translation: snake] who used to terrorize us for our lunch money; a gardener called “Hoppie” who walked with a limp; a friend called “Manga” because he wore the long board shorts by the same name day after day; my best friend was so pretty that they called her “Dolly”; my little cousin was called “Forrit” for a long time because she couldn’t pronounce the word “forehead” properly;  her best friend was so shy that they called her “Muis” [translation: mouse]; then another cousin who was clumsy and taller than all of us was called “Patat-trapper” [translation: potato tramper] because she often tripped herself up with her own large feet. I was short for my age and the youngest of three sisters. Most people called us the “Pool Girls” instead of trying to remember our names in any order.  With my tom-boyishness, quick humour, small stature and being the youngest, I was soon teased by some of my teachers and often referred to as “The Puddle”.

Too many of us played on the railway tracks in our neighbourhood in those days, doing our best to flatten two cent coins or to put our ear to the metal like we saw in the old Spaghetti Westerns to tell when the next train would come.  A boy that I shared my Standard 4 desk with at Primary School, who we all called Oog, (the Afrikaans word for “eye”), had lost an eye while playing on the railway tracks as a kid when he got knocked down by a train. He was really lucky that that was all he lost. He certainly gained a reputation as being really tough for having come out of that accident almost unscathed.  He wore his name like a badge. I am pleased to say that the railway tracks have since been fenced off properly and that no wild children play “Cowboys and Indians” or “Flat Coin” any longer.

My friend Eric was known as The Viking. An adventurous young lad, he was also a remarkable mechanic. While still at Primary School, he had restored an old Ford and would drive himself down the one back road past the “Gesa’m” [translation: an informal settlement - derived from the Afrikaans word "gesamentlik" meaning collectively of communally] and park his pride and joy alongside the teachers’ cars in the parking lot! He was a familiar sight and nobody EVER asked to see his licence and registration – those days are long gone, just like trying to navigate your way around our country with a map pre-dating 2000!

Names certainly have their place in South Africa. We feel passionately about them. We don’t mind spending oodles of cash to rename provinces, roads, airports and sports teams so that we all feel comfortable with it. I have to admit though that I often have no idea where anything is because geography was never my strong suit to begin with (and that’s not because I’m a girl)!

Once again I feel the need to blog about food. (Is it a South African thing, or just me?)

Names are really important. Take the names KOEKSISTER  and KOESISTER.  The only difference is the letter “k”, but the delectable treats have two very strong and different cultural heritages. I often found myself getting excited about ordering my favourite (koesister – Cape Malay treat) spicy doughnut dumpling smothered in syrup and coconut only to be served (koeksister – Afrikaner treat) the intensely sweet plaited deep fried dough soaked in syrup.

If there is one reason to embrace names, then the Koesister is definitely mine – it’s worth getting it right! As much as I love sugary things, I have to draw a line here.  The koesister by this other name is definitely, and by far, MORE SWEET!

George is also the founder of the Stroke Survivors Foundation. Their current project is the Bring It On! Campaign. George will be walking 2 500 kilometres from Beit Bridge to Cape Town. He began his journey on August 14.

Follow him on Facebook and Twitter.

It is when they leave, that the leaves start changing into an array of autumn colours and eventually start falling, until winter arrives and the cold fronts starts moving in, the rain pours and everyone feels like snuggling up and hibernating. BUT between these cold fronts lies a gem very few are aware of. Sunny warm winter days, with snow capped mountains visible from Cape Town, lush green fields of wheat and the blossoming of the bright yellow canolas in the countryside.

These are the days perfect for a lazy afternoon drive along Chapman’s Peak or in the countryside after a enjoying a picnic or lunch at your favourite restaurant. Or just to absorb the peace and serenity of the country life, we so often forget is possible in our busy city life.

Between the cold fronts, is where the best kept secret lies. Come and experience the joys of Cape Town, where winter will warm your heart!

What caught my attention more than the captivating story itself, is how many families she is now part of. Take a deep breath. Her search for ubuntu saw her being embraced by 92 families of 13 different cultures in and around 121 towns.

What is your story? Tell us in the comments. Share your videos, pictures and writings with us here.