There is always something interesting happening at Kalk Bay harbour.
I took a walk down to the harbour yesterday afternoon in the hot sun, and when I reached the quayside, I was surprised to see that the name of the tuck shop had changed. The Old Barnacle is no more. In its place: Skinnerbek.
Now, the owner spells it in two words – Skinner Bek. Traditionally, in Afrikaans, it is written as one word, Skinnerbek. For those whose language is only English, the word means a gossip — someone who talks a lot, and more often than not, about other people.
It’s an unusual, frivolous, humorous name for a small shop.
I asked the owner about it. He didn’t give me a proper explanation. He simply laughed — and laughed — and laughed again. I suspect he loves the name.
One of the old fishermen standing nearby told me it was entirely appropriate. “He is a gossip,” he said, smiling. “It’s a good name.”
And perhaps that’s exactly the point. The name feels right for the place. It matches the spirit of the customers who drift in and out — a place of chatter, laughter, and passing conversation. Everyone recognizes that they enjoy gossiping or skinder.
From a tiny container at the harbour, the owner — who once told me he is from Somalia — sells everything from biscuits to cool drinks, chips, bait, and fishing tackle. Yesterday I watched him rummage through a plastic bag to produce an electrical plug for a customer. You never quite know what he will have.
He is a character and a half.
And here’s the interesting thing. In a country where name changes are happening all the time — often imposed from above, often political, often met with resistance — here is a name change that people seem to enjoy.
This one feels different.
It isn’t about appeasement, or votes, or grand statements. It’s light-hearted. It belongs to the people who use the place. And perhaps that is why it works.
Because, let’s be honest, much else feels broken — infrastructure, electricity, water, roads, systems. Against that backdrop, a small, humorous name change at a harbour tuck shop is almost refreshing.
Names matter. They can shape how we feel about a place. They can draw people in. I recently saw a brand called Nothing — and it has become hugely successful. Imagine that: building something out of “nothing”.
So perhaps Skinnerbek will do the same in its own modest way — make people smile, make them stop, make them buy something.
And in the end, it’s the man behind the counter who makes the place.
He is warm, generous, and always laughing. Once, when I had forgotten my money at home, he told me to take what I needed and pay him another time. That tells you everything.
But he also said something to me that has stayed with me.
“Life is very precarious. I may not be here tomorrow.”
There is wisdom in that.
Perhaps that is why he runs his shop the way he does — opening when he feels like it, closing when he doesn’t, enjoying the people, the harbour, and the moment.
How’s that for living life on your own terms?
