What's in a samosa?

It was a characteristically windy afternoon in Strandfontein, Cape Town, South Africa where I was invited to an auntie Fariedah’s house by my friend and auntie Fariedah’s niece.
Fariedah stems from a long line of Malay who became known as Cape Malay a long time ago –three centuries to be exact. In the 17th century when colonisation was rampant and the slave trade flourished, thousands of people from Indonesia - then known as Dutch East Indies (quite verbosely) - were shipped to the then Cape of Good Hope, which used to be the hub for trade. These people were brought as slaves for hard labour, but contributed so much to the cultural vibrancy we see in Cape Town today.
We sit down to a six-seater table decked from one end to the other with home-made dishes that are either Cape Malay or Cape Malay inspired. Aunty Fariedah recommends I begin with some of her delicious samosas which lay in a beautiful gold-rimmed dish. These are triangular-shaped pastries stuffed with delicious curries or stew, deep fried to a golden crisp. Presently I had choice of tuna samosas and curried mince-meat samosas. I sample one of each, enjoying the bursts of flavour that each triangular pouch conceals.
Aunty Fariedah finishes me off with a tall glass of falooda a spin-off of the Persian dessert ‘Faloodeh’ - a milkshake of sorts made from rose water, basil, jelly pieces and milk or ice-cream. It has a delicate soft taste to contrast the boldness and punchy flavours in the main courses. These are after-all dishes that have had to survive slavery and oppression.
She boasts one of the biggest families in the world, scattered all over almost every continent. The secret, she believes, to their longevity and prosperity in the uh, offspring department is “lots of love and good food”.
When I asked her where to go for the best taste of Cape Malay she replied: “obviously at home.” The importance of home seems to be deeply imbedded in their cultural heritage; family equals people who eat together.