Begrafnisrys, photographed in context. (Photo: Tony Jackman)
The grim procession snakes from the farmhouse across the werf towards the low white wall that surrounds the little fenced cemetery. The dominee’s right arm is heavy under the weight of the leaden family Bible, rendering him lopsided, as though he has a limp. An old man near the back of the procession leans on his walking stick, head bowed, brow morose; the son should not die before the father. Two children, a boy and a girl, slightly younger, skip and giggle with the insouciance of the innocent; a mother and aunt chastise them, bringing them to heel. A dog wanders the yard oblivious.
When the day and the climbing sun have taken their toll of sweat and tears, the troupe is less ordered as they traipse back to the house, the wailing done, regrets pocketed, resolve firm. These people are stoics, as were their forebears. They know that the putting to the ground of the loved one is also the laying to rest of the hope that they might see him just one more time. Even as they turned away from the grave, they were turning their backs on the life all had had with that person, and facing the rest of their lives without him. This is the way of life and death.
But first, after the sombre ritual, there must be the joy, inasmuch as any can be found in it, the trenchant telling of tales about the life of the departed, and the feasting.
The feasting. At the old Cape, whether in the town or a dorp deep in the country, a funeral could be a lavish affair, not dissimilar to a modern day after-tears gathering.
Renata Coetzee, in her The South African Culinary Tradition, wrote that an old Cape funeral was “a major social occasion”, so much so that laws had to be promulgated to make the proceedings less extravagant.
There was even an element of what today might be termed rent-a-crowd. When a funeral was held after dark, lantern bearers were hired to light the way for the cortège. Weepers, called huilebalke, were paid to sob and wail, while others called trop sluiters or procession joiners were hired to bring up the rear, to create an impression of greater numbers.
After the funeral, “everyone who had been to the cemetery, including the hired participants and onlookers who had joined the procession out of curiosity”, was treated to an extravagant meal at the home of the deceased.
Famously, such a meal would include begrafnisrys, the jewelled yellow funeral rice that still bears the name today, although in our times this dish is commonplace and not only brought out for a funeral or after-tears party. But there was much more food besides. Coetzee unearthed old records of funeral fare; from hams, geese, turkeys, chickens and ducks to cake, almonds, raisins, bread and cheese, liquor and tobacco.
“At the funeral of Joachim von Dessin a barrel of beer and 40 bottles of red wine were consumed,” wrote Coetzee. “Adam Tas sent five pails of wine, a Cape ham, three legs of mutton and bread to the funeral of a servant who had drowned.”
In Die Geskiedenis van Boerekos 1652-1806, Hester Wilhelmina Claassens cited a tradition of food being placed on a grave as an offering in the old German manner. This, she wrote, had developed into a funeral feast to honour the departed. In the mid-17th century, funeral meals were prohibited, with mourners served only wine. It doesn’t take too much of a leap to imagine that things might have been different in the dorps and on farms, out of sight of the authorities. But not just any alcohol: the rich were served Rhine wines, the middle classes French, and the poor made do with beer. Claassens surmises that yellow rice, or funeral rice, may have been part of the funeral rituals of slaves of the Cape colony.
The richer the deceased’s family, chances were that the more extravagant and costly the affair might be. Some events spilled into a second day. A grim consequence of all this extravagance was that the excesses could plunge the family deep into debt.
The Dictionary of South African English defines “begrafenisrijst” as “rice prepared with turmeric… a reference to the custom, still in vogue in country districts, of providing a meal for those who had come long distances to be present at the funeral, though now… used quite apart from funerals.”
Michael Olivier wrote that begrafnisrys was traditionally served in Cape Malay homes at large family gatherings such as funerals, cooked either as “droeërys” (dry rice) or “paprys” (wet rice) and that while saffron was used in earlier times, “turmeric is the current favourite spice used for colouring the rice”. The raisins, he added, were optional.
We can of course use either or both. Spices are not required but are often used, especially in our times. These can vary (Olivier uses cardamom, cinnamon, and turmeric or a few threads of saffron). I chose to use a cinnamon stick with ground cumin (a winning aromatic for rice) and a few cloves in a nod to the old Cape spice tradition.
An ingredient worth including, and which you find in many yellow rice recipes, is butter, which you add by fluffing the rice with a fork once the grains are cooked. This column pairs with this recipe. DM/TGIFood
Tony Jackman is Galliova Food Champion 2021. His book, foodSTUFF, is available in the DM Shop. Buy it here.
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