Madala

My father in law passed away on Wednesday and I’ve not experienced such a sense of loss since my grandfathers death almost 15 years ago. They were very similar – both very good men, who lived lives so very different to each other. 

Madala was the kindest, wisest, most forgiving and loving man I’ll probably ever meet. I loved our long chats about the past – hearing how he went to the same school as Madiba, played in a famous jazz band that toured the country and had white men sneaking into townships to hear them play in dance halls!

I’ll never forget how, on our traditional wedding day he called me to his room (he was unwell at the time) to tell me how although I’d officially become his daughter on that day, that he had loved and accepted me as one the day I first walked into his home to meet him for the first time.

He was an amazing father, man of God and role model to his sons – my husband grew up as sheltered as possible from the ugly times we lived in then. When he, as a child, unknowingly wanted to eat in a “whites only” restuarant, instead of explaining the legalities and prejudice of the situation to his son, he rather suggested a picnic on the drive home overlooking the rolling hills of the then Ciskei. It’s this picnic that my husband now remembers as amazing quality time in a positive light rather than as a negative reminder of the past.

Madala – thank you for the man you were and for the inspiration you provided to so many in your years as an educator. Thank you for the family that you made and for accepting me so lovingly into it. Thank you for your support and sense of humour on our traditional wedding – I’ll never forget you telling me to take “that silly Mexican shawl off” on the day! We are about to arrive home to say farewell to you and my silly Mexican shawl is packed and ready to put on once more!

We love you and will miss you forever.