My entire life, since I can remember, Jan
Christiaan Smuts has been a prominent figure in my life. I knew his name before
I even knew some of my family’s names. His bust was prominent in our lounge,
and there were trunks filled to the brim with memorabilia, photos, letters and
exciting treasures.
At first this was not overtly interesting
to me, but as time wore on, I started asking questions as to who this man was,
and why we had so much stuff about him, and of his. And the answer was quite
simple, and yet still quite mystifying.
My Great-Uncle, my dad’s uncle, was Jan
Smuts’ last private secretary before he lost the elections and ultimately
passed away. Henry Cooper was an amazing man by all accounts and somebody that
my dad and my mom spoke very kindly about. He passed before I was born. He
wrote a book while with Smuts, about all the walks they went on together, and
spoke so fondly of the man behind the politician. The super intelligent brain,
his need for strict exercise regimens, and his appetite for ever increasing
mountain peaks to be conquered in his daily regimen.
When Smuts was ousted, he moved his offices
into my Grandparents, Cissie and Willie Cooper’s, offices. Willie was Henry’s
brother, and they had been fervent supports of Smuts during office, and were
now not about to leave him in his hour of need.
Smuts was also my Dad’s Godfather and on
his passing, Henry was left with much of Smuts belongings, including some of
his shaving kits. These were, of course,
out of bounds to me for most of my childhood. When I hit high school, we
actually started learning about him. I begged and pleaded and was allowed to
take the one shaving kit to school. Nobody believed it was actually something
that had belonged to this great man. But I know the truth.
My Uncle Henry was at the inaugural United
Nations meet. He got to meet the most incredible international figures,
including the Queen, of both Greece and England. What I wouldn’t give for a
bounce on his knee and some late night story-telling.
My dad fell ill, about 4 years ago and was
diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I was given the trunks of treasures, and needed to
find a home for them. Or at the very least put them into some sort of order.
I have since discovered that Olive
Schreiner was also my relative, as was Austin Roberts. To most South Africans
of my age, these names do not mean much, but over the past few years I have
made it my mission to learn just who they were to us as South Africans and what
legacy they left. My Granny and Grandpa wrote many well-loved South African
songs, including ‘Jy is my liefling’ and ‘Die Donkie’. My great great
grandfather was an Advocate in the Cape Colony, and wrote under the pseudonym
of Samuel Zwartman.
In my pursuit for answers, I went to watch
my Father’s Coat earlier this year, and was amazed at the story-telling and the
tale itself. I asked Michael if he could assist me in my pursuit to find proper
homes for the items. And he referred me to Brenthurst, and to Smuts house. And
a rather joyful meeting a few weeks ago, led to me finally placing some of the
missing artefacts in the hands where they had belonged the whole time.
And now I find myself wondering, what will
my legacy be? Here is hoping I live up to my DNA!
