Tag Archives: diaspora

South African Folk Songs – “My Sarie Marais” & “Deur die Bos”

Collection date: 4/25/2026

Context:

My mom immigrated to California with her parents and two siblings from South Africa when she was four. They moved for work opportunities. Growing up, her family wanted to preserve their culture as much as possible. They learned Afrikaans (the primary language in South Africa) to use around the house, ate traditional foods, and learned some smaller customs. As she tells me, my family comes primarily from the Dutch Huguenots who settled in South Africa and are called Boers. Aside from passing the culture down to their kids, my family also made a point of teaching others. One way, mom told me about is how she and her family used to teach South African folk dances and songs to kids.

Text:

My mom and her siblings learned the children’s songs or “Boeremusiek” around the house from my Ouma (grandma) and Oupa (Grandpa) growing up, similar to “how most people might learn Patty Cake or Ring around a Rosy.” My Ouma organized the lessons and taught my mom and her siblings the basic dance moves to choreograph. Her siblings, who were older, already knew some of the dances because they were children’s playground dances they played back in school. To get people involved, they would invite friends, or people they knew through Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts, or other social communities.

My mom and her siblings borrow a room from the local community center and walk the kids through the dance moves. One of the moves she remembers is kids making arches with one another and then running through the middle, They would learn the moves to these dances for about a month then put on a performance once they were all ready for everyone’s parents. For the performance itself, my Oum (uncle) would play the accordion, and my Tannie (aunt) would play the recorder while my mom would sing the lyrics in Afrikaans.

Some of the lyrics as she remembers:

My Sarie Marais:

Unique melody for this song.

“My Sarie Marais is so ver van my af
Ek hoop haar weer te sien
Sy het in die wyk van die Mooirivier gewoon
Nog voor die oorlog het begin
O bring my terug na die ou Transvaal
Daar waar my Sarie woon
Daar onder in die mielies by die groen doring boom
Daar woon my Sarie Marais (2x)

Ek was so bang dat die Kaakies my sal vang
En ver oor die see sal voer”

Which she translated to:

“My Sarie Marais (Sarah Marie) is so far from me now
I hope to see her again
She lived on the shore of the Mooi river
Before this old war began
O bring me back to the old Transvaal
There where my Sarie lives
There under all the corn near the green tree with thorns
There lives my Sarie Maraie(2x)

I was so afraid, that the redcoats would catch me
and send me far away overseas”

She believes the song originates from the Boer wars of the 18th century as England was trying to colonize the land. The story of the song is from a prisoner of war longing for his girl being sent overseas as a prisoner of war. We looked up the lyrics for reference after and saw that the final two verses were cut from most versions. My mom suspects this is done to make the song more timeless, less sad and removed from the war.

Deur Die Bos

To the melody of London Bridge

“Janna Janna deur die bos
deur die bos
deur die bos
Mama kook mos lekker kos
lekker kos”

Which she translates to:

“Janna Janna through the bush
through the bush
through the bush
My mom does make good food,
she makes good food”

My mom imagines this is just a fun children’s song of kids playing in the woods convincing themselves to go back home because the food is tasty or they smell good food cooking back home. We tried looking this one up, but couldn’t really find much on it. Maybe not as much history behind this song as Sarie Marais, but still quite a fun song and it was definitely given more meaning being a representation of South African culture.

Analysis:

We had difficulty finding copies of Deur Die Bos online. This suggests that the folk song may have strong oral roots, but might not be recorded anywhere, especially not on an American folklore site. That makes the entry quite unique and valuable for me.

Although my mom and her siblings grew up learning and singing some of these folk songs in South Africa, the performances weren’t the same when they performed the same songs in California. The context, like the location and reason for the song’s performance, changed completely, changing the overall meaning of the performance under the ideas of performance theory. Back home, they were common children’s games, not much to look at; everyone knew them. But in California, the songs were a way to connect people and communicate identity. Because they were foreign, it was kind of like displaying new things in a museum to show what they’re about. The dances and songs were a way for my mom and her siblings to stay connected to their family history and culture. Alone, the dances might not seem like much, but they were part of larger family traditions carried to America that included speaking Afrikaans and eating traditional foods. My Ouma (grandma) and Oupa (grandpa) allowed their kids to adapt to much of American life. But they wanted to preserve aspects of their unique culture and traditions. By learning and performing these songs in America, they were able to hold on to and preserve those.

My mom said that she knew many friends who had immigrant parents and sometimes those traditions are lost or forgotten. Her mom taught the dances and shew grew up learning the songs from friends and family. She’s glad she learned the songs and played them with her siblings because being a first generation immigrant isn’t always easy. There are many pressures to fit in and forget about who you were of what your family is because it’s weird, unfamiliar or foreign. But the performances rejected that assimilation. They also were a way for her and her family to connect with each other. They didn’t really know any other South African families, so they had to be there for each other. The performances brought the family closer together by uniting everyone with a goal and identity. My mom thinks the dances were kind of silly looking back, but she’s glad she did it because small things like that made them a closer family.

The dance lessons also were a way for her family to share who they were to others. Especially when not many people knew about South Africa. Often, the few things Americans knew about South Africa wasn’t always positive. It was a very time where her and her parents had to navigate a complicated but generally negative global reputation. So, her family were in a way acting as diplomats to share what it really means to be South African. To humanize the culture and people beyond what the news might focus on. These folk music lessons were a small but impactful way to share that culture with others.

Bobotie – South African Dish

Age: 52

Collected 4/18/2026

Context:

My mom immigrated from South Africa to California as a child, growing up she was raised mostly as any other American child in the area would have been. But, to help and her siblings connect with their culture and history, her parents would occasionally cook them all bobotie, a traditional south African meat dish that is kind of like a meatloaf.

Text:

My mom explained, that once every two weeks, her parents would cook her and her siblings foods from South Africa. This wasn’t anything special, “just a nice family dinner to give us a taste of home.” One of the most memorable dishes for her growing up was Bobotie. The recipe originates in the lower Cape, but her family was north-east of Johannesburg, quite a ways from the historical origins. The recipe, as she explained, was fairly common in South Africa; they used a printed poster brought with them when they immigrated, which listed the ingredients and instructions. She says, “that poster is probably still somewhere in their family house.” But, back when her parents were cooking (this was 30-40 years ago) things like curry powder and chutney weren’t available at your local grocery store. So, her parents had to substitute other ingredients. For example, one that she remembered was substituting apricot jam for the chutney. Her family also commonly used raisins, bananas and other fruits to add to the sweet profile of the dish. To her this was normal, but back then, fruits and meat weren’t a common combination in American cuisines. She wasn’t embarrassed though, as she told me “it does remind you that you’re different, but that’s just a thing our family.” For her and her family, it was a way to connect with their roots and pass on some of that identity to my mom and her siblings who grew up primarily in America.

One funny memory my mom mentioned is that her family would sometimes serve the Bobotie to her friends when they stayed over. To most kids, this was a really strange (never-before-seen food). So, to mess with them, my mom and her parents would tell the kids they’re eating elephant stew, which surprisingly worked. Most of the friends she remembered trying it thought it was tasty and quite exotic.

She never really got to try the original until much later in life when visiting her “home town” in South Africa, but by that point, the California Bobotie was the norm. So, when she tried the real thing, she was kinda disappointed. Funny enough, “it didn’t taste nostalgic or like home because it was different.” She can’t remember whether her parents told her that they were substituting ingredients or not, but it didn’t matter. Because to her, the substitutions were the dish.

Analysis:

Before I go into my analysis, I should note my perspective. I grew up with similar cultural exposure. Especially from my mom’s side of the family and my cousins. So, to me some of these things were normal. I wasn’t eating weird foods, but also, I wasn’t raised with as much influence as she was. So to me, these things are somewhat normal, but also somewhat foreign.

One thing from this story that interests me is how the substitutions were forced by a necessity. The ingredients just didn’t exist in common grocery stores, so her family had to create their own “spin” on the dish, which I’m sure wasn’t uniquely their substitution. After a quick Google search, it looks like substituting the chutney is a fairly common thing to do. So many other families in similar situations might have made similar adaptations or substitutions when bringing the food here. My Oupa and Ouma weren’t degrading the dish or making it any less, they were adapting it to their environment so that that culture might continue to exist in their children.

As mentioned, my mom grew up mostly like any other American child. But small things like this are examples of how her parents allowed her to grow up in a new environment while maintaining that cultural identity and connection. And to that effect it worked. She doesn’t remember much else of what they did that was South African, maybe because whatever they did was just “normal” to her growing up that was all she saw. But, seeing and tasting a different food definitely resonated with her.

It’s also so funny that they all leaned into the weird or exotic food aspect. That really sounds in character for my Ouma to mess with someone like that. They didn’t hide the food when friends came over, instead they made it seem exotic by using the unfamiliarity of it. Also, it kind of flipped the roles. Typically, I would have pictured my mom to be embarrassed or nervous for her friends judging the food, but the joke reverses that idea, allowing my family to hold the power in the situation. They’re in on the joke, the other kid, not so much.

But, by far the most interesting piece to me is how my mom mentions that the California Bobotie was just Bobotie. To her, the substitution and “odd” recipe is what she grew up with, so trying the “real thing” felt weird. This shows that there is no one way to do something; instead, it’s in the cultural context and shared meaning that makes it the “right way” or normal. It’s all about perception and experience. The authenticity and connection to the food come from repeated experiences, not just the origin. This highlights the loose boundaries that can make it difficult to categorize or “own” folklore.

This raises a serious question we’ve asked in class. What makes folklore genuine? Well, my mom’s experience would suggest that authenticity is not about adherence, but about shared value and experience. To her, the California Bobotie was more authentic and genuine than any traditional Bobotie could ever be.