© Copyright 2018 P.J. Stassen (All Rights Reserved)
1. INTRODUCTION. Wikipedia writes as follows:
" 'How Green Was My Valley' is a 1941 drama film directed by John Ford. The film, based on the 1939 Richard Llewellyn novel of the same name, was produced by Darryl F. Zanuck and scripted by Philip Dunne. The movie features Walter Pidgeon, Maureen O'Hara, Anna Lee, Donald Crisp, and Roddy McDowall. It was nominated for ten Academy Awards, famously beating Citizen Kane for Best Picture along with winning Best Director, Best Cinematography, and Best Supporting Actor.
The movie tells of the Morgans, a hard-working Welsh mining family living in the heart of the South Wales Valleys during the 19th century. The story chronicles life in the South Wales coalfields, the loss of that way of life and its effects on the family. The fictional village in the movie is based on Gilfach Goch; Llewellyn spent many summers there visiting his grandfather, and it served as the inspiration for the novel. In 1990, the movie was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry of the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant". The Academy Film Archive preserved How Green Was My Valley during 1998."
2. ONE OF THE MOST MEMORABLE IN MY LIFE. I saw this film (in monochrome black-and-white and nominated for ten academy awards) in Carletonville, South Africa in 1958 at a local drive-in theatre when I was just about the same age as the age depicted for the 'hero' of our story (the boy depicted by Roddy McDowall). It was certainly one of the most memorable of my life, and it resonated with me because I could so easily find common cause with the characters in the film. I still have a worn VHS-copy in my collection of classic movies, and may watch it with friends ever so now and then.
3. HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY (TOO!).
3.1 Randgate (South Africa) in 1947. To give the reader an idea, born in 1947 I grew up on the rich goldfields of South Africa in the small mining 'suburb' of a village called 'Randgate', about an hour's drive from the big bustling city of Johannesburg, the 'City of Gold'. This village was born from the 19th century gold-rush as a kind of gateway to the goldfields of the West Rand (hence its name, 'Randgate') involving such colourful characters as Cecil John Rhodes (father of the Rhodes Scholarships and who later drifted away from the gold mines of Johannesburg to focus on the diamonds of Kimberley), Barney Barnato, Joseph B. Robinson, Sammy Marks, Sir Abe Bailey, Sir Julius Wernher, Hermann Eckstein, Alfred Beit, Sir Thomas Cullinan and a host of others, at the time known (and reviled) as the 'Randlords'.
3.2 Jan Smuts & 1922 Miners' Strike. This region (i.e. the East & West Rand) was also the 'theatre-of-war' for the infamous and bloody gold-miners' strike of 1922 (known as the '1922 Rand Rebellion' or '1922 Rand Revolt') that prime-minister Jan Smuts, at the time, had to put down with the help of 20 000 troops, artillery, tanks and bomber-aircraft, where planes flying over one town (known as 'Benoni', meaning 'Son of my Sorrow') for instance were found dropping bombs on suspects, guilty of all kinds of illegal union-instigated acts and atrocities, were cowering below ... probably one of the first of such aviation-initiated innovations in history. In Fordsburg Square, for instance, the army-bombers reportedly once actually missed their target, hitting a church below instead.
3.1 Randgate (South Africa) in 1947. To give the reader an idea, born in 1947 I grew up on the rich goldfields of South Africa in the small mining 'suburb' of a village called 'Randgate', about an hour's drive from the big bustling city of Johannesburg, the 'City of Gold'. This village was born from the 19th century gold-rush as a kind of gateway to the goldfields of the West Rand (hence its name, 'Randgate') involving such colourful characters as Cecil John Rhodes (father of the Rhodes Scholarships and who later drifted away from the gold mines of Johannesburg to focus on the diamonds of Kimberley), Barney Barnato, Joseph B. Robinson, Sammy Marks, Sir Abe Bailey, Sir Julius Wernher, Hermann Eckstein, Alfred Beit, Sir Thomas Cullinan and a host of others, at the time known (and reviled) as the 'Randlords'.
3.2 Jan Smuts & 1922 Miners' Strike. This region (i.e. the East & West Rand) was also the 'theatre-of-war' for the infamous and bloody gold-miners' strike of 1922 (known as the '1922 Rand Rebellion' or '1922 Rand Revolt') that prime-minister Jan Smuts, at the time, had to put down with the help of 20 000 troops, artillery, tanks and bomber-aircraft, where planes flying over one town (known as 'Benoni', meaning 'Son of my Sorrow') for instance were found dropping bombs on suspects, guilty of all kinds of illegal union-instigated acts and atrocities, were cowering below ... probably one of the first of such aviation-initiated innovations in history. In Fordsburg Square, for instance, the army-bombers reportedly once actually missed their target, hitting a church below instead.
3.3 J.B. Robinson & Randfontein Estates Gold Mining Co. My father worked for years as a shaft-carpenter on some of those mines, and in particular on one of J. B. Robinson's mines, affectionately known as 'Randfontein Estates'. Our school was a stone's throw away from our house, and, when in Grade 5 (Standard 3) I used to wake up every weekday at 6 a.m. for school to the sound of the mine's foghorn some distance away (just beyond the new and posh suburb of 'Green Hills') toward the east announcing the start of the morning shift. That old foghorn, maybe from some derelict ship somewhere, made a gruff, low-pitched and very mournful (quite demoralizing) sound, but still better than my mother's whacking, when I was in Grade 1, on the wall of my bedroom with a dessert-spoon from the adjacent kitchen signalling the time for me to get up.
3.4 Robinson Lake. In those days the management of those Randfontein-mines had the piping-hot industrial water, that emerged as redundant from the reduction-processes at the mines, siphoned daily down to a large and exhilarating man-made lake called 'Robinson Lake', where the local villagers from Randgate, Westonaria, Krugersdorp and even as far away as Johannesburg, Pretoria and the East Rand, converged on Sundays to swim, play and simply enjoy as a kind of hot-springs resort. It was immensely popular, with lively radio music-broadcasts from Lourence Marques Radio ('L.M. Radio') in Mozambique, compliments of David Davies, Evelyn Martin and others. In those days, the highlight of our week on the radio was the Sunday-evening (10 p.m.) 'L.M. Radio Top Ten Hit Parade'.
This resort used to draw immense crowds ... the French Riviera or Majorca (Mallorca) of the 'West Rand'. Sadly, the lake was later 'decommissioned' when harmful amounts of toxic (and probably lethal) heavy metals were discovered in the water. All that has remained of this once bustling resort with its merry revellers is a huge, kilometre-long (and relatively shallow) crater where the water once was overgrown with grasses and reeds and surrounded by trees and some old mine-houses still in use.
3,5 Homestead Lake (Riebeeck Lake). Close to our house and down Sauer Street (about 500 yards away) was another picturesque but modest little lake in a forest of about a square kilometre or so, a popular picnic and swimming-resort enclosed within lovely pines, tall eucalyptus-trees and giant poplars, with gnarled and stately old trees framing the lake and its surrounds. In fact, my first exposure to swimming as a toddler probably was in that lake ... until it too, during the 1960s, was declared mosquito-infested and unsafe due to the threat of malaria.
In 1960 I used to slip away at night with our neighbours son, TommyV., to the lake to play in the woods with only the light of the moon as our guide; the highlight of my youth in those days, however, was when I used to go to the woods, for instance, to carve out my name on the bark of some ancient tree ('PS loves LB') or during a steady drizzle in summer; the woods were charming and aromatic when wet, almost like a scene from Disney's Peter Pan or from Narnia, and I could sit for hours (metaphorically-speaking) on a wet tree-stump just watching water trickle from trees and running down in interesting little rivulets.
That inscription ('PS loves LB') carved on some tree on the shore of the lake won't be found easily (if at all) today ... if it is still intelligible, it will probably be twenty metres or so up the top of the tree, and also probably twenty metres below my father's inscription that he may have carved out when he was a boy playing there in the 1930s. Today a huge, modern mall graces the 'waterfront' shores of the lake and most of the trees have been removed, probably to harvest the timber and/or to discourage vagrants and crime.
Incidentally, when he was a boy, my father (PietS. Snr.,) and his friends (BanieB., NaasS., VilletjieV. & PaulF.) used to hang out as some sort of a 'gang' in the region. During the 1930's they played 'Bobbies & Thieves' and 'Cowboys & Crooks' in the same woods, swam in the same lakes where I later was to play and swim. They roamed the monstrous white sand-dunes (of which one single dune was declared the biggest man-made mountain in the world) and ugly yellow mine-dumps of the West Rand like Mexican marauders in search of some lost 'city of gold', never fully appreciating the true wealth of the reef under their feet. Wikipedia writes: "The Witwatersrand Basin is a largely underground geological formation which surfaces in the Witwatersrand, South Africa. It holds the world's largest known gold reserves and has produced over 1.5 billion ounces (over 40,000 metric tons), which represents about 50% of all the gold ever mined on earth."
3.6 I Score a Bicycle.
Incidentally, when he was a boy, my father (PietS. Snr.,) and his friends (BanieB., NaasS., VilletjieV. & PaulF.) used to hang out as some sort of a 'gang' in the region. During the 1930's they played 'Bobbies & Thieves' and 'Cowboys & Crooks' in the same woods, swam in the same lakes where I later was to play and swim. They roamed the monstrous white sand-dunes (of which one single dune was declared the biggest man-made mountain in the world) and ugly yellow mine-dumps of the West Rand like Mexican marauders in search of some lost 'city of gold', never fully appreciating the true wealth of the reef under their feet. Wikipedia writes: "The Witwatersrand Basin is a largely underground geological formation which surfaces in the Witwatersrand, South Africa. It holds the world's largest known gold reserves and has produced over 1.5 billion ounces (over 40,000 metric tons), which represents about 50% of all the gold ever mined on earth."
3.6 I Score a Bicycle.
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When it has been raining, the woods actually
smelled invigorating and almost holy, i.e. so
reminiscent of 'Heaven'; strange, this
primordial ('deja vu'?) longing for a home that
one has never seen! I once, also in 1960,
found a 'Raleigh' sports-cycle there,
surreptitiously covered with branches to hide
it from view, and probably stolen. It was only
later that I realised that I myself actually
may have been the bicycle-thief instead...
what if, for instance, the bicycle belonged to some hapless, homeless job-seeker who slept in the bush trying to find gainful employment somewhere?
Be that as it may, I, then only twelve years old, nevertheless rode the Raleigh all the way to the police station, got my receipt for my deposit (for safekeeping) and three months later were told to come and fetch it as nobody had been there to claim it. I sold that bicycle and bought a big, green 'balloon-tyre' bicycle with the proceeds instead and with which I rode to school every day; later I sold that bicycle too to buy myself my very first 'suede jacket' in a fashionable 'burgundy', then so in vogue in South Africa.
A neighbour's son, PIeterM, had earlier bought himself a nice green suede jacket and I was not going to be outdone by him. Being only twelve years old in Grade 8 (then Standard 6), however, it was nevertheless still hopelessly too big for me (the last one left in the Jewish store) and it only properly fitted me four years later in 1964 when I turned 16, a great birthday present to myself.
3.7 The Charm of Jewish & Indian Stores. Speaking of a 'Jewish store' ... my childhood is filled with charming images of ancient old stores and shops. In Randgate, and close to our home, for instance, we had one of the most ancient of Jewish corner-shops in the Universe (or so it seemed). This general dealer went by the name of Old Simon ('Simon's General Dealer') and he sold groceries and hardware, sweets ('candy') in huge bottles, small farming implements and paraphernalia, feed for livestock and lots of stuff associated with cattle, horses and carriages.
He must have been there since before the Anglo-Boer War (1899-1902) and clearly was rigged to service the farmers and miners in the area, and probably also Boers on Commando during the war. During the Anglo-Boer War, The Boers (as well as English soldiers, known as 'Khakis') were fond of 'commandeering' supplies from local shops and businesses ... all the poor shopkeeper received in lieu of payment was an i.o.u. on a piece of paper by the officer in charge for the amount owed. How many of those i.o.u.'s were honoured after the war is anybody's guess.
Old Simon's son, Victor, a wild-eyed, bearded and unkempt young man but probably harmless, was sort of mentally disturbed because he used to stand outside in the street all day directing an immense stream of imaginary traffic (and the occasional real car or motorcycle) while sometimes threatening customers with a knife. Once, after I had sent my younger brother Hans (only 4 years old at the time and barely able to run) to buy me a box of matches on my mother's account (Simon actually gave it to him!), this man chased him for a quite a distance threatening him with his knife, although, I suspect, his bark was worse than his bite. This Simon and his wife, both highly respected in the community, were later reportedly both found murdered in their home (an annexe to the shop) by burglars, or, more accurately, they were later found in their home killed and burgled by murderers.
Other stores in the area were 'Zoek's General Dealer' (Jewish); 'Zyl's General Dealer' (Jewish); 'Wheatlands Trading Store' (Indian); 'Bester's General Dealer' (Afrikaner) and 'Elandsvlei Trading Store' (also Indian and both probably also dating from pre-Anglo-Boer War days) along with the usual plethora of other shops (i.e. butcher, pharmacy, dairy, post office, corner cafes and restaurants) in the little main street. The reader will thus forgive me my fascination with these places, most of them so reminiscent of Herman Charles Bosman's Zwingli's Store beyond Zeerust near the Botswana border and the Indian Store at Ramoutsa (in his famous stories about rural South Africa during the 1920's).
A popular place for hanging out was Wessels' Cafe, a corner-restaurant built as late as the year 1932 that served meat pie & gravy, bangers & mash, fish & chips, spaghetti-bolognaise and other such 'exotic delicacies' (!) to the sound of the latest hit on the 'jukebox', for which one had to fork out a whole 'sixpence'.
Bear in mind that, during 1960 and now being an 'independent republic', South Africa (a former dominion) was changing its currency from the old English pounds, shilllings and pennies to the more user-friendly (decimal) rands and cents system. To get recalcitrant citizens, however, to enthusiastically buy into the new system, the government launched a huge propaganda-drive to promote the new currency and to encourage people to exchange their old currency (probably hidden under mattresses and in money-boxes) for the new with a popular little radio-jingle, i.e. "Daan Desimaal, die Rand-Sent man, gee sente vir pennies net waar hy kan!" ("Dan Decimal, the Rand-Cent man, gives cents for pennies everywhere he can!").
The 'Wessels Cafe' was contracted to deliver fried fish during school hours (in winter) to the local primary school where I attended ... the most delicious I had ever tasted. As a so-called 'poor community', our school-board had a policy of supplying regular (free) treats daily to pupils year around, e.g. milk in small bottles, fried fish, grapes, apples, pears, bananas and oranges.
My father also used to sell cars at a local auto dealer as well as insurance for Old Mutual; he also hawked goods in neighbouring mining-towns on behalf of the two Indian stores for years in order to supplement his income. Thanks to his many business-connections (having earned him a good name, in especially the Indian business-community) he later opened up a string of retail stores all over the region of the goldfields of the West Rand. His main business-sponsor was a benevolent, legendary Indian business-tycoon, A.I. ('Long One') Laher who used to be very helpful and supportive to our family.
Before the reader gets the erroneous idea that our lives in Randgate were very stable and idyllic all the time, bear in mind that, in a period of sixteen years, we changed homes in Randgate itself, but without having to change schools, at least nine times, not counting our many translocations to other towns. I stand to be corrected, but as far as I can recall we have occupied houses (in Randgate) in Sauer Street; Langerman Street; Lazar Avenue; Smuts Street (twice: once in our own 'rental' and once when my father was between jobs and we had to move in with his brother's family for a few weeks); Botha Street; Stegmann Street and Barend Street (twice). The house in Barend Street was the only one that was not a 'rental' ... my mother had had it built when my father wasn't looking; during his stormy childhood he had become so used to his own family's nomadic lifestyle that it probably never even occurred to him to buy or build his own house.
The magic of childhood is that one often (thankfully) does not realise that one is 'poor', it was only later when we started riding bicycles through the scenic suburbs of Auckland Park, Parktown and Houghton (in proximity of my grandparents' home) in Johannesburg that I could learn, through 'value-comparison', to develop an idea of what great wealth actually meant. We were nevertheless still very fortunate, for I was only later to discover how abjectly poor (and far worse off than us) the majority of South Africans in those days anyway were. In South Africa in those days, if one's father was not a derelict drunk or chronic alcoholic, one was considered extremely fortunate.
In a lighter vein, recently, when a well-known (retired) local preacher called NevilleN. once asked his wife whether he had been a 'good' husband and father, she replied that he had been away from home (and the family!) in the field (working) for too long to have had the time to be a 'bad' husband and father. Nevertheless, during the fifties and sixties, gold-miners on the goldfields used to be an erratic and unstable species ... rich at one moment and homeless at the next. So wealthy were some people working on the mines that a rumour used to do the rounds that a gold-miner knew that it was time to buy a brand new car when the ashtray in the lounge (for his cigarettes) was full.
3.8 The Magic of Vrededorp ('Fietas').
A neighbour's son, PIeterM, had earlier bought himself a nice green suede jacket and I was not going to be outdone by him. Being only twelve years old in Grade 8 (then Standard 6), however, it was nevertheless still hopelessly too big for me (the last one left in the Jewish store) and it only properly fitted me four years later in 1964 when I turned 16, a great birthday present to myself.
3.7 The Charm of Jewish & Indian Stores. Speaking of a 'Jewish store' ... my childhood is filled with charming images of ancient old stores and shops. In Randgate, and close to our home, for instance, we had one of the most ancient of Jewish corner-shops in the Universe (or so it seemed). This general dealer went by the name of Old Simon ('Simon's General Dealer') and he sold groceries and hardware, sweets ('candy') in huge bottles, small farming implements and paraphernalia, feed for livestock and lots of stuff associated with cattle, horses and carriages.
He must have been there since before the Anglo-Boer War (1899-1902) and clearly was rigged to service the farmers and miners in the area, and probably also Boers on Commando during the war. During the Anglo-Boer War, The Boers (as well as English soldiers, known as 'Khakis') were fond of 'commandeering' supplies from local shops and businesses ... all the poor shopkeeper received in lieu of payment was an i.o.u. on a piece of paper by the officer in charge for the amount owed. How many of those i.o.u.'s were honoured after the war is anybody's guess.
Old Simon's son, Victor, a wild-eyed, bearded and unkempt young man but probably harmless, was sort of mentally disturbed because he used to stand outside in the street all day directing an immense stream of imaginary traffic (and the occasional real car or motorcycle) while sometimes threatening customers with a knife. Once, after I had sent my younger brother Hans (only 4 years old at the time and barely able to run) to buy me a box of matches on my mother's account (Simon actually gave it to him!), this man chased him for a quite a distance threatening him with his knife, although, I suspect, his bark was worse than his bite. This Simon and his wife, both highly respected in the community, were later reportedly both found murdered in their home (an annexe to the shop) by burglars, or, more accurately, they were later found in their home killed and burgled by murderers.
Other stores in the area were 'Zoek's General Dealer' (Jewish); 'Zyl's General Dealer' (Jewish); 'Wheatlands Trading Store' (Indian); 'Bester's General Dealer' (Afrikaner) and 'Elandsvlei Trading Store' (also Indian and both probably also dating from pre-Anglo-Boer War days) along with the usual plethora of other shops (i.e. butcher, pharmacy, dairy, post office, corner cafes and restaurants) in the little main street. The reader will thus forgive me my fascination with these places, most of them so reminiscent of Herman Charles Bosman's Zwingli's Store beyond Zeerust near the Botswana border and the Indian Store at Ramoutsa (in his famous stories about rural South Africa during the 1920's).
A popular place for hanging out was Wessels' Cafe, a corner-restaurant built as late as the year 1932 that served meat pie & gravy, bangers & mash, fish & chips, spaghetti-bolognaise and other such 'exotic delicacies' (!) to the sound of the latest hit on the 'jukebox', for which one had to fork out a whole 'sixpence'.
Bear in mind that, during 1960 and now being an 'independent republic', South Africa (a former dominion) was changing its currency from the old English pounds, shilllings and pennies to the more user-friendly (decimal) rands and cents system. To get recalcitrant citizens, however, to enthusiastically buy into the new system, the government launched a huge propaganda-drive to promote the new currency and to encourage people to exchange their old currency (probably hidden under mattresses and in money-boxes) for the new with a popular little radio-jingle, i.e. "Daan Desimaal, die Rand-Sent man, gee sente vir pennies net waar hy kan!" ("Dan Decimal, the Rand-Cent man, gives cents for pennies everywhere he can!").
The 'Wessels Cafe' was contracted to deliver fried fish during school hours (in winter) to the local primary school where I attended ... the most delicious I had ever tasted. As a so-called 'poor community', our school-board had a policy of supplying regular (free) treats daily to pupils year around, e.g. milk in small bottles, fried fish, grapes, apples, pears, bananas and oranges.
My father also used to sell cars at a local auto dealer as well as insurance for Old Mutual; he also hawked goods in neighbouring mining-towns on behalf of the two Indian stores for years in order to supplement his income. Thanks to his many business-connections (having earned him a good name, in especially the Indian business-community) he later opened up a string of retail stores all over the region of the goldfields of the West Rand. His main business-sponsor was a benevolent, legendary Indian business-tycoon, A.I. ('Long One') Laher who used to be very helpful and supportive to our family.
Before the reader gets the erroneous idea that our lives in Randgate were very stable and idyllic all the time, bear in mind that, in a period of sixteen years, we changed homes in Randgate itself, but without having to change schools, at least nine times, not counting our many translocations to other towns. I stand to be corrected, but as far as I can recall we have occupied houses (in Randgate) in Sauer Street; Langerman Street; Lazar Avenue; Smuts Street (twice: once in our own 'rental' and once when my father was between jobs and we had to move in with his brother's family for a few weeks); Botha Street; Stegmann Street and Barend Street (twice). The house in Barend Street was the only one that was not a 'rental' ... my mother had had it built when my father wasn't looking; during his stormy childhood he had become so used to his own family's nomadic lifestyle that it probably never even occurred to him to buy or build his own house.
The magic of childhood is that one often (thankfully) does not realise that one is 'poor', it was only later when we started riding bicycles through the scenic suburbs of Auckland Park, Parktown and Houghton (in proximity of my grandparents' home) in Johannesburg that I could learn, through 'value-comparison', to develop an idea of what great wealth actually meant. We were nevertheless still very fortunate, for I was only later to discover how abjectly poor (and far worse off than us) the majority of South Africans in those days anyway were. In South Africa in those days, if one's father was not a derelict drunk or chronic alcoholic, one was considered extremely fortunate.
In a lighter vein, recently, when a well-known (retired) local preacher called NevilleN. once asked his wife whether he had been a 'good' husband and father, she replied that he had been away from home (and the family!) in the field (working) for too long to have had the time to be a 'bad' husband and father. Nevertheless, during the fifties and sixties, gold-miners on the goldfields used to be an erratic and unstable species ... rich at one moment and homeless at the next. So wealthy were some people working on the mines that a rumour used to do the rounds that a gold-miner knew that it was time to buy a brand new car when the ashtray in the lounge (for his cigarettes) was full.
3.8 The Magic of Vrededorp ('Fietas').
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| Early Photograph of Vrededorp ('Fietas') |
An interesting historical note:
'On 19 February 1896 Vrededorp, Braamfontein, Fordsburg and the Malay Location (later renamed Pageview) were flattened as a result of a huge explosion caused by a locomotive that reversed into two railway trucks that contained 1955 tons of unstable dynamite. This explosion is commonly known as the "Great Dynamite Explosion'. (Wikipedia).
A truly commercial and cultural gem during the 1940's and 1950's (however, dating from the the 1880s) the century) is the little shopping-mecca of Vrededorp (i.e. 'Town of Peace') and also known as 'Fietas' (perverted from 'Fitters', for 'Men's Fitters', a reference to the many renowned Indian tailors in the area) is a suburb of Old Johannesburg, where rows and rows of quaint little Indian and Malay shops, each one painted in a different colour, lined both sides of the main street and where old-fashioned, raucous and ear-splitting tram-rides (i.e. red, double-decker trams) in the track lined streets were not uncommon. On Saturdays (at the end of the month) there were the usual 'tickey-bazaars' where everything on display on bazaar-tables (usually out-of-fashion clothing) could be picked up for three pennies a piece.
As children my little cousin and I, Jeanette (actually my mother's youngest sister and the same age as I) used to run errands to Vrededorp for my grandmother, where, during the 1950s, we used to sit on the steps of shopfronts to blow bubblegum-bubbles, with the whiff of burning incense from the Indian shops gracing the cool morning air.
It was also there where she and I saw our first Elvis-movie, 'King Creole', my first experience with the Elvis-phenomenon and the boisterous, hysterical women drooling over a matinee rock & roll idol. The girls went completely bonkers, to put it mildly, and Jeanette ('Nettie') actually shocked me (much to my amusement) by taking off her 'kid-gloves' (a comfortable moccasin-type shoe popular in those days) and kissing and hugging it all over its black imitation-leather, a pathetic replacement, in my opinion, for 'the Elvis'.
Sadly, she, probably my best childhood-friend ever, died during the early 1990s from cancer of the kidneys. A memorable moment for both of us was when, in 1950 or 1951, our family took us, as four-year-old toddlers, to see The Wizard of Oz in the Gaiety Theatre in Braamfontein, Johannesburg, the same theatre where my mother had, for a while during her teenage years, worked as an usherette when her father was fighting Rommel in the northern desert during WWII. In those days theatres could, should the need for it arise, make theatre-organs rise from a pit in the stage in order to facilitate music-shows with live entertainers. Two artists to regularly do the rounds (according to my mother) were the popular singing duo, Dawie Couzyn and Doris Brasch.
My father could actually still recall how, during his childhood in Jeppe (Johannesburg), theatre-goers ('bioscope-patrons') in South Africa had to rise and stand at attention for the singing of 'God Save The Queen' at the end of films.
3.9 My First 'Tarzan' Film. It was also in Randfontein (our main CBD) where in (about) 1956 I saw my first Tarzan-movie starring Lex Barker, although Gordon Scott will always remain my genre-favourite. Bear in mind that my parents were not church-going people, and my cultural and spiritual growth (if any) were limited to the stories from (good & wholesome) movies and the antics of the boyhood heroes (i.e. the film-stars) of the era, as well as from books ... I loved books. Bear in mind that the Tarzan and The Phantom comic strips (in daily newspapers) were immensely popular in those days, along with e.g. Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers, King Arthur, Mutt & Jeff, Dagwood & Blondie and Peanuts.
Also, had I collected and saved all the comics (Superman, Batman, Little Lotta, Little Tubby, Little Dot, Richie Rich, Elmer, Archie, Jughead, Mighty Mouse, Donald Duck, Gyro Gearloose etc.) we consumed as families in those days, I probably would have sold those collections for millions today. Today I am an enthusiastic history-buff, and I can only ascribe it to this exposure to the films, especially about war and westerns, I was subjected to in those days. My father loved to read Louis L'Amour and Zane Grey westerns, a habit that (I believe) had instilled in him a good sense of social ethics and moral values.
They say that wealth (and poverty) is 'relative', isn't it weird and ironical how we as children, for instance, drooled at the sight of Richie Rich's wealth (in the comics) while other children, much worse off than us, perhaps again drooled at the sight of our wealth of Richie Rich comics (!). Be that as it may, while some people in those days (e.g educationists, theologians etc.) may have scoffed at the idea of comics, I believe that comics did more to further the cause of basic English literacy in those days (for 'Afrikaner' children) than many a school-teacher.
As children my little cousin and I, Jeanette (actually my mother's youngest sister and the same age as I) used to run errands to Vrededorp for my grandmother, where, during the 1950s, we used to sit on the steps of shopfronts to blow bubblegum-bubbles, with the whiff of burning incense from the Indian shops gracing the cool morning air.
It was also there where she and I saw our first Elvis-movie, 'King Creole', my first experience with the Elvis-phenomenon and the boisterous, hysterical women drooling over a matinee rock & roll idol. The girls went completely bonkers, to put it mildly, and Jeanette ('Nettie') actually shocked me (much to my amusement) by taking off her 'kid-gloves' (a comfortable moccasin-type shoe popular in those days) and kissing and hugging it all over its black imitation-leather, a pathetic replacement, in my opinion, for 'the Elvis'.
Sadly, she, probably my best childhood-friend ever, died during the early 1990s from cancer of the kidneys. A memorable moment for both of us was when, in 1950 or 1951, our family took us, as four-year-old toddlers, to see The Wizard of Oz in the Gaiety Theatre in Braamfontein, Johannesburg, the same theatre where my mother had, for a while during her teenage years, worked as an usherette when her father was fighting Rommel in the northern desert during WWII. In those days theatres could, should the need for it arise, make theatre-organs rise from a pit in the stage in order to facilitate music-shows with live entertainers. Two artists to regularly do the rounds (according to my mother) were the popular singing duo, Dawie Couzyn and Doris Brasch.
My father could actually still recall how, during his childhood in Jeppe (Johannesburg), theatre-goers ('bioscope-patrons') in South Africa had to rise and stand at attention for the singing of 'God Save The Queen' at the end of films.
3.9 My First 'Tarzan' Film. It was also in Randfontein (our main CBD) where in (about) 1956 I saw my first Tarzan-movie starring Lex Barker, although Gordon Scott will always remain my genre-favourite. Bear in mind that my parents were not church-going people, and my cultural and spiritual growth (if any) were limited to the stories from (good & wholesome) movies and the antics of the boyhood heroes (i.e. the film-stars) of the era, as well as from books ... I loved books. Bear in mind that the Tarzan and The Phantom comic strips (in daily newspapers) were immensely popular in those days, along with e.g. Dick Tracy, Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers, King Arthur, Mutt & Jeff, Dagwood & Blondie and Peanuts.
Also, had I collected and saved all the comics (Superman, Batman, Little Lotta, Little Tubby, Little Dot, Richie Rich, Elmer, Archie, Jughead, Mighty Mouse, Donald Duck, Gyro Gearloose etc.) we consumed as families in those days, I probably would have sold those collections for millions today. Today I am an enthusiastic history-buff, and I can only ascribe it to this exposure to the films, especially about war and westerns, I was subjected to in those days. My father loved to read Louis L'Amour and Zane Grey westerns, a habit that (I believe) had instilled in him a good sense of social ethics and moral values.
They say that wealth (and poverty) is 'relative', isn't it weird and ironical how we as children, for instance, drooled at the sight of Richie Rich's wealth (in the comics) while other children, much worse off than us, perhaps again drooled at the sight of our wealth of Richie Rich comics (!). Be that as it may, while some people in those days (e.g educationists, theologians etc.) may have scoffed at the idea of comics, I believe that comics did more to further the cause of basic English literacy in those days (for 'Afrikaner' children) than many a school-teacher.
4. WE MOVE AWAY.
4.1 My Father and the Depression Years (1924>). Recapping again: In those days my father used to be a great drifter between mines and after better jobs. Born in 1924, he had grown up during the depression and (poverty-stricken) euphoria following the late-nineteenth century gold-rush to Johannesburg; his family was trapped in the sociologist's (and probably criminologist's) 1920's and 1930's worst headache of the time ... the Afrikaner Armblanke Vraagstuk (the Poor White Afrikaner Problem).
He was thus forever looking out for better pay in the mines, and later, when I complained that I had been plucked from or dumped in (at least) eight new or different schools because of all the moving around the country, he replied: "I was dumped in and plucked from new and different schools by my parents during the depression too ... no less than 35 times!" Later I actually calculated that, since he probably had left school in 1940 at the age of 16, he, over the span of about 10 years, must have changed schools (on average) every three to four months ... thirty-five times.
When my father left school in 1940, he became a steward on the train at the 'SAS & H'. This acronym was Afrikaans for 'South African Railways & Harbours' ('Suid-Afrikaanse Spoorweë & Hawens'). The cynics, however, loved to refer to it as 'Sit Asseblief Stil & Houvas!' ('Please Sit Still & Hold On!'). It was during his tenure as a young steward on the railways that he met and served the British playwright, Sir Noel Coward, in the dining-car of the train, who, during WWII, reportedly was a spy on behalf of the British but was travelling under the pretext of a visiting tourist.
During these wild WWII years, the now legendary (and late) British actor, Sir Christopher Lee, apparently was often seen in these parts, where he (as a young and aspiring fighter-pilot for the British) also spent some time in e.g. Cape Town, Durban and later in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) where he served under an Afrikaner air-force officer serving in the RAF, i.e. a Major Venter, and where he also met General Smuts, to whom he affectionately refers to as 'Oom Jannie' ('Uncle Jannie') in his autobiography.
To illustrate the historical significance of this contact, bear in mind that Sir Christopher Lee was one of the very few people who probably could claim that he had shaken hands with the man (Jan Smuts) who had shaken hands with Paul Kruger, president of the Z.A.R. during the Anglo-Boer War of 1899-1902.
Although my father was an Afrikaner speaking the local vernacular of Afrikaans, he had spent most of his childhood in English-medium schools, and, although it must have been a formidable challenge for a frightened little child in those days, it later certainly developed into an enormous blessing put to great linguistic and business advantage by him when he opened up his chain of retail stores all over the place.
4.1 My Father and the Depression Years (1924>). Recapping again: In those days my father used to be a great drifter between mines and after better jobs. Born in 1924, he had grown up during the depression and (poverty-stricken) euphoria following the late-nineteenth century gold-rush to Johannesburg; his family was trapped in the sociologist's (and probably criminologist's) 1920's and 1930's worst headache of the time ... the Afrikaner Armblanke Vraagstuk (the Poor White Afrikaner Problem).
He was thus forever looking out for better pay in the mines, and later, when I complained that I had been plucked from or dumped in (at least) eight new or different schools because of all the moving around the country, he replied: "I was dumped in and plucked from new and different schools by my parents during the depression too ... no less than 35 times!" Later I actually calculated that, since he probably had left school in 1940 at the age of 16, he, over the span of about 10 years, must have changed schools (on average) every three to four months ... thirty-five times.
When my father left school in 1940, he became a steward on the train at the 'SAS & H'. This acronym was Afrikaans for 'South African Railways & Harbours' ('Suid-Afrikaanse Spoorweë & Hawens'). The cynics, however, loved to refer to it as 'Sit Asseblief Stil & Houvas!' ('Please Sit Still & Hold On!'). It was during his tenure as a young steward on the railways that he met and served the British playwright, Sir Noel Coward, in the dining-car of the train, who, during WWII, reportedly was a spy on behalf of the British but was travelling under the pretext of a visiting tourist.
During these wild WWII years, the now legendary (and late) British actor, Sir Christopher Lee, apparently was often seen in these parts, where he (as a young and aspiring fighter-pilot for the British) also spent some time in e.g. Cape Town, Durban and later in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) where he served under an Afrikaner air-force officer serving in the RAF, i.e. a Major Venter, and where he also met General Smuts, to whom he affectionately refers to as 'Oom Jannie' ('Uncle Jannie') in his autobiography.
To illustrate the historical significance of this contact, bear in mind that Sir Christopher Lee was one of the very few people who probably could claim that he had shaken hands with the man (Jan Smuts) who had shaken hands with Paul Kruger, president of the Z.A.R. during the Anglo-Boer War of 1899-1902.
Although my father was an Afrikaner speaking the local vernacular of Afrikaans, he had spent most of his childhood in English-medium schools, and, although it must have been a formidable challenge for a frightened little child in those days, it later certainly developed into an enormous blessing put to great linguistic and business advantage by him when he opened up his chain of retail stores all over the place.
4.2 Carletonville, 1958 / Randgate, 1960 / Johannesburg, 1961 / Virginia, 1962 / Carletonville, 1964. We moved away to the mining town of Carletonville (named after the American mining-engineer, Guy Carleton-Jones) in 1958. Now, before my father had opened his string of small ‘general dealer’ shops in our district, I’ve been growing up as the son of a ‘gold-miner’ on one of the richest gold reefs of South Africa. My father’s designation was that of a ‘shaft carpenter’, and we’ve been living in a bustling mining town in a stereo-typed (but fairly decent and comfortable) company ‘bungalo’ at the time of the following incident that involved three of my ‘dear’ friends.
It was in 1959 when I was going on 12 and we were having dinner
when two of my friends, Wayne and Bill (aliases) came up to us
to proposition my father for me to go with them and play on an empty plot at the back of our house; we were having dinner (scrambled eggs on toast, to be honest) and he eventually acquiesced. Within minutes I jumped the wooden ‘split-poles’ that gave
access to the empty plot of land and where my two school-pals were already
waiting for me.
Without any prior
warning and for no (known) reason whatsoever, they jumped me and started
beating me up. I was so shocked that, within seconds, I turned into a frenzied
tornado of released energy, probably sparked by the adrenalin rush from the fight-or-flight
impulse. I was doing fairly well when welcome help suddenly parachuted in from an
unexpected source.
My mother had, a few months earlier, given a temporary job to a migrant
(domestic) worker from Witsieshoek in Lesotho who had a tough little Sotho guy my
age and with whom I shared a name; together we were daily engaged in some boxing, wrestling and some boyish ‘African stick-fighting’ on the lawn in front of the house.
Through my tears (more because of outrage than of fright) and the barrage of blows and kicks I looked up only to see my skinny, brown
little Sotho pal jump that fence like the proverbial ‘bat out of
h…ll’ and boy, did we give my two ’assailants’ a thorough thrashing.
The Bible rarely if ever mentions the skin-colour of the
various folks involved, though ‘race by nationality’ is often implied. I have found, however, that when the
chips are down, we’re all the same of either one of only two possible ‘colours’,
i.e. on the side of either KIND or UNKIND; DECENT or UNDECENT.
Nevertheless, we moved back to Randgate in 1960 and again back to Carletonville in 1964 (after a short spell in Virginia in the Orange Free State from 1961-1962 and my own three-month stint at my grandparents' place in Cottesloe, Johannesburg where I went to school in Crosby, Johannesburg when I had to finish my 1961 school-year). This is the same school (i.e. in 1961 'Vorentoe High', today renamed back to its first and original 'Rossmore High') where my mother also attended school in 1946 as a teenager and where, many years later, forty of its pupils were drowned when their double-decker school-bus by accident drove with them into the Westdene Dam.
In Auckland Park, and living with my grandparents in Herald Str., Nettie and I used to catch one of those red double-decker ('London-type') buses each morning at a bus stop opposite the old Con Cowan High School (today incorporated into the University of Johannesburg) to travel to our school in the suburb of Crosby, not far from the almost iconic Cottesloe Hospital. Here we, at an Old Age Home nearby and during one Christmas in a charity for its senior citizens, once spent an afternoon of music and singing with Archie Selenski (pianist) and Virginia Lee, a vivacious, freckled redhead and popular upcoming female country-singer.
My grandparents' house (a stately but somewhat spooky, turn-of-the-century Edwardian 'prefab' that served as either a mess-hall for English officers or as a field-hospital, during the Anglo-Boer War) was situated not far from the shortest street in Johannesburg, i.e. 'Noddy Street'. In 1961, while waiting for the school-bus to arrive in the early spring-mornings, we used to stand watching in awe as the SABC's (Brixton) broadcasting-tower gradually went up, higher and higher every day.
During the 1950s and during the 'Guy Fawkes' celebrations (in November), Christmas & New Year, we often climbed onto the roof of my grandfather's workshop in his backyard watching the fireworks displays all over the Johannesburg CBD and suburbs. During the Rand Easter Show at Milner Park, the showgrounds beamed those huge army-searchlights kilometres up into the air almost like 20th Century Fox's iconic introduction to its films; what a gorgeous sight for curious young eyes.
4.3 The Cullinan, 'The White Waters' Ridge' & Kimberley.
My grandparents' house (a stately but somewhat spooky, turn-of-the-century Edwardian 'prefab' that served as either a mess-hall for English officers or as a field-hospital, during the Anglo-Boer War) was situated not far from the shortest street in Johannesburg, i.e. 'Noddy Street'. In 1961, while waiting for the school-bus to arrive in the early spring-mornings, we used to stand watching in awe as the SABC's (Brixton) broadcasting-tower gradually went up, higher and higher every day.
During the 1950s and during the 'Guy Fawkes' celebrations (in November), Christmas & New Year, we often climbed onto the roof of my grandfather's workshop in his backyard watching the fireworks displays all over the Johannesburg CBD and suburbs. During the Rand Easter Show at Milner Park, the showgrounds beamed those huge army-searchlights kilometres up into the air almost like 20th Century Fox's iconic introduction to its films; what a gorgeous sight for curious young eyes.
4.3 The Cullinan, 'The White Waters' Ridge' & Kimberley.
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| Cullinan Diamond Largest gem-quality diamond ever. Found on 26 January 1905 at Cullinan, South Africa |
One thing I could never understand, is that, although we were born on some of the richest ('White Waters Ridge') goldfields in the world, and, although, even as I write, I live only an hour's drive from where the Cullinan, the largest gem-quality rough-diamond ever was found ... the majority of South Africans are still struggling to make ends meet. Fraud, corruption and racketeering in government circles as well as in big business have ravished South Africa in recent times, and the only consolation is that only a country rich in natural and mineral wealth could invite so much pilfering and crime ... poor countries have nothing to steal.
Incidentally, I visited Cecil John Rhodes' legendary diamond-mecca of Kimberley (and the famous big hole) only as late as 2012 or so at age of 65, and also, mind you, only after the late British actor, Sir Peter Ustinov, had visited the place and made such a fuss about it on the television news. The Old City of Kimberley is still there and classic (corrugated-iron, painted in green) houses, shops, including the deep underground mine where Cecil Rhodes hid the city's civilians during the Boers' bombardment of the city in the Anglo-Boer War, as well as the iconic big hole from the era, are being maintained as a period-museum (perhaps the reason some people refer to South Africa as 'the country with a hole in it').
4.4 The 'Oosthuizen' Tragedy.
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| The Oosthuizen tragedy on 3 August 1964 when the entire family of three disappeared with their home into this monstrous sinkhole never to be found again. |
In 1964 the inhabitants of Carletonville woke up one morning after the entire little Oosthuizen-family had, in the dark and early hours of the morning, simply disappeared with their house and all their possessions into a huge sinkhole about the size of a whole block of houses. There was a lot of collateral damage in the area, and the rumble that night could be heard in my bedroom from about five or more kilometres away, although most citizens first must have ascribed it to thunder and inclement weather. Today, the inscription on their natural grave (a small memorial) reads: "God Himself laid them to rest." That was the same year in which the American country & gospel singer, Jim Reeves, died, also a sad loss for South Africans who were very fond of him. Just before his death Reeves has made one film in South Africa, i.e. 'Kimberley Jim'. Unfortunately, I have never seen it.
During the early 1970s my friend GerritV. and I took a leisurely (10-day) bicycle trip to Durban sleeping at the wayside just off the road and covering a distance of about 600 kms or so, over the old Amajuba Pass national route. In Durban where we lived for some time with my Aunt Anna & Uncle Johan Zietsman at 21 Valley View Avenue in Puntans Hill, spent time at Brockley Lodge (in Point Road, not recommended) and even for three days in sleeping bags in the sand on the beachfront at La Lucia (also not recommended).
5. NO MORAL HIGH GROUND.
5.1 A Life of Sin, Confusion & Debauchery. When people like me open blogs and write about the Gospel and our duty to get right with God, the erroneous impression (referred to by psychologists as 'the halo effect') may sometimes be created that we are a special breed of very pious and devout souls having always lived admirable and exemplary lives, and probably writing from some highly-commendable moral high-ground. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth.
Born in 1947, I grew up like any other 'post-WWII' teenager (of the time) in South Africa. I was baptised as a Christian-believer in 1962 when I was only 14 years old, after I had accepted Jesus Christ as Lord & Saviour in a small church in Virginia (O.F.S.), an unforgettable season of spiritual awakening and exciting discovery in my life; but later, like so many others, I also drifted into the typical allure of the 1960's sin, smut and secular temptation in my naive, youthful quest for purpose, happiness and personal significance.
Even today, when I reminisce about my childhood and young (and advanced) adulthood days, I still feel the terrible shame and embarrassment of my many sins and indiscretions committed during my 'wild-oats sowing' days of the past. The very thought of the fact that I was also part and parcel of the dark and diabolical forces that made other peoples' lives miserable and contributed so much to evil in the Universe by not living for Christ, wasting valuable time pursuing (the proverbial) 'wine, women and song' in all the wrong places for all the wrong reasons, still stuns me today ... why on Earth do some of us take so long to mature and grow up? Also, to add further insult to my own self-destructive lifestyle of those days, I somehow knew that sinners could be forgiven and saved by God, but what about jerks? Was there any hope for jerks* like me?
*Jerk: "A stupid, selfish & manipulative person".
5.1 A Life of Sin, Confusion & Debauchery. When people like me open blogs and write about the Gospel and our duty to get right with God, the erroneous impression (referred to by psychologists as 'the halo effect') may sometimes be created that we are a special breed of very pious and devout souls having always lived admirable and exemplary lives, and probably writing from some highly-commendable moral high-ground. Nothing, however, could be further from the truth.
Born in 1947, I grew up like any other 'post-WWII' teenager (of the time) in South Africa. I was baptised as a Christian-believer in 1962 when I was only 14 years old, after I had accepted Jesus Christ as Lord & Saviour in a small church in Virginia (O.F.S.), an unforgettable season of spiritual awakening and exciting discovery in my life; but later, like so many others, I also drifted into the typical allure of the 1960's sin, smut and secular temptation in my naive, youthful quest for purpose, happiness and personal significance.
Even today, when I reminisce about my childhood and young (and advanced) adulthood days, I still feel the terrible shame and embarrassment of my many sins and indiscretions committed during my 'wild-oats sowing' days of the past. The very thought of the fact that I was also part and parcel of the dark and diabolical forces that made other peoples' lives miserable and contributed so much to evil in the Universe by not living for Christ, wasting valuable time pursuing (the proverbial) 'wine, women and song' in all the wrong places for all the wrong reasons, still stuns me today ... why on Earth do some of us take so long to mature and grow up? Also, to add further insult to my own self-destructive lifestyle of those days, I somehow knew that sinners could be forgiven and saved by God, but what about jerks? Was there any hope for jerks* like me?
*Jerk: "A stupid, selfish & manipulative person".
5.2 'How Green Was My Valley' Echoed In Thabazimbi. In 1986, when I was 39 years old my family and I, i.e. wife and kids aged 7 (boy) and 5 (girl) respectively, moved to the town of Thabazimbi (meaning 'Mountain of Iron') in the Bushveld-region of our Limpopo (the old Northern-Transvaal) province. There 'How Green Was My Valley' was again magically echoed in the magnificent topography and character of the town ... the small village nestled in a valley encircled by the lovely African bushveldt with its majestic mountains, its wealth of indigenous (Acasia) forests and magnificent plant-life; also the iron-ore mine just over the 'koppie' (hill) and within a brisk ten minutes (uphill) walk from our house, where I spent twelve of the most glorious years of my professional life.
One day, when we had to go to the top of the mountain ('Sovereign Hill', about 1500 ft/500 metres) to help fight some (lightning-induced) veld-fires, I eventually got to sit down and, at dusk, watch the street-lights light up in the town below; what an unforgettable sight, almost as if from some Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale. The view was simply stunning, i.e. the green, tree-lined streets in the village with its rows of miniature houses ('bungalows') mounted like doll's houses on an architect's display-counter.
Although subtropical and very hot during its scorching summers, this place had mild winters and nevertheless, even today, presents a tropical paradise for nature-lovers in summer, especially when it rains. The air then is fresh and fragrant with the village draped in a lovely primordial mist, so reminiscent of Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World and the more recent Jurassic Park, as it rolls down from the surrounding chain of mountains and hills.
5.3 Deneys Reitz & the Anglo-Boer War (1899-1902). Deneys Reitz, in his 1929-book about the Anglo-Boer War, Commando, refers to the night in which a mysterious, nameless hunchback of a dwarf appeared from some obscure farmhouse and had to lead General Jan Smuts and his party down a precipitous mountain-slope over some very rough and dangerous terrain (the path of which was known only to the initiated) to escape from their English pursuers; they actually did escape with their lives intact.
Well, thank God and to apply the analogy, I also had a hunchback dwarf (my great-grandmother Gouws' injury as a result from a falling boulder after an explosion in their yard, compliments of the British military during the war) to pray for me when I was 9 years old. She was already deep into her nineties and still a feisty survivor from the Anglo-Boer War of 1899-1902 when she was living with us in 1956; I still cherish her ancient and worn cane from the era in my collection of family memorabilia. I had a pet white mouse at the time and once discovered that it had crept into my great-grandmother's bed, and with her blissfully unaware of the dangerous 'marauder' sleeping peacefully in the cosy hollow of her neck.
There was not an evening that passed in those days when she, a gnarled little hunchback of a woman and was visiting with us in 1956 that she did not pray for us children alone in her room, and we could hear her mentioning our names one-by-one the proverbial 'miles away'. I believe that it was her prayers that must have sustained me through my wild and unbridled years to guide me in 1974 one day, while sitting, lonely and depressed, in my flashy red sports-car, a 1974 Triumph Chicane ('the poor man's Jaguar'),back to Jesus Christ through a radio broadcast facilitated by John van den Bergh.
It was this wise and seasoned presenter, John van den Berg speaking on my car-radio to lecture listeners on the woman at the well in conversation with Christ about the 'Living Water' of Life, an unforgettable 'aha!' moment in my quest for truth and meaning in this here majestic Universe ... and, may I add, one heck of a Universe to cope with.
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| 1. Having lived here in Merriespruit, Virginia (South Africa) as a 14-year old during 1962 when my father was still working in the gold mines in the area, this is the little mining village where I was introduced for the first time to Jesus Christ as our Lord & Saviour. 2. We missed this tragedy (i.e. the 'Merriespruit tailing dam disaster' of 22 February 1994 when 600 000 cubic metres of liquid flowed 4kms that left 17 people dead) by 32 years. |
Blood! Recapping: In 1962, after years
of wasteful, childhood confusion and
blissful ignorance, I finally, as a 14-year
old youngster in a small church in
Virginia (O.F.S.), had the opportunity
and privilege of kneeling at the cross as
a hopelessly lost sinner and accepting
Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour of my life.
Although, however, my pastor (TienieC.),
Although, however, my pastor (TienieC.),
who had worked so hard in those days
at explaining the Gospel and the truth
and dynamics of Salvation to me, and my
fellow-pupil at a local high school
(JohanS.), have both since departed and it is
no longer with us; and, furthermore, since this initial evangelical enthusiasm (the typical 'zeal without knowledge' of the young convert) had consequently diminished considerably by 1965 due to the pressures of young adulthood and the secular forces of society, it was again, by God's grace, again mightily revived in 1974 in my new hometown of Vanderbijlpark. I have since never looked back.
Today I have no other option but to rest in the Blood of Christ and His work on the cross of Calvary (Golgotha) to deliver us forever from our objectionable, sinful (and sometimes even criminal) past with its many uncouth, youthful instincts, inclinations and behaviours.
It's all about our demeanour ... the further we drift away from God and His Holy Word (the Bible) the meaner we get. I am, however, also thankfully reminded of William Cowper's beautiful words:
Today I have no other option but to rest in the Blood of Christ and His work on the cross of Calvary (Golgotha) to deliver us forever from our objectionable, sinful (and sometimes even criminal) past with its many uncouth, youthful instincts, inclinations and behaviours.
It's all about our demeanour ... the further we drift away from God and His Holy Word (the Bible) the meaner we get. I am, however, also thankfully reminded of William Cowper's beautiful words:
There is a Fountain filled with Blood,
Drawn from Emmanuel’s [JESUS'] veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that Flood,
Lose all their guilty stains!
(William Cowper, 1731-1800)
6. MAKE YOUR VALLEY GREEN AGAIN. Maybe the reader has also arrived at a juncture in his or her life where he or she feels despondent, or irretrievably lost and beyond help. His or her 'valley' had grown brown, parched and ugly in recent years; but we can make our valley green again, irrespective of and notwithstanding our past (and even if we are in prison today) by simply coming to the Christ of Calvary to repent and accept Him as our Lord and Saviour. Jesus can not only salvage one's soul but actually also one's life. In due time He can make our valley grow green again. Here's the deal: God can redeem time, tears and trouble! The Bible teaches:
[Isaiah 1:18] Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
[John 3:16-17] For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son [JESUS], that whosoever believeth in him [JESUS] should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son [JESUS] into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.
[John 6:37] All that the Father giveth me [JESUS] shall come to me; and him that cometh to me I [JESUS] will in no wise cast out.
[1John 1:7-9] But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he [JESUS] is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
[Romans 6:23] For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.
[Psalm 23:1-4] A Psalm of David. The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Signed Date
(Copy & Paste the Signed Declaration into your Bible)
7. COME AS YOU ARE! The inference is clear: Come to Christ today just as you are ... do not waste precious time in trying to 'improve' yourself, 'turning over a new page' or making yourself 'more presentable' to God first; we can never be presentable enough without the Blood and Righteousness of Jesus Christ anyway.
The anecdote has many times been told by the film-producer who was looking for a truly authentic, derelict old hobo of drunk for a certain strategic part in his new movie. He reportedly eventually found one, and after a short negotiation, a satisfactory (sort of casual) deal was struck. The drunk was then told to report to the movie-set the following week at such-and-such a time. When the time arrived for the drunk to pitch, in walked a fragrant, clean-shaven dude dressed in a smart suit and with his hair groomed like a pro ... it was the drunk who wanted to 'look his very best' for the promised part. The producer, it is told, had no choice but to dismiss him and chase him off the lot ... the 'clean new drunk' was not what he had envisaged for the part.
Similarly, we must come to Christ as we are ... the 'new (more respectable, but probably phoney) 'drunk' is not what He demands. Do you, like me, perhaps also feel that you are (or were) an incorrigible 'jerk'? Then make this song written by Charlotte Elliott in 1835, your prayer:
The anecdote has many times been told by the film-producer who was looking for a truly authentic, derelict old hobo of drunk for a certain strategic part in his new movie. He reportedly eventually found one, and after a short negotiation, a satisfactory (sort of casual) deal was struck. The drunk was then told to report to the movie-set the following week at such-and-such a time. When the time arrived for the drunk to pitch, in walked a fragrant, clean-shaven dude dressed in a smart suit and with his hair groomed like a pro ... it was the drunk who wanted to 'look his very best' for the promised part. The producer, it is told, had no choice but to dismiss him and chase him off the lot ... the 'clean new drunk' was not what he had envisaged for the part.
Similarly, we must come to Christ as we are ... the 'new (more respectable, but probably phoney) 'drunk' is not what He demands. Do you, like me, perhaps also feel that you are (or were) an incorrigible 'jerk'? Then make this song written by Charlotte Elliott in 1835, your prayer:
JUST AS I AM
Just as I am without one plea
Just as I am without one plea
But that Thy Blood, was shed for me
And that Thou biddest me come to Thee
O Lamb of God I come ...
I come!
Just as I am and waiting not
To cleanse my soul from one dark blot
To Thee whose Blood can cleanse each spot
O lamb of God I come ...
I come!
Always remind yourself of these words: 'Because I am not presentable enough for Christ, I come to Christ today for Him to, through His Blood, make me presentable enough for Him; because when I was not worth dying for, Christ came down to die for me ... to make me worth dying for!'
[1Peter 1:18-19] Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition from your fathers, But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot.
[Psalm 23:1-4] A Psalm of David. The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
DECLARATION OF ACCEPTANCE
I herewith accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Saviour, and therefore put my trust and my future in the Wisdom of God and the Ministry, Teachings, Sacrifice, Death, Blood, Resurrection and Righteousness of Jesus Christ, the Son of God (as presented to the world in the narratives of the Old & New Testaments of the Bible) for the Forgiveness of my sins, Reconciliation with God and for Eternal Salvation. May the Mercy, Grace and Favour of God follow me all the days of my life.
Signed Date
And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.
[Revelation 22:17]
(Copy & Paste the Signed Declaration into your Bible)
1. Reitz, Deneys (1929) Commando: A Boer Journal of the Boer War.
2. SAHO (2018) History Of Fietas.
3. Wikipedia (2018) Afrikaans.
4. Wikipedia (2018) Blyvooruitzicht & Oosthuizen-Family Sinkhole.
5. Wikipedia (2018) Bushveld.
6. Wikipedia (2018) Cullinan Diamond.
7. Wikipedia (2018) Herman Charles Bosman.
8. Wikipedia (2018) How Green Was My Valley (Film).
9. Wikipedia (2018) Johannesburg.
10. Wikipedia (2081) Just As I Am (Hymn).
11. Wikipedia (2018) Kimberley Big Hole.
12. Wikipedia (2018) Randfontein: Randgate.
13. Wikipedia (2018) Randlord.
14. Wikipedia (2018) Thabazimbi.
15. Wikipeida (2018) The Wizard Of Oz.
16. Wikipedia (2018) Vrededorp (Gauteng).
17. Wikipedia (2018) Witwatersrand Basin.
2. SAHO (2018) History Of Fietas.
3. Wikipedia (2018) Afrikaans.
4. Wikipedia (2018) Blyvooruitzicht & Oosthuizen-Family Sinkhole.
5. Wikipedia (2018) Bushveld.
6. Wikipedia (2018) Cullinan Diamond.
7. Wikipedia (2018) Herman Charles Bosman.
8. Wikipedia (2018) How Green Was My Valley (Film).
9. Wikipedia (2018) Johannesburg.
10. Wikipedia (2081) Just As I Am (Hymn).
11. Wikipedia (2018) Kimberley Big Hole.
12. Wikipedia (2018) Randfontein: Randgate.
13. Wikipedia (2018) Randlord.
14. Wikipedia (2018) Thabazimbi.
15. Wikipeida (2018) The Wizard Of Oz.
16. Wikipedia (2018) Vrededorp (Gauteng).
17. Wikipedia (2018) Witwatersrand Basin.
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Only One Life That Will Soon Be Past; Only What's Done For Christ Will Last