These days I often think back to my late grandparents and their farm in southern Namibia.

I remember how it felt to enter the lounge, Granny’s sanctuary. The feel of the carpet under my bare feet – and the absolute silence in the room. Tiptoeing closer, I would admire her brass collection.

In my mind, I am touching the flannel cover on the yellowed keys of her old harmonium, caressing it before gently pulling it away. Those organ stops and pedals, cool to the touch, that needed to be coaxed into life for the simple melodies I could play.

I think with nostalgia of Grandpa’s workshop on the farm with his very old, brown rusty pliers, saws and that special hand mill used for the biltong. I smell the oil and feel the cold cement floor under my feet.

Will I ever forget that outdoor toilet or the shack where my mother’s childhood toys were stored, or the smell of the Lister pump room which I can recall even today, remembering the exact details of those bygone years.
***

Just yesterday an old Valiant drove past us on the street and I immediately informed my children that my grandfather used to have one just like it. With red seats.

Who knows what became of it? Does the new owner value it as much as Grandpa did?

What is the lesson to be learned? Be careful, in your silver years, when you start decluttering and getting rid of your stuff. There may be items that one day could be of great importance to some of your descendants.

A small keepsake that they can cherish to remind them with nostalgia of their late grandfather and grandmother.

Deesdae dink ek baie terug aan my oorlede Ouma en Oupa en hul plaas in die Suide van Namibië.

Ek onthou hoe dit gevoel het om die sitkamer, ouma se heiligdom, te betree. Die gevoel van die mat onder my kaal voete – en die doodse stilte in die vertrek. Ek het saggies nader gestap en haar koperversameling bewonder.

In my gedagtes voel die flennielappie wat oor die vergeelde note van haar ou traporrel lê, streel daaroor en trek dit saggies weg. Dan trap ek vir 'n vale en trek die orrelregisters om klanke te verkry vir die eenvoudige liedjies wat ek tokkel.

Ek dink met nostalgie aan oupa se gereedskapkamer op die plaas met sy stokou, bruin geroeste tange en sae en biltonghandmeultjie. Ek ruik die olie en voel die koue sementvloer onder my voete.

Ek onthou die ou buitetoilet en die stoortjie met sy verroeste sinkdeur waar my ma se kleintydspeelgoed gestoor was – en ek sien en ruik in my geestesoog die Lister pompkamer – presies net soos dit daardie jare gelyk het.

***

Net gister ry ’n ou Valiant by ons verby in die straat en ek lig toe sommer dadelik my kinders in dat my oupa presies so een gehad het. Met rooi sitplekke.

Wie weet wat daarvan geword het? Heg die nuwe eienaar soveel waarde daaraan soos Oupa het?

Wat is die les te leer? Wees versigtig wanneer jy in jou silwerjare begin wegmaak en weggee. Dalk is daar items wat eendag vir iemand in jou nageslag van groot belang kan wees.

’n Kleinood wat hul kan koester en met heimwee aan hul oupa en ouma laat dink.

KEEP IN MIND:

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”
(Isaiah 46:4)

Gerty