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My name is Yolande, and Cape Belle Collective grew out of a life that did not follow the script. I was born and raised in South Africa. For many years, my life looked settled from the outside. I had a career in corporate marketing, a marriage and a familiar community around me. Then my son was born, and life began to take a different shape. My son is non verbal and autistic. Early on, it became clear that he would need specialist support that was not easily available where we

This traditional South African bobotie recipe is a delicious, moist family dish made with curried mince, chutney, sultanas and a savoury egg custard topping. It is baked until set and golden, then served with rice, chutney, coconut, nuts and banana for a classic South African meal.

People often ask me when I knew my son had autism. They expect, I think, a straightforward story about a diagnosis date, a doctor’s office, a folder of reports. And those did come, eventually. But that’s not when I knew. I can tell you the exact moment. I was sitting in the garden with a friend. Our boys were playing on the grass in front of us, sun-warmed and small. Her son was about six months younger than mine. We were doing what mothers do: half-talking, half-watching, on

For most of my life, my body was a project. The goal was simple, or so I thought: be smaller. I counted calories. I tracked steps. I prized discipline, restraint, and the quiet thrill of an empty stomach. I was the woman who knew her “good” number on the scale and orbited her days around staying as close to it as possible. As long as I could fit into a certain pair of jeans, it felt like everything was broadly under control—even when, in reality, it wasn’t. I’d always conside

Have you ever ever bought something thinking it would “fix” your life. I didn’t buy a miracle cream or a juicer. I got a dog. By the time Joey arrived, my life had already split into a before and after. Before: sunny South Africa, a familiar career, a known identity. After: grey British skies, a dissolved marriage, a non-verbal autistic son whose needs were still new terrain, and a version of myself I barely recognised. On paper, things were “working.” I had a job. We had a r

Hands up if your life didn’t go the way you planned. Mine certainly didn’t. Nearly ten years ago, I boarded a one-way flight from Johannesburg to London with my husband and our young son. If you’d looked at us from the outside, you might have seen a brave little family chasing a better life. What you wouldn’t have seen is that somewhere between the boarding gate and seatbelt sign, I realised my marriage was over. I remember the thought landing as heavily as the plane itself: