It has been a while since my thoughts could focus on finding a reason to write something. But I find myself at that place where I feel the need to write a little about someone who is one of the reasons I am here today physically.
My father was born in the Democratic Republic of Congo, then known as the Belgium Congo in August 31st, 1933. He and his brother, Jan, were schooled in separate schools: Jan at the French speaking school and my father at an English school. He always will tell you how he use to commute 5 days to school, and then 5 days back home during school holidays. At one stage, he schooled on their farm through correspondence. He knew how to hunt, shot his first buffalo at 14 years, made friends with the locals an spoke 7 languages at one point. He made some dear friends from Greek, Belgium and French origin as well. In those years, to live there was bliss, full of richeness of the wild, the bush and no serious issues with the locals.
My father fell in love there. His relationship was not accepted by his immediate family, but none the less she bore him a son, Nicky and two beautiful daughters, Irene and Regine.
When the rebellion broke out, things got turned upside down.His family left the Congo for South Africa and he decided to stay behind. I can just imagine the reasons he had. His family was there. Why would even think to abandon them. But as the threats became more serious, he was forced to make that terrible decision: he took his two daughters to a Home in Belgium. He tried his best to set them up to be looked after and to be educated. He returned to the farm where he in the end had to flee for his life.
He told us many a time where he escaped narrowly form being executed. Many a time a gun was pointed at him. One time he would laugh in their faces. Many know of his infectious laugh. This was the same laugh that saved his life.
There was a time where he was recruited as a mercenary where he fought with the likes of Mike Hoare. Not much is said about this. I think this part of his life he did out of survival only.
Then, at last, he was forced to leave his farm, his animals and all his beloingings, and come to South Africa. Again his life was threatened having picked up malaria. Those days the medici were not so aware of the symptoms of the life threatening disease. In the end they treated him with quinine, which later effected his hearing.
In South Africa he began driving transport, something he did also in the Congo. His mother made a new attempt to get him married. And through a mutual hairdresser, my dad met my mom. My mom said he was dark, black hair and had playful, naughty eyes. They married soon after and on September, 9th, 1977, I was born.
I knew my father as the hard working sales man. He cared a lot for his people and still today has a non-prejudice outlook on race and colour. And in 1984 the Lord Jesus Christ entered our little family.
My father and I were baptized together one icy Wednesday morning at a local AFM church in Wonderboom, Pretoria. Shortly after he and I were baptized in the Holy Spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues. The Lord changed my father in such a way, that he diligently began serving at the church together with my mother who was playing the piano and for some many churches in Pretoria at the time.
He continued to work hard and retired as a broker for Sanlam.
In May, 2001, my father and mother moved to the little quiet town of Montagu, on the infamous Route 62 in the Western Cape. The Lord once again worked miraculous connections and gave favour for them to occupy the house at no 21 Montagu village, Hospital street. Soon they had made contact with the ministry couple Roy & Roziera Mcarthy. Together with the family of the Montagu Covenant Church, the Lord bonded many friendships in His love. Testimonies are many of their wisdom and care for all who needed.
My mother passed in 2007 due to severe health complications. Mention must be made of the support of the church and that of Roy and Roziera.
In June, 2018, my uncle passed and on the same day my father received the grave news of stage 4 Melanoma.
I will always honour my father for the hard working, caring, loving and strong character he had. In the last 34 years of his life, he knew the Lord and grew in ever deepening relationship with God the Father, Jesus and His Holy Spirit. I will remember for his keen sense of driving, his ability to sell something, his loud sometimes embarrasing laughter, his love for life, nature and his family. He supported me the best ways he knew how. He might not always have the means to, but he sponsored my training at Miracle Bible College. He continued in prayer for me, for my new family the Pelsers, and all that we were involved in. I am glad that he was there to see the birth of the my youngest daughter Zoe, someone my mother still has to meet.
His words ring true in ears of my children, the cashier at the Spar, the waitor: "Jesus loves you, and I love you."
My father was born in the Democratic Republic of Congo, then known as the Belgium Congo in August 31st, 1933. He and his brother, Jan, were schooled in separate schools: Jan at the French speaking school and my father at an English school. He always will tell you how he use to commute 5 days to school, and then 5 days back home during school holidays. At one stage, he schooled on their farm through correspondence. He knew how to hunt, shot his first buffalo at 14 years, made friends with the locals an spoke 7 languages at one point. He made some dear friends from Greek, Belgium and French origin as well. In those years, to live there was bliss, full of richeness of the wild, the bush and no serious issues with the locals.
My father fell in love there. His relationship was not accepted by his immediate family, but none the less she bore him a son, Nicky and two beautiful daughters, Irene and Regine.
When the rebellion broke out, things got turned upside down.His family left the Congo for South Africa and he decided to stay behind. I can just imagine the reasons he had. His family was there. Why would even think to abandon them. But as the threats became more serious, he was forced to make that terrible decision: he took his two daughters to a Home in Belgium. He tried his best to set them up to be looked after and to be educated. He returned to the farm where he in the end had to flee for his life.
He told us many a time where he escaped narrowly form being executed. Many a time a gun was pointed at him. One time he would laugh in their faces. Many know of his infectious laugh. This was the same laugh that saved his life.
There was a time where he was recruited as a mercenary where he fought with the likes of Mike Hoare. Not much is said about this. I think this part of his life he did out of survival only.
Then, at last, he was forced to leave his farm, his animals and all his beloingings, and come to South Africa. Again his life was threatened having picked up malaria. Those days the medici were not so aware of the symptoms of the life threatening disease. In the end they treated him with quinine, which later effected his hearing.
In South Africa he began driving transport, something he did also in the Congo. His mother made a new attempt to get him married. And through a mutual hairdresser, my dad met my mom. My mom said he was dark, black hair and had playful, naughty eyes. They married soon after and on September, 9th, 1977, I was born.
My father and I were baptized together one icy Wednesday morning at a local AFM church in Wonderboom, Pretoria. Shortly after he and I were baptized in the Holy Spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues. The Lord changed my father in such a way, that he diligently began serving at the church together with my mother who was playing the piano and for some many churches in Pretoria at the time.
He continued to work hard and retired as a broker for Sanlam.
My mother passed in 2007 due to severe health complications. Mention must be made of the support of the church and that of Roy and Roziera.In June, 2018, my uncle passed and on the same day my father received the grave news of stage 4 Melanoma.
I will always honour my father for the hard working, caring, loving and strong character he had. In the last 34 years of his life, he knew the Lord and grew in ever deepening relationship with God the Father, Jesus and His Holy Spirit. I will remember for his keen sense of driving, his ability to sell something, his loud sometimes embarrasing laughter, his love for life, nature and his family. He supported me the best ways he knew how. He might not always have the means to, but he sponsored my training at Miracle Bible College. He continued in prayer for me, for my new family the Pelsers, and all that we were involved in. I am glad that he was there to see the birth of the my youngest daughter Zoe, someone my mother still has to meet.
His words ring true in ears of my children, the cashier at the Spar, the waitor: "Jesus loves you, and I love you."
I love you oom Murray! I salute you for a full life lived and how you loved and laughed to the fullest. We will all celebrate together in the kingdom.
ReplyDelete