Living Life in Loving Memory

I didn’t know him. Our dads were in the army together and there were family holidays when we were young.

We serendipitously bumped into each other one night– a chance meeting that would change my life. He invited me to the game farm he managed. I hadn’t thought the invite to be serious, but weeks later, this overworked and underpaid city girl took him up on the random offer.

It was a 4-hour trip, but felt much longer in my dinky, blue Chevy Spark that shook uncontrollably when I exceeded 100km. I became increasingly hesitant at the thought of this upcoming encounter with a relatively unknown boy, but my nerves dissipated the second I arrived. I was welcomed with a warm smile and a cosy bear hug. He was one of those people who made everyone feel at ease, and we were instant friends.

He started by introducing me to the local pub. I was out of my depth, the only English-speaking person for miles, and had to adjust my thoughts and words to Afrikaans quickly in order to be accepted. The night turned out to be an absolute “jol”, with everyone kindly turning a blind eye to my butchering of their “taal”.

I awoke feeling “droëmond” and would’ve been happy to miss early rounds, but he wouldn’t let me. In hindsight, I am eternally thankful for his persistence. The 2-hour drive, filled with Africa’s greatest creatures against the backdrop of the rising African sun, was an unforgettable experience.

The giraffe is my favourite animal, perhaps because I was once aptly described as having the “gracefulness of a new-born giraffe”. We got to enjoy this gawky, incredible sight first-hand, when we came across a mother giraffe and her new-born. It had obviously been baby-making season, as we soon came across a mother rhino and her tubby-legged calf bumbling through the bushes.

We drove up to a viewing spot, appropriately named “Pride Rock”, overlooking the whole farm. Standing on the top of that rock, I felt like everything there was mine. He was standing next to me and we shared a moment that cannot be described, although I have tried many times. That night we braaied marshmallows and ate “bunny licks” after dinner, taking me back to my colourful, care-free childhood.

That was the last time I would see him, but in our short time, he taught me so much, about appreciating every second, not settling for anything less than extraordinary, taking in every beautiful moment, and loving people.

I now live in loving memory of this special boy I knew, gone, but never forgotten.