I am a grandson of Dyason Roland Hitchcock. In this booklet, I will share with you some of my own memories of him, and of his dear wife Beatrix, my grandmother. I will also share some memories I have garnered from those who knew them.

I think it is important to cherish the memory of those who have gone before us. While your elderly loved ones are still alive, ask them questions! Make audio or video recording of them. Ask them to relate to you the stories of their lives. Elderly people often love to share their stories, and you will benefit from it, and be able to pass it on to successive generations.

I wish I asked my Oupa Dys more about his life, and that I wrote down what he had told me. Now I must delve into many memories, some very clear, and some faded, to put together this little memoir.

I pray that my children, and yet to be born grandchildren and descendants will enjoy it.

Thomas Joel Hitchcock (born December 5, 1968)

Georgetown Delaware, USA - January 2, 2021

The Hitchcock Family of South Africa

Dyason Roland Hitchcock (nicknamed “Dys”) was born in the Western Cape in South Africa on 13 June 1914, and was married to Beatrix Cornelia Koen (born 11 September 1914 in Vryburg, South Africa.)

His father was John Dyason Stephen Hitchcock (nicknamed “Boy,” born 5 May 1893,) married to was Alice Gertruida Frylink.

His father was John Dyason Hitchcock (born 21 September 1857 in Swellendam, South Africa.)

His father was Thomas Joel Hitchcock (born 13 May 1803 in Worcestershire England, and died March 3, 1886, in Klein Drakenstein South Africa.) We are descended from his second wife Helena Dorothea Meyer (born 28 May 1824 in Cape Town, South Africa.) Through Helena (and other women the Hitchcocks married) we descend from some of the even earlier families of South Africa. The history of Thomas Joel Hitchcock (1803) is quite fascinating. He had come from England to install the massive organ in the Groote Kerk and also the one St. George’s Church in Cape Town. I plan to write his history in a separate booklet.

His parents were Thomas and Elizabeth Hitchcock who both were born and died in England.

I have both gleaned from also contributed to the Hitchcock family tree on www.familysearch.com if you are interested in any more genealogical records.

I hope that descendants of us Hitchcocks would perhaps consider naming some of your children after them.

The Name, “Dyason”

I discovered how the name Dyason came into the Hitchcock family. My brother Johnny’s middle name is a Jonathan Dyson Stephen Hitchcock (Dyson without the a.) My uncle and his cousin are also both Dyasons – both are John Dyason Stephen Hitchcock.

They inherited these names from my great-grandfather John Dyason Stephen Hitchcock (born 1893) (who was given the name Stephen after the doctor who brought him into this world.)

My great grandfather inherited the name Dyason from his father, John Dyason Hitchcock (born 1857,) the son of Thomas Joel Hitchcock (born 1803.)

So, how did the name Dyason come into the Hitchcock family? I discovered this when I saw John Dyason Hitchcock (born 1875’s) christening record, when he was christened on 15 November 1857. A John and Julia Dyason signed as witnesses. These individuals must have been close friends to Thomas Joel Hitchcock (born 1803) and his wife Helena Dorothea (Meyer) Hitchcock, for them to be witnesses to the christening.

And so, this is how the name Dyason came into the Hitchcock family – from John & Julia Dyason.

Oupa Dys and Ouma Beatty

As it is with most of us, I too have wonderful memories of my grandfather and grandmother. Dyason was known to us as “Oupa Dys.” This means Grandpa Dys. The Afrikaans word, “Oupa” literally means Old Father, related to the Dutch and German equivalents, Opa. Our grandmother Beatrix was known to us as “Ouma Beatty.” In this writing I will refer to them in different ways – Dys, Dayson, Oupa Dys, Ouma Beatty, Beatrix, etc.

Oupa Dys and Ouma Beatty had two children, both sons. The eldest was my uncle John, who wrote a spellbinding memoir of his life, Memories of a Christian Adventurer which is available on Amazon.com. The youngest was my father, Tony.

When I was very little, it was an exciting thing to go visit Oupa and Ouma. By that time, they lived in the outback countryside outside the small town Naboomspruit.

They had a little farm on which they had settled. They named it, Excelsior, and had a little headstone that read, “Thank you Dad and Mum,” referring to his parents, whom we had never met, but knew as Oupa Boy and Ouma Alice.

The farm was nestled among the beautiful mountains of the Waterberg. As the name suggests, the Waterberg (Afrikaans for Water-Mountain) is a mountainous region, blessed with and abundance of water.

Though the area is at times semi-arid, it has a huge underground water reservoir, and one can often see water seeping out of the clefts and cracks of its hard, crusty rocks.

That specific region is also graced with multiple mineral hot water springs. One such a spring is on the resort, Libertas, which has several swimming pools that are constantly emptied and refilled with the abundance of hot water. It is so hot that you cannot get into the water right away. It takes a while for it to cool. I once made hot tea with the water bubbling from one of its wells. There was a sign there that read that it was the world’s strongest hot water spring.

The water overflowed the well 24/7, and was pumped to the pools throughout the week. The water from overflowing well and emptied pools were not wasted. It pours back into the Sterkrivier (“Strong River”,) which in turn plenishes many ponds and ultimately the large Doorndraai Dam.

Oupa Dys’ farm Excelsior was almost right next to Libertas, and the Sterkrivier flowed through his property, often overflowing its little bridge during times of heavy rain from somewhere upstream many miles away.

When we went to visit Oupa Dys and Ouma Beatty, my dad and mom stirred a sense of excitement in us to be on the lookout for their red roof, which could be seen from a distance from the main road. I recall those days with fond and happy emotion. “There it is!” It was Oupa Dys and Ouma Beatty’s home, nestled in the hills.

If we went somewhere and came back at night, we followed the red reflectors on the trees that guided our way on the winding farm road through many bushveld trees.

His house was quite simple. I think it had three bedrooms and one bathroom, a nice living room, and a wood stove in the kitchen. It also had a large front and back porch. The front porch had a nice garden. I remember sitting in a little orange/yellow inflatable boat with water inside with another African kid, splashing the water.

The garden was dominated by a Floss Silk Tree (Afrikaans Kapokboom, scientific name Ceiba Speciosa,) which is really indigenous to Brazil, but thrives in South Africa. Its trunk and branches are covered with huge, flat thorns, and it produces the most beautiful pink flowers, which cover the entire tree. That tree is still there, and looks like it has many more years ahead of it. I read that its age expectancy is “over 50 years.” Well, I remember that tree from 48 years ago, and it looks as healthy and strong today as ever. It can grow up to 25 meters tall (82 feet.)

The floor of the front porch was of slasto, which is a kind of flat rock that South Africans often use for their version of tile flooring. When I visited the vacated, dilapidated farm in 2018, I took a small piece of it that laid loose as a keepsake, which I sometimes use as a coaster.

Their back porch had a fair view, as it looked over a downward grade slope over their back yard. The back yard consisted of a beautiful, grassy lawn, that looked and felt like greens on golf courses. Maybe Oupa Dys planted it that way, because he loved golfing.

The lawn was surrounded by many beautiful and colorful plants, particularly the succulent Aloe (Afrikaans, Aalwyn) with its bright, fiery flower. At the bottom was a little brick pond, where I caught frogs.

This yard in turn was surrounded by pristine bushveld with lots and lots of indigenous trees, mostly thorn trees. And on the other side an orchard of peach trees. These peach trees were Yellow Peach (Afrikaans, Geelperske), and I vaguely remember that there may have been another type of peach also, perhaps the reddish kind with thin skin. Ouma Beatty gave it her best shot to make preserves and jellies from these fruit trees, which I will relate later.

Getting back to the kitchen, which opened to the front porch, I must relate a couple of more memories. Oupa Dys brought his shotgun out. I think it had a .410-gauge barrel. He showed me the many sparrows in a bush, and told me to shoot. I was probably 4 or 5 years old. The birds were jumping and flying all over the place, so I told him I couldn’t shoot because they wouldn’t sit still. He told me to just shoot, and I pulled the trigger. With that one shot I hit and killed about 3 or 4 sparrows. I was amazed!

In that kitchen, Ouma Beatty made lovely food. I cannot remember the other food, but I do remember the pudding – Malva Pudding, which was a sweet bread-like treat, covered with custard. Yum! However, it was not only what was outside of the pudding that was exciting, it was what was inside. Ouma loaded her puddings with lots of coins. It was exciting to discover a 1 cent, 5 cent and 10 cent coin, and a 50-cent coin was the big prize.

My sister Jessica reminded me that Oupa Dys also saved small change for his grandchildren. He would put them in some of Ouma Beatrix’ little bottles and give it to us on our birthdays. Jessica says that we never did receive birthday gifts, but we did receive there jars of change instead.

Beatrix’ Jellies and Jams

My mom, Elaine, told me that Dyason and Beatrix had inherited some money from his father, who died in 1970, and that it was about this time that they moved to Naboomspruit. Up till that time they had lived in the city, close to Johannesburg, Dyason had worked for the South African Airways there.

Beatrix was very keen on living in the country. They had a lot of fruit trees on the little farm, such as figs, peaches, and even apples, and guavas, apricots, etc. Beatrix had a vision to make preserves and jellies to sell.

She did all she had to do with the fruit, such as boiling, soaking, and pressing them, adding sugar, and ultimately bottling them. Apparently, it was not as easy as it seems. If the jelly boils too much, it becomes thick and too syrupy.

Regardless of the challenges, Beatrix was still determined that she would generate an income for them by selling the fruit on the road, I suppose especially during peak vacation time, when vacationers and tourists flooded the nearby resorts.

Soon she gave up on the tough work. She went to town, and bought jams, jellies and preserves from a semi-wholesaler. She then poured it from the big cans into her small bottles, and labeled them. Then Dyason sold these items from the back of his bakkie (pickup truck) on the road. Hahaha!

Beatrix was also growing vegetables such as beetroot and curry beans. They also had chicken and geese.

Though they loved the farm, they eventually sold the farm, in order to live in town, because it would be more convenient to take care of Beatrix there after her stroke.

Dyason’s “Whistling”

Oupa Dys had an interesting habit. When he became busy, he would do a type of a whistle. But it was not the kind of whistle that we all understand to be a whistle, like a bird’s whistle.

It was more like an “S” sound in various variations and tones. It is hard to explain it in words.

I asked him about it. He told me it was not a song he was whistling. He was just doing it.

My dad Tony told me that when he was a boy, that Dyason had this whistle as long as he could remember. My dad said that if Dyason called him to come do a chore, he (Dys) would begin to fiddle around, and do that whistle.

To my dad this was not a good sign. “Dit gaan ‘n LANG dag wees vandag…” (Afrikaans: “It is going to be a LONG day today…”)

A Praying Man

One of my greatest memories about Oupa Dys was that he was a praying man. The following are some memories of this.

Firstly, on the farm. My parents would drop me at his farm to spend the night. We were on vacation at the Libertas resort, which was walking distance from Oupa’s Farm Excelsior. Of course, I had a blast swimming and playing at the resort, and then, when we came to Oupa and Ouma’s, I had a blast of excitement being with them.

Then came the time for my parents to leave. I don’t think I had ever been without them, but here I was to be with Oupa Dys and Ouma Beatty for the night. All went well for a while, but suddenly, an intense longing and sadness gripped me when I began to miss my parents. I was perhaps 3 or 4 years old. I can remember the intense emotion that came over me. Thinking back on that evening, I again realize how precious and sensitive little children’s feelings are.

I wanted them back. That emotion was so strong that I still remember it so well today. I cried and cried, and could not be comforted. Oupa and Ouma tried to comfort me, but to no avail. Eventually I was back with my parents. How I got there I do not remember. They may have called my parents, or maybe just taken me there themselves. I do not even remember seeing my parents, but I do remember how much I missed them that night, and that I was only comforted by getting back to them.

Apparently, I eventually got over that type of separation, because I did spend a night or two with my grandparents after that. I suppose it was on another visit, when I was 4 or 5. I had a wonderful time being with Oupa and Ouma, and finally it was time to go to bed.

I got in bed, and lay there a while, and before I fell asleep, I heard Oupa Dys and Ouma Beatty pray. Oupa had a kind, but raspy and strong voice. He prayed in Afrikaans, and it sounded powerful. He prayed and prayed on. I got on my knees in my bed and listened to him as he prayed. I do not know how long he prayed, but I fell asleep on my knees. What a great memory, for a child to hear his grandfather pray like that.

Later in life, Oupa Dys lived with us on the one holiday resort that my dad managed, called Bothania. I remember him getting up early every morning, around 4 or 5 a.m. I remember the kettle boiling, and the clinging sound caused by the teaspoon in his coffee cup. He would then read a novel of some kind, until he would sleep again, I guess around 6 a.m. till 8 a.m.

He would then get up, get ready, and stand at the front kitchen door, assessing the weather, and wondering what he would do that day. I remember him saying “WAT gaan ek vandag doen?” (“Just WHAT will I do today?”)

He would have our maid make him some breakfast (eggs and bacon,) and sit down to eat it. I once felt I should sit with him while he had his breakfast, and give him some company. I would ask him how he was. I would ask him this or that. But I did not get much out of him. He would just grunt an affirmative uh-huh, or an uh-hum. Apparently, he was not up to talking that early in the morning.

But after his breakfast and coffee, he was good to go!

He would go to our front porch, and read his Bible. I suppose he read a chapter or so. He would also read another inspirational book, The Power of Positive Thinking, by Norman Vincent Peale.

That book was so worn. It’s covers were worn and torn for many years of use. I wish I had that book, and his Bible. (I have the Bible of his father – Jonathan Dyason Stephen Hitchcock (Oupa Boy) and of his grandfather – John Dyason Hitchcock.)

Now, I do not know much about the Biblical doctrinal integrity of Peale’s writings regarding sin and salvation by Christ alone. I did read that he said during an interview, “I have accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal Savior. I mean that I believe my sins are forgiven by the atoning work of grace on the cross,” but I do not know how boldly he proclaimed it. We must always place the person and work of Jesus Christ at the center of our faith.

But as an inspirational author, his writings are certainly edifying. I found these following quotes with a quick search on the internet:

Prayerize, Visualize, Actualize.

Stand up to your obstacles and do something about them. You’ll find they haven’t half the strength you think they have.

In every difficult situation is potential value. Believe this, then begin looking for it.

When you expect the best, you release a magnetic force in your mind, which by a law of attraction tends to bring the best to you.

Being harmonious and without stress is the easiest type of existence.

There is real magic in enthusiasm. It spells the difference between mediocrity and accomplishment.

Change your thoughts and you change your world.

What the mind can conceive and believe, and the heart desires, you can achieve.

The person who sends out positive thoughts activates the world around him positively, and draws back to himself positive results.

The trouble with most of us is that we would rather be ruined by praise, than saved by criticism.

No matter how dark things seem to be, or actually are, raise your sights and see the possibilities, always see them, for they’re always there.

Always start the day with prayer. It is the greatest of all mind conditioners.

One can only imagine the strength Dyason drew from writings like this.

But getting back to his prayer life. After he had read the Bible and this inspirational book on our front porch, he would pray in Afrikaans. He would pray out loud, with nobody praying with him. Again, that strong, raspy voice filled with reverence and deference to the Almighty, the voice I had heard as a 4-year-old on his farm, came forth loud and clear.

I must go back a few years again. I was 16 years old, and was about to preach my first Gospel message to the Blacks, the workers on Rhemardo Holiday Resort. I had agreed with them to meet on the lawn by our back porch at 3 p.m. Sunday afternoon. I used a pair of steel wheels from an old mining cart as a pulpit, and made little benches of planks and bricks, resembling the benches I saw in Reinhard Bonnke’s tent crusades.

Well, 3 p.m. came, and not a single soul showed up. I paced up and down with my Bible, looking at the direction of the kaya area where they had their residential quarters. Oupa Dys noticed. He pulled me aside to pray for me. He prayed a beautiful prayer, including the line I remember till today. “Here, laat tog nie dat hierdie seun teleurgesteld wees vandag nie…” (Lord, let it not be that this son be disappointed today…)

Sure enough, they eventually showed up. It was my first exposure to what is humorously known as Africa time.

To end this chapter, I will share one more thing. Although I was born of South African parents, I was born in England, where my dad worked for a while. Oupa Dys and Ouma Beatty had visited us there. Oupa pushed me in a pram (a stroller) along the banks of the River Thames. He told me that he prayed for me on those banks as he pushed me in the pram, and was quite pleased when I eventually went to Bible College, then into the ministry.

I am thankful for all those prayers. I am fortunate to have heard and seen his prayers for me (and the family,) and I would like to encourage my family that even though you may not have heard him yourself, that he most probably prayed for you too.

Ouma Beatrix suffers a stroke

When I was about 9 years old, Ouma Beatrix suffered a stroke. The following are some memories of this. We were living at Rhemardo Holiday Resort at the time. Oupa Dys and Ouma Beatty were on their way to the ocean for a vacation. Little did any of us know about the tragic event that was about to transpire.

They told me that when they return, they would bring me a little present – a pocket knife. I was looking forward to that pocket knife all that time.

Then, at some point during their vacation we received the news - Ouma Beatrix had suffered a stroke.

When they returned, I still asked Oupa Dys if they brought me the pocket knife. (Remember, I was only a kid at the time.) Oupa just smiled gently and said that they were not thinking of any such things during that time.

This stroke would paralyze her right side and speech. She could not clearly say a single word after that. She could force a word or two with great difficulty.

Unfortunately, this is how my siblings mostly remember her. I am fortunate enough to remember her before her stroke too, since I was the eldest.

She lost a lot of weight after this, and actually looked very good. But she walked with great difficulty, couldn’t talk, and almost everything had to be done for her. Her food was blended in a blender, and this is what she ate.

Her entire right side was paralyzed – her right arm, right hand, right leg, etc., while here right side functioned as normal. With her left hand she could employ a cane, and walk step by step on her own, albeit at a very slow pace. She had a supportive brace on her left leg.

But I witnessed something interesting. When I was in high school, I would stay with them in town on some afternoons. I would have lunch with them, then do my homework, play outside a little, and then go to sports practice. My dad or mom would then pick me up later.

So, what I saw was that one afternoon while I was doing my homework, Ouma Beatrix fell fast asleep on her chair. Apparently, she had a dream, and lifted her right hand and right leg several times during this dream. I was amazed, because all the time I would see her struggle along, unable to lift her hand or leg, or even move that left leg forward while walking. But here she was lifting both of those paralyzed body parts – her right arm and her right leg, as she was dreaming.

Obviously, she did this subconsciously. It made me wonder about the subconscious nature of man. Perhaps if there was a way to overcome our conscious limitations, people like her could maybe be completely restored.

Dyason’s Humor

As I said earlier, I would often stay at Dyason and Beatrix’ house in town to do my homework, and then sports after school. They always made me a nice sandwich, plus a bowl of canned peaches with evaporated milk.

But Oupa Dys always also had an ox tongue in the refrigerator. I do not know why he would have it. Perhaps he ate of it, but I cannot imagine anyone eating something like this, nor did I ever see him eat of it. I just did a quick search on the internet, and found that people actually eat it all over the world, including America and South Africa.

Oupa Dys would pull this ox tongue out of the refrigerator and tell me to take a bite. This disgusting thing was about 8-10 inches big. He would say, “Just take a bite!” I would say “Nooo!” Then he would put it in my face and say to just take a little bite. I would run out of the kitchen with him following me with this big ox tongue.

Fortunately, this torture (I say this tongue-in-cheek) did not last long. It happened about 3 times in all my stay there, and each time the ritual lasted about 15 seconds or maybe less.

He would laugh and put it back in the refrigerator. Looking back, I appreciate such moments of humor. They create great memories.

Calling for Bokkie

After Ouma Beatty died, Oupa Dys moved in with us. By this time, we had been living on a resort nearby, the Rhemardo Holiday Resort, for many years. My dad had become the manager of this place. I was in my teenage years, and Oupa and I shared a living space. It was attached to the main house, with entry from either the house, or an outside door on the other side. Oupa Dys’ room was on the house side, and mine at the outer side, with another door. We shared the bathroom between the two rooms.

What I am about to share with you happened over and over again, over many nights, probably every night. Oupa would call for Ouma in his sleep. He called, “Bokkie?” or he would call, “Boks?” In Afrikaans, the word, Bokkie is the diminutive form of Bok, which means Doe. So Bokkie would mean Little Doe, or Doey,and Boks was another way of saying this endearing word.

I suppose this was the term of endearment which Oupa Dys used when communicating with Ouma Beatty. In America we often use the word, Honey, or Hun, or darling, which are the equivalents to words in Afrikaans such as Skat which means Treasure, or Liefling which means Loveling (or Darling.) Oupa’s endearing word for Ouma was Bokkie. This is beautiful to me.

Night after night he would be calling for her. This shows me the great love he had for her, and how much he missed her.

The Knife Nightmare

Oupa Dys had developed gordelroos (shingles) later in life. He was always talking about the pain in his side, around the waist where he had a belt-like rash around his side. The word gordelroos literally means girdle rose, I guess because it is red and stretches around one’s waist.

Oupa enjoyed a couple of drinks each afternoon. He told me it was to help with the pain that was caused by his shingles.

This reminds me of a humorous moment. He kept his bottles in the trunk of his car. I sneaked up and poured half of it into another bottle, then topped the original bottle with water, reducing the alcohol content by half.

I remember watching him pour his drink, taste it, and look quite puzzled. He would pour in a little more, while I was in stitches laughing. At this moment I cannot remember if I ever confessed to him what I did, but I certainly did my part trying to rid the Hitchcock family from alcohol, hahaha.

Anyhow, as I already said, Oupa’s room and mine were attached together with a shared bathroom from where I would hear him call for Bokkie at night. But this one night I heard a blood chilling groan and cry. I jumped out of my bed, went to Oupa’s room and turned on the light. There he lay, looking lifeless, with his eyes staring straight ahead of him. I panicked!

I ran into the house to my parents’ room on the other side of the house. “There’s something wrong with Oupa!” My dad ran back to the room with me, and by now Oupa Dys was fine. He kind of laughed it off, and told us it was just a dream. He had dreamt that a man was stabbing him in his side. This dream, he said, was probably due to the shingles. All being well, we all went back to bed relieved.

Oupa’s Dress Code

Oupa Dys could both dress down and dress up. Typically, he would wear shorts with sock & shoes, and a nice shirt, sometimes with a neat sweater.

Other times he would just plain dress down. He would spend all day in his swim suit on hot days (remember, we lived on a holiday resort with several pools, hot and cold.)

But when he went to church, Oupa would dress to the T. He wore nice long pants, a clean, pressed shirt, tie, and jacket. His shoes were shiny.

When I was in the South African Army, Oupa asked that I buy him a pair of shiny officer’s shoes, which were only available in the army. Oh, did he love those shoes!

Oupa also used Vitalis on his hair. It is a type of hair tonic, which he applied to his hair, then combed it neatly backwards.

Watching TV

Sometimes Oupa Dys would watch television.

Firstly, he had become quite hard of hearing. He could communicate with us easily in general conversation, but when the TV went on, he would sit right in front of it, about 4 feet from the screen, with the volume turned up very loud. We heard it all over the house.

He liked to watch rugby and cricket, like most South Africans do. This reminds me of an ongoing feud my dad Tony and Oupa Dys had with each other. Not a bad feud, just a constant conflict.

My dad voted for the Conservative Party, and Oupa Dys for the National Party. They were constantly at odds with each other. My dad felt the National Party was going to give the country away to the ANC and communists, and Oupa Dys (who was no friend of the communists either) felt that he would vote for “whoever was in power.” This made no sense to my dad.

Then, when it came to rugby, Oupa Dys was a great fan of Naas Botha, the legendary fly half, who had an amazing kick. Though Naas kicked many a goal, and thereby won many games for the Springboks (South Africa’s national rugby team,) my dad felt that Naas always “kicked the ball away.”

My dad and Oupa Dys were always at odds with each other on these two topics, but they did love each other, and my dad said how they were groot pelle (Afrikaans: great pals.)

I once incurred Oupa Dys’ wrath. It was not anything serious, but I did get a severe rebuke. We had one TV in our house, and Oupa had been watching cricket one afternoon. Cricket of course, in my opinion is the world’s most boring sport, but that’s just me. I came into the living room where he had been watching cricket, but now was sound asleep.

I casually changed the channel, and watched something else. I watched for quite a while, maybe 20 minutes, before he awoke, just to see something else on TV. Oh, was he unhappy, and gave me a piece of his mind. I smile as I write this. I remember him calling me ongeleerd (unlearnt, unmannered.) I told him he was sleeping so I thought I could change the channel. I know better today, and I learnt my lesson.

I find it very humorous.

Sleep is the balm of troubled spirits

Sleep is the balm of troubled spirits. I remember these words very well. Oupa Dys used to say this in a humorous way every so often before he retired for bed.

We had wonderful times of fellowship as a family, especially when we had a braai. For the lack of a better illustration, a braai is a barbeque. But a braai is not just a couple of hamburgers and hotdogs slapped on a gas grill. It’s much more than that.

It typically starts with packing a real wood fire, and then sitting around it as friends and family, with a cold drink, just chatting away and enjoying each other’s company. The meat could be beef, pork ribs, pork, sheep, mutton, boerewors (boer sausage) etc., which is best when seasoned and marinaded for a day or so. We also have pap & sous (thick, salted grits, with a special tomato-based sauce with chopped tomatoes, onions, brown sugar, etc.) Potatoes, bread & butter, and a nice salad completes the buffet.

When it is all done, you feel full. You had a great meal, and a great time with family and friends.

At some point Oupa Dys would feel that his day had ended. He would get up gracefully, turn to us with his friendly face, and say, I bid you goodnight. Sleep is the balm of troubled spirits. It was not that his spirit was troubled in any way, it was just a humorous way to say goodnight.

I say it myself every so often too.

Playing the Piano

Oupa Dys could play the piano very well. I have wonderful memories of him sitting at that old piano, just playing away. Where did he learn to play? He told me about it once, but I cannot remember the person’s name.

In his younger years that man asked him if he had any interest in learning to play the piano. His answer was that he is interested, but only if he could play like this man could. He taught him, and the rest is history.

We are fortunate that my uncle John Hitchcock had recorded on his video camera a song or two of Oupa Dys’ playing the piano. It is on his home video on his YouTube channel, under the name “Sabie etc.”

In later years, long after Ouma Beatrix died, Oupa would visit a lady friend or two. At least one of them loved his piano playing. I witnessed Oupa Dys play the piano for her over the phone a couple of times. He would have the phone off the hook, with her on the other side of the line. Then he played the piano.

On one occasion, we had another braai on our back porch. I played some piano music as background music. Oupa Dys made a special effort to come tell me how beautiful the music was. He loved the piano.

Dyason and his Female Friends

Oupa Dys was a very handsome man, and Ouma Beatrix was beautiful. They lived a happy, wonderful life together. Their marriage was blessed, and they remained in love, even after Beatrix’ stroke. They were always together, and it was hard for Oupa Dys when Beatrix died.

Before she died, he would tell me, “It’s not like we are always talking, but just to know she is here in the house with me is comforting.” Not the exact words, but something like that.

My mom told me a cute story. When Dyason and Beatrix moved into their condominium in town, after she had had her stroke, there was a female neighbor who helped them. I do not know if what happened next was due to Beatrix having had enough of her visit, or if she was very protective about her man, but she raised her cane and somehow managed to force out the words, “Uit! Uit!” (Out! Out!)

After Ouma Beatrix died, Oupa Dys mourned for her for many years. He accepted the fact that she died, but he still called for her in his sleep nightly. Probably quite a while after that, he eventually would seek out some female company. He just enjoyed their company.

This reminds me of a story my mom told me about. Oupa Dys had mistakenly made a date with two ladies to an event in town, and did not know what to do now. He talked to my dad, who advised him to not go at all. Right or wrong, he just left it there. Both ladies (who did not know about each other) were very upset, and that was probably the end of those relationships.

On one occasion, Oupa Dys came home at about 4 a.m. in the morning. My parents were very worried about him, and had a serious talk about this. “We were worried about you. Anything could have happened to you. Where were you, and what were you doing until 4 a.m. this morning?” Oupa Dys brushed it off. “Dit het NIKS met julle te doen nie. Dis MY besigheid!” (Afrikaans: “It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s my business.”)

Dyason and Beatrix receive Jesus Christ

Although Dyason and Beatrix were raised in a country and culture that is predominately Christian, and had attended churches all their life, we also know that no one can be saved (go to heaven) but by true faith in Jesus Christ.

My uncle John (my father’s brother) had been very instrumental in the salvation experiences of Dyason and Beatrix. He wrote on WhatsApp, “... my best memory of my mom and dad was when they visited us at Fort Victoria, Rhodesia where l pastored a church and invited all who heard my message to accept Jesus as their Savior to come forward. They came and l had the privilege to pray with them and lead them to God.”

In his book, Living on the Edge beside God, available on Amazon.com, he relayed this story.

“By a series of events God settled my mind as to her eternal destination. I wrote the event in the back of my Bible and so I quote directly from it. April 29, 1977, 6:00AM I have a dream of a funeral of mum and come to see a beautiful little swallow lying dead, wings outstretched on its back. I awake completely out of deep sleep. Whilst praying, I hear the voice of wings of angels, flying bringing a scroll in their hands. Unfolded, I read

“Beatrix Cornelia Hitchcock - Born September 11, 1914 died October 4 - This is to certify that Beatrix Cornelia Hitchcock was born a little child, lived a long life and died a child of God. Finis.”

This vision was fulfilled on October 3^rd (South African time) which is exactly on October 4^th, 1985, Israel time, adjusting to daylight savings time, etc.

Ouma Beatrix’ Tenderness

Beatrix had a special, tender heart.

My sister Jessica (Hitchcock) van der Walt told us that she had been laying on her bed sobbing. Beatrix came to her room and comforted her. Even though Beatrix could not hug her, or could not talk to her, she was able to make, “sagte troos geluidjies” (little soft, comforting sounds.)

Dyason and Beatrix’ oldest son, my uncle John, also remembers a fake spanking him and his brother Tony (my father) had when they were little.

“I remember one-night my dad commanded her [Beatrix] to take Tony and l into the bedroom and give us each a good spanking. Well, she said ok, took us in and told us to scream viciously as she would not beat us but rather the bed and pillows. She beat them wildly and Tony and l put up the best crying possible.”

My cousin Galilee told me about her memories of Oupa Dys. I have transcribed her message here as follows:

“When Oupa and Ouma lived on the farm close to Rhemardo, I remember Dadda and I flying in, and Oupa picking us up at the airplane and taking us to the farm.

“At the front of the farmhouse there was a massively big tree with rocks. One rock was used as a chair, and the other as a table. There was a Bible on the one rock, which Oupa always read. There was a rock on top of it so that the wind would not blow it away. Every morning he would sit there with a cup of coffee, and read some of that Word.

“Oupa also had a special little machine which he used to remove the pits from the peaches from his orchard. It was really cool.

“They also had a little pond. Me, Jacques and Louis would swim in that pond to cool off. Oupa had made that pond with just normal cement. Oupa and Ouma both always had a tender heart.

“Ouma always gave me some change, and said that it was her Rhemardo Money, ‘My kind, gebruik hierdie geld vir sakgeld by Rhemardo. Koop vir my kind watookal sy wil hê’ (Afrikaans: ‘My child, use this money as spending money to buy whatever my child wants.’) I spend this money on candy, ice cream, or for whatever.

“After Ouma had her stroke, they moved from the farm. Now, if I had ever learnt how somebody’s eyes could talk, when their mouth cannot say what they really want to say… (The stroke made it very hard for Ouma to talk.) She would look at me, and her eyes would say things, because she could not talk. I would then tell her, “It’s okay Ouma, t’s okay. Just look at me, and give me a little hug.” And her eyes would say things that words could not say. This struck a deep memory in my heart. Oupa and Ouma walked a very hard road, an interesting road with each other, with their grandchildren, with their children.

“I remember going with Oupa when he used to play golf, where I ‘earned’ a little more spending money. Me, my dad (John Hitchcock) and Jacques and Louis would go with Oupa… He would hit the golf ball, and it was my job to go run after it and bring it back. I was paid something for every ball I retrieved.

“Oupa always told us, ‘Thank you for loving Oupa, and thank you for loving Ouma. Be safe when you fly with John.’”

I remember another instance of Beatrix’ tender heart. At some point Dyason and Beatrix were discussing with my parents about which items their children would inherit. I was just there in the family meeting, watching and listening. They talked about this item, and that item, and I cannot at this time remember a single item whatsoever, except for one – the lamp.

The lamp was an old, antique oil or kerosene lamp with a wick. My mother told me that this antique oil lamp might have been from the British Troopship, the HMS Birkenhead, which was wrecked on 26 February 1852, which Dyason’s father might have acquired at an auction, or some other means, but she said that this might also be just a baseless story. Interestingly, the HMS Birkenhead sunk at Gansbaai, South Africa, which is close to where Dyason’s father had a house. We might not know if this lamp really came from the Birkenhead, and considering the good shape the lamp had been in, it probably was not.

But back to Beatrix’ tender heart. Beatrix could not talk, but was very adamant about that lamp. She pointed to it, and between her mumbled sounds and Dyason and my parents’ interaction with her, they all understood that this lamp was to go to their oldest son John, who at that time was not there. I think John had already moved to the United States by that time.

What I remember though is her tears as she expressed her desire that John inherit that lamp. The lamp is currently in my brother Johnny (Jonathan Dyson Stephen Hitchcock, born 1974)’s possession in Naboomspruit, South Africa, who is taking very good care of it. (He also has Dyason’s war photo album, and Beatrix’ father Frederik Anthonie Koen (born 1873)’s little carriage wagon, which he is also taking care of very well.)

War letters

Dyason served on the Allied side with the South African forces during World War 2. From his war letters I gather that his force number was 577393V. EDIT HERE: My brother Johnny is in possession of the many photos he took during that time. There are pictures of him at the Pyramids in Egypt, and of him at the Tower of Pisa in Italy. He also had a photo of a downed German plane with Hitler’s picture framed in a toilet seat.

Dyason never talked about actual combat that he might have engaged in during the war. He did tell me about some other things though.

The one story was about when he went over a dune in Egypt, and there lay hundreds and hundreds of aircraft. I think he said something to the effect that they would be buried under the sand, but I cannot remember what that was about.

My dad Tony (Anthony Roland Hitchcock, Dyason’s second son) told me something interesting. In one city, Dyason bumped into a man. With shock on both sides, Dyason said, “Jean, is that you?” And Jean replied, “Dys, is that you?!” Jean was Dyason’s only brother. It was quite a coincidence that they ran into each other, as 334,000 South African men participated in that war.

I remember another story. He told me that in one city a lady asked him, “Are you lonely, soldier?” Dyason told me that he stayed far away from her, and with a grave seriousness expressed thankfulness for doing so. He said that there were so many soldiers that just disappeared during their time there, and that perhaps it was women like this one that had a hand in it.

During the war Dyason was quite diligent in writing to his family at home. In one of them he wrote that whenever he saw a beautiful woman, he would remember his wife Beatrix, and say that she was a hundred times more beautiful.

My parents saved his war letters for many years. I once put them on his little table next to his bed, to surprise him. I did not expect the reaction he had when he saw them later on. I discovered that he dumped them in the trash! I asked him about it, and he was quite agitated about those letters. I do not know why. I retrieved the letters, and have been guarding them ever since. They are here with me in our fire safe in Georgetown, Delaware, USA. (I also have Beatrix’ father Antonie Koen’s Bible here.)

Some parts are illegible, or not understandable. I put a “[?]” or “…” in those parts.

19 June 1942

My Dearest Mums & Dad,

Thank you for all your regular letters. It is real good to hear from you so often. Mums, I also received your present a few days ago. Thank you so much for remembering me.

I am sorry to hear that you are both unwell. How are you now Dad? I hope you are not in bed anymore. Is your chest still worrying mums?

I have lost the fountain pen which I’ve had for 4 years today, and I tell you it’s real difficult to write with an ordinary pen. My heart is very sore over that pen as I always took such great care of it.

By now you would have heard of Tony’s leg that is worrying him. I am very worried. It seems strange for a sturdy chappie like him to start limping all of a sudden.

Today I expect a letter from B [Beatrix] who has taken Tony to a specialist. Poor old B [Beatrix] is really having a tough time as I can see behind shoes cheerful letters.

I have written to Jean some days ago, but have had no reply as yet. As we are flying home the […?] he will have to come down to us (Foggia) and I have left a message for him at their Transit Camp which is only a few miles away.

How is business these days Dad/What do you think post war business is going to be like? Will there be a still higher rise in prices of houses, land, etc. or do you think it will get back to normal?

Around here there is a very big difference in opinion. We are certain to have immigrants by the thousand. You have no idea how every third fellow whether it’s Ity [Italian?], English, Yank, Pole, who does not want to settle in S. Afr. [South Africa.]

Comparing notes with these people we are indeed in God’s own country. As to our Demobhuis [?] – let’s hope and pray they will get us home soon. Up till now our Sqdn [squadron] has not even sent the “A” Group men away and as I’m in “G” – goodness will alone know when we start.

However, there is some talk about shipping for us. What do you people hear about this scheme? We are all damn “cheesed-off” with it. If I have to stay here for another winter I dunno [?] as to how.

Eddy gave John some pidgeons. When the eggs arrived B [Beatrix] says he sat watching them for days on end for the chicks to arrive. The chicks died unfortunately. Dit was glo ‘n vreeslike affêre [Afrikaans: Apparently it was a terrible affair.]

John has collected [?] a regular memagerie [?] so I do hope we get another nice house as we had in Springs.

Yesterday I spent the day at Manfredonia on the beach. Hier is die water lou en die vis niks. [Afrikaans: Here the water is lukewarm and no fish.]

The Adriatic is more like a lake than a sea. My trip to England has been postponed but I have hopes to fly over.

Well dears I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long maar die huistoe gaanery maak skrywe swaar. [but the going-home-ishness makes writing hard.] Hou maar die goete reg [Afrikaans: Just keep things ready.]

Cheers dears and God bless you.

Your loving son, Dys.

8 April 1944

Dearest Dad & Mums,

Received your two letters on my arrival here but since then have heard nothing from either you or Beattie [Beatrix] from whom I also had 2 letters. Our post has probably been sent on to our Squadron, so in future unto you hear from me please put the above address.

Have you received my letters? I think there must be 4 or 5. Met Jean last week as he came to fetch me in camp. We talked and talked for hours and never left the pub during the whole day. This Gippo beer you can drink for hours – it’s like water. As I sit writing here, I am waiting on a pass to go out to his camp. It’s better spending your time in camp than in Cairo. It’s a damned awful place and I’m staying in camp in future, as I’ve seen everything Pyramids, temples, museum, etc. etc. and it cost you a tidy sum. Money flows like water here. I reckon over 10 [currency] is worth 5 [currency] here.

I have been pretty sick this last week from “Gippo Tummy.” It’s just a running to lavatory from morning till night till you can’t lift an arm. However, “I’m feeling much better now. Have no idea when we’ll be leaving.

In my next letter I’ll tell you all the news. I want this to leave this morning and I must write to Beattie about the address.

Cherio dears. Everything is okay, so don’t worry. Only longing a lot for you two.

Cherios, your loving son, Dys.

5 November 1944

“I certify on my honour that the contents of this envelope refer to nothing but private and family matters” [Signed] DR Hitchcock

“My Dearest Dan & Mums,

Thanks for the letter received last week together with one from Beatrix. How are things? Glad news that you are feeling a little more bright these days. Jean wrote to me yesterday just after I had posted a letter to him. He is in XX as you know. Today is my day off for a change, and I’m doing some washing and writing. We played against a squadron here yesterday, and it was … a good game 3-3. We entertained the visitors as usual, speeches and all – the rest we just threw into the lorry amidst plenty of tearful farewells and goodbyes.

You have no idea how Rugby can bring a squadron together. Unfortunately, our air crew was not allowed to play. Now here’s the sung [?] Me being captain, food soranger, [?] entertainment manager, etc. somehow, I always find myself on the short side – you know how it goes Dad. We have a scheme here where the players entertain the visitors, after the amount is finished as given by the sports fund for the evening.

I’m now strong broke to the end of the month except the $2 [?] received from you, Mums.

So, what about it Pa? I burst out laughing at the point of the letter when I thought how you worked Joe Kriel (?) up, “Joetjie ek wou net die tjekkie haal” (Afrikaans: “Joey, I just wanted to get the little check.”) Except for going to the Bio [bioscope i.e., movie theatre] on night last week, I have not left the camp since my return from Rome, and then we had to stand as the bio was so full. Our food is okay, as our messing officer knows all the answers. However, I have not been feeling so well lately, as we have been working terribly hard for last few weeks, and I think the food is not nourishing enough, as the quack (the Doc.) [doctor] has given me some vitamins tablets.

I organized (the word organized could mean anything from robbery to threat of death) some white paint and you should see our bathroom now. Our tent is always tidy and neat. Almost every evening my two mates and I turn in at 8 p.m., read and listen to the radio, or we talk of our homes, wives and kiddies, and what we are going to do when we get home. We all agree on one point. The day armistice is declared we will go to church first and then we’ll get real blitsed up, or as the Yanks say, “I’m going to get my aching ass so drunk, they’ll have to carry me to my fart-sack (bed.)”

Received the photos, and they are really lovely. I look at them for hours. A bloke has just come in to tell me that something is out of order, so I just takes out my teeth, gives him a nice hollow smile, and just drops back on the bed, exhausted and breathe, “It’s my day off chum, And Get the Hell out of here. I’m cheesed, trowned (?) off, I’ve had it, the lot. (Hope you follow the lingo.)

Thank you mums for the little present and flower as usual. Keep them coming. Well, dears, time is no more, so I have tried to give you some idea of how I pass the time, etc. Don’t worry about me in any way. I’m fit, safe, and being a good boy. A kiss for you and keep going till we meet soon.

Your loving and longing son, Dys

[PS:] Does Tony still bite the dog?”

8 May 1945

Dearest Mums and Dad,

Thanks so much for both your letters. I hope that you received my cable in time for your birthdays. Yes, and so it’s all over. What a load seems to have dropped from one’s shoulders! I am very happy for your part dears, as the strain must have been great with both Jean away, and me never knowing what’s happening.

Well, now it’s over so you can push the anxiety in the good old past, and start putting in stores of beer for the boys, of hoesê? [how ‘bout that?] I do not need any money thank you Mums and Dad, as I’m even saving on my ‘salary.’

I must really tell you this … Dad, but you must take it as I know you will. My pal and I visited an Ity (?) Bar some while back, so my mate got a bit over the mark and persisted on sitting on the floor so I told him the next time he starts sleeping, I’m selling his shoes. So when he drops off again, I took off his shoes, got on a chair and immediately … started bidding fast and furious, en ek hou my lyf net J. Dys S [note: Dyason says here in Afrikaans that he “kept his body (demeanor) J. Dys S.,” referring to his father John Dyason Stephen Hitchcock (Oupa Boy) who was an auctioneer,] the way I verneuk [cheat] them! If me Ity (?) says ’5!’ [5 Italian Lira?] then I just look at another one and back I am again at the 5 (5 Italian Lira?] bid which is now 15. The Bar screamed with laughter. RAF, Yanks, etc. etc. wanted to help the bidding but I wouldn’t take this. What an episode when my mate woke up and found the waiter strolling around in his shoes. Sale cancelled!!

Last night when peace was declared the boys gave it a long bang with pistols etc. I went to bed quietly at 7:30 as it seemed to me suitable to be just quiet then. Today I am going to church ad tonight I’ll have a few.

Beattie is okay now and everything is fine. Only the boys are a bit too lively. She reckons Tony gets so extra special that even John shakes his head and disappears (?) sudden like.

How I long for her and the boys. She says Tony has the whole house running, screaming, crying, he goes and sits by himself quietly meditating his next ‘move.’

Today I got all the newspapers. Thanks, so much Dad. I believe there are some more coming tomorrow. Where are you going for the winter, Mums? Cherrio darlings, and keep up the good work. Longing lots, Your son.

24 May 1945

My Dearest Dad and Mums,

I’m sorry dears to have kept you waiting for a letter such a long time. What with all this peace-business and service and including V.E. Day we have done nothing but work.

I am expecting to see Jean every day now. I wonder will he fly home. If so, I will certainly see him.

Thanks, Ma, for your letter and I was surprised at the quietness of your birthdays. I hope you had a good time. I have made a grand frame for your … suap (?) and it’s standing next to the one of John and Tony on my dressing-kas. Tamelik baie kos en min dressing gako. [Note In Afrikaans this means, ‘Quite a lot of food and little dressing gako.’ Gako might be a Xhosa expression of unbelief or disgust, I am not sure if this is what Dyason meant with Gako.]

According to newspapers, etc. I will only be coming home in my group, nevermind overseas service and as it’s only G, I might be here for a while still, but we’ll celebrate Xmas [Christmas] together anyhow.

Oom Boytjie, hoe lyk dit met daardie tui-lizzie wat ek gaan kry? [Note: In Afrikaans this means, ‘Uncle Boy, how about that tui-lizzie I am to receive?’ Here Dyason calls his father Oom Boytjie, as his father was known in the community, (Oom Boy) in a playful, yet respectful manner. Dyason typically calls his father Dad. It is unclear what tui-lizzie means.]

I was going over to London for a few days but it has been put off. I have never heard from Oom J. van Zyl since leaving Egypt. Wonder where he is. How is Toeks getting on? Give her my love and tell her to work some fur around the hem of that dress of hers – just in case her neck gets cold when I get home. Tell Maggie I will not forget her present. I only hope we tough at Paris [?] as that’s the real place for souvenirs, al sal dit wees dat die Gypsies skree ‘kaalgat’ Philo [Afrikaans: ‘although it will be so that the Gypsies will shout ‘butt naked’ Philo.’]

H’d B. [Heard Beatty] tell you that Tony said, “When Dad comes home, I’m going to be poep-dronk [totally-drunk.] I will also have to say, “Alicie, hoe lyk dit vir my die kind is deurmekaar? [Afrikaans: “Little Alice, it appears to me the child is confused?” Here Dyason calls his mother Alicie in a playful and respectful way. The ie at the end of her name is the diminutive form of a word, as in Little Alice.}

Yes, I’m longing like anything to see you all again. It’s going to be great. Last week I went to swim in the sea and some Ity [Italian?] fishermen has offered to take us to deep-sea for fishing. Lira 1-5 an hour! And the biggest fish they catch here is 6” long. The sea of course is like a lake. The biggest waves I have seen is about the same as the Caledon Park dam when there’s a wind blowing.

How is M. Prevair [?] getting on? I’m very pleased that Oubaas [Note: the dog’s name] is safe. Has Oom Boetie ever heard from Henry? Let’s hope and pray that he’ll come out okay. Give my regards to Rudi and his wife. I hear from B. [Beatrix?] as regular as ever, en die verlange bly maar so [Afrikaans: and so the longing remains…]

Her teeth is troubling her a lot and she may have them extracted.

By the way Dad, have you heard anything further about those bungaloes [small, detached dwelling] at George? I went to the Bio [bioscope, movie theater] last night for a change, and except that the film broke down four times, it was quite good. Have not heard anything to do with the Semonilas [?] around here.

Ek is maar ‘n bietjie bang en hier betaal mens nie eers nie, jy koop hom sommer. [Afrikaans: I am a little scared, and here one does not ever pay, you just buy it instead.]

Now peoples, it won’t be long now before we have the reunion, so I’ll say Auf Wiedersehen [German: Goodbye.]

Tons of love to all, Your longing and loving son, Dys

30 September 1944

“I certify on my honour that the contents of this envelope refer to nothing but private and family matters” [Signed] DR Hitchcock

Dearest Dad and Mums,

Thank you Mama for the nice letter I received on my return from home. I’m sorry to hear that your arm is troubling you and only hope it’s not the arm that lifts the glass as Beattie. I suppose it’s the one who opens the side-board when Pa is not looking.

How do you manage these days Dad, with two of them to look after? [Note: probable Dyason’s sons John and Tony.]

You will be sorry to hear that I did not meet Jean [Dyason’s brother] there, but I believe they are up front. I really enjoyed a well deserved holiday, only the time was so short. Also visited the place where the hostages were shot in Rome, but was not allowed to go inside.

I cannot say that I’m sorry to be up here if only to say to an Ossewa Brandwag what a bum he is to miss all this. To pass through Cassino [note: a town in Italy], you remember they fought about 5 minutes for it, is to see war and what it means. You cannot realize what the place looks like. Take Caledon and you all get busy ruining the place for a year, and you’ll still have a beautiful town as compared to Cassino. Not a tree, a leaf, or a living soul near it, only one sign which reads, “Continental Hotel”!!

After the ward Dad and I are going to spend a month in Rome, of Hoe se Papa [Afrikaans for How about that Papa.] Only we must first chase away our ‘drawbacks,’ otherwise we’ll have to stand and look like I had to. I’m of course referring to the women of Rome. There is so much to see in Rome that during my 5 days there I never even had a drink, oh yes, two glasses of wine. Tonight, me are having a free booze-up in Camp, on the strength of our operations, so I’ll make up. Moet tog nie vir B [Beatrix] sê nie, ek het ‘n kwaai brief oor die drankies gekry. [Afrikaans: Please do not tell B [Beatrix], I received a stern letter about the drinks.] Who are B & Ma [Beatrix and Mother] to talk when they each have their skeleton keys of the side-board.

Yesterday I refereed another rugby game, but I’m starting to play next week, as they are pestering me.

En hoe gaan dit met die twee kleintjies? [Afrikaans: And how is it with the two little ones?] I hope they are not giving Ouma and Oupa grey hair. Oupa moet maar die agterwêreld warm hou. [Afrikaans: Oupa should just keep their rear ends warmed up.]

I’m longing terribly for them, especially when I see other little chaps, but fortunately that’s very seldom as I hardly ever go out of camp. … when this here war is going to be over, let’s hope soon. I first want to see Jerry [note: probably a nick name for a German] finished before I even think of going back. I hate the [ineligible, maybe Brandwag] … and our University students.

If we were called ‘red-lece [?] their colour is at best ‘yellow.’

Have seen quite a few war films (actual combat) and boy, do I love a German. I’m indeed proud, no, grateful to keep them away from my wife and babies. But after Germany, home I want to come, and no arguments.

[Sketches on letter by Dyason:]

For John: [Sketch of fighter plane]

For Tony: [Sketch of plate of porridge with words:] “Plate of porridge”

Hello John and Tony.

Dad is longing lots. Is Oupa naughty? Be good little boys and Dad will bring lots of presents. A big kiss for Mommy and you too. Dad.

Lekker Gesels

Lekker gesels means wonderful conversation. We should take time out to communicate with our elderly loved ones. Sometimes life seems so busy, and we just do not find the time to do so. I remember that even as a young man, I was always on the go, as all young men do.

But one day I felt that I wanted to just go sit and talk to Oupa Dys. He was in his room, just passing the time. After a greeting or two, I sat on the chair on the opposite side of his room, where he sat on his bed.

We began to talk. I cannot even remember what we talked about. But we talked, and talked. We went back and forth, and talked about whatever.

I suppose we talked for about 45 minutes. When we were done and I excused myself, I remember Oupa Dys telling me sincerely, “Ek het nou lekker gesels met jou…” (Afrikaans: “I just had the most wonderful conversation with you…”)

Of the entire conversation, this is the only part I remember. I realized yet again how lonely he was at times, even with all his loved ones around him.

Clean Car

Oupa Dys always made sure his car was spotlessly clean. The only car of his that I remember was a Ford Grenada. He once had me wash his car for him when him and Ouma Beatty lived in town (Naboomspruit.) He pulled the car onto his lawn, and I washed it.

After I was done, he came to inspect it. He was not mean about it, but he did point out the imperfections. I suppose he did that not only because he wanted his car to be spotless, but more so that he wanted to teach his grandson excellence. I appreciate that.

He also had a belief that there was something about rain that cleaned a car. When it rained, he would make sure the car was out there in the rinse. Then he would dry it I guess with a towel or chamois. This made the car especially shiny. I suppose it is because rain water is purer and freer from contaminants.

But that was not all. The boot (trunk) also had to be cleaned. And the important part was to shine the spare tire that was installed in the trunk. He really emphasized this point.

It seems he liked shiny. Shiny shoes and a shiny spare tire.

Feeling of Peace

Oupa Dys told me something that apparently made a great impression on him. He said that one day a certain feeling of peace came all over his body, as he lay in bed.

He said that this peaceful feeling enveloped his whole body, all the way down to his feet. At the time that he told me of this experience, he had not had this experience again. He said he wondered when he would ever experience it again, and added, maybe never.

Ouma Beatrix looked like an angel

I remember when it was time for Ouma Beatrix to die. She was admitted to the small hospital in Nylstroom, the bordering town to our home town Naboomspruit.

We all came to see her, perhaps to say goodbye, but mainly to visit her. We were told that she had suffered another couple of strokes.

What I really remember is a sight I will never forget as long as I live. Ouma was robed in a white dress. I suppose it was the hospital gown, or perhaps it was her own gown she they had brought with her.

As we said goodbye, I remember Ouma giving me the most beautiful smile, and waving to me with her hand. It was her way of saying goodbye. The mental image I have of that beautiful smile, and her being robed in that white gown was simply beautiful. Ouma also had a slightly darker complexion. My uncle John inherited that darker complexion, while my dad was lighter skinned like Oupa Dys. To me, this darker complexion made here look healthier than she really was. White robe, dark skin, healthy, happy face, beautiful smile.

This would be the last time I would see Ouma alive. It was a good memory to keep.

I was honored to be one of her pole bearers, when funeral was held in the AGS Church (The Apostoliese Geloof Sending / Apostolic Faith Mission,) and then buried in the town’s general cemetery.

I was not at Oupa Dys’ funeral. By that time (1995) I had come to the United States. I could not leave the country because I had not yet been issued my permanent residence card, also known as my green card. I went to see the immigration authorities somewhere - I think it was all the way in Washington D.C. I stood in line, waited, explained my case, but to no avail. A funeral was not considered an emergency.

When my grandfather on my mother’s side, Harry Venter, died in 2015, I was a citizen of the United States by then. I made the effort to fly out to South Africa, and be with my family, and attend his funeral. I saw my uncle Joe (my mom’s brother) and prayed a prayer of salvation with him. He died soon afterward. I also saw my cousin. I never got to pray with him, but he died one month later in a car accident. I saw my other uncle Leon (my mom’s other brother) and my aunt Anita (my mom’s sister.) Of course, I saw my mom’s father’s wife Ouma Betty Venter, who is still alive at the time of this writing. But when Oupa Dys died, I was not there.

I remember that I cried just thinking of him as his health turned to the worse. Eventually he died. He went to be with the Lord. Perhaps he experienced that feeling of peace in the few moments before his death. Although I did not see him, I carry with me many wonderful memories.

“Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints” (Psalm 116:15, KJV.)