Speech
I am guilty of neglecting something that maybe I should have done 10 years ago. It concerns how I feel about both my sons. It is not earth-shattering – it happened to millions of others, but for me it was the first time. At the time it did not seemed necessary to expose my personal inner feelings. But today I feel almost obliged to make a correction by telling this to Pieter and to Nicola.
A few years ago I worked for the Industrial Development Corporation in Johannesburg, responsible for managing internal computer training. I once attended a training course for managers. As part of an exercise in growing confidence and building self-esteem, participants were asked to relate to the group something of great value, something we did or have achieved that made us particularly proud of ourselves.
Now, in preparing for this I planned to tell the group about the astronomical telescope that I have built. In telling this I want to give credit where due because in the initial stages, Pieter was also involved in the process. In the middle 90’s after Comet Shoemaker-Levy crashed into planet Jupiter the members of the local branch of the Astronomical Society in Pretoria were so fired up about this event that we build 27 telescopes, and mine was the first primary mirror ground and polished to specifications, and the first telescope to reach the stage of first light. Oh boy, I was, and still am quite proud of it.
But a few minutes before it was my turn to speak, a colleague stood up and told the group about how he built his own house, from conceptual planning, financing, building it all himself through all its stages. Suddenly my proud effort seemed to me almost mediocre. I forced myself to switch my strategy and think of something else, and fast, all within a few minutes. And then, a total blank. For the life of me, I could not think of anything in comparison to tell the group. I started to panic. Was my life then so insignificant that I have done nothing of value?
As I scanned through my memory, I keep returning to something that occurred on that day. But I can’t talk about that! It is way too personal. Nobody in the group did something similar. But I just couldn’t find anything else. So, when it was my turn, I said: What the heck!
And I stood up and told the group about my SON.
About his character and virtues, his good grades in school, how he took charge of his own financial matters even in school, and in searching for money for his studies at varsity, how he planned and financed a trip, and successfully climbed Kilimandjaro.
In Afrikaans het ons ‘n uitdrukking: Ek het met ‘n ander man se kalwers geploeg. I did it without any shame, because on that day nothing I ever did or have achieved made me more proud than my son. On that very day Pieter has reached his 21st birthday. Even without his knowledge at the time, that was my act of presenting him to the world of grown-up people.
Needless to say that today I again have similar feelings inside.
I had a lump in my throat once, Pieter, when I read in one of your journals that your love for the outdoors and mountains started on the trip that I took you, and Daniël, to the Cedarberg, when you were both still in school. I still remembered how we suffered in the December heat, with one lost and one broken water bottle, bundu-bashing through thorny patches of fynbos. There were many other trips, to so many places in Transvaal, in different groups and even just the two of us: Magoebaskloof, Magaliesberg, Fish River Canyon. Later you became the leader, taking me along: Table Mountain, Stellenbosch Twin Peaks, and with Gordon to Cedarberg. I remember your handshake when, again, we stood beneath the Wolfberg Arch. You took me along to the top of Tabana Ntlenyana, the highest peak in southern Africa, still my altitude record while you have improved on yours. I remember one New Year’s evening, 11 o’clock at night when just the two of us scrambled up Magaliesberg behind our home and sat there looking out over Pretoria at all the fireworks bursting all over the city.
Dankie my seun, dat jy onthou waar jy vandaan kom.
I am also jealous, but proud of the way that you have seized the opportunities to broaden your horizons, of traveling abroad for study, for work, for holidays, for hiking and climbing. You even had me overseas, last year, to Robben Island, where I added the Chukar partridge to my birding life list.
Nicola, you know, when Pieter told us about his trip to South America, we were surprised when we heard that he actually changed his itinerary and stayed in miserable Valparaiso waiting for his connecting flight. Something happened prior to this trip. He met you. When we realized that he would not allow himself to enjoy the fabulous Iguassu Waterfalls without you at his side – that’s when we knew that this relationship was very serious.
You are more than welcome in our home, as part of our family. I wish for you plenty of enjoyable trips at his side, to many waterfalls, and to places where you too can add a shoebill stork to your birding life list. And even if Pieter still thinks he knows how to take care of everything in his life, please help him along now and then, because he is, and now you too, are quite precious to us.
Bruce and Marion,
It is an honour to have met you, and Rhona, and to see Gordon again.
I can speak for Alta as well because we can associate with your feelings on this day. I do hope that your experience in future will be that you have not lost a daughter, but have gained a son. We are willing to share with you.
And to you all, even if it does not applies to you yet: These (pointing to Pieter and Nicola, Daniëland Yolandi, Rhona, Gordon) are the reasons why parents exist.
Pieter and Nicola, my final word on this marriage, for now, is a sincere wish that you will not, I repeat NOT, Hou dit kort!
I thank you.
David, after two speeches, can I also toast?
I know: Hou dit kort!
(My toespraak netnou was langer want ek dink Ryno het my aids weggesteek!).
This is for all parents, and children:
Op wortels en vlerke!
On roots and wings!