Howzit

Druk jou jack in jou gat... or win some biltong. Your call.

Author

Carel Van Graan
June 09, 2025

It’s Monday after the West Vancouver Cultural Festival, and I think our house is finally starting to resemble a home again… instead of a disaster zone.

Saturday night we got home, stopped at Chipotle because we hadn’t eaten all day, dumped everything—banners, boxes, coolers, signage—into the lounge and passage, stared at it, and just went: Nope. Not tonight. We sat down, ate in silence like two exhausted zombies, and went straight to bed.

Honestly, it’s been a rough week. We had Boerewors Roll Day last Saturday, and before we could even finish scrubbing the braai or cleaning the gazebos (which are still standing outside, by the way), we were already knee-deep in prep for the Cultural Festival.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights were spent printing signage, digging through boxes to find everything from last year, packing gear, and—of course—attaching a thousand tiny metal rings to a thousand little elephant and rhino charms for the beading table. I’m not exaggerating—my fingers are still numb. I now have a deep respect for anyone who makes jewellery for a living.

By Thursday afternoon, me, Belinda, and Team Herholdt—legends, the lot of them: Madelaine, Gavin, Christian, Maggie, and Juan (honorary member)—were on site setting up the South African pavilion.

Belinda Handing out Biltong Samples

Friday night, we ran the booth from 3:30 to 9:30 p.m., standing the whole time, talking to thousands of people and handing out thousands of tasters. And I mean thousands of tasters. Over the two days, we gave out:

  • 4,000 biltong and Eet-Sum-Mor tasters

  • 300 cold drinks

  • 400 fruit sticks

Saturday was another full-on day—10:30 a.m. to 6 p.m.—followed by the mad scramble to pack up and get out of there by 7. By the time we got home, it felt like we’d been hit by a freight train. Madeleine and Gavin messaged to say every muscle in their bodies ached. Same here. And my voice? Gone. Two straight days of talking over festival music will do that.

But you know what? It was still lekker.

We met so many amazing people, spread the word about the South African Institute of Canada, and had a ton of heartwarming conversations. So—a massive thank you to everyone who helped out, volunteered, or just came by to say howzit at the booth. You made it all worthwhile.

And if I forget your name the next time we bump into each other… please don’t take it personally. It might be the exhaustion, it might be that I drank too much beer at varsity, maybe I’m just getting old. Honestly, I sometimes forget Belinda’s name when I’m this tired. I promise—by the second or third time—I’ll have you committed to memory.

In this week’s newsletter:

  • Upcoming Events 

  • Best Biltong in BC – Blind Taste Test!

  •  Founding Member Spotlight - Brett Adamson

  • Thought of the Week – Druk jou jack in jou gat (Take your jack and shove it)

  • That’s a Wrap 

Upcoming Events

Best Biltong in BC – Blind Taste Test!

We’ve officially launched the Best Biltong in BC competition—because let’s be honest, everyone has an opinion, and it’s time we settle this like proper Saffas: by chewing our way to the truth.

Is it the drier, thin-sliced style that wins your heart? Or the thicker, wetter, coriander-packed kind that takes the crown? No more guessing. No more online arguments. Just taste, vote, and declare the champion.

Here’s how it works:

  • We send you a blind tasting pack with biltong from a few different local suppliers (labelled 1, 2, 3, etc.)

  • You taste each one, rate them, and submit your score online

  • We tally the votes and crown the Best Biltong in BC

🔥 The first tasting packs are shipping tomorrow (Tuesday)
🗓️ You can still sign up for next week’s round — entries close June 21st
💰 Cost: $50 per tasting pack

It’s anonymous. It’s unbiased. It’s delicious.

And yes—we’re fully expecting it to stir up some passionate opinions. 😅

Let the great biltong battle begin.

PS: Let’s make it fun!

Head over to the Howzit Canada Facebook Group and drop a comment on the biltong competition post. You’ll be entered into a lucky draw to win:

  • 100g pack of Chilli Bites

  • 100g pack of Droëwors

  • 100g pack of Chutney Bites

    (All from Netvleish—shipped to you anywhere in Canada.)

We’ll do the draw next week and announce the winner in the next newsletter. So go comment, gooi your opinion, and maybe score some snacks!

Founding Member Spotlight - Brett Adamson

The first time I met Brett Adamson was at the potjie competition in Vernon. We were chatting about boerewors, as one does, and he told me how he gets Boerewors made for people in his area—not to make a profit, but simply so fellow South Africans can get a taste of home. That’s just who he is.

Brett was also the first person to officially become a founding member of the South African Institute of Canada. Literally the first. The moment we set things up, he paid his $120 and said, “Let’s do this.”

He runs local Facebook groups, helps keep the community connected, and now he’s organising something truly special: the Southern African Okanagan Market in Kelowna on September 20th at Meadow Vista.

If you’re a vendor, or you sell South African products, or you just want to be part of something special—go support Brett. SAIC is helping him with logistics and admin, but he’s the real engine behind it.

Oh—and did I mention he’s also a top realtor in the Okanagan? So if you’re house-hunting in the area, Brett might just be the guy to help you bridge that gap too.

People like Brett are the reason this community works.

Thought of the Week – Druk jou jack in jou gat (Take your jack and shove it)

My dad used to tell me this story.

There’s this guy driving alone through the Karoo one night—one of those long, empty stretches of road where you don’t see another soul for hours. Suddenly, he gets a flat tire.

No big deal… except when he checks the boot, he realises he forgot to pack his jack.

He looks around. Nothing. Just dust, stars, and the sound of jackals. Then, way off in the distance, he spots a faint light—a farmhouse.

“Okay,” he thinks, “I’ll walk over and ask to borrow a jack.”

So off he goes. But it’s far. And as he walks, his mind starts spinning:
“By the time I get there it’ll be 2 a.m.”
“That farmer’s going to be fast asleep.”
“He’s going to be moody. Irritated.”
“Why would anyone help a chop who didn’t even pack a jack?”
“He’s going to shout at me.”

And on and on it goes. For hours.

Eventually, he gets to the farmhouse, knocks on the door, and a smiling farmer opens up with a friendly, “Evening! How can I help you?”

The guy just glares at him and snaps: “Druk jou jack in jou gat.” (Take your jack and shove it.)

And he turns around and walks away.

Moral of the story?

We do this all the time.

We let our made-up expectations ruin perfectly good moments before they’ve even had a chance to begin. We convince ourselves how someone else will react, or how a situation will play out, and then we act based on that imaginary version of events—without giving reality a proper chance.

It happens more often than we care to admit. Just look at politics lately. Each side creates a narrative of what they think is going to happen—and then they defend it like it’s already happened. But the truth is, nobody knows. Not really.

There are literally a million ways any situation can unfold. So why do we assume we’ve already guessed it right? Why do we get worked up about what we think might possibly happen? Why do we stress about stuff that hasn’t happened yet?

Odds are… it’s not going to happen.

In fact, the odds are almost 100% that whatever we imagine will happen is not going to play out exactly how we think.

So maybe this week, instead of deciding ahead of time how something’s going to go… just knock on the door with an open mind.

The farmer might just be smiling.

That’s a Wrap

Thanks for reading, for showing up, and for being part of this weird and wonderful little Saffa community we’re building here in Canada.

Whether you’re volunteering at events, testing biltong like a pro, or just quietly reading these emails over your Monday morning coffee—you matter. And you make this whole thing worthwhile.

Hey, let me know how I did in today’s newsletter. Is there anything else you think should be better? I respond to all replies, so give me a shout and let me know what you liked, what you didn’t, or what you’d love to see next time.

Cheers, Callie

PS - Get $5 off you next order at Netvleish