Boerewors and Gumboots – Episode 2

“Smoke Before the Fire”

Monday night in Hawke’s Bay, Zee sat at the kitchen table surrounded by recipe books and Post-it notes. She had drawn up timetables for stall setups, a list of volunteer shifts, and even drafted a “no twerking” clause for Chantelle. But her mind kept circling back to the reporter. Who had tipped them off?

Luke padded in, hair damp from his shower, headphones slung around his neck.
“You’re stressing again,” he said, snatching a koeksister from the counter.
“It’s called planning.”
He chewed, then grinned. “Planning’s just stressing with stationery, Ma.”

Across town, Piet was already at his workbench before sunrise Tuesday. Strips of meat lay in neat rows, coriander seeds crushed fresh. He moved with quiet focus, the rhythm of his knife steady, almost meditative. But every so often his phone buzzed with group chat drama.

Ping.
Chantelle (7:14am): Do we NEED to have tables with those hideous green cloths? I can bring sequins.
Ping.
Frik (7:16am): Sequins? This is not a wedding.

Piet sighed, wiping his knife clean. “Just let me make wors,” he muttered.

At the kitchen door, Annelie lingered, mug in hand. She had tried messaging Zee earlier about meeting for coffee but got no reply. A small thing, but lately she felt like the group answered her less and less.

That night, she sent a message to her sister in Pretoria:

Annelie (8:47pm): Do you remember how we used to laugh about “cliques” at school? Turns out grown-ups have them too. And here, if you’re not in, you’re out.

Wednesday morning, Zee finally called.
“Sorry, Annelie, I’m drowning in dough here. But ja, things are hectic. Can I tell you something?”
Relieved, Annelie leaned closer to the phone. “Of course.”
“It’s Frik and Lynette. They’re stirring, man. Saying Piet thinks he’s better than everyone, standing there quiet while the rest of us organise.”
Annelie froze. “They said that?”
“Don’t take it personally. Just ignore them.”

That evening, she typed furiously to her sister:

Annelie (7:12pm): They said Piet thinks he’s better than them. Can you imagine? The man works till midnight just to help. If they were in our shoes, they’d see.

Sister (7:15pm): Jealousy, that’s all. Small pond, small fish. Don’t let it get to you.

Annelie stared at the reply but didn’t feel comforted.

Thursday morning, the storm broke.
Lynette posted in the WhatsApp group:
(9:02am): Just confirming — has anyone actually secured council permission for food stalls?

The message detonated.
Lebo: Heyi, don’t stress me, sis. I’ve got my vendor license.
Chantelle: Vendor schmendor. I’m doing HAIR. Not selling wors rolls.
Frik: Exactly. Illegal circus.

Zee tried to calm them, but Annelie only saw the subtle shift: Chantelle liked Lynette’s message. Chantelle, who just last week had hugged Annelie at Pak’nSave, saying “we must do coffee soon.”

Later that day, Annelie stopped by Chantelle’s salon, holding a tray of rusks. “Just thought I’d drop these off…”
Chantelle flashed her lashes but her smile felt brittle. “Thanks, skat. But, you know, things are awkward right now. Lynette’s been saying—” She cut herself off, twisting a curling iron cord. “Anyway, I don’t want drama. You understand?”

Annelie drove home in silence, rusks still in her hands. That night:

Annelie (9:02pm): I thought Chantelle was my friend. She won’t even look me in the eye. She’s sticking with Lynette. Feels like schoolyard politics all over again.

Sister (9:06pm): That’s betrayal, sis. Keep your circle small. Trust Piet. Trust yourself. The rest? Let them gossip.

Thursday evening, Lebo parked his Mzansi Mashup trailer outside the Shack to test his solar panels. Music thumped softly — amapiano mixing with the smell of garlic and chilli. Kids on bikes circled, curious.

Justin stepped out with a box of Mrs Ball’s.
“You ready for the circus?” he asked dryly.
“Born ready, broer.” Lebo clapped his hands. “But these aunties need to chill. Food is culture. Fusion is the future!”
Justin raised an eyebrow. “Not sure Frik got that memo.”
“Ag, Oom Frik,” Lebo laughed. “He’ll complain until he’s chewing my chakalaka tacos. Then you’ll see.”

From her car in the carpark, Annelie watched the easy banter, the laughter. She didn’t go inside.

At the Boshoff house, Lynette folded laundry in stiff silence.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” she said, eyes on Frik.
He leaned back in his recliner, smug. “Why rush? They’re tearing themselves apart. By Saturday, they’ll come begging for order. My order.”
Lynette hesitated. “And what about Annelie? She looks so lost.”
Frik chuckled. “Collateral damage. Besides, Piet’s too busy with wors to notice. That’s the problem with quiet types — easy targets.”

Friday dawned sharp and cold. Zee woke to yet another notification flood. This time, from the reporter herself.
Message from Sally Morrison, Hawke’s Bay Times:
Hi, just confirming I’ll swing by the rugby club Saturday. Hoping for some colour, stories, and strong personalities. Sounds like you have plenty!

Zee groaned. “Strong personalities” was an understatement.

Zee (7:12am): Sally Morrison confirmed. Cameras WILL be there. Please — just look like we have our lives together.

Reactions poured in.
Chantelle: I’m booking a spray tan.
Lebo: Yhooo! This is GOLD.
Piet: Ag sies.
Frik: At last, some honesty — we’ll see who looks like fools.

Annelie didn’t reply in the group. Instead, she typed quietly:

Annelie (7:40am): There’ll be cameras. I don’t know how I’m supposed to stand there smiling when I feel like everyone’s turned against us.

Sister (7:44am): Stand tall, Annelie. The ones gossiping are the ones scared of you.

That evening, she sat alone in the kitchen, the smell of coriander drifting in from Piet’s workroom. For the first time since leaving South Africa, she wondered if they had made a mistake coming here.

Next Month:

• Will Annelie confront Chantelle — or keep the betrayal bottled up?

• Can Zee hold Braai Day together with a reporter watching?

• And is Frik quietly building his own “council-approved” backup plan?

Disclaimer: "Boerewors and Gumboots" is a work of fiction created purely for entertainment purposes. All characters, events, and storylines are fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or to real-life events, businesses, or locations, is entirely coincidental. The views and opinions expressed by the characters are not those of the author, publishers, or any associated parties. References to products, shops, or cultural elements are included for narrative flavour only and do not constitute endorsements, factual claims, or representations of real businesses or individuals.

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