Heritage Day: The Public Holiday South Africans Turned Into Braai Day
Happy Braai Day!
Today, September 24th, is Heritage Day — and we love that we can share this with fellow South Africans.
Heritage Day in South Africa is officially about celebrating our diverse cultures, traditions, and histories. Beautiful, right? But let’s be honest — somewhere along the way, South Africans looked at the calendar, saw the word public holiday, and decided: Ja, let’s light a fire. And just like that, Heritage Day became Braai Day.
Whether it’s a full-on beach braai with sand in your chops, or the highly underrated breakfast braai (yes, boerewors tastes even better at 8 a.m. than cornflakes ever will), the humble braai has united more South Africans than any political speech ever could.
FYI: Braai is the Afrikaans word for cooking over fire… but it really is so much more.
From Heritage to Hot Coals
Heritage Day started as Shaka Day in KwaZulu-Natal, honoring King Shaka, the legendary Zulu leader. When South Africa’s new democracy rolled out the calendar in 1995, the day was renamed Heritage Day to celebrate the country’s rich mix of cultures, languages, and traditions. A beautiful idea — but let’s be honest, most people immediately thought: Public holiday = braai.
Enter Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who knew the quickest way to unite South Africans wasn’t a speech, but a fire. He gave his blessing to the idea of turning Heritage Day into “Braai Day,” calling on everyone to gather around the coals, share a chop, and celebrate our diversity in true smoky style. Today, whether you call it Heritage Day or Braai Day, the point is the same: we all stand around the fire, arguing about whose homemade wors is the best.
Because nothing says culture like smoke in your eyes.
The Great Unifier
One of the magical things about a braai is that it doesn’t belong to any one culture — it belongs to all of them. In the township, you’ll find the legendary shisa nyama: butcheries where you pick your meat, hand it over, and they grill it for you while the music thumps and the Castle Lager flows.
Drive a few kilometers, and in suburbia, the vibe looks different but the story’s the same — someone’s uncle in cargo shorts is flipping lamb chops on the Weber, insisting he has a “secret spice” (spoiler: it’s just 6 Gun Spice).
From boerewors coils sizzling in Bloemfontein to marinated chicken wings at a Cape Malay family gathering, the braai has this superpower of sneaking past every cultural boundary. It doesn’t care if you’re speaking isiZulu, Afrikaans, or English — as long as there’s smoke in the air, you’re part of the party.
If you can flip a chop, you’re basically fluent in all 11 of South Africa’s official languages.
Why the Donkie Tong Rules the Braai (and Yes, Size Matters)
Ah, the donkie tong — one of the greatest inventions to come out of South Africa, right up there with Mrs. Ball’s Chutney. Every man knows this tool because, let’s face it, they’re “in charge” of the fire, and as we all know: one man does not interfere with another man’s fire.
How many times have they marched back into the house with scorched eyebrows and the faint smell of singed arm hair? A badge of honor, apparently — until the Donkie Tong came along.
This beast of a tong — a full meter/yard long — is the grandfather of all tongs. It lets you reach right into the back of the fire to shuffle the coals like a pro, or perform a heroic rescue when a rogue chop takes a dive into the flames. Honestly, it’s a work of genius. And every time I see it, I can’t help but wonder: why didn’t I think of that?
Tongs, Teeth & Tension: That Time We Braaied Almost in the Food Chain
Our most exciting braai ever was deep in the Kruger National Park, during a night braai under the stars. Just Johan, Ben, Veronica, Rencia, and myself — oh, and let’s not forget the game wardens who guarded us with rifles. Yes, real rifles. They even had to escort you to the loo, just in case something with more teeth than manners was lurking in the bush.
The table setting? Perfect. The meat? Grilled to absolute perfection. And the ladies who helped prep the feast? Champions. By the end of the night, we were just grateful that we only half stepped into the food chain — and didn’t become dinner ourselves.
Breakfast of Champions: A Karoo Braai Story
South Africans are adaptable. If the evening wind keeps blowing the fire out, you simply make a plan. And that plan is called the breakfast braai. Want to start your day the right way? Forget muesli. Do a braai.
My first full-blown breakfast braai (not the usual bacon-and-eggs setup) was in the middle of the Karoo, on my niece and her husband’s farm about 50 miles from the nearest town, Oudtshoorn.
The day started early with a cup of boere troos — coffee strong enough to keep you awake for three days, sweetened with condensed milk, and a rusk on the side hard enough to test the strength of your teeth. Willem stacked the wood 10 layers high — even the Aggies would’ve been proud — and soon the fire was lit. We sat outside, warming our hands while watching Ben, the resident eland, wander past, waiting for the coals to glow just right.
Yes, there was wors. But there were also juicy Karoo lamb chops — the kind that would’ve made Ouma Lettie beam with pride. And then the heroes of the day: leeu balle (lion balls). Don’t panic, no lions were harmed. A lion ball is a decadent little masterpiece: a cube of beef fillet and peppadew pepper stuffed with cheese, wrapped in bacon, and grilled to smoky perfection. Think “yum,” not “ouch.”
And as if that wasn’t enough, there was the perfect braaibroodjie — a humble sandwich transformed into crispy, golden-brown heaven over the fire, stuffed with cheese, onion, and tomato. Carine rounded things off with fresh salads and a creamy potato bake that could win medals in any braai Olympics.
Needless to say, this was no ordinary breakfast — this was the Breakfast of Champions. And honestly, after a spread like that, why would anyone ever settle for cornflakes or yogurt? This is surely the only time it’s acceptable to smell like smoke before 9 a.m. So worth it!
Strandkombuis: The Beach Braai Paradise
If there’s one place that proves South Africans will braai anywhere, it’s the strandkombuis — literally a beach kitchen. Picture this: long wooden tables planted right in the sand, the salty smell of the ocean mixing with the smoke from the fire, and waves crashing in the background while someone flips the fish.
Shoes are optional, sand in your food is guaranteed, and nobody cares because it just tastes better by the sea.
My first strandkombuis experience felt like the ultimate braai holiday: fresh snoek grilled with apricot jam glaze, roosterkoek blackened just enough to call it “authentic,” and the kind of laughter that only happens when half the family is balancing camp chairs in soft sand. Boere bread the size of an ice chest. Perfectly grilled fish and prawns manned by experts. To top it all off: live music and malva pudding. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
Who needs Netflix when you’ve got flames, friends, and the odd seagull trying to steal your fish right off your plate? That’s just beach tax — smile and pay. Much better than paying the real tax man.
The Official Braai Meat Power Rankings
- Boerewors (Wors, King of the Coals)
Non-negotiable. If there’s no wors, it’s not a braai — it’s just warm salad. - Steak (aka Rich Cousin’s Contribution)
Always welcome, especially if it comes from the cousin who just got a bonus. Medium rare? Perfect. Well-done? Friendship over. - Lamb Chops (The People’s Champion)
Crispy fat, smoky edges, finger-licking perfection. Worth burning your tongue for. - Chicken (The Benchwarmer)
It shows up, but no one’s writing poetry about it.
Salad (Not Actually in the Rankings)
Let’s be clear — salad is not meat. It’s colorful table décor. Everyone politely ignores it until one person eats some to prove they’re “balanced.” And frankly, it doesn’t even feature on the braai hierarchy — see, it has no number.
Conclusion: Smoke Signals of a Nation
Heritage Day may have started as a way to honor South Africa’s diverse cultures, but the truth is, nothing unites us faster than a fire, some wors, and a pair of tongs. From Karoo farms to township shisa nyamas, from beach strandkombuise to suburban backyards, the braai is the one tradition everyone understands.
So call it Heritage Day, call it Braai Day — the name doesn’t matter. What matters is the smoke in the air, the laughter around the fire, and the unspoken rule that boerewors always comes first. Because in South Africa, the real rainbow nation is drawn in smoke trails drifting up from a braai.
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