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Die Stem

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In May 2010, George and I attended a workshop led by Richard Rohr in Cape Town at the Schoenstatt Retreat and Training Centre. One afternoon, in our free time, we decided to visit the historic wine estate of Groot Constantia, which is within walking distance of the retreat centre. It was rather chilly with heavy clouds hanging low, but we donned our rain jackets and ignored the faint drizzle that had started to come down. I am so glad we did: We were due for a very special perfomance that we knew nothing of in advance, but wouldn't have missed for all the world if we did. 

In the comments following George's post,  Whistle while you work, he reminded me of an Afrikaans piece I had written shortly after this very special encounter. It touches on what seems to be a golden rule: To whistle or sing heartily while working is not depended on the circumstances. But it greatly enhances the lives of all and sunder. I can only agree with my friend Elmi's comment: "During this brief interlude of harmonious bliss, moods are elated, miracles are believed and heaven is heard."
Die historiese hekke van die Groot Constantia landgoed
Foto van die webblad: http://www.grootconstantia.co.za/photo-gallery/?id=88

18 Mei 2010

By Groot Constantia, die landgoed van Simon van der Stel, se eerste hek staan daar ‘n man wat sing. Hy staan met sy tweerigting radiofoon in een hand, netjies aangetrek in broek, baadjie en das en hy beman die hek wat heeldag oopstaan. Daar is nie ‘n waghuisie of ‘n skuiling nie. En in die fyn misreën toe ek hom die eerste maal sien dag ek dis iemand wat soos ons oppad is om die museum te gaan besigtig, of dalk by die wynkelder wynproe en bietjie rondkyk na die omgewing in en om die gronde.

Maar die walkie-talkie gee hom weg. Hy is die hekwag: ‘n groot forsgeboude swartman. Middeljarig. En terwyl hy sing loop hy stadig  heen en weer. Staan met tye stil, lig sy kop na die boomtoppe asof hy vir ‘n onsigbare gehoor op ‘n teatergallery kyk.

Van ver af hoor ons hom sing: Nie neurie nie, maar uit volle bors, in ‘n allesgee stem:
“Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Though your dreams be tossed and blown...
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone
You’ll neeever walk alone...”

In ‘n pragtige, ronde baritonstem hou die hekwag aan met sing  terwyl ons hom tegemoetloop, groet met ‘n kopknik en verbygaan. Ek val daarby in want dis so mooi en dit laat hom oorslaan in ‘n lieflike harmonie wat my veel skraler stem optel en soos ‘n vlieër op ‘n warm wind laat sweef.

Hoe is dit moontlik dat iemand met só ‘n stem daar staan? Ons bespiegel dit maar vergeet daarvan met die deurloop deur die opstal en die lekkerte van ‘n knetterkaggelvuur waarby ons gaan sit en koffie drink in die Jonkershuis restaurant naby die museum. Die reën sif steeds buite neer en ons durf die pad terug aan met ons reënbaadjies hoog opgerits.

Hy staan steeds daar. Ons hoor hom sing met die afloop in die laning ou eikebome af wat na die uitgang lei. 

Ek sê hom in die verbyloop dat hy ‘n pragtige stem het. Hy maak ‘n klein kopbuiging asof hy langs ‘n vleuelklavier staan en val weer weg met ‘n aria uit ‘n Andrew Lloyd Weber blyspel.

Dit pla my dat ek nie sy naam gevra het nie. Nie gaan stilstaan het en sy vertoning die respek betoon het wat dit verdien het nie.

Maar op ‘n dieper vlak sê dit vir my iets van ‘n mens se werk en ‘n mens se passie. Die idiaal sou wees dat dit een is – dat mens jou passie in jou werk kan uitleef. Maar in die realiteit is dit nie altyd so maklik nie.

Die hekwag verstaan iets daarvan, dink ek. Hy moet kan eet en bly en sorg vir ‘n gesin en die werk as wag help daarin voorsien. Maar sy passie en talent is om te sing. En hy doen dit. Met alles in hom. Al bring dit hom nêrens in terme van ‘n gemakliker lewe nie. Selfs al hoor niemand hom nie.

En eendag sal iemand dalk en sal hy nie meer daar hoef te werk nie. Dit sal hom bring waar hy moet wees. Ek wil dit baie graag glo.

Ek wil doen wat ek gegee is om te doen. Ek wil vir die wêreld vertel van die Stem wat hekwag is by Groot Constantia.

Matilda
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