Soraya Essop – A Legacy Sugared in Tradition

For Soraya Essop, Sundays have always carried the sweet, spiced rhythm of koesisters. Growing up, she would watch her grandmother on her father’s side prepare them, hands moving with a quiet confidence, turning dough into something sacred. In her family’s Cape Malay culture, a Sunday was never complete without koesisters. It wasn’t just food — it was tradition, it was memory, it was home.

When her grandmother’s hands grew tired, the tradition flowed seamlessly to her aunty. That was when Soraya began to help — rolling, frying, sugaring, and carrying orders to the neighbours. Later, her mother took over, turning koesisters into both a family staple and a small business, especially once she stopped working. Soraya never considered herself a baker — her love leaned more towards cooking — but when her mother grew older and decided to hang up her apron, Soraya found herself stepping into that role. She had two children with sweet tooths, and the recipe, handed down through generations, could not simply be left behind.

She began making koesisters, first tweaking her grandmother’s recipe here and there until it reflected her own touch, but never losing its heart. What started as Sunday batches for extra income soon became a way of life. Even while she worked, Soraya made sure her Sunday mornings smelled of spice and syrup. Now, twenty years later, she continues full-time in her retirement — her kitchen alive each weekend with the familiar rhythm of tradition.

“I’ve always believed,” she says, “that you must love what you do, show compassion, and enjoy it. That is the key to success.” For Soraya, this is not just advice — it’s the essence of her koesisters. Each one carries care, patience, and pride. She laughs gently as she insists that sugaring koesisters is an art — not everyone can do it well.

Though her daughter does not wish to continue, Soraya finds comfort in small signs of continuity. During the week she looks after her granddaughter, who often sits close by as she works. Too young to take part, but old enough to watch with curious eyes, her granddaughter is already absorbing the unspoken lessons — that Sunday koesisters are more than treats, they are an inheritance.

With her health and strength, Soraya continues to perfect the recipe her grandmother began. Each batch is a bridge between generations — proof that traditions, like koesisters, are best when shared. And while she doesn’t know yet who will carry it on after her, she hopes her granddaughter will one day understand what she now knows deeply: koesisters are made with love, and love is meant to be passed on.”