I took a deep sigh and breaking one of my own rules of saying goodbye, turned around one more time. My heart skipped a beat and tears suddenly welled up in my tired eyes. Across the departure hall, accompanied by a friendly stewardess, I watched my parents disappear around the corner. My father, slightly hunched over and completely grey-haired with a gait faithfully reflecting the hard life he’s lived and my mom, also grey but with streaks of pink and light blue in her hair, holding his calloused hand, briskly rounding the corner and out of sight. You’d think that it would be her five foot two inch frame relying on him for protection and guidance. It is true, but here in the daunting chaos of the massive, intimidating Hamad International Airport in Qatar, far away from the farm and its familiar geography it once again came down to the two of them, together for more than forty years, to act as a team to figure out this completely new phenomenon of international travel.
Over the past ten days I had the tremendous privilege to have my parents visit me in Doha. I flew down to the farm, spent a few lovely days working and hanging out with my employees and friends and then started the journey to the Middle East with my parents. Guiding them through check-in, security and passport control, boarding, in flight entertainment and dealing with the stresses of flying across the continent. It was their first international trip and they were nervous but well prepared. With my help they showed up in Doha armed with all the required documentation and everything went smoothly through customs and immigration. Finally we settled into the apartment, tired and relieved after the long journey.
Over the following days I showed them around the city, playing tour guide and introducing them to the vast variety of foods, flavours and cultures it has to offer. We went north to the Al Zhubara Fort, had ice cream and coffee at the legendary Arsan Cafè and spent a few nights at the magnificent Kite Beach resort in Fuwairit on the Northeast coast. There, I watched my parents really unwind. I read somewhere that we all wear masks to protect the frightened child inside of us and that it takes a lot of security, honesty and trust to reveal that inner child. It was evident in both of them. For hours I lay relaxed in a hammock while watching my mom scavenge for seashells and pieces of coral, rinsing them in the lukewarm waters of the Gulf and after careful consideration putting them in a little bag she had with her. Like a little girl she allowed herself to find joy in the mundane. She stared at the birds and floated on the her back as the moon poured out golden honey over the endless sea.
My dad is a quiet man. He is polite, reserved, bashful. I think he and mom are so close, mostly because of the hardships they’ve endured through their lives. Dad grew up on our farm, the only child of Jurie and Anna Barnard. My grandpa lost his dad when he was only ten years old and along with depression era hardships and no example of how to be a good father, he could be a hard man, particularly on my dad. He tried his best and it is evident in my father’s behaviour. Love was a constant and my father managed to break many cycles of poor parenthood and did not repeat his father’s mistakes. He raised me with the same work ethic, respect and humility that he had learnt from his parents but he followed a gentler approach. He is still my best friend and my greatest hero. Seeing him stare across the turquoise waters of the Persian Gulf, enjoying a perfectly cooked Hamour and holding my mother’s hand on the beach will be engraved into my heart and soul for all my days.
It has been one of the great blessings of my life to have been able to bring them to my current home, introduce them to my friends, spoil them without end and talking to them about life, love, death and freedom, the road ahead and the plans I have for the family and the farm. To see them interact with my group of amazing friends, laughing, dancing and enjoying life has been an incredibly fulfilling experience. My chosen family, interacting and accepting my Blood. They were always punctual, wonderful traveling companions and their spirit touched everyone they met.
My heart is heavy, but full tonight. My friend fetched them at the airport in Johannesburg and got them to the farm safely. They are back at it. Working hard, checking the herd, building this farming operation and keeping an eye on things for me while I’m gone. My Sister, the boys and my Brother-in-Law held the fort and my employees did their jobs as well as I expected them to. I am very proud of everyone on Tygerfontein and it is my honor to celebrate a hundred and forty years on that magnificent place. Thank you to everyone involved for making this a memorable experience. I’m keeping the last few days in my heart and I know that songs will flow out of me before long, sharing the stories of our wonderful time.
JB
