Most of the words visitors collect in Cape Town are national South African English. A few belong to the Cape, and they come out of Kaaps, a language variety with four centuries behind it. Here is what the words mean, where they came from and who uses them.
Start with Kaaps, not with a word list
The most Cape Town thing about Cape Town speech is not a single word. It is Kaaps, the variety spoken across the Cape Flats and well beyond it. Writing in The Conversation in 2021, the UWC sociolinguist Quentin Williams and his colleagues describe a language created in settler colonial South Africa and developed by the 1500s, out of encounters between indigenous African, South-East Asian, Dutch, Portuguese and English speakers. It was first taught in madrassahs and first written in Arabic script, which is a very different origin story from the one most South Africans were taught at school.
Scholars do not agree on what to call it. Frank Hendricks, in Multilingual Margins, sets Kaaps within the Southwestern Afrikaans dialect group and traces it to seventeenth-century slave influence on the formation of Afrikaans, describing it today as a sociolect of the Cape Peninsula working class. Williams argues for recognition as a language in its own right, and led the trilingual Kaaps Woordeboek that launched at the Castle of Good Hope in April 2026. A UWC study of Paarl-Kaaps published in July 2025 makes a further point worth holding on to: Kaaps is not confined to the Cape Flats, and there are speakers in Paarl, the Swartland and the Boland.
What everybody working on it agrees about is the negative. Kaaps is not broken Afrikaans, and it is not a comic accent. It was pushed down the scale by standardisation and then by apartheid, and the scholarship of the past fifteen years has been about undoing that. Our page on /en/cape-town-explained/language-history/ goes into the Arabic-Afrikaans manuscripts and the mission schools in more detail.
The national layer
A good deal of what gets sold as Cape Town slang is simply South African English. The Dictionary of South African English, compiled at Rhodes University, is the place to check, and it is blunt about how national most of this vocabulary is.
Howzit is a contraction of how is it, working as both greeting and enquiry. Shame is an expression of sympathy or of fondness, often in the phrase ag shame, and often ironic. Is it, calqued on the Afrikaans is dit, is the all-purpose acknowledgement. A 1972 note in the Star teased that you could "carry on a conversation quite easily by using only four words", and listed shame, hey and is it among them.
Then there is the everyday furniture. Bakkie, from Afrikaans bak plus a diminutive, is a light truck, cited from 1893. Braai, short for braaivleis, is the fire and the gathering both. Takkie, or tackie, is a canvas or sports shoe, recorded in 1913 by C. Pettman, with an etymology the dictionary leaves open between English tacky, meaning sticky, and a Scottish dialect word for cheap and rubbishy. Eina is the cry of pain, and its possible Khoikhoi and Nama roots make it one of the oldest strands in the language.
None of these is a Cape Town word. Using them will mark you as South African, not as a Capetonian.
Afrikaans in the mouth of English
The second layer is Afrikaans vocabulary that has settled inside South African English so comfortably that most speakers no longer register it as a borrowing. Lekker is the obvious one. Mos is the quieter one: a small emphatic particle meaning after all or of course, which the dictionary traces to West Flemish mos, a form of Dutch immers, with an English citation as early as 1900. Ja-nee, literally yes-no, does the work of a shrug.
Jol is where the Cape comes into view. The dictionary derives it from Afrikaans for dance or party, and notes that the South African English pronunciation reflects either the Afrikaans accent of working-class Cape Coloured communities or an Englished version of the word. Its earliest citation, from 1957, is Alex La Guma, the District Six writer. The word travelled nationally; the accent behind it did not start in Johannesburg.
Kaaps and Cape Flats usage
This is the layer that is genuinely local, and also the one where the sourcing is thinnest, because until this year there was no dictionary of Kaaps to check against. Aweh, the greeting, is a good example: the best evidence we could find is a single remark by Williams in a UWC news item, which is why we have it on this page but flagged. Kwaai, which can mean fierce and can mean excellent, is thoroughly at home in Kaaps, though the dictionary does not credit Kaaps with the approving sense.
Several words that visitors associate with the Cape Flats, among them gees, dala, duidelik, jas and salute, have no entry in the Dictionary of South African English and no scholarly treatment that we could open. We have left them out rather than invent an origin for them. The Kaaps Woordeboek is now the place to look, and news coverage of the launch mentions djy, biesim and klimeid among the words it records. It also uses the Khoi name Huri‡oaxa rather than Table Mountain, which tells you something about the project's intent.
Words from isiXhosa and other African languages
Cape Town is a Xhosa city as well as an Afrikaans and English one, and isiXhosa shapes daily speech, especially in the townships and on public transport. The clearest documented crossover into South African English is eish, the interjection covering displeasure, surprise, resignation and outrage. The dictionary derives it from tsotsitaal and dates the first English citation to the Sunday Independent in September 1998.
Terms of address travel in both directions. Bra, meaning mate, is given as a shortened form of English brother, with the bl- variants explained by the regular shift of r to l when English words are used in Nguni languages. Its citations run from Drum in 1956. Bru, by contrast, is a shortening of the Afrikaans broer, first cited in 1989. Two words that sound almost identical, from two different languages.
On a taxi you will hear all of this at once, along with the working vocabulary described in /en/cape-town-explained/taxi-language/ and in our longer piece on the minibus taxi system.
Youth and street registers
Slang is generational everywhere, and the dictionary sometimes says so outright. Lank, meaning plenty of or very, is labelled slang and marked as used especially by schoolchildren and young adults, with citations from 1970 to 1993 and an etymology the dictionary admits it does not know. Tjommie, which the dictionary files as chommie, is an Afrikaans adaptation of English chummy, cited from 1946.
Tsotsitaal is the register that deserves the most care. It is an urban South African way of speaking, associated historically with township and street life, and it is the acknowledged source of eish. Words are often traced to prison registers such as Sabela in popular accounts. We have not repeated any of those claims here, because the specialist literature we could open does not make them for the specific words on this page.
Words that carry history
Skollie is the hardest word on this list. The Dictionary of South African English defines it as a Coloured street hoodlum or petty criminal, often a gang member, with a transferred sense of any thug. The definition is worth reading twice: a reference work still carries the racial marker in the gloss itself. Its citations start in the Cape Argus in 1934 and include a 1950 line placing skollies in District Six, a neighbourhood whose residents were later forcibly removed.
That is the point. The word was applied to a community before it was adopted by anyone within it, and it sits inside a history of policing, removals and racial classification. Coloured, the category the dictionary uses, is itself contested, and some people it was applied to reject it. None of this makes the word unusable in Cape Town, where it is used lightly among friends as often as not. It does make it a bad word for a visitor to try out.
Using any of this
The useful rule is small. Learn what the words mean so that you understand what is said to you. Do not perform an accent that is not yours, and do not treat a working-class Cape Town variety as a costume. If you want to go further, the Kaaps Woordeboek is the book to buy, and it was made by the people who speak the language.