I want to register appreciation of a friend and his work. I knew Douglas in our ‘formative’ days in what is now Zimbabwe. This was back in 1956. I have conjured up some doggerel to this affect:
HE KNEW WHAT I MEANT
Distant Garrett headlight in the mind,
Wobbling forward on the narrow gauge
Shines recall on a particular
African night
And gathers remembrance at
This eleventh year.
Too late, God damn it!
Then, a dry season creak of timbers with
Twinges from the corrugated roof
Mob of books
Galaxy of records
Once bright rug glimpsed
Through tobacco smoke and coffee steam
Vibrating with Saint Louis Blues.
Cozzies mixed with towels
Strange bottles, tubes and appendages
Bringing the day back
From the smoky cobalt pool
Of deep and mysterious Chinhoyi
And the silent, fearful wonder
Of another world.
Thrilled laughter of an
Adventure shared
Between Theo, Mike and Dan
And Doug. Rum still in our blood
From the shivering night before
And our anticipation of
The day to come and go.
Electric energy ebbs suddenly away.
The slim sweet girl and Doug
And I are left in the dark
Hanging on a thread of sleep.
It was a sort of confirmation, I say
And he waits a bit and says,
I know just what you mean.
IN APPRECIATION OF A FRIEND 1956.
Mike Hay. 9 October 2007.
I am a Maritzburg College Old Boy.
