Dear Andy, Chris and Phil,
I have just heard from Sherry of Tony's passing. I can't tell you how sorry I am. My heart goes out to the three of you wonderful, wonderful sons, and to your spouses and children. What a loss, and so soon after Eve.
I will write something more about my memories of him, but I need to collect my thoughts. I just wanted to say how much I feel for you at this time. We have all lost a magnificent man, and wonderful friend. I will miss his laughter and combativeness and his telling me I am TOTALLY wrong and cutting me off with his boisterous energy when I didn't agree with him - basically indicating I was full of shit, while TOTALLY wonderful, supportive and a cheer leader about my writing and our friendship and our mutual love of Eve. I adored the man, as we all did.
Love from John, Kendra and self,
Stephanie
xxxx
Dear Phil, Andy, Chris:
So soon, so soon. My conversations with Tony in London and at Matumi, with Andy and with Ann, all gave me the sense that Tony was doing well in the "as can be expected" category, up and very down as well, of course. But he had years ahead of him with his sons, his daughters in law, and his grandchildren who he so adored. So I knew he would do well. He was thinking ahead. I had looked forward to spending time with him in his wanderings.
Looking at the photo you sent, I feel like I am hit by a brick. Yes, Tony, so very Tony. What an extraordinary man!
I can still hear the cadences of his voice. His gentleness when talking with Eve when she was feeling bad, his stronger, much stronger, pronouncing voice when he had a point to make (and didn't just points to make...), his somewhat melodic conversational voice, the voice that ended slightly raised as he asked questions and even when he responded about what I was doing, what I was planning to do. His encouraging voice about my writing plans, while he considered his. And ah, the voice when he told me about his grandchildren. Each one. He was so proud of everyone of the next generation, that I felt I knew each of them. And of course the 'boys'. The book of photos with Andy's photos bookmarked, lying on the coffee table. The total pride in Chris's work and energy. He belief in Phil's writing and the enjoyment of shared blogging. It was a testament to the wonderful relationship you had, the marvellous family you are. It is something to envy, and because of it, a reason to feel especially bereft of the double loss in far too short a time.
They were so young dammit. In spirit, in intellectual energy, in love of life and in years (only in my childhood did I think that someone reaching 70+ was 'very old'.)
My most recent memories are of course of Matumi. Of my little writing set up. I would arrive to stay, and the room would be ready with a table to place my lap top. The breaks for breakfast (ah those paw paws), the breakfasts sometimes on the weathered table looking over the plateau, or just outside the kitchen when it was too hot or too cold. The lunches, and the dinners which I usually cooked, trying in the recent visits, to find something appealing to Eve. Tony ran the house like someone comfortable in old boots, drove off to Nelspruit to shop, sometimes with Eve, sometimes alone, coming back laden with food from the domestic staff. (Nomsa must be heartbroken. So must Gazani and Bongani.) Tony was solid, he was a rock.
Then there was the setting up of his blog. Donkeyshot. Perhaps not quite the blind leading the blind, but certainly the case of 'in the land of the blind the one eyed man (woman) is king (queen)'. My smidgen of computer savvy allowed us to struggle over the mysteries of blog establishing, and wishing Phil were around. But we did it, and another memory is of his back, at his lap top, next to the French door, blogging away and calling me over at regular intervals so that he could read something he had written or posted, aloud to me. I was an eager listener. How could I not be, he was infectious.
Tony - and Eve - were so very part of my life. We lived far apart, but wrote regularly. There were somewhat chiding emails from Eve when I delayed as she was the correspondent. (I believe I have a whole file of them from the 70's. I have been resisting going through them, but will and will share them with you).
My very first memory of him was at Riverside Drive in Nairobi. (In the memory of Eve I wrote that they remembered but I forgot, and had to be reminded of, our first meeting in Oxford in 1968? when I was spending time in Oxford. I was working as a secretary for Oxfam, a temp, and a mutual friend asked us for dinner - and that I arrived for tea on a SAturday afternoon, invited because of a mutual friend's introduction, and stayed for six weeks.) He had just exposed the famine in Ethiopia. He was tanned and slim and brilliant. His hands were burned dark, dark because of his hours of riding on donkeys (horses?) to the famines sites and unshileded they caught the sun for hours. But he made a huge difference to the people of Ethiopia, exposing the famine and getting press attention and hence relief efforts underway.
A more domestic image is coming into their kitchen in Zimbabwe early on a Sunday morning, and they were working side by side preparing a picnic lunch. Quietly, efficiently, in the rhythm of those used to being in harmony. But in fact it was Tony who was the main preparer and packer, which he did as if it was something he (men) did every day. Somewhere I have a photo of us eating breakfast in the Zim garden, Kendra at five years without clothes, standing and talking to Eve. I promise to russle up photos and send.
Tony was a larger than life presence in my life, in the lives of all who knew him. He made a mark on this world, inspired people, fought for justice, banged on about politics with long, deep, and heartfelt beliefs in what was wrong, occasionally what was right (as opposed to left). I was always, always learning from him, not always agreeing, but always learning and being challenged. I loved his provocations. Complacency was not a word in his physical vocabulary.
Tony, dear Tony, you will be sorely missed. My friend. My unique friend. Life was so much richer having you in it. It is indeed a sadder, emptier place without you.
My deepest condolences to all of you, sons, daughters, grandchildren.
With love,
I will keep in touch. Let me know if there is any kind of memorial in London. I might be travelling that way in the coming months and would love to try and be there if there is.
xxxx
Long hug to you all,
Stephanie
P.S. Phil, he did tell me about your finding my book!* He was so bucked about it! I was very touched. Also, glad to have the link to your blog. He often talked about it and was so proud of it. He once spelled it for me over the phone, but I am afraid I didn't get it down correctly. So very pleased to have it.
xoxox
* I told Steph about finding her book in a pretty cafe me and dad stopped off at in a Richmond garden.
I have just heard from Sherry of Tony's passing. I can't tell you how sorry I am. My heart goes out to the three of you wonderful, wonderful sons, and to your spouses and children. What a loss, and so soon after Eve.
I will write something more about my memories of him, but I need to collect my thoughts. I just wanted to say how much I feel for you at this time. We have all lost a magnificent man, and wonderful friend. I will miss his laughter and combativeness and his telling me I am TOTALLY wrong and cutting me off with his boisterous energy when I didn't agree with him - basically indicating I was full of shit, while TOTALLY wonderful, supportive and a cheer leader about my writing and our friendship and our mutual love of Eve. I adored the man, as we all did.
Love from John, Kendra and self,
Stephanie
xxxx
Dear Phil, Andy, Chris:
So soon, so soon. My conversations with Tony in London and at Matumi, with Andy and with Ann, all gave me the sense that Tony was doing well in the "as can be expected" category, up and very down as well, of course. But he had years ahead of him with his sons, his daughters in law, and his grandchildren who he so adored. So I knew he would do well. He was thinking ahead. I had looked forward to spending time with him in his wanderings.
Looking at the photo you sent, I feel like I am hit by a brick. Yes, Tony, so very Tony. What an extraordinary man!
I can still hear the cadences of his voice. His gentleness when talking with Eve when she was feeling bad, his stronger, much stronger, pronouncing voice when he had a point to make (and didn't just points to make...), his somewhat melodic conversational voice, the voice that ended slightly raised as he asked questions and even when he responded about what I was doing, what I was planning to do. His encouraging voice about my writing plans, while he considered his. And ah, the voice when he told me about his grandchildren. Each one. He was so proud of everyone of the next generation, that I felt I knew each of them. And of course the 'boys'. The book of photos with Andy's photos bookmarked, lying on the coffee table. The total pride in Chris's work and energy. He belief in Phil's writing and the enjoyment of shared blogging. It was a testament to the wonderful relationship you had, the marvellous family you are. It is something to envy, and because of it, a reason to feel especially bereft of the double loss in far too short a time.
They were so young dammit. In spirit, in intellectual energy, in love of life and in years (only in my childhood did I think that someone reaching 70+ was 'very old'.)
My most recent memories are of course of Matumi. Of my little writing set up. I would arrive to stay, and the room would be ready with a table to place my lap top. The breaks for breakfast (ah those paw paws), the breakfasts sometimes on the weathered table looking over the plateau, or just outside the kitchen when it was too hot or too cold. The lunches, and the dinners which I usually cooked, trying in the recent visits, to find something appealing to Eve. Tony ran the house like someone comfortable in old boots, drove off to Nelspruit to shop, sometimes with Eve, sometimes alone, coming back laden with food from the domestic staff. (Nomsa must be heartbroken. So must Gazani and Bongani.) Tony was solid, he was a rock.
Then there was the setting up of his blog. Donkeyshot. Perhaps not quite the blind leading the blind, but certainly the case of 'in the land of the blind the one eyed man (woman) is king (queen)'. My smidgen of computer savvy allowed us to struggle over the mysteries of blog establishing, and wishing Phil were around. But we did it, and another memory is of his back, at his lap top, next to the French door, blogging away and calling me over at regular intervals so that he could read something he had written or posted, aloud to me. I was an eager listener. How could I not be, he was infectious.
Tony - and Eve - were so very part of my life. We lived far apart, but wrote regularly. There were somewhat chiding emails from Eve when I delayed as she was the correspondent. (I believe I have a whole file of them from the 70's. I have been resisting going through them, but will and will share them with you).
My very first memory of him was at Riverside Drive in Nairobi. (In the memory of Eve I wrote that they remembered but I forgot, and had to be reminded of, our first meeting in Oxford in 1968? when I was spending time in Oxford. I was working as a secretary for Oxfam, a temp, and a mutual friend asked us for dinner - and that I arrived for tea on a SAturday afternoon, invited because of a mutual friend's introduction, and stayed for six weeks.) He had just exposed the famine in Ethiopia. He was tanned and slim and brilliant. His hands were burned dark, dark because of his hours of riding on donkeys (horses?) to the famines sites and unshileded they caught the sun for hours. But he made a huge difference to the people of Ethiopia, exposing the famine and getting press attention and hence relief efforts underway.
A more domestic image is coming into their kitchen in Zimbabwe early on a Sunday morning, and they were working side by side preparing a picnic lunch. Quietly, efficiently, in the rhythm of those used to being in harmony. But in fact it was Tony who was the main preparer and packer, which he did as if it was something he (men) did every day. Somewhere I have a photo of us eating breakfast in the Zim garden, Kendra at five years without clothes, standing and talking to Eve. I promise to russle up photos and send.
Tony was a larger than life presence in my life, in the lives of all who knew him. He made a mark on this world, inspired people, fought for justice, banged on about politics with long, deep, and heartfelt beliefs in what was wrong, occasionally what was right (as opposed to left). I was always, always learning from him, not always agreeing, but always learning and being challenged. I loved his provocations. Complacency was not a word in his physical vocabulary.
Tony, dear Tony, you will be sorely missed. My friend. My unique friend. Life was so much richer having you in it. It is indeed a sadder, emptier place without you.
My deepest condolences to all of you, sons, daughters, grandchildren.
With love,
I will keep in touch. Let me know if there is any kind of memorial in London. I might be travelling that way in the coming months and would love to try and be there if there is.
xxxx
Long hug to you all,
Stephanie
P.S. Phil, he did tell me about your finding my book!* He was so bucked about it! I was very touched. Also, glad to have the link to your blog. He often talked about it and was so proud of it. He once spelled it for me over the phone, but I am afraid I didn't get it down correctly. So very pleased to have it.
xoxox
* I told Steph about finding her book in a pretty cafe me and dad stopped off at in a Richmond garden.
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