Naomi Campbell and her mentor on the deck of Jan and Karin Viviers’ home in Kayamandi, Stellenbosch. The view includes a perspective towards Helshoogte Pass, which we were to explore the next day.
Dinner on a township deck, lunch in a house in a place you’ve always driven past. Sometimes it’s worth ignoring the destination and stopping along the way instead.
From the deck of a house in Kayamandi, the view couldn’t be more splendid if you paid a gazillion bucks for it. A white couple living in a township, the people who live here know something most people within their extraordinary view don’t know: their outlook is significantly better than most.
This is something I’ve often wondered about when driving past humble homes throughout the country, often on hillsides with views to infinity, and then I think: I could be happy living there.
The evening US intern Naomi Campbell and I spent in Jan and Karin Viviers’ home was such an eye-opener that I cannot get it out of my head. All around their house, which is set fairly high on a hillside in what was once a forest, are homes of many kinds, from middle-class brick houses to double-storey well-to-do homes, “hop huise” and backyarders’ shacks. Snaking through the streets to get there and back gives you a close-up view of township life.
On their deck, Jan has his beautiful fire engine-red braai at full tilt, ready for the surf and turf supper he’s prepared to please disparate palates. Naomi won’t be touching the bone marrow, which I’ve never seen done on a braai before, but why not… (makes a mental note).
Cheers to the sunset and to new friendships, with the view towards Helshoogte beyond. (Photo: Karin Viviers)
This high-flying lawyer and his wife Karin, who runs six foster homes in Kayamandi and nearby Cloetesville, have lived in the township since 1998. In 2010, Jan was instrumental in establishing Amazink, the nearby dinner theatre operation of which Bertus Basson played a key role. He and Karin both have twinkling humour, Karin’s shy wit contrasted with Jan’s sense of mischief. He’s quite the cook, turning out a tantalising starter of marinated tuna, full of spikes of lively flavour.
We revelled in the astonishing view as the full moon rose over the mountains beyond. Helshoogte snaked up the far mountainside and Jan pointed to the spot where a big estate is set to be built, and we all sighed.
Kayamandi is only a few minutes drive into central Stellenbosch, and only a few minutes later you can be turning onto Helshoogte towards Franschhoek. Which I did, the next day. And on your right, midway between these two flagship winelands towns, is a place I’d never noticed before. Right there, ignored by the shiny cars whizzing by. Kylemore. Blink and you miss it.
We’d been here earlier in the day for lunch with “Tannie” Siena Charles, a smiling matriarch beloved of the entire community. Tannie Siena loves everybody and has made a life out of doing kind things for the people around her. Our US intern Naomi Campbell has written about her. Before lunch in Kylemore, we’d been to the Banhoek Chilli Oil Company,
But now the day is done and it’s time for me to check into a Kylemore guest house called Staymore, which has been arranged for me by Visit Stellenbosch, who organised our local itinerary for my stay there to introduce Naomi to Daily Maverick and me to the CoCreate Hub where she was based for her first weeks in South Africa.
Lecelin Roberts and husband Antonio (whom I did not meet) are born-and-bred Kylemore people, which means that they, like their compatriots in this humble village, have lived close to Franschhoek and Stellenbosch without quite being part of either. It strikes me that this valley, which is often seen as just a drive between those two towns, is in fact a place of its own. It’s salted-and-peppered with highflying names like Tokara and Delaire Graff, Thelema and Miles Mossop wines, yet Kylemore manages to retain its quiet self-respect. I was really taken with the place.
Lecelin told me that she and Antonio opened the guest house in June 2019 in what was their family home.
“When we received a booking we would pack everything up and go and stay somewhere else,” she laughed. “It was self-catering, then last August changed to a bed and breakfast. It was a good decision because now we get to interact with our guests.”
There are four spacious bedrooms, with mine facing a lovely garden and wide stoep. It was the perfect spot for staying over when you have a dinner appointment with Naomi Campbell at Le Pommier restaurant, which earlier Tannie Siena had pronounced “La Pom-mier” in the Afrikaans way, to rhyme with vuur or muur. I think I blushed at the thought that I’d pronounced it Le Pom-meeyay earlier, which suddenly felt horrendously pretentious. So later on, before saying goodbye, I whispered to Tannie Siena, “Ons is La PomMIER toe vanaand vir aandete.” And a wink. And she laughed her throaty, wicked laugh.
At Le PomMIER, we’re welcomed like royalty. For a minute I thought, oh hell, they think it’s THAT Naomi Campbell, but I blushed (again) when it dawned on me that they were excited that I was visiting. Naomi insisted on taking this photo:
Le Pommier is a good local bistro. This is — in case you presume that I expect everything to be in the league of La Colombe or Salsify — the kind of restaurant I’m most comfortable in, where the food is reliably as good as it is recognisable and you know it gets busy, and stays busy, because that’s what the locals want. If I lived in Kylemore (and the thought did cross my mind) I’d be here twice a week.
The evening passed in a world of conversation between intern and mentor as I tried to be as useful as possible while she asked question after question in her eagerness to squeeze everything she could out of her trip to this faraway land.
The ‘Banhoek trio’ of bobotie, chicken pie and oxtail in red wine. (Photo: Tony Jackman)
We relished the simple salt and pepper calamari and pan-fried haloumi, after which I got stuck into the “Banhoek trio” of miniature portions of bobotie, chicken pie and oxtail in red wine. The generous portion of malva pudding that followed was smothered in homemade custard.
For breakfast the next morning, Lecelin was in the kitchen herself, cooking up a lovely plate of eggs and bacon and tomato and, to go with the crisp toast, the most exquisite peach jam I’ve ever eaten.
Lecelin told me it was made by Caroline Keet, a 92-year-old woman in the community. How’s that for local is lekker — and better
