Growing up on a farm

Koot van wyk (DLitt et Phil; ThD) Visiting Professor, Kyungpook National University, Sangju Campus, South Korea, Conjoint lecturer of Avondale College, Australia

I remember when I got my understanding and memory as a human being. It all started here on this farm. Just left of the red roof is a tree and left or behind it is an old house built out of sandstone. It was ours. At least for three years of my first four years.

The picture is the farm Welgelegen near Fouriesburg, Freestate, South Africa, part of it since over 1200 or 1500 hectare normally stretch as far as the eye can see. All my father’s and all ours, our playground. How do you grow up with your father and mother and brother on a farm like this? The sun comes up in the morning and set in the evening on the mountains on the left. All the seasons come and go with winter sometimes snowy. The apple orchard was behind the Rondawel or round room with a grassroof as one can see here next to the house in the center of this picture. The big dam in the picture was not there. It is a later addition. There was a big dam right of the red roof at those trees there. The geese and ducks use to live there. The milkcenter for the cows is that structure closest to the dam on this picture. One day my brother and I walked over the dam-wall towards the milkcenter where my mother and father was. The geese saw it as their chance to ran towards us and hissing and shaking their wings behind us got us screaming and crying as four year olds. My father ran to our rescue laughing. He said that the geese will not bite us but I was convinced that one of them grabbed my legs. The trees in a row to the left is the road to the house. We use to walk down this road and at the end on the left it made a T junction with the main gravel farm road running Hardly any cars passed in our days but occasionally one would. On hot days, these pine trees were a great comfort and very relaxing. On the left behind the row of trees were our wheatfields. My father use to plough there with a grey Massey Ferguson or “vaaljapie” as they are known to the locals.

My father use to plough back and forth and when it was time to go to eat my mother would bring his food in a lunchbox and bring it to him. Ours were also in small boxes so that we can also eat together with him in the field.

The Rondawel was the place where my mother use to cut the apples and apricots and dry them on roof sink. When you enter the structure, you smelled the fruit.

Our servants that worked for us in and around the house were two coloreds, Dawid and Trifina. Beautiful people who use to play with us and push us in a double pram. “My kroontjies” he use to say to us.

My mother was a known lady for her cooking. Rusks, cakes, bread, vegetables and else.  Our relatives knew how she could cook and all were full of expectancy when they came to our house.

The house had a fireplace and one time in winter my father was working in Vryheid and my mother made some apples burn in the fire in foil. The livingroom was big and we ate at the table in this open space. After meal my parents use to read the Bible and sing songs. It is there that my ears heard “Doen net u Wil Heer” or “Have thine own way Lord”. Grace met me the first time. I grew up with the song and the song became associated with my father, who told me it is his best song.

God is the Potter, says the song and we need to ask Him to change us and form us according to His will. Here on the farm Welgelegen, a few km from Fouriesburg near Bethlehem, in the Freestate of South Africa, at the foot of Visiersberg, I was able to grow up in the light of the Lord.

Dear God

You did not have a place to lay down Your head when you were on earth. Many are the same way. You never insisted that land should be given to You but in our day many do. Keep us faithful in You, our Potter and Maker. Amen.