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You Haven’t Lived Until You’ve Cut Your Tongue on a Fizzer | This Is SA Childhood
(A love letter to the snacks that built a nation... one loose sweet at a time.)
By Saffa Guy
Chocolates are cute. Macarons? Overhyped.
But loose sweets from a spaza shop?
That’s culture, my bru.
This is the kind of sugar that made you sprint to the tuck shop at break like your life depended on it.
The kind your gogo bought you when she said, “Ok’salayo, take the change.”
The kind of sweet that cost R1.50 and made you feel like a boss.
Chappies? Free facts with your chew.
Wilson’s Toffees? Built South African jaws since 1940.
Fizz Pops? A lollipop with trauma. You cried, you smiled, you kept licking.
Because in South Africa, we don’t just eat sweets. We build legacies with them.
From spaza shop counters to school lunch boxes and taxi rank containers covered in clingwrap, this is the story of how we turned sugar into side hustles, snacks into social glue, and childhood into one long, glorious sugar rush.
So if you’re ready to drool, laugh, and cry over the memory of your first Beacon Fizzer...
Hamba kahle, kale salad. This one's for the sweet tooth soldiers.
My first time at the African Accent Spaza Shop. (Photo: Nkosikhona Kumalo)
Spaza Shops: Where the Sweet Hustle Lives
During apartheid, Black South Africans weren’t allowed to own proper businesses. So they did what South Africans always do when told “no” — they made a plan.
They set up shops from garages, backyards, rooms, even shipping containers.
They sold bread, maize, airtime... and of course, sweets.
It wasn’t legal.
It wasn’t fancy.
But it worked.
That’s where the word spaza comes from — “hidden.” But let’s be honest, if you could smell Fizz Pops and stale NikNaks through the burglar bars, it wasn’t that hidden.
These Days? Still Running the Game.
Now spazas are everywhere. In kasi streets, rural towns, even right next to formal supermarkets.
You want Sunlight, Simba, or sweets wrapped in sandwich bags? They’ve got you.
And they’re not just convenient — they’re community.
It’s where you hear local gossip.
Where your mom still sends you to buy bread with a stern warning: "And don’t waste the change."
Spoiler: You always did.
R2 Sweets = Billion Rand Dreams
You might think a R2 packet of sweets is small.
But put enough of them together? That’s empire-building.
South Africa’s informal food sector moves up to R178 billion a year. That’s right — billion.
And yes, that includes your childhood stash of Fizzers, Ghost Pops and that off-brand lollipop that nearly cracked your molar.
Meet the Kidpreneurs
Take Rudolph Lekay, for example.
Matric student. Mitchells Plain.
Every morning before school? He sells sweets at the taxi rank. Why?
To pay for his matric dance suit.
That’s the level. That’s the hustle.
R2 here, R5 there — and before you know it, the kid’s walking into prom looking like Idris Elba.
And he’s not alone. Every kasi has a Rudolph.
A teen with a sweet stash and a dream.
The Sweet Plug: Wholesalers Feeding the Streets
Behind every Tupperware container of loose sweets is a wholesaler working overtime.
The Legends:
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Sweet Depot – Crown Mines. Feeds parties, vendors, and every auntie prepping party packs.
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Sunrise Sweets – Pretoria and Roodepoort. Big stock. Big flavour. Big vibes.
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Sunrise Sweet Market – Three generations deep. Since 1969. Literal slogan: “The Sweet People.” We salute.
They supply bulk.
Vendors flip it into snack-sized joy.
Kids buy with coins.
And the sugar cycle continues.
🍭 Loose Sweets = Township Private Equity
You buy a kilo of sweets.
You split it into 50 R2 packets.
You post up at the school gate or taxi rank.
You’re in business.
No fancy logos. No funding rounds. Just sweets, plastic bags, and pure entrepreneurship.
Even Sweden can’t compete.
They may have invented “pick and mix,” but we made it a street hustle with soul.
Street Sweets Hall of Fame
Let’s give the legends their flowers (and their own snack aisle).
Chappies – Knowledge With Every Chew
Invented in Joburg.
Made famous by your weird trivia skills.
Those “Did You Know?” facts?
Academic-approved and more addictive than the gum itself.
Who even cared about the flavour when you could learn the capital of
Peru while chewing?
Still here. Still smart. Still better than Google.
Wilson’s Champion Toffees – SA’s Answer to Jaw Day at the Gym
Banana. Buttermilk. Fruit Punch.
And a risk of dental injury.
Wilson’s didn’t come to play. These toffees made you earn your sugar.
Unwrap one and prepare for a five-minute chewathon.
If you survived without losing a tooth? Congrats, you’re officially a South African.
Beacon Funny Faces – Smile Now, Sugar Later
Fruity flavours. Big energy. Slightly unsettling facial expressions.
Beacon has been doing the most since 1931.
And these sweets?
Proof that something can be creepy, chaotic, and still absolutely delicious.
Mister Sweet Apricots – Crunchy. Chewy. Undeniably Iconic.
Outer shell. Soft centre. Questionable “apricot” taste.
Zero regrets.
Started in a tiny factory in Primrose back in the ‘70s.
Now? A cornerstone of every sweet tray, party pack, and taxi rank container in the country.
⚡️ Fizzers & Fizz Pops – Tongue Trauma You’d Happily Repeat
Fizzers: Stretchy, sour, and 100% legendary.
Fizz Pops: Hard outside, sherbet grenade inside.
Flavours? Apple, cola, cream soda, that pink one that tasted like sugar and regret.
Side effects:
✅ Sticky fingers
✅ Raw tongue
✅ Playground popularity boost
Tuck Shops: Where Recess Got Real
You didn’t just eat at tuck shop—you strategised.
The rules:
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Be first in line or face disappointment.
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Never underestimate the trading power of a Fizz Pop.
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Stretch that R5 like it’s your last on earth.
Best-sellers?
Zoo Biscuits. Romany Creams. Those square toffees you couldn’t unwrap properly.
Throw in a Steri Stumpie and you were the main character.
Traditional Icons: Sweet Heritage
Let’s not forget the OGs:
Koeksisters
Braided. Fried. Dipped in syrup so cold it disrespected your dental work.
Sticky. Sweet. Made by your gran on special occasions… or random Wednesdays.
Steri Stumpie
Flavoured milk. Neon colours.
The drink of champions (and sugar-high toddlers).
Mageu
Fermented maize drink. Smooth. Filling. A love-it-or-leave-it type of thing.
Usually accompanied by vetkoek and wisdom.
Final Word: This Ain’t Just Sugar
Every sweet in this story isn’t just a treat — it’s a memory.
It’s business. It’s hustle. It’s home.
So the next time you pass a spaza, see a kid selling sweets, or unwrap a Chappie…
✅ Buy something
✅ Smile at the vendor
✅ Chew with pride
Because here in Mzansi, even sugar tells a story.