A ROAD TRIP TO REMEMBER - 2026-09-28

MOMENTS IN OUR LIFE-2  2026-10-10

A ROAD TRIP TO REMEMBER - 2026-09-28

(Gemini) Hennie, this is an incredibly poignant and beautifully written piece of reminiscence. Your ability to capture the atmosphere, the emotions, and every small detail so vividly—from the quiet, late-night hours in the kitchen with coffee and headphones, to the sharp, clear impressions of the road—is truly remarkable.

The way you describe the silence and the small gestures—such as your clenched fist pressed against his back, and the words "I love you, Dad"—strikes one right in the heart. It captures the bittersweet reality of saying goodbye to a child with such dignity and deep emotion.

Here are a few things that make this story so exceptional and moving:

The heart of the family: The tenderness with which you describe Rinie, Zino’s loyal and loving care, and the precious time spent with your children (Marinus, who came to visit from Australia, and Heine in Gansbaai) all bear witness to deep family bonds and mutual respect.

Sensory and historical details: You weave the landscape and history so beautifully into your narrative—from the coastal road and wine tasting at Seven Springs to the tranquillity of the Cape Dutch house in Greyton, and the profound heritage of the old Gutenberg printing press in Genadendal.

The introspective beginning: The fact that the idea for this road trip originated in the silence of the night—amidst your long-standing love for music and your record collection—gives the entire narrative a wonderful, nostalgic rhythm.

It is precisely these kinds of genuine, thoughtful moments that allow one to sense the depth of life. Thank you so much for sharing this precious memory with me.

Would you like me to help refine it further, format it for a specific publication (such as your website), or would you simply like to chat about some of the places along your route?

(Hennie) I want to preserve the spirit and my own words, but your introduction, conclusion, and refinements would be welcome.

(Gemini) It is an absolute privilege to work on this precious text, Hennie. Your writing style already possesses a beautiful, honest rhythm.

Below is the refined version. The original spirit, vocabulary, details, and your own voice have been 100% preserved, though the structure has been slightly adjusted for better readability (featuring a clearer introduction, neat paragraph breaks, and a well-rounded conclusion that beautifully encapsulates the journey).

A ROAD TRIP TO REMEMBER - 2026-09-28

Introduction: The silence before the journey

(Hennie) 00:22. I get up to go to the bathroom, then eat a handful of raisins. In the dim darkness, I climb back into bed and turn onto my left side, facing Rinie. With the blanket pulled up, I lie waiting to fall back asleep. She is lying on her back, as always, and I can see her profile—a faint white shape against the dark background. I listen to her breathing; at times, it is very soft.

In my mind, memories of the road trip I want to write about begin to swirl, and gradually, they drive away any chance of sleep. After a while, when her breathing sounds steady, I gently sit up and perch on the edge of the bed a while to make sure she is fast asleep. Then I rise quietly, taking my glasses, mobile phone, windbreaker, and a lap blanket, and carefully slip out. I pull the bedroom door shut from the outside and head to the kitchen, where I switch on the light.

Once I’ve boiled some water, I make a cup of strong coffee—with sugar and milk—and walk over to my computer. I put on my headphones—a gift from Christiaan years ago—and select about 100 tracks from the more than 33,000 I’ve recorded over the years, including songs from the 900-plus vinyl records I had collected for so long. I sold those 900 records—all in excellent condition—to a dealer in Barrydale for R1,600 when we had to move from Wellington, where we had lived for 34 years. We were forced to relocate after Rinie suffered a severe stroke on January 14, 2023, at around 2:00 PM, which left her paralyzed on her left side. Because she required 24/7 attention thereafter, Marinus—who was then on his way to Australia—secured a place for us at Ametis, a retirement village in the Strand. It is here that I now write from time to time to keep my mind occupied.

Preparation and Planning

The idea for a road trip originated a long time ago, when Marinus was planning a holiday to South Africa. Frieda-Marie wanted to surprise her father for his 70th birthday on October 7, 2025. Marinus could not join, as he had recently started a new position as Chief Ecological Scientist at AI Carbon (Australian Integrated Carbon) in Adelaide. Consequently, Frieda-Marie and Bernhard travelled alone, with the plan that Marinus would visit on his own once he had accrued sufficient leave—primarily because airfares are prohibitively expensive. His trip alone cost over R40,000; for the three of them to fly together, the cost would have exceeded R120,000—the price of a car!

Since April 2023, Marinus has been working in Melbourne on a three-year contract as a scientist at La Trobe University, leading a program aimed at protecting an endangered variety of orchid from extinction. From there, they moved to a small firm based in Adelaide, 726 km to the west along the coast. They had previously visited the city to see one of Frieda-Marie’s relatives and immediately took a liking to Adelaide—a much smaller city (with a population of under 1.5 million) compared to Melbourne’s 5.5 million. Frieda-Marie notes that in just eight months, they have made more friends there than they did during their entire three years in Melbourne. As they are still years away from obtaining citizenship, they have rented a large, older house conveniently located near a good school for Bernhard—close enough for him to cycle there. There are also good shopping centres nearby, and they are not too far from the coast—which is ideal, especially now that Bernhard has developed a love for swimming.

Frieda-Marie has been working for an American logistics firm for many years. The only drawback is that she often has to get up during the night for meetings; consequently, she is considering taking a position with a local company so that she can share meals and go to bed at the same time as her family. The neighbourhood where they currently reside is too expensive for a first-time homebuyer, so when the time comes to purchase a home, they will likely move to a residential area further from the city centre.

When Marinus mentioned earlier this year that he wanted to visit the Cape in September—during Bernhard’s spring school holiday (26 September 2026 to 11 October)—he booked his flights with Qantas. For the road trip, someone would need to accompany us to look after Rinie. Over the years, we have come to place great trust in Zino, a strong Xhosa woman who always handles Rinie with ease and compassion—someone with whom we can both enjoy a good conversation and a laugh. Although she understands Afrikaans, she only speaks English. On more than one occasion, when one of us offered a small gesture of kindness—such as a piece of tart—she burst into tears, to the point where I even had to comfort her once. She always addresses Rinie as “Mommy” and me as “Pa”; her own father passed away when she was only a year old.

Meanwhile, on Monday, 14 September, I had the Honda serviced ahead of the holiday to ensure everything would run smoothly. The workshop recommended replacing the tires, as they were over five years old, even though they still had plenty of tread left. Louise suggested I go to Hi-Q Strand, where they fitted four Goodyear tires. Lindsay Hahn also recommended replacing the shock absorbers, as they had started to leak. The end result was a hefty bill: Honda service R978; 4x Goodyear tires R7,420; 4x KYB shock absorbers R13,400—totaling R21,798! But now I felt at ease, because besides the road trip, Marinus also wanted to visit his friends—especially Johan in Swellendam. We didn’t need the car, so lending it to him was no trouble at all. He could now travel wherever he wanted during his holiday, and he really appreciated it. I was glad I could provide that for him.

The journey begins: Gansbaai and Kleinmond

Marinus landed at Cape Town International on Wednesday evening, 16 September, at 20:00, and departed again on 4 October at 18:00. From the moment the bookings were finalized, we were all very excited. Early on, I asked Marinus if we could go on a road trip together for a few days. Everyone liked the idea that, for that period, we would rely solely on one another. I sounded out Zino about the possibility of joining us to help look after Rinie; she was immediately very enthusiastic about the prospect and began making plans.

On Sunday, 27 September, we went to Hannes’ church in Constantia, accompanied by Fieka—who helped get Rinie in and out of the Honda. It features a unique design—created by Pieter Pelser—even though it was built as far back as 1973. It lets in a great deal of natural light and boasts a distinctive tower. Hannes truly has a gift for preaching; he doesn’t sound like a typical minister—he speaks from the heart, and you can really feel it. At the beginning, he welcomes all visitors—including us and Fieka personally—by name, and mentions that he once preached at the mosque of her Muslim imam in Cape Town.

Afterwards, we stopped by Louis’s place to pick up the keys to his beach house in Kleinmond. We spent a little while outside, chatting; Rinie stayed seated in the Honda, talking to Moira.

After that, we headed to Hannes and Louise’s place for a braai. Marinus pushed his mother up the steep slope and through the garden to their outdoor dining table. Fieka sat next to Rinie. Hannes assured her that the meat was seasoned only with salt and pepper—we’ve learned from previous occasions that she will only eat food prepared according to Halal requirements. Hannes loves to braai and treated each of us to a delicious, thick steak, while Louise, as always, provided plenty of side dishes and dessert. They are both incredibly hospitable, and it’s always a pleasure to visit them.

On Sunday night, Marinus stayed with us, sleeping on a mattress that Ametis keeps available for the families of residents who wish to stay over. The mattress remained with us for the entire duration of his holiday; he spent most of his time with us, though he did stay a few nights with Hannes and Louise. We truly appreciated their generosity in essentially "ceding" Marinus to us—especially since they surely looked forward to his visit just as much as we did. Louise mentioned that they plan to visit Marinus and his family in Adelaide for an extended period this December, so they were happy to let us have more time with him now.

Early the next morning, we were up and about. Everyone packed only a small, soft bag, along with practically all the bed sheets, pillowcases, and blankets we own, since Louis doesn’t provide any. We managed to fit it all, laid flat, across the back seat. Afterward, the caregivers loaded Rinie into the Honda, with her wheelchair in the boot. Then we went to pick up Zino at Strand Square (Pick n Pay), as she didn’t want her employer to know that she was joining us for a few days to look after Rinie. She had just come off a night shift and had taken leave for Monday and Tuesday; when we returned on Wednesday afternoon, she was due back at work for another night shift. I just don’t understand how that man’s mind works.

Marinus took the route via Gordon’s Bay, following the beautiful coastal road. At one of the mountain coves, there was a small trailer selling freshly brewed coffee, so he stopped to buy everyone a cup of cappuccino. The warmth felt wonderful on an empty stomach. We then drove past Rooi-Els and Betty’s Bay, through Kleinmond, and on through Onrus and Hermanus. I filled up with petrol in Voëlklip. As we passed Stanford, I called Heine to let him know we were on our way. He explained which billboard in Gansbaai he would be waiting by. Fortunately, Gansbaai is a relatively small town; we soon spotted him waiting and waving. He ran ahead to their neat apartment block—a fairly new building, just around the corner—and showed us where to park.

It was the first time in a long while that we had seen each other, and it was lovely to give him a hug. Verna was also there to greet us. After he had said hello to Rinie—calling her “Tannie Rinie,” just as he had all these years—Zino helped Rinie into her wheelchair, and, chatting as we went, we headed inside toward the lift. Their apartment is on the first floor; it is a fairly spacious unit with a large veranda that Heine recently had enclosed with black aluminium-framed windows, which look very smart.

They introduce their two Black foster children, Jaden (11) and Elize (9), who both greeted us shyly. Heine and his family had previously visited Joanie and Corlis, and Joanie was impressed by the children’s behaviour and manners. They also speak fluent Afrikaans, which is an asset in an Afrikaans-speaking community like Gansbaai. I truly take my hat off to Heine. He has always been colour-blind—for him, it is about the person, not the colour of their skin. With Heine and Verna, these two Black children have a future just like any white child. Had they remained with their mother, Kadoesie, in Johannesburg, they would—as Verna put it—“have gone straight down.” It seems Heine and Verna took the two under their wing a long time ago; they now attend Gansbaai Primary School, which is within walking distance of their apartment. They say the teachers are friendly—we are living in the new South Africa, after all.

Heine mentions that they can walk to everything: the shops, church, school, and the harbour. Their VW Caddy is parked safely in the basement beneath the apartment block. Both are fit individuals who used to train regularly at the Virgin Active gym in Florida, and they have already explored much of the area around Gansbaai by bicycle.

After a pleasant visit and taking some photographs, we said our goodbyes. When Heine greeted me, we hugged, and he instinctively gave me a kiss on the mouth—a gesture that touched me. My eldest son. Even though I separated from Heléne when he was only in Sub A, he has always remained fond of me—something I didn’t always deserve. Zino says she can tell he is my son; beyond his physical appearance, it’s also his personal disposition and sensitivity. I’ve told many people that if there’s one thing about Heine I’ve never had to worry about, it’s his wonderful nature, which draws people to him—the kind of people who are truly worth knowing.

From Heine and his family, we headed back to Voëlklip, Hermanus, to visit Joanie and Corlis. I turned onto 10th Street instead of 9th Street and got lost, so I had to call Corlis. Once we arrived, we went through to the back veranda—their favourite spot for socializing. The garden is private and a lush paradise, as Joanie loves gardening and Corlis helps her out. We had a wonderful time catching up and chatting. Corlis gave each of us an ice-cold soft drink, which was delightful in the heat.

Afterward, we returned to Kleinmond. Louis’s neighbours, who usually keep his spare keys, were away on holiday, so we had to get a duplicate garage key from Henry—who, as it turned out, had also lent his own spare key to someone else! Henry mentioned that there was a duplicate key at the Blou Bakkie, a small shop to the right of the Spar. Hannetjie rummaged through all the keys in the drawer beneath the cash register, but it wasn’t there; she was clearly frustrated. Judging by the contents of the rather large drawer, quite a few people store the keys to their holiday homes at the Blou Bakkie. Henry called and suggested she check the drawer of the other cash register—and sure enough, she found the key there, labelled with the name “Louis.” When we arrived at Louis’s beach house, Henry was already there; he had managed to pry open the cheap little lock using two screwdrivers—just as Louis had said was possible—though he had only given us one screwdriver! Henry says he is already 80, but still clearly capable—which is why Louis relies on him to ensure everything runs smoothly.

After the house is unlocked, I try to switch on the lights above the kitchen table, but I can’t get them to work, so I call Louis. After some fumbling, I manage to get the power running for the fridge, geyser, and microwave, but the fluorescent light above the table remains off. Once our luggage has been brought inside, Marinus takes a look at the flat in front of the garage and decides it would be better to bring the single mattress from there into the living room so he can sleep there.

I go with Marinus to Spar to pick up a few items: butter, bread, cheese, tomatoes, onions, sausages for the braai, a small packet of sugar, coffee, a litre of milk, a bottle of Krush orange juice, a bag of camel-thorn firewood, and firelighters. Also, a milk tart. Back at the house, Marinus takes charge of almost everything. He prepares “braaibroodjies” for the braai and searches for salt and pepper, as well as matches—which we had forgotten to buy. Fortunately, he finds a small box containing a few matches and heads out to Louis’s outdoor braai area. It’s cold—as is typical for the coast in September—so the rest of us stay inside. When I ask him later, he says he isn’t feeling the cold. I watch as Marinus struggles to get the firelighters going, as there’s a bit of a breeze. Luckily, the fire catches, and after a while, the large pieces of wood are burning well. Marinus comes back inside to get everything ready for the meal. There is very little I can do, and I think Zino also feels a bit out of place in this unfamiliar environment—she is likely being careful not to step on anyone’s toes. Fortunately, Marinus is a real go-getter, and I think he actually enjoys taking on the bulk of the work. As became evident later on our trip, he clearly takes pleasure in handling everything for us. He works quickly and methodically, and I don’t think he’s particularly fond of it when we try to help—slowly and uncertainly.

Luckily, there are plenty of coals, so he grills the sandwiches and the sausages, even though we have only the bare minimum of equipment. Afterward, he serves portions onto everyone’s plates, accompanied by a glass of Krush for each of us. Once dinner is over, Zino washes and packs away all the dishes. After a full day of driving around, we are all exhausted; with no TV to watch, we head to bed early. Fortunately, we brought enough bedding along, so everyone has sheets and blankets. Zino seems a bit uneasy with the unfamiliar surroundings and asks if she can keep her light on through the night—a habit, I suspect, rooted in the culture she grew up with in Idutywa, a small town in the Eastern Cape.

After a good rest in the quiet of Kleinmond, we eat the leftover food for breakfast, pack everything up, and tidy the place—Zino gets quite a fright from the rubber snake which Louis always tosses onto the floor, intended to scare off any potential intruders! We load everything back into the Honda—including the milk tart, which we never got around to eating. Marinus went for an early morning run and suggests we take a walk down to the sea before we head off. As is often the case, I am quite tired—from what I don’t know. Zino pushes Rinie in her wheelchair, and at Beach Road, we turn toward the beach. We enjoy the fresh sea breeze and the blue sky. After a while, I feel tired and tell Marinus we should turn back. There are three large rocks by the side of the road, and I sit down there to rest. Many photos are taken of everyone—including Zino, whose purple chiffon dress billows out in the sea air as she stands in front of a modern house, posing with her arms in the air.

Over the mountains to Greyton

As always, Marinus is driving, with Rinie beside him, because the front door of the Civic opens wider, making it easier to help her in from her wheelchair. Zino and I are sitting in the back, perched on top of a pile of bedding. Marinus is a great help when I get in and out of the car—he slides his seat forward so that I can manoeuvre my feet in and out more easily. When I get out, he takes my left arm and pulls me out, as my right shoulder is still very painful from a hard fall on September 20th—my chair slid out from under me just as I was trying to stand up. Fortunately, X-rays showed that nothing was broken.

Marinus takes the road toward Hermanus. Our next destination is Greyton, where he has booked a four-bed house for us—at his own expense. When I offered to reimburse him, he immediately replied, “No—this is my contribution.” He mentions that we’ll be taking the Hemel-en-Aarde road, and I expect us to turn left at the Sandbaai intersection. Instead, he turns left onto a dirt road at the sign for Karwyderskraal. When I ask why, he explains that this is the route his GPS has indicated. I defer to his better information, and we enjoy traveling along a good dirt road for the first time in a long while. We pass numerous farms, cultivated fields, and dams, as well as a large homestead situated some distance from the road on the left—likely the main farmhouse. After a long stretch, we turn left onto the tarred Hemel-en-Aarde road. We were nearing the end of the road to Caledon when, a short while later, we passed Creation Wines—a producer of excellent, albeit very expensive, wines. A few kilometres further on, we arrived at Seven Springs Vineyards, the last of the wine estates. Marinus turned in, and as there were only two other visitors present, our host for the tasting, William Kimber, was able to attend to them briefly before turning his full attention to us. When we asked if they served food, William explained that they only offer wine.

The tasting session consisted of six wines for R150 per person; however, the tasting fee is waived if you purchase bottles. The first wine we sampled was a delightful double-gold Sauvignon Blanc, which I particularly enjoyed. Next was an unwooded Chardonnay—also very pleasant—followed by a wooded Chardonnay. The fourth wine was a Syrah Rosé, the fifth a Pinot Noir, and the sixth a Syrah. William performed his role exceptionally well; since we were the only visitors at the time, he was able to provide a truly in-depth look at each wine, covering how and where it was produced. All their wines are outstanding, so we decided to purchase a bottle each of the Sauvignon Blanc (R155) and the unwooded Chardonnay (R155), along with two bottles of Syrah (R215 each), bringing the total to R740. Rinie gave one of the Syrahs to Marinus as a gift to take with him to Australia. These aren't everyday wines, but rather ones to be enjoyed in the company of special friends who truly appreciate fine wine. William packed four bottles for us into a sturdy cardboard box and then took us on a tour of their cellar, which houses numerous wooden barrels as well as several large stainless-steel tanks. As he explained, crafting exceptional wines is a delicate art practiced by their winemaker, Jaydee Scholtz; furthermore, during the off-season, their facilities are rented out to other wine estates in need of storage space. The wines must be kept in the appropriate barrels for the precise duration and at the required temperature to ensure they are bottled at the highest possible quality. We thanked William for all the information; it was clear that he truly enjoys sharing stories about life at Seven Springs with visitors.

We then continued toward Caledon and joined the N2, heading in the direction of Cape Town. A few kilometres further on, we turned right onto the R406, bound for our destination: Genadendal and Greyton. It was now past two o'clock, meaning we could check into the house Marinus had booked for us via Booking.com back from Adelaide—a wheelchair-friendly property with three bedrooms. We drove past Genadendal and, just over 4 km later, arrived in Greyton; both towns lie nestled against the Riviersonderend mountain range.

Greyton is a truly charming little place with a population of barely 2,000. It serves as a haven for artists, featuring narrow streets—mostly unpaved—where the lush vegetation from many gardens spills over onto the sidewalks. The business area we enter consists of many small businesses housed in quaint, old-fashioned cottages; as we drive past, it’s clear they are busy—likely with tourists. The overall vibe is “laid-back”—exactly what tourists weary of city life are looking for. There is an exceptionally high number of B&Bs here, as can be seen on Google Maps.

Marinus uses his GPS to locate the address of our accommodation and, after a few attempts, finds the spot: a beautiful, old, double-story, Cape Dutch-style thatched house, situated on a large property filled with massive, mature trees and shrubs. He initially struggles to retrieve the key—it turns out to be locked away behind a small door that requires a code, sent by Booking.com to his mobile phone, to open. Very clever; the house is frequently rented out, and this system eliminates the need for someone to be physically present to let guests in.

Once Marinus has unlocked the house, he comes to help me out of the car, while Zino settled Rinie into her wheelchair. We unpacked our belongings—though we didn’t need to bring any bedding, as everything was provided, even hot water. The house is clearly well-maintained: painted white and laid out in a straight line, with the kitchen on the left, the dining and living area in the middle, and the en-suite master bedroom on the right—where Rinie and I would sleep. A staircase leads from the living area to the upper floor, where Marinus and Zino each have a fully equipped en-suite room; this level can also be accessed via an external staircase.

All the rooms are remarkably spacious by today’s standards. There are numerous decorative features dating back to that era (likely the 1800s), which enhance the sense of antiquity. The house is exceptionally well-appointed with literally everything a visitor might need—including two coffee-making appliances, a sealed container of ground coffee from Lourensford in Somerset West, and other pantry staples like sugar. The owner has provided for almost every need, even including a vacuum cleaner and an iron—the latter of which Zino made use of the following day. Taken together—along with the beautiful chandeliers, the doors made of genuine stinkwood, and the small-paned windows—the setting evokes a deep sense of comfort, stirring a longing for a bygone era when life was still simple. There are two large, old-fashioned fireplaces for the winter, and a big, heavy yellowwood table in the kitchen where we all sat while Marinus went out to buy a few fresh items—bread, eggs, sausage, tomatoes, and milk—from the nearest little shop. When Marinus returned, he began preparing dinner for us. Zino helped wherever she could, without getting in his way. Rinie and I were mostly just spectators. After holding hands, we enjoyed a lovely meal. Afterward, he made “moerkoffie” (traditional pot-brewed coffee), which we enjoyed alongside the milk tart—a delicious dessert. It was simply wonderful to be together in such a peaceful setting. Zino fit in quite naturally, too. There is no TV—likely by design—but there are shelves filled with many coffee-table books and magazines. The clear intention is for visitors to escape the glitz and superficiality of their daily urban lives during their stay.

When it was time for bed, Zino helped Rinie get settled, tucking her in under a wonderfully large duvet. Each bed has its own bedside lamp, so there’s no need to get up to switch off the lights. After a wonderfully restful night, we all headed to the kitchen, where Marinus served us a delicious breakfast. By then it was nearly ten o’clock—the time by which we had to check out. I took a few final photos of everything; we could never forget this day. Zino asked me to take some pictures of her, too—a keepsake to remind her of these few days spent with her “Mommy” and “Pa.” 

History in Genadendal and the Road Home

On our way back, we stopped at Genadendal. Restoration work was underway at the church—the focal point of the oldest Moravian mission station in South Africa—so we could not enter. However, there are many other historic buildings, including the museum, which we visited.

The German missionary Georg Schmidt founded the mission station—then known as Baviaanskloof—on 23 April 1738, with the aim of evangelizing the local Khoi population. In 1806, during the second British occupation, Baviaanskloof was officially renamed Genadendal. A public library was opened in 1823, followed by the first inland guesthouse and pharmacy in 1830. In 1838, Genadendal established South Africa’s first teacher-training college, alongside early libraries, printing presses, and workshops for various trades.

The Genadendal printing press holds great historical significance as one of the very first and most influential landmark printing establishments in South Africa. It played a pivotal role in the history of early Afrikaans literature, religious media, and the printing of music. The history of the press began as early as 1837, when Bishop Hans Peter Hallbeck imported an old wooden Gutenberg-style printing press from the Netherlands to Genadendal. When South Africa’s first teacher-training college (Kweekschool) was established in Genadendal in 1838, typesetting, printing, and bookbinding became an official part of the curriculum. The young teachers were trained here to operate the printing press.

Under the leadership of the Moravian missionary Benno Marx, the press began printing the monthly newsletter De Bode van Genadendal in 1859. It is widely recognized in history as one of the very first forms of an Afrikaans newspaper. For a long time, this printing house was the only one in the Cape Colony equipped to print musical notation (including the tonic sol-fa system). Even when computer-aided printing and digital layout (desktop publishing) emerged in the mid-1980s, the printers at Genadendal remained faithful to traditional hand-setting and letterpress technology for many years. We were able to personally view the original Gutenberg-style press—considered one of the oldest and most precious pieces of technological heritage in the country—where the lead type is still on display.

After enjoying some ice-cold refreshments, we set off on the road back toward the Cape. We travelled via the N2, passing Botrivier, Houw Hoek, and Grabouw, and crossed Sir Lowry’s Pass to return to Somerset West, where we dropped Zino off at her home in Lwandle. We all thanked her and said our goodbyes, and we also took several photos of her with her “Mommy” and the Honda. Afterward, we headed back to Ametis, where the caregivers came to help Rinie out of the Honda. She had been able to travel around with Marinus, myself, and Zino for three days, experiencing life beyond our four walls.

The Farewell

It was Wednesday, 30 September. Marinus remained here for the next four days, spending time between us, his parents-in-law, and his friends. On Sunday, October 4th, Hannes and Louise arrived at 2:00 PM to pick him up for his flight back to Adelaide. They didn’t come up to our apartment—likely because they knew the farewell would be extremely difficult for us.

After we had chatted one last time, Marinus said, “Now for the hard part.”

Rinie was sitting in her wheelchair in the dining room, near the front door. Marinus crouched down beside her, embracing her as they shared a final few words. “Moeksie, Moeksie...” — his long-standing pet name for her.

Eventually, he stood up and hugged me; he is now taller than me. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. I couldn’t get a word out; I simply clenched my fist and pressed it hard against his back for several seconds, without saying a word. He whispered softly into my ear, “I love you, Dad.” Just that.

Then he picked up his backpack and walked down the hallway, with us watching him go. He didn’t look back—I think his heart was too full. Through the window, I watched him walk toward the Fortuner with Hannes. As they drove off toward the airport, I moved to the dining room side and watched them pass through the gate and onto the street, until they were out of sight.

A Memory Forever

As I sit here in front of the computer, headphones on, with the silence of the night wrapping around me, I realize just how precious this short journey truly was.

My eyes are wet; every now and then, I have to wipe away tears just to see what I am writing. It was more than just a drive through the Overberg—it was a journey defined by care, profound gratitude, family bonds, and unconditional love. It is a memory that none of us will ever forget.

(Hennie) Thank you so much, Gemini, for your input—as always, I truly appreciate it.

(Gemini) It’s my absolute pleasure, Hennie! I am genuinely glad that the refinements worked out well for you and that the spirit of your journey has remained so faithfully preserved.

Your writing possesses a special compassion and depth that will touch people’s hearts. Whenever you are ready to post this on Oomblikke.Moments or work on further stories, I am always here to assist you.

Have a restful night, and enjoy the quiet moments of the writing process!