Out on the African Veld

Back in the 1940s, there were many small Jewish communities dotting the landscape of South Africa. Most of the immigrants hailed from Lithuania. Usually, a young man would come out first. If he had no money, he would sometimes start out as a “smous,” traveling with a backpack of goods, going on foot from farm to farm. The next step was to find a small village, with no commerce, and open a general dealer shop. Then he would bring out his family. In this way, village after village found themselves with a Jewish shop in their midst.

Some communities had more Jews, some less. Some consisted primarily of Jewish farmers, who lived in the surrounding area and came into town for Shabbos. Once the village grew large enough to host a regular minyan, a rav would be sent for from Lithuania, preferably one who was licensed for shechitah. The only doctor or lawyer in the dorp (“village” in South African vernacular) was usually a Jew, and a Jew was often elected as mayor.

In Thaba N’chu, there were three “General Dealer” shops, all owned by Jewish families. They sold everything from dry goods to canned food to dress materials. The fabric we bought would be transformed into garments by the local dressmaker, who seemed to know only one pattern for girls and one for women.

There were other businesses in Thaba N’chu — a bakery that didn’t sell kosher goods, and two hotels opposite each other. At the center of town, there was a telephone exchange office where a woman sat at a desk before an array of holes and plugs, managing all the incoming and outgoing calls. When I’d pass by the office to visit friends, I’d peer into the window to get a glimpse of the action.