Pic (taken by me in the eastern Free State) provided entirely for its tranquillising qualities.

I really don’t want to have to write this. I’d rather share lockdown or “shelter at home” recipes, or needle the big banks about suspending bond and loan payments, or suggest 101 Ways To Interact With Your Cat While Home Alone. But an already hideous reality for hundreds and thousands of women and children and a few men is about to have the heat turned up to unbearable levels. Everyone who works with domestic violence and child abuse knows that a confined space, with no way to escape from an abuser who is barred from leaving the house for work, golf or the tavern, is a living nightmare. A lot of violent men will also have used the pre-lockdown period to stock up on booze.

There are children who are only truly safe from abuse and neglect during the hours they’re at schools or creches — and those have all been closed down. I’m not going to link the source because reading it distressed me so much, but in a small town in Texas experiencing school closures and partial lockdown, the local hospital treated more serious child abuse injuries in the first five days than they usually see in a month.

So what on earth can we do?

We should already have gotten in touch (not literally, but via social media and other networks like street committees — remember those, eighties activists?) with our neighbours, and hopefully identified those who might be vulnerable. Now is the time to keep your ears pricked. Get phone numbers for everyone in a potentially volatile household, including the landline. One of the most useful things you can give women and children at risk is airtime/data, so they can call or text when necessary.

Here are some options for intervention, although all need to be guided by context — plus you should never put yourself at risk. Ideally, the police (overwhelmed at the best of times) should be visiting all those with prior complaints against them to confiscate their weapons, but let’s get real.

Call those you fear for at least once a day. Be aware that they may not be able to speak freely, and that controlling partners may be monitoring their phones, so be circumspect in what you say. I know this is heterosexist, but women should call women: irrationally jealous men may be triggered if another man calls their partners. But please check in: text, WhatsApp, Facebook message, voice notes, email.

Remember that one hallmark of abuse is that victims often learn NOT to scream, fearful of escalating the situation: this is especially true of abused children, who often go numb and silent, disassociating from what’s being done to their bodies. So perhaps one thing you could do is tell vulnerable people that if they yell for help, you WILL respond.

If you hear screams or sounds of a disturbance, calling a landline, or phone number for someone in that home can provide a jolt of distraction. This is also grounds for leaning out a window or door and blowing a whistle, banging on a pot, or shouting REALLY loudly, “If this doesn’t stop, I’m calling the police!”

It would be wonderful if the police could respond appropriately and promptly to such reports, and cart the offenders off to spend a night in jail even the victim doesn’t press charges (which should not be the decision of a terrorised and dependent woman or child — a crime is a crime is a crime). This might give batterers pause. But I’m not holding my breath. (This is not intended as a criticism of the cops, who are going to be working harder in the next several weeks than ever before; just a reflection of the realities.)

If you hear sounds of mayhem, and you genuinely don’t know what to do, call one of the hotlines (numbers supplied below) and ask for guidance.

Encourage those at risk to join a Facebook support group (Tracy Going, author of Brutal Legacy, a memoir on surviving abuse, has a good one, “When Love Hurts”) or neighbourhood online group, or to call any of the hotlines or resource numbers below. If nothing else, they can ask for advice and break their sense of isolation. So you can see why airtime is so vital.

I’m writing this listening to the Minister for Social Services answering queries on gender-based violence and other forms of abuse, and it does sound like everyone on the ground — NPOs, municipalities and civic organisations — is scrambling to provide places of safety and respite, as well as overflow shelters. Here’s the number for the Command Centre on domestic violence and child abuse — 0800-428-428 — she says they will refer you to the most appropriate resource for your area, and that children in danger WILL be removed to places of safety. Dear Goddess, I hope her department can follow through on the promises she’s making, but there’s no doubting the seriousness of their intent.

With new temporary shelters being opened post-haste, this might be the moment some women and children make a dash for freedom — you have one day to act. If you know of someone who needs to leave their abuser tomorrow, provide whatever help you can that’s consistent with social distance — money is always a help.

Some more numbers, many of them taken from the excellent Dr Tlaleng’s Twitter feed (follow her @drtlaleng: apart from being a national treasure, she’s a constant source of useful info). Save and keep these.

Stop Gender Violence national toll-free helpline: 0800-150-150 for survivors and witnesses of gender-based violence, or use the Command Centre number above.

Rape Crisis Cape Town Trust: 021-447-9762 (Observatory); 021-633-9229 (Athlone); 021-361-9085 (Khayelitsha).

People Opposing Women Abuse (POWA)’s helpline is 076-694-5911; they have branches in Soweto (011-933-2333), Vosloorus (011-906-4259), Katlehong (011-905-2211) and Evaton (081-383-7698).

You can call the Saartjie Baartman Centre for Women and Children in Manenberg on 27 21 633 5287, and here’s their website: www.saartjiebaartmancentre.org.za.

You can report child abuse to the police via email:childprotect@saps.org.za

Lifeline counselling services (good as a one-stop resource, also if you’re distressed and need to talk) has a 24/7 counselling line: 0861 322 322

Suicide crisis line of the SA Depression and Anxiety Group: 0800 567 567 or SMS 31393 — because folk are going to get desperate.

And if you decide that now is a good time to face your addiction (which fuels so much intimate violence), here’s the national toll-free number for Alcoholics Anonymous: 0861-435-722. According to their website www.aasouthafrica.org.za, you can also chat to them online 24/7, or send an urgent email.

For families of alcoholics, there’s Al-Anon, with a special section – Alateen – for children of alcoholics. Their helpline: 0861 ALANON (25 26 66) or you can email them: help@alanon.org.za.

And the national 24-hour helpline for Narcotics Anonymous is: 083 900 MY NA (083 900 69 62).

This feels a bit like spitting in the face of a hurricane, given our stratospherically high rates of violence against women, children and those who don’t conform to gender/sexuality norms, exacerbated by huge social ills, including a singularly horrible and unjust history and a vast gap between rich and poor.

But I leave you with this comforting thought: we have the most incredible, agile, resourceful and hectically active NGOs/NPOs imaginable. The smaller they are, the bigger their punch, especially those rooted in the communities they serve. Trust me, they are all over this lockdown and the pandemic like a rash (poor joke, sorry), racing in tandem with government, businesses and civic organisations to respond to this crisis. They all need money, all the time, but never as much as now. Pick a few that support causes close to your heart, and donate: there are buttons that make it easy on almost all their websites.

*Reader advisory: my language might get a little salty.*

Hey, listen up! Good people, USE YOUR NOGGINS. Reports are streaming in of the shops being overrun by panic buyers. If the virus was a pantomime monster, it would be chortling and rubbing its hands in glee. STAY HOME. You are not lemmings. If you're middle-class, you’re not going to starve in three weeks. And remember that the lockdown will permit you to leave the house to get food and medical supplies. The supermarkets will stay open. The food will be there. GO HOME NOW. Really. Don’t be dicks.

The real worry right now is the people who live hand-to-mouth, for whom three weeks without food is impossible. There were a few things missing from the President's speech last night, but one of the most pressing was the silence on how to support the absolutely indigent. Mention was made of shelter for the homeless, but: FOOD. For the beggars, the homeless, those working in the "informal economy" (car guards and the like), the men by the side of the road, the families so poor that their main meal of the day comes from a soup kitchen, children reliant on their school or creche to provide their one hot meal a day. These are the people who need urgent intervention. How, for example, is the Service Dining Room in Cape Town's Canterbury Street going to work during lockdown? It literally keeps an incredibly vulnerable population from starving, but how is social distancing going to be managed in their queues? Their website says they supply food parcels: how can we help? Urgent steps need to be taken at local municipality level everywhere: food banks? mobile kitchens?

It's easy to despair about this, but we have an incredibly robust and innovative NPO/NGO sector in this country (the vital necessity of govt-NPO partnerships was something else we didn’t hear about last night). Trust me, NPOs are scrambling to address this problem right now. HELP THEM. Give them the money you won't be spending on eating out for the next month. Put enquiries on your social media pages asking what feeding schemes are in place in your immediate neighbourhood, and how you can assist them. NPO workers and carers who will feed the truly needy during the next three weeks should be considered essential workers, surely? If you don’t know where to donate your dollah, remember there’s always the Gift of the Givers.

I’m worried that we will see a rise of xenophobia within communities that are confined, frightened and hungry. Government needs to be proactive here, likewise community leaders. NO inflammatory or reckless statements.

All of you with domestic workers, gardeners, etc: these are the two days in which to put the cash for the next month in their hands. DO IT. If your income has dried up overnight and you genuinely can’t afford to do so (but really, truly, think about this), then give them whatever you can. Some cash, food, clothing — just don’t send them home to an unimaginably bleak three weeks empty-handed. And if you do have money for the next month, but want to sit on it because you don’t know what the future holds: pay your staff instead. The banks, civil society and businesses look like they’re going to put their hands up — we will never forgive them if they don’t — assume that if you have enough for the next few weeks, you should put your hand in your pocket for those who as of Friday will have NOTHING.

Re debt: I once read a wonderful piece of advice on how to prioritise debt payments — pay the people with faces. If you owe money to freelancers, handypersons, household staff, etc., settle those debts TODAY. Frankly, the banks can bloody well wait. Freelancers and independent contractors, chase all your suppliers NOW (that’s what I’ll be doing as soon as I post this) and make sure you get paid before Friday.

Next up: I know it's a big commitment, and you have very little time to think about it, but if EVER there was a time to adopt or foster a shelter or rescue animal, this is it. If you have the space, the equipment (leads and litter trays, etc) and most of all, the means to feed and provide medical care for a four-leggit, and want to be rewarded with endless love, companionship and entertainment, do it in the next two days. I've noticed a lot of my social media contacts doing this, especially those with children at home. Something exciting and comforting for them to enjoy: no small things right now. You'll also be taking a load off overworked staff at overwhelmed organisations.

On this topic: unless you absolutely cannot manage to keep feeding your pets (and sadly, this will be true in a few cases), now is ABSOLUTELY not the time to surrender or abandon your animals. Sheesh. I know last week Spar put out that utterly reckless piece of fuckwittery masquerading as a poster, which suggested that animals were a risk factor for catching the virus. (They swiftly retracted it and apologised profusely, and I bloody well hope they're giving six months of pet-food to animal shelters around the country to make amends.) If you were one of those who dumped your faithful companion because of this misinformation, GO GET YOUR PET BACK NOW. You CANNOT catch the virus from an animal. *very sweary noises*

Which brings me to the next point: Stop. Spreading. Fake. News. The Spar blunder shows that even supposedly trustworthy sources can get things horribly wrong. It's now a criminal offence to generate AND spread false information, but it's also the last thing we need in pandemic mode. For all those muttering about the media and politicians and how we can't trust them: hurray, we have independent fact-checking NPOs and organisations all over the world. My go-tos are Snopes and Africa Check — the latter has a one-stop shop for all coronavirus info that’s constantly updated. Do not, repeat, do not, pass on any tidbit until you have run it past these sites. AND the NCID, AND the WHO (which has excellent country-specific links) for good measure. Even Wikipedia, which is working flat out to keep reliable info in the public domain, is better than your second cousin on Twitter and Random Karen on Facebook. Call out your friends who are spreading fake news on social media. Tell them to put a sock in it, and if they persist, report them. It’s not “free speech”; it’s actively dangerous right now. (AFRIFORUM, I AM LOOKING AT YOU.)

More soon: a lot needs to happen (setting up systems for online working, challenging banks, businesses and cellphone operators to do the right thing — we have a glorious opportunity to nudge and if necessary shame mega corporations into stepping up), but that can wait until we’re all safe at home. Hang in there! Yesterday I wrote that we need to move a mountain using hand-shovels: but if anyone can do it, we can. We’re a nation of (mostly) incredible can-do people, so pick up that shovel and get stuck in.

And here is a picture of my three-leggit rescue cat to soothe your shredded nerves. HE thinks lockdown is a great idea.

Blissed-out Boychik.

Pic (taken in the eastern Free State) provided entirely for purposes of morale-boosting.

I’ve just watched the President’s speech in response to the corona virus pandemic, announcing lockdown until 16 April, and am both tearful and proud. I have an inkling of how my grandparents might have felt in 1939, listening to the announcement of war on the radio. You’ll all have watched too, so let me get to the point.

I’ve been wanting to write about the COVID-19 pandemic, mostly thoughts and tips (which I am hoping YOU will supply) on practical ways of building stronger social networks at the same time as we’re required to keep each other at (more than) arms’ length. This will be the basis of my next book, and I find I’ve been mulling almost too furiously to write, especially as we all know so little. I am not a medical doctor, and although I’m reading medical journal articles as fast as I can, I am still stumped by questions like: is it safe for me to make food for others, if it’s something the other party has to boil before eating?

BUT the reason I’m writing this in haste is because I’m worried that in the two and a half days before lockdown starts on Thursday, we might all turn into headless chickens. Forgive my presumption, but may I make some very, very strong practical suggestions.

1) Please DON’T charge into the supermarkets tomorrow brandishing your credit cards and clear the shelves of every possible supply. It’s lockdown for three weeks, not three years. You do NOT need any more toilet paper, and this is not the moment to hoard. THINK OF OTHERS, especially frontline workers and the vulnerable before you snatch up the last six loaves of bread to stick in your huge freezer.

2) Will supermarkets and pharmacies please (and I know you have very little time to prepare) create dedicated tills for the elderly and those with disabilities. Consider asking your security guards (I know your staff are already overwhelmed) to ask everyone coming in if they need special assistance. Lead them to a shelf of basic commodities reserved for the vulnerable (you can put it behind those no-booze grills). Make similar provision for health-care workers and others supplying essential services. LIMIT NUMBERS of items per person, or make discreet enquiries — is someone filling their trolley for four sets of grandparents or a community food drive, or are they just being selfish? Store managers should circulate, keeping a beady eye on the situation.

3) When you hit the shops, observe social distance, for the love of all the gods. On your way out, tip the car guards and trolley pushers as handsomely as you can manage: their only source of income is about to evaporate.

4) If you have the means, switch to online ordering. Yes, it’s all a bit of a muddle right now, and there are delays, but you will get your balsamic vinegar in the end.

5) If you’re rich, for heaven’s sake don’t clear out the baked beans and tinned pilchards and dried lentils. Go buy jasmine rice and quinoa and tinned artichokes instead. Leave essential cheap protein staples for those who really need them. (I promise to write a blog soon on how to cook with the weird and wonderful things at the back of your larder. It will be fun. No, really. Also *breaks out the Blitz pinny* on how to RATION.)

6) Middle-class employers with domestic workers, nannies, gardeners, etc: when you give your staff their wages for a month’s paid leave (which please please PLEASE do if at all humanly possible), give them a food parcel as well. Tinned tuna and all those baked beans I just told you not to buy. As big a sack of maizemeal as they can carry and store (or drop it off for them). A bag of dried samp and beans. A bottle of sunflower oil, some onions and potatoes. Basic hygiene supplies as well, especially a spray bottle if they don’t have running water in their homes. Actually, scratch all that, ASK them what they need: they might have storage and other challenges. They know more about how to keep their homes clean and hygienic under trying conditions than you’ve ever forgotten, so do not patronise — communicate, rather.

7) If you are going shopping, find out if there are vulnerable people near you, especially the immune-suppressed or compromised — someone who’s in the middle of chemo or similar — or those without transport, and add their items to your grocery lists. If you do spot people filling their trolleys with a lot of items, assume the best: they may be shopping for an entire old-age home (a friend who filled her trolley with goods for needy families in Masi this weekend kept getting the stink-eye — no good deed goes unpunished). Ask a manager to have a quiet word if you think someone is taking more than their fair share.

8) Now is absolutely the time to support your small local business, deli or neighbourhood market. They will be scrambling to respond — as the folk at Fish Hoek’s Neighbourhood Farms store told me, “we can’t stop the food growing.” Many of these will have to start delivering; make enquiries and set up eft platforms for paying them. If the supply chain is interrupted and their veg starts to droop or their bread loses its crunch, offer to pay them to drop it off at soup kitchens and similar NPOs. (Something missing from Cyril’s speech was the tricky business of food banks, which I reckon we are going to need urgently, although HOW to manage them with our levels of poverty AND the need for social distance, is a headache for another day.)

Enough for now. Here’s another picture of something beautiful — my parents’ smallholding in happier times. (This time, a cat did sneak in.) The idea is to remind ourselves that this is a beautiful country, with (mostly) splendid people. Good luck everyone, and expect lots of “for-the-duration” posts.

NOT a well-timed ad campaign. Spotted in the liquor store window in my local mall yesterday.

I saw my doctor yesterday. “So where’s the next book?” he asked. “I’m expecting one telling us all how to manage the corona virus. Isn’t that what you do? Tell us how to act during crises?”

He’s joking, but only partly. “Funny you should say that,” I said. “I realise I’m a professional meddler, telling everyone how to live their lives, but that’s very similar to what my publisher said a month ago, before all this blew up.”

Louise Grantham, who heads up the appropriately named indie publisher Bookstorm, and I had met to discuss the third in my green book series, the cookbook I’ve been wanting and trying to write for decades. But we agreed to hold it over for another year, and instead to make Book Number 3 about more urgent issues – the somewhat apocalyptic shocks that seem to be coming faster and faster. Loadshedding is an obvious challenge for everyone at the moment – including the millions of South Africans who already live off the grid courtesy of poverty and isolation. For them, power blackouts affect jobs, transport, infrastructure, piling extra burdens on already buckling backs.

Meanwhile, spectres loom everywhere: locusts are settling on crops, our dams are ominously low and our rivers are poisoned, fire and flood are becoming the new normal.

“We need to know how to cope with crisis,” said Louise. “More challenges are on their way, and we need to be able to react and act constructively” (she clearly has a good crystal ball). We both agreed that we didn’t want a book with the words “coping” or “crisis” in the title. Too negative: we need to be thinking creatively and compassionately about how to absorb the shocks in store for us, how to be practical and pro-active, to work effectively in teams.

Back to my doctor’s office. He tells me that while the corona virus is serious, what really frightens him is the public responses he sees: the panic, the combination of savagery and silliness that leads to toilet-paper punch-ups, conspiracies about radio waves, naked racism bursting out like boils. “There needs to be a word for the special kind of hysteria that goes viral – pun intended – at times like this,” he says. “We saw it during the Day Zero panic in the Western Cape. We’re not equipped, not taught how to behave sensibly and practically when facing public crises.”

We spoke about the ignorance seen even in those with the best education: as shelves are cleared of hand sanitisers, don’t people realise they can get the same results wiping their skin with vodka or even meths? And what IS it with toilet paper? (Kitty litter I can understand, but…) Don’t folk realise how easy it is to improvise a bidet with a spray bottle or even a jug of water?

At a panel at last year’s Kingsmead Book Fair, we were asked by the superb chair, Angelo Fick, what one practical thing we would do to help build a feminist world. I said I’d make it a rule that before anyone, of any gender, was allowed to graduate from high school, they would first have to pass exams, written and practical, on how to: budget, shop, cook nutritious meals, clean up afterwards, knit, sew and mend, recycle, do basic first aid (including hygiene) and household repairs, change a tyre, grow their own veg, plant trees, make compost, use Google and Excel properly, and care for an infant for a minimum of eight hours (including feeding and nappy-changing). What touched me was that the high-school scholars in the audience cheered and whooped. Many came to me afterwards to say that these were indeed the skills they wanted to learn.

We sign our children up for expensive tutoring in geography and geometry, but we’ve rendered them often helpless and “stupid” in a different kind of way. Amy, Louise’s daughter, pointed out that it is her generation that will have to salvage the incredible hash we elders have made of the planet and the economy, but that her same generation has never been taught HOW to do this. And it’s not just the absence of formal teaching of practical skills that will be necessary to rehabilitate the planet and create new ways and patterns of living. We’re not teaching collective skills; we still think networking is something we do at events to boost our careers – yet we don’t know how to build networks that buffer against disaster.

I discuss this with twenty-something friends, and they agree, also noting that the local and informal networks older generations belonged to – churches and religious organisations, choirs, stokvels, Lions and Rotary Clubs, Girl Guides and Boy Scouts, PTAs, sewing circles – are largely absent from their lives. Too many have been taught to forge their individual paths, but not how to engage constructively and humanely with their neighbours, much less how to tackle problems communally.

A glance at nearly any neighbourhood WhatsApp or Facebook group will prove this point: racism, conspiracy theories and fake news abound, and not necessarily because people are bad, but because they have absolutely no clue how to conduct themselves in the format of a group with shared concerns.

Social media is an incredibly powerful weapon with potential for good (when a community can be mobilised in minutes to search for a missing child, for instance), but too often it becomes one more place where we can squeal “Me, myself, I!” instead of sharing useful information and practices appropriately. We’ve all seen these train-smashes: a bloke administrating a water-shedding Facebook group at the height of the H2O crisis decided this would be a good platform to start a debate on abortion. Really? Does crisis shut down the human brain to some reptilian level?

Religious groups are still vital support networks: whenever a small town runs out of water or is inundated by floods, it seems “who you gonna call” is invariably the Gift of the Givers (if you want to help while staying home, donate to this incredible organisation). We need to be creating secular equivalents, and I have no doubt the younger generation are already on it (look at the heartening rise of bookclubs formed by and for black women, especially in Gauteng, as one of many examples). But they need support and signposts.

I would be absolutely stumped without my neighbours, folk with whom I share: a well; quantities of soup; wifi and sometimes a generator; and a CAT. My off-the-water-grid life would be much harder without them, and they’ve often enabled me to meet deadlines disrupted by loadshedding. But we needed something to break the ice — fortunately a certain fluffy and entitled personage made that possible. They tell me there’s tremendous satisfaction in (a) being part of a solution to a problem; and (b) feeling supported.

Meanwhile, tips on saving water and reducing waste STILL come my way, and they need to be shared. So on this blog, I’ll go on posting recipes, especially as folk stay home and poke around their pantries, looking for cheap and interesting things to do with the contents. But I’ll be assembling ideas for surviving this virus without losing our heads, coping with Eishkom darkness, but most of all: how to be better neighbours — how to pull together. So that will be the next book, coming once we launch my novel Charlotte in a rustle of petticoats. Send me your tips!

In the meantime, wash your hands, make your own hand sanitiser and disinfectants (Google will tell you how), take your Vitamin C, gargle regularly with gin and vodka (not the teetotalers, obz), stop buying up masks and other supplies genuinely sick people need, and get your ‘flu shots. Stay healthy if only to take stress off our health-care systems. As Prof Shireen Hassim says, “Despite the advice to keep a social distance, it is surely apparent now that our fate is closely bound to each other. We are global citizens. We need to build systems of mutual solidarity.”

And here is a picture of Lily, who crossed a picket fence and bonded two households together.

Cheap and cheerful. Haute cuisine it is not, but who cares?

Last night I made this dish, a favourite because it suits (almost) EVERYONE, is cheap and delicious, AND suitable for loadshedding. So of course I woke up this morning to no power.

Years ago, I had the great good fortune to hold a fellowship at the African Gender Institute with five clever, powerful, bright and funny women from all over Africa. They all taught me many things, but Samia Ali (from Somalia) and Gifty Ohene-Konadu (from Ghana) taught me how to make this stoup (i.e., you can eat it as a stew over rice or pap or cassava or polenta — you get the picture — or as a soup). I’ve given it the boring and way too vague title of Western African Peanut Stew, but my very basic formula is a launching pad to the many versions of this dish all over the continent. I hope it leads to some happy recipe-googling.

The great thing about this is that yet again, once you master the basic sauce, you can do multiple versions of this (it is excellent for using up sad and lonely veggies). Most of these are vegan. They’re super-healthy, gluten- and dairy-free, full of fibre (and protein, depending on which variation you go for), but more NB, they’re all delicious, easy to make and inexpensive. This is a great dish for newbie cooks and cash-strapped students in digs to try: your entire dinner in one pot or bowl. The ONLY people who can’t eat this are those with peanut/nut allergies. So sorry, I haven’t found a substitute.** See update below!** If you don’t like chilli, leave it out. The stew will be a pale reflection of its full glory, but it will still be tasty and nourishing.

So, for about four hungry people, round up one big onion, a thumb of fresh ginger, and at least four fat garlic cloves, half a cup of crunchy peanut butter (if you have a powerful blender, you can make your own, which brings down the price — simply pulverise raw/roasted/salted peanuts in the blender) and a small tin or sachet (50 grams) of tomato paste (or any tin of tomatoes), and at least one red chopped/snipped chilli (fresh or dried) — or two teaspoons of flaked chilli/seeds.

Use whatever oil you like (it does have to be oil, though — not butter or marge): as always, I use half coconut oil, half olive oil, although this dish works beautifully with peanut oil. Put four tablespoons into a big pot with a heavy bottom, preferably, and turn up the heat to medium. Tip in the onion, chopped/diced. Once the onion bits start going brown at the edges, in goes the minced/crushed/finely chopped garlic and ginger. Turn the heat down slightly and stir around, watching closely. The garlic can go golden, but no darker — burned garlic will spoil this dish. Now add the chillies, peanut butter (it will form clumps) and the tomato paste or tin of tomatoes. Add about a cup of water, and stir continuously for several minutes, until the peanut butter melts and the whole thing starts to form a glossy, sticky sauce. It will try to stick to the bottom of the pot — keep stirring and add a bit more water if necessary.

This is when to add, diced, all the leftover veggies you’ve found. You can add almost anything, although if you want to put in chopped cabbage, spinach, morogo (amaranth), collard/spring greens, chard or kale, add once all the hard veggies have softened. I’ve made this with carrot, butternut, sweet potato, potato, red, green and yellow peppers, corn/mealies, beans, green beans, peas, madumbis, broccoli, cauliflower, baby marrows, lentils, and chicken.* Add water to cover all the ingredients and bubble away on low heat. Test for taste once the veggies are tender; you may need to add stock, or a tablespoon of soy sauce. Or just salt. This is also when you can decide if you’re going to serve it as a stew or a soup. For the latter, add more water and stock until you get the desired runnyness.

If using pre-cooked beans, make sure they’re soft and tender. Partially cooked beans lead to anti-social scenarios. Tinned beans need to be drained, but no need to rinse.

The standard high-protein variation (illustrated): Once you have the sauce and veggies on the go, add two drained tins of any beans you like (just not baked beans) — I like those four-bean mixes. OR chuck in about two to three cups — it depends on how many veggies are already in the pot — of any PRE-COOKED dried beans. (I needed to use up butter beans, black-eyed beans, borlotti beans and chickpeas, so that’s what’s in the photo.)

The this-is-so-good-for-you variation: to the sauce, add one peeled, diced sweet potato for every hungry diner. Cover with water. Once the potatoes are soft, add about two cups of roughly chopped spinach or chard. I call this my anti-cancer soup: there’s nothing in here that isn’t good for you. You can also try this with a cup of red or brown lentils or mung beans for protein instead of, or alongside, the sweet potato. (In which case you will need quite a punchy stock, or the juice/zest of a lemon.)

The cure-all variation (aka as Soup For Flu): double up the garlic and ginger, and put in as much chilli as you can stand. Once all that’s nicely fried, add a tablespoon of turmeric powder and two teaspoons of ground cinnamon. Hell, add another tablespoon of ground ginger, and the juice and grated zest (skin) of a lemon, if you have one. Serve this very runny; the idea is that it should make sweat bead on your brow. I’m not sure whether this genuinely has healing properties, or whether the bonfire it creates in your mouth distracts you from your sore throat. It is GRAND for clearing the sinuses, though. Have tissues on standby.

The cluck-cluck variation: If you eat chicken, lightly fry free-range chicken pieces either before you put in the onion, or in a separate pan, and then add once the skin is browned; or simply dice chicken breasts and put them in after the onion, but before the garlic. I should add that my tutors advised against doing variations of this dish with fish, lamb or pork — beef and goat are apparently fine. It’s so good with veggies, though, that I almost never go the chicken route.

But wait! What has this to do with loadshedding? This is the perfect dish for assembling, bringing to a simmer, and then tucking into a hot box for several hours or even a whole day, so that when the family assembles on a cold winter’s night, tired and hungry and in the dark courtesy of Eishkom, you can liberate this fragrant, hearty dish from its nest and serve by candlelight. Being a hippie leftover from the eighties, I own a hot box (also known as a hay box or wonderbox). You can find one online, but I am bit shocked at the prices, and frankly, you can create your own from a cardboard box and an old sleeping bag or duvet. Or make one from polystyrene granules (ha! neat way to recycle the stuff) and tough cotton fabric. YouTube will show you how. The principle is to put the very hot pot (the lid needs to be tight-fitting) into a container that will insulate it and keep it both cooking gently and warm for hours. (This is how I pre-cooked the dried beans, by the way.)

You will not be surprised to hear that I serve this dish garnished with the fresh wild rocket that has advanced menacingly to my back door. It’s also lovely with fresh coriander scattered on top. But it really doesn’t need fancy trimmings. Enjoy!

**allergy update: if you are allergic only to peanuts, not other nuts, you could try replacing the peanut butter with tahini (sesame paste) or cashew nut butter. This would however, turn it into a rather pricey dish, although if you have a powerful blender, you could grind the sesame seeds or cashew nuts yourself — a bit cheaper that way. I also want to see what happens if this is made with roasted sunflower seeds. I will experiment and let you know.**

All tucked up. This is a foolproof way to cook almost anything. I haven’t burned rice once since I got this bag.