Goat, Dhal, and Diaspora: How a Malaysian Tamil Chef is Rewriting South Africa's Food Story

By Zanele Mokoena

When Malaysian Tamil chef Shankar Santhiram landed in Durban, he didn't just cook. He sparked a revolution. A goat revolution, to be precise. But beneath the humor and the culinary tricks lies a deeper story about identity, diaspora, and the politics of food. For Rainbow Report, this is not just a profile of a celebrity chef. It is a story about how a man from the Tamil diaspora is using his kitchen to reconnect South African Indians with a heritage that colonialism and apartheid tried to erase.

Santhiram, 55, is currently filming a 10-episode television series titled Shankar's Saapadu Story South Africa. He is also the chef patron of Fire by Shankar in Penang, Malaysia, a restaurant that specializes in modern, innovative Tamil-inspired cuisine. But his journey to South Africa was no accident. He did his research. 'I found my biggest following outside of Malaysia was in South Africa,' he told IOL. That following is not just about food. It is about kinship. 'I feel a certain kinship. I feel like I am connecting with the Indian diaspora here,' he explained.

The Weight of a Father's Words

Santhiram's path to the kitchen was not easy. Growing up in Malaysia in the 1970s and 1980s, his father, a world-renowned professor of multicultural education, would shout at him for spending time in the kitchen. 'Get out of the kitchen! What are you doing in the kitchen? You're going to become a fat cook (samayal),' his father would scream. The irony is biting. A man who studied the world's marginalized populations could not emancipate his own son from the gendered confines of the kitchen. But Santhiram did not rebel. He got curious. 'When somebody tells me you can't do something, I want to go like, 'Why?'' he said. That curiosity became his driving force.

The Great Durban Goat Revolution

Nothing captures Santhiram's wit better than the 'snooking' of 200 guests in Durban. Knowing many South African Indians claim to dislike the smell of goat, he served a meat curry while repeatedly calling it mutton. The guests raved. Only when the plates were cleared did he drop the bombshell: 'Ladies and gentlemen, you just had goat curry.' People were shocked. Some laughed. Others were genuinely stunned. The result? His local goat supplier reported that goat sales skyrocketed immediately after his departure. This is not just a funny story. It is a lesson in how food can challenge our assumptions and reconnect us with our roots.

Cape Malay Cuisine and the Politics of Taste

Santhiram also explored Cape Malay cuisine, finding the koesisters 'fantastic and not sickly sweet.' For a chef who champions Tamil flavors, this cross-cultural appreciation is significant. It speaks to the shared history of oppression and resilience among South Africa's Indian and Coloured communities. Both groups were shaped by colonialism and apartheid. Both have fought to preserve their culinary traditions. Santhiram's recognition of that struggle is a quiet but powerful act of solidarity.

The 'Shankar Effect' on Cape Town's Food Scene

Santhiram's impact on the local food scene is measurable. A single video he posted of the crayfish curry at Vadivelu in Kloof Street caused a legitimate supply crisis. The restaurant was inundated with 250 new customers in three weeks. Their crab sales tanked as they scrambled to order more buckets of crayfish. This is the 'Shankar effect.' But Santhiram laughs off the power he supposedly wields. His commitment, he says, is to his 'kin.' He remains a 'card-carrying Malaysian' who has found a secondary home in South Africa.

Food as Resistance and Reconnection

Santhiram's work is anchored by sanatana dharma, the concept of eternal righteousness. He views his cooking as a way of life, a service to unify the South Indian diaspora. He performs extensive service work for temples, providing free meals to reconnect people with a heritage that was often suppressed or lost during the arrival of indentured labourers from 1860. 'We do so many things differently, but we all eat the same,' he said. In a country still grappling with the legacy of apartheid, that message is both radical and necessary.

Santhiram's story is not just about food. It is about identity, resistance, and the power of the diaspora to reclaim what was taken. It is about a man who turned his father's insults into a revolution. And it is about how a simple bowl of dhal can be a political act.

'You can go to the best restaurants in Milan or Rome, but after the fourth day, all I crave is a bit of rice and dhal. It's like a fix... like a drunk fix. It's like injecting dhal into your veins.' — Chef Shankar Santhiram

For Rainbow Report, this is a story of hope. It is a reminder that our food, our culture, and our heritage are not lost. They are just waiting for the right chef to bring them back to life.