R48 million in Die Boord. Does it include parking?

There was a time in South Africa when you could buy something at the corner café, hand over cash, and receive part of your change in chewing gum.

“No five cents. Take a Chappie.”

And that was that. No negotiation. You had entered a financial arrangement with a man behind a security gate, and he had decided your money was now bubblegum.

Imagine trying it the other way around.

“I’m a bit short for the bread, but here are three Chappies and a Wilson’s toffee.”

Suddenly everyone’s an accountant.

But I miss it. Coins rattling in your pocket. A slightly sweaty banknote. The enormous responsibility of being sent to the shop with R20 and being told, “Bring back ALL the change.”

Now you had to explain to your mother that some of the change was in your mouth.

And the Chappie came with an education. You’d carefully unfold the wrapper to read the “Did You Know?” facts, then spend the afternoon telling adults how many hearts an octopus had. Nobody asked, but you were qualified now.

These days, buying a loaf of bread involves tapping your phone, declining a donation, scanning a rewards card, confirming you don’t need a bag and rating your experience.

My experience? I came for bread.

Give me the corner café. Give me the coins. Give me a shopkeeper who settles his debts in chewing gum.

At least back then, when your money disappeared, you could blow a bubble with it.

If you spotted men jogging through Stellenbosch in purple Speedos last Friday, relax. You hadn’t stumbled into a university initiation, and nobody had lost a particularly expensive bet.

Participants gathered at Jan Marais Park on 23 October for the Hollard Daredevil Run, taking to the streets to raise awareness of prostate and testicular cancer. Wearing very little. Making quite a point.

You have to admire the confidence. Some of us won’t walk from the bathroom to the bedroom without checking the curtains. These gentlemen went out to greet the greater Stellenbosch community.

Somewhere, a woman having her morning coffee presumably looked up and said: “Is that the man who does our tax?”

The campaign’s slogan this year was “Lekker Balls. Lekker Life”, which must have been a refreshing change for the marketing team after years of meetings about brand positioning.

Behind the purple parade is a worthwhile message: get men talking about their health and taking early detection seriously. Men will happily spend forty minutes discussing a strange noise in the bakkie, then spend six months pretending a strange noise in themselves is “probably nothing”.

Well done to everyone who took part. It takes courage to start these conversations.

Especially when you might bump into your accountant.

Some welcome news for local families: Stellenbosch council has approved making municipal land available for a new school in Kayamandi, to be developed by a nonprofit organisation. The decision passed with 34 votes in favour.

The need is pressing. According to council documents, learner numbers are outstripping the capacity of existing primary schools, while suitable land for additional schools is scarce. More classrooms would help ease that pressure and give teachers and children more room to get on with learning.

There is still work ahead. This is approval to release the land, with no opening date announced in the report. A second site originally considered will remain undeveloped until municipal services are installed.

So, no school bell just yet. But a meaningful first step worth welcoming. In a university town that celebrates what education can unlock, helping more children get a solid start deserves our attention too.

Stellenbosch recorded R1.86 billion in residential property sales in the first half of 2026, across 379 transactions. Some of us were comparing the price of butter. Others were apparently comparing wine cellars.

The standout? A home in Die Boord sold for R48 million. At that price, I’d expect the kitchen island to be an actual island. And when the estate agent says “walking distance to the shops”, I’d assume the shops are included.

De Zalze chipped in with a R34 million sale, while a Mostertsdrift property fetched R27.5 million. Which makes you wonder what happens at these viewings. Do people still open a cupboard and say, “Hmm, we’d need to redo this”? Or does someone simply ask whether the chandelier is included and instruct Pieter to move the money?

Sales in eight suburbs with average house prices above R10 million contributed about 35% of the total rand value. Overall sales volumes, however, were down 13.4% compared with the same period last year. So fewer properties changed hands, but some of those hands were wearing very expensive watches.

Of course, the appeal is easy to understand. Mountains, wine farms, good schools and a town beautiful enough to make you briefly forget your bond repayment.

Still, R48 million in Die Boord.

For that money, I want a guaranteed parking bay in Church Street.

There should be a support group for parents who open the class WhatsApp group after being unavailable for forty minutes.

87 unread messages.

Someone has said “Thank you 🌸”. Someone else has said “Thanks so much 🌷”. You scroll upwards through a botanical garden of gratitude, trying to find out whether your child needs a sandwich or a medieval costume tomorrow.

Eventually, you find it.

“Just a gentle reminder about tomorrow’s dress-up day.”

Gentle? It’s 8:43pm. My child is asleep. We own no yellow clothing, and apparently he needs to come as something beginning with a B.

His father suggests “boy”.

His mother doesn’t find this helpful.

Then comes the message: “We’ve made a little bee costume! So easy, just some felt, wire and a glue gun 😊”

Of course you have, Annelize. You probably harvested the felt yourself somewhere in Jonkershoek.

Meanwhile, we’re standing in a Stellenbosch kitchen debating whether a brown jersey qualifies him as a “berg”.

And just as you start recovering, someone posts a photo of an unclaimed lunchbox.

“Does this belong to anyone?”

It belongs to us. I recognise it immediately. But it’s been missing for three weeks, and I’m weighing up whether I want that responsibility back.

Then the teacher asks for a volunteer to coordinate the end-of-year gift.

The group goes silent.

For the first time in recorded history, thirty-two Stellenbosch parents have absolutely nothing to say.

One day, someone will pack away your clothes. Your phone will stop ringing. Someone else will live in your house, and the work you thought couldn’t possibly carry on without you will carry on.

It’s uncomfortable to think about. But it raises a question we’re very good at avoiding:

What are you doing with the time you’ve been given?

We spend so much of our lives earning, buying, organising and worrying. There’s always something to finish before we can turn our attention to the things we say matter most. A quieter month. A bigger bank balance. A less demanding season.

And while we wait, people need us.

Your child wants you to look up. Your partner needs you to listen. A friend is struggling behind “I’m fine”. Someone who works for you needs encouragement that you keep meaning to give.

Making a difference rarely requires a grand gesture. Often, it requires noticing someone and allowing their needs to interrupt your plans.

There is nothing wrong with ambition, comfort or enjoying what you’ve worked for. But if your whole life revolves around improving your own circumstances, it’s worth asking when “enough” will arrive. At what point does everything you’re building begin to benefit someone beyond you?

If people described the difference you’ve made in their lives, what would they say?

Sit with that before rushing to reassure yourself.

You don’t have to solve the world’s problems today. But you can make a phone call. Give someone your full attention. Apologise. Help without needing credit. Follow through on the kindness you’ve been postponing.

We may never fully understand why we’re here. But we can choose to leave people better for having known us.

Who will be better off because of how you spend today?

🌤️ Friday, 30 October: 17–27°C
A warm day with some sunshine, but strong afternoon winds could give your hairstyle other ideas.

🌤️ Saturday, 31 October: 15–24°C
A pleasant mix of sunshine and clouds. A good braai day, with an afternoon breeze to keep the smoke moving towards whichever chair you choose.

🌤️ Sunday, 1 November: 15–22°C
Slightly cooler with sunshine, passing clouds and an afternoon breeze. Lovely weather for a lazy lunch.

🌤️ Monday, 2 November: 13–23°C
Sunshine filtering through high clouds, with a breezy afternoon. A fresh start before the inbox heats up.

⛅ Tuesday, 3 November: 15–25°C
Some sunshine before cloud cover builds. Warm enough to remind us that summer is getting comfortable.

As always, thanks for reading. If you spot something in town worth knowing, reply and tell us. Half the best Stellenbosch stories begin that way.

See you around town,
Stellenbosch Brief

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