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March 14, 2005
If Only They Knew
My mum told me some bad news today about the lovely little cemetery where my grandfather Ted is buried. My friends and family know that I have always wanted to be buried there too. Not in a coffin mind you. I want to be cremated and sent back to South Africa where someone will dig a little hole right next to Ted’s grave and bury my ashes.
The cemetery is one of the most peaceful places I have ever visited. It sits just off the beautiful Vaal River surrounded by a grove of magnificent old oak trees. The trees are home to hundreds of turtledoves that coo in harmony all day long.
My mum told me the cemetery was vandalized last week. Apparently all the graves marked with the Jewish star of David were either spray-painted with red swastikas or pushed over.
My grandfather’s grave was one of those damaged.
I cannot tell you what a wonderful, kind man he was. He and my grandmother survived persecution in Lithuania and went to South Africa to start a new life. My grandmother’s mother was a refugee in Europe and was killed by soldiers on the side of the road right in front of my grandmother (who I believe was four at the time). They were fleeing with all the possessions on their backs. They trudged through the mud to freedom as their homes burned in the village behind them.
As you might have read in my earlier blogs, my grandfather was an amazing human being. He was kind, compassionate, generous and smart. He lived in a little town in South Africa called Vredefort. He was a farmer and owned a small general store. During the height of apartheid my grandfather was scorned by the townspeople. He was criticized because he was fair to the African laborers and treated them with respect. I never heard him put people down because of their color, sexual orientation or beliefs. Actually, I never heard him put anyone down, even the people who murdered his mother.
I wish those who defaced his grave could have sat down and had a cup of tea with this magnificent man. They would have experienced something amazing instead of the anger that is obviously squeezing the very life out of their souls.
I remember a story my grandfather once told me to illustrate the futility of hatred. I’m not sure who originally told the tale, but it took place during the war in South Africa between the Boers and the Zulus many years ago…
During the height of the war there was a skirmish and a Boer soldier, on his horse, saw a Zulu warrior in combat with one of his fellow Boer soldiers. The Zulu had a yapping yellow dog at his side as he fought.
The Boer saw the Zulu put his spear through his friend’s chest. As the Zulu stabbed the man, the Boer on the horse shot the Zulu dead. The Zulu collapsed on top of the soldier he had just impaled with his spear. Yelping, the dog ran off into the bush as the Boer spurred his horse away from a number of spear wielding Zulu’s.
Many months later, after the war, the Boer soldier came back to collect the bones of his dead friend. When he and a number of fellow soldiers approached the spot where their friend’s bones lay, intertwined with those of the Zulu warrior, they noticed the yellow dog sitting obediently next to the pile of bones. The dog took off into the bush as the men approached.
The soldiers had a hard time sorting the white soldier’s bones from the Zulu’s bones. The bones were literally mixed up because they had been stripped clean by wild animals. The Boers were hard pressed to figure out whose the bones belonged to who. They did not want any black man’s bones to be buried with their white comrade, that was for sure.
After discarding the dirty bones (which they were convinced belonged to the Zulu) they took the Boer’s bones back to a graveyard a few miles away, where he was buried with full honors.
On a full-moon night six months later, the man headed back to his farm after a bible-study class. He passed the graveyard where his friend, the Boer soldier, was buried. As he took off his hat in respect he noticed, in the distance, a yellow dog sitting by the graveside.
Posted by trevor at March 14, 2005 09:33 AM
Comments
That story sent chills up my back. Thanks for retelling it here, Trevor.
Very sad news about your Grandfather's grave and the rest of the cemetery. Hate is so ugly. :-(
Posted by: janee at March 14, 2005 12:11 PM
I am sorry to hear that :( Your Grandfather sounds like an amazing man, real salt of the earth.
Posted by: Harmony at March 15, 2005 04:51 AM
a powerful combo of image and story, Trevor.
Posted by: O at March 15, 2005 05:46 PM