The Roasting

For weeks I was on tenterhooks. I had no idea what to expect.  Everyone was tight-lipped and giving away nothing.  If I ever raised the subject with Larry Moser and Jeanette Muller about what the intended format at my farewell was, a quiet and secretive smile would play around their lips.  All very unnerving.  They did tell me that Bruce Probyn was in charge of proceedings - which did not fill me with confidence as it meant that anything could happen.

Bruce and I were sitting on stage, while the audience of parents, Old Boys and friends entered the hall accompanied by the emotive sounds of the school pipers playing Auld Lang Syne on the bagpipes. I could not help but notice that a number of folk were continually glancing in my direction and grinning.  A remark was passed to Bruce to ‘roast him well’ and then the realisation that I had been well and truly set up, struck home. 

On Stage: L-R Derrick Fine, Jan de Waal, KCR. Bruce Probym, Greg Brown, Chris Luman and Neil Crawford

Couches were arranged on stage and I was duly instructed to sit down and to keep quiet.  The right of reply was denied. During the evening, there was no shortage of roasters who gleefully dredged up dubious and totally fictitious anecdotes of past incidents. As ‘Roastmaster’ (in 1937 Russia he would have made a good prosecutor in the notorious Moscow Show Trials), Bruce jubilantly latched onto every slanderous statement urging the ‘Roasters’ (state witnesses?) to expand on what was clearly libellous. Neil Crawford, current Rector of Grey High School, who used to be numbered in the ranks of my friends, was shameless in his scurrilous and totally trumped-up fabrications which he delivered from stage.

‘It serves you right,’ he said to me later without any mortification or embarrassment. ‘It is small recompense for what you have said about me in public over the years.’

He had a point.

Bruce Probyn

Appropriately, like Caesar’s Gaul, the evening was divided into three parts, with musical light relief provided between the sessions’ relentless character assassination.  An Old Boys’ Ensemble gave a superb rendition of ‘You will Never Walk Alone’, which was negated only by the fact that it bore no relation to what was happening on stage. I was totally alone - squirming in the limelight.

Bruce introduced the first witnesses who were part of my early days of teaching – Derrick Fine and Greg Brown of my Latin classes; Chris Luman, a history pupil; Neil Crawford (an ex-friend) and Jan de Waal, both colleagues at the time.  Bruce spoilt the effect somewhat by introducing Jan de Waal, incoming Head of Wynberg, as ‘Jan le Roux’.  Alerted by audience laughter, he immediately compounded his faux-pas by lamenting that Jan hadn’t even started at Wynberg yet and he was already forgotten.

Listen to Bruce Probyn introduce the panel on SoundCloud.com

Descriptions about those early Latin classes came pouring out.  How on earth those two ever passed matric if their tales were even 10% correct, beggars belief.  Why didn’t Larry Moser ask Owen Rogers, currently a judge in the Cape High Court, to speak? He was in the audience and he would surely have acknowledged my role in his classical education.  The fact that he taught me more than I taught him is incidental to this story.

Fortunately the Roastmaster had to bring these fictional narratives to an end eventually and the school vocal ensemble restored sanity with their rendition of ‘The Man in the Mirror’ which would have pleased Rowan Algie no end as that was a theme he punted endlessly in his tenure as Headmaster of this school.

KCR and Bruce Probyn

The verbal barrage continued when Jacques Kallis, Aubrey Martyn, Andrew Wiley, Fritz Bing, Chris Hyland and Paul Revington were invited to come on stage and talk about their sporting memories in various cricket and hockey teams. Apart from Fritz, who played in the same era as WG Grace, all the others were members of sides which I had coached.

Andrew Wylie retold the story of our game against Northwood, some years back, in the Alexandra Week. We were thoroughly outplayed in this match and when Aubrey Martyn, future Protea, came in as the last batsman, he needed to play out 59 balls to save the game.  This he did competently for 57 balls and then for some inexplicable reason, he chose the 58th ball to have a go.  He struck it superbly and it sailed over the ropes.  The rest of the team cheered lustily (for what reason?  We still needed more than a hundred to win…).  I shut them up tersely – but it was too late, the adrenalin was running and the inevitable occurred. Anyone who has coached schoolboy cricket could predict what would happen next.  Aubrey repeated the shot on the 59th ball of the match.  This time the result was different.  He was clean bowled on the last ball of the match, reminiscent of Rob Drummond at Newlands in 1977.

I was on the square before Aubrey had taken two steps.  I was still remonstrating with him two hours later back in the boarding house.  Eventually Captain Andrew Wylie came to see me to tell me that Aubrey was crying on his bed. ‘Tough luck,’ I said without any sympathy. ‘He must learn to put a price on his wicket.’

The incident had a sequel though. Many years later Aubrey invited me to his wedding, held on a farm deep in the Elgin mountains. We were thoroughly lost and arrived at the wedding well after it had started.  He was standing at the altar and had a clear view of the latecomers.  He stopped the ceremony.

‘What is this, then? Late again!  What would you have said if I had come late to a cricket match?’

What goes around, comes around….

Jacques Kallis recounted the story of how things were tough back in the day. At one Cape Schools’ Week, he had just scored his 3rd duck of the week, this time against Selborne, and, by his own admission, it was a shocking shot.  What made it worse was that it was caught by Mark Boucher who, when the circumstances are right, never ceases to remind Jacques of his debut match against his old school.  Jacques’ Dad was so irritated by another lapse in concentration,  that he drove off without him, thus making the future world’s best all-rounder walk back to Lakeside.

This gives another meaning to walking when you nick it.

Paul Revington had a sheaf of notes filled with anecdotes – not all of which (fortunately) could be read out.  He told me later that he had wanted to repeat the story of what happened after one tour game in Maritzburg where I was, again, allegedly somewhat grumpy over an inept performance from the cricket team. Dennis Bowditch decided to rectify matters by putting a note on my bed, purportedly from one of the attractive young matrons in the boarding house where we were staying.  Revs maintained it worked because I was all smiles the next day.

No, Pippa, there is no vestige of truth in that story. It is entirely the product of adolescent fantasy.

I am often asked what the highlight of my teaching career has been.  There have, of course, been many – but one involves Revs himself.  In 2004, I was at home watching on TV the Opening Ceremony of the Athens Olympic Games.  Revs was coach of the SA Hockey team and I beamed with pride as the hockey boys marched into the stadium behind the South African flagbearer, Mbulaeni Mulaudzi.  A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with an SMS message from Revs standing in the middle of the stadium.   ‘This  amazing experience of walking into the Olympic Stadium in South African colours is all because of Wynberg and my hockey coaches there. I will always be appreciative of where it all started for me.’

What a special moment!  To remember on an occasion like that where it all started, was quite extraordinary.

While Jacques was on stage, Charles MacGregor signalled another special moment.  A school friend from the age of six, he came on stage with the most generous presentation of a magnificent cabinet consisting of Kallis Memorabilia, which he had acquired on auction at the recent Jacques Kallis Tribute Dinner.  He said it was only right that a cabinet of such stature and importance was housed at Jacques’ Alma Mater. 

The sentimentality was soon over and the roasting continued in the last session when Shirley Harding - Principal of WGHS during my entire tenure, Barry Jessop – former Chairman of the Board of Governors and Peter van Schalkwyk, currently on the teaching staff all took up their roasting duties.

I was disappointed with Barry Jessop as I had been hoping to take advantage of his legal expertise later in order to serve writs and summonses for defamation of character on some of the roasters.  I wonder if Owen Rogers is now available to help me out in this department?  In a manner unbecoming a member of the legal fraternity, Barry proved to be a man of straw as he lowered himself to attacking me in my weak spot – my dog, Sandy. He besmirched the good name of the Head Dog as he strove for cheap laughs.  With scant regard for her advanced years and ailing alimentary constitution, he ridiculed Sandy by accusing her of disrupting important meetings by rumbling her discontent. I maintain that she had every democratic right to express in a canine way what everyone else was thinking.

Shirley Harding also went off on a tangent by repeating a long forgotten story of yesteryear when I had once asked her to pour the tea. As WGHS had emanated over a century ago from the School of Industries, I would have thought that this was a perfectly reasonable request.  It was not taken in that spirit and as she clearly cannot let go of this incident, I will not be asking her to tea again.

Of all the roasters, only Peter van Schalkwyk spoke sense. Perhaps it had something to do with an end-of-year bonus.

'Man in the Mirror' - KCR and The Portrait

The roasting ended with flattering words from the Chairman of the Old Boys’ Association, Arno Erasmus.  He thus remains on my Christmas card list as does Ryan Van der Vyfer, whose sympathetic portrait of me was unveiled by Pippa on stage.

As the applause for the portrait was dying down, my son, who was also on stage at that point, remarked, ‘Is that really you? It can’t be. You are smiling.’

This proved the point yet again - that at no stage in this job of headmastering is there ever any chance of acquiring a swollen head.

Building a Cathedral

Every year when the Matric exams are in session, my mind inevitably turns to my own matric exams a number of years ago.  The pain of practising innumerable Maths and Science papers has now receded but I do remember the setworks with fondness, both English and Afrikaans.  Today I am grateful for the opportunity to read literature which I might otherwise not have done in the normal course of events.  Oliver Twist, Henry 1V Part One, High Wind in Jamaica and Zeal of Thy House were some of the English books. In Afrikaans, we delved into Agter my ‘n Albatross by Anna M Louw and I remember my delight when some thirty years later, while driving through Calvinia, we popped into the local museum, which was housed in a disused synagogue and found a room dedicated to her and her books.  Apparently she hailed from the area. I paged through the dusty copy of our matric         set work with nostalgia.   Jetwa die Buffelbul was another one which really grabbed my interest.  It was about a hunter who tried for years to earn the trophy of the horns of a particular buffalo and when the moment came and he had the magnificent animal in his sights, he couldn’t pull the trigger.

On a recent trip to the Umfolozi Game Reserve with some Wynberg boys, we watched a herd of over a hundred buffaloes come down to the river. 

‘I wonder how many of them are related to Jetwa?’ I wondered aloud.

‘Huh?’ said the bemused boy next to me.

‘Never mind,’ I replied.  He would not have understood anyway.

However, it was Zeal of Thy House by Dorothy L Sayers which has been imprinted on my subconscious for years.  It is a play about the trials and tribulations of building Canterbury Cathedral in the 12th Century.

No cathedral can be built without the vision of the original architect who, because of the length of construction time of this grandiose and splendid edifice, is never going to see the final product.  Architects, designers, artisans all put time into their area of the expertise knowing that they are contributing towards something which they also might not see but will outlast them in the centuries ahead – possibly even long after their own names have disappeared in the mists of time.

When I read the play in matric, I suspect that I just enjoyed the plot, the intrigues and the come-uppance which came the way of the glory seekers – in particular of the architect himself.  Although I have not read the play since then, I now understand that it was giving us a metaphor for life at this school – always to aim for the bigger picture, inspiring others and leaving a worthy legacy.

For a number of years, I have used this metaphor in my letter to Grade 7 parents when I accept their sons into this school.  I give them the vision of the Cathedral of Wynberg and invite them to share in the ongoing building of this special place of beauty. I invite them to join the myriad skilled artisans who are giving of their time and their skills to ensure that our imposing Cathedral is enriched and improved.

And so the Ladies’ Association, the Governing Body sub-committees, the groups who organise a variety of extra mural activities, take up their tools of trade every year to enhance the cathedral – and we are grateful and appreciative.

I was explaining this concept to one of my Grade 8 Ethics classes the other day and reminding them, that they too, just like their parents, the teachers, the ground staff and the Old Boys, have to play a role in contributing to the constant construction of this cathedral.  I stressed to them that it was not necessarily bricks and mortar that builds a school. Building must also take place in the hearts and minds of all pupils at the school.

‘Does this mean that we can build our own Cathedral if we follow the Wynberg Brand?’ asked one boy showing real insight.

I was impressed. He understood.

As we stand at the eve of our 175th year, it is inevitable that the next twelve months will be filled with pride, but tinged with nostalgia and appreciation of the vision and determination of the giants who went before us.  We are in the foremost position in education because of the Cathedral Builders over the last 174 years.  Even more important, have been the Cathedral Thinkers who have seen the vision and prevailed on others to buy into it.  It is humbling to reflect on the thirteen Headmasters, the hundreds of teachers, the thousands of boys, the tens of thousands of parents who have made significant contributions.

Canterbury Cathedral - image source: commons.wikipedia.org

Building Cathedrals needs all the skills which are necessary in this 21st Century World  - inquisitiveness and a desire to do things differently; relationship building and, above all, resilience. At Wynberg we call it Supera Moras or ‘Never Give up’. Without it, Cathedrals cannot be built. There are plenty of people who offer opinions as to why something can’t be done and why it is not worth the effort.  They are the ones who will never see the grandeur of a Cathedral and marvel at the workmanship and the passion which has gone into its conception and bringing its splendour into reality.

A story I have often told over the years in school assemblies is of the three stone cutters who were asked what they were doing.

The first said:  ‘I am cutting stones.’

The second kept on hammering while he said: ‘I am doing the best job of stone cutting in the entire country.’

The third stonecutter said:  ‘I am building a cathedral.’

I then pose the question to the boys as to which stone cutter they are.  Answers to these questions will presumably change over the course of their lives but those who see the bigger picture will no doubt be happier and more fulfilled in their future careers.

Every year I ask the matrics to fill in an Exit Questionnaire.  There are two pages of questions and the boys are asked to comment.  In many instances, their advice as to how their school might be improved, reveal a great deal about themselves.

One question posed was whether or not the school ran efficiently.  ‘Far too efficiently,’ said one boy.  One is left wondering if that was a compliment or not.

‘Give two words which sum up Wynberg’ was another request. The first stone cutters were out in force:

‘Short Hair,’ was one reply.  I bet he has a number of war stories to tell.

‘Nothing at all.’  Presumably he wasn’t that good at Maths either.  Two words were all that was requested.

‘Doughnuts / Juice.’   Well, I am glad Founders’ Day meant something meaningful to him.

At the other end of the spectrum, were the third stone cutters:

‘Respecting others.’

‘Excellence in Difference.’

‘Creating Real Men.’

‘Lifelong Friends.’

‘What message would you give the 2016 matrics?’ gave the two of the ‘first stonecutters’ an opportunity to state what they felt:

‘Good luck and get out while you can.’

‘Kiss up. That is what the teachers want.’     I love adolescent boys – they keep you honest….

In answering the question above, the ‘second stonecutters’ were also evident:

‘Do your projects in Term One – especially EGD!’

‘Get enough sleep.  Sleeping in class has consequences!’

‘Matric is like a lion.  Approach with caution.’  

In answering the question: What do you enjoy most about the school?, most comments revolved around sport, extra-murals and friends. Some comments showed insight.  I particularly enjoyed the insight of one boy who said:  ‘The person I have grown up to be.’

The ‘third stonecutters’ were fortunately far in the ascendancy and many comments about ‘making a difference’ and ‘leaving the school a better place’ were in evidence.  A number referred to the opportunity of assisting their Grade 8 buddies through their first year at high school.  ‘I thought that our Grade 8 hike was good, but the hike which we did with the Grade 8’s when we were matrics, was even better.’

Thank heavens for the Cathedral Thinkers in our midst.  They realise that this school is more than an institution. Not only does it evoke a sense of permanence, but it continually reminds us of a vision so strong that it will continue over time. The Cathedral Thinkers realise that a good school is a source of inspiration enabling others to aspire and visualise beyond their own brief tenure at the school so that they can also leave a legacy which future generations will experience and appreciate.

I am not sure which one of the three stone cutters this boy is when he responded to the question: Did you feel comfortable talking to your Headmaster one on one?

His response could be echoed by schoolboys of every era:  ‘Oh, yes – except when I was in trouble.’

Joanna, Ganja and Steel Bands

It was Kirsten Marshall who can really take the credit for the formation of the Wynberg Steel Band. The school was on cricket tour in Barbados taking part in the Sir Garfield Sobers International Cricket Tournament and it was a day off for the team.  We were lounging around the hotel’s swimming pool – the boys were talking and tanning while Dave Russell and I were reading.  There were a number of other hotel guests around the pool, including a young, nubile Argentinean lass, who was attracting the lascivious attention of our hormone-charged cricket team.

Barbados 1994

Opening bowler, Kirsten Marshall, led the attack.  It was difficult to concentrate on reading while he was turning on the charm with a patter of inane comments. 

‘So where are you from then?....  Argentina?  I love Argentina....Don’t you play soccer there?.... No, we are not Americans…. We are from Cape Town…  Where is it? …..  It is quite near Argentina, but at the bottom of the next continent…’

I couldn’t take it anymore.  I closed my book and suggested to Dave Russell that we forego eavesdropping on these fumbling teenage conversational attempts and spend the afternoon walking around Bridgetown, the capital of Barbados, which was about five miles from our hotel.

It was always fun to walk along the noisy quays of the yacht basin of Bridgetown. The stalls and shops and people were a riot of colour.   We were browsing through t-shirts when I heard it.  I had never heard a steel drum before and, leaving Dave to enjoy his shopping, I followed the melodic sounds to find a solitary drummer, wearing a beanie of Jamaican colours, enthusiastically thumping out the reggae tunes of Bob Marley.  I sat down to listen at a nearby table.

I was still there half an hour later when he took a break.  Somehow or other, we caught one another’s eye and he wandered over to me. Perhaps he recognised a fellow musical artiste?

I was brought down to earth.

‘Would you like some ganja, mon?’ he drawled in his thick West Indian accent.

I thought I hadn’t heard him properly.

‘Would I like what?’

He proceeded to tell me, in some detail, about the quality of his merchandise. I was quite put out.  I had come to listen to his expertise on the steel drum – not to take part in some seedy drug deal. Stammering some inaudible excuse, I fled back to the hotel, stopping only to buy a CD of steel drum music on the way.

Roll on six or seven years. I was now Headmaster of Wynberg and had flown up to Grahamstown to participate in the annual Conference for Headmasters of Boys’ Schools.  It was being hosted by Peter Reid of Graeme College and during one of the breaks, as is the wont of visiting Headmasters, I wandered around the school to feel the vibe of the place. I then heard that unique sound again…. the exciting pulsating rhythm of steel drums emanating from a nearby room.

Steel Band performance, 30 October 2015

I followed the sound and it was a sight to behold. About fifteen boys were playing and dancing while they made music.  I was mesmerised.  Fortunately I wasn’t offered anything untoward this time and watched the group with fascination.  I later engaged the music teacher in conversation and soon found out that the manufacturer of steel drums in South Africa worked very near the school in Grahamstown.

I bunked the next session at the conference, borrowed a car and tracked the manufacturer down.  He tempered my enthusiasm by giving me good advice.  ‘Before you buy, first see if your boys like the concept.  I can put you in touch with a steel drum teacher in Cape Town, who will bring his own drums to practices at your school.’

And so it proved. Peter Catzavelos, always available to try something new, did not need much persuading to be manager of this new and exciting group of musicians.  Every Tuesday evening for a number of years, Kenny Gibe arrived with his trailer of drums and the coaching sessions took place in the front car park – right outside my office. The neighbours of Wynberg have had their patience sorely tested as generations of schoolboys have regaled them over the years with their early faltering (and stuttering) musical offerings as they struggled to master the bugles in the cadet band, the pans of the steel drums and, of late, the bagpipes in our newly formed pipe band.

Wynberg's Junior Steel Band

I remember the first weeks of the Steel Band with less than fondness.  ‘Amazing Grace’ was the first tune learnt by our pipers this year and it sounded positively like a Carnegie Hall virtuoso performance compared to those initial Steel Band rendition of ‘Give me Hope, Joanna’.  Those early performers in the parking lot were not able to read music and painstakingly followed the diagrams on the pan without any regard to rhythm.  The result was stiff, stilting and excruciating:  ‘Gi-ve-me-ho-pe-Jo-an-na’.

I recalled the injunction of Ben Zander, conductor of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra, that true musicians move their ‘cheeks’ in time with the music:  ‘You can’t sit or stand still when making music,’ he said to us in the audience at Artscape one year when he was out on a visit.  Following this advice, I used to  shout out of my office windows at my steel drummers: ‘Dance! Show that you are enjoying it!’

Rigid and inflexible, they ignored me as they needed every ounce of concentration to read the markings on the pan.

How to navigate the pan ...

As I look back after a number of years, I have been truly gratified to see how many boys have started off their musical journeys on those steel drums and graduated to playing in our Concert and Jazz Bands.  Now everyone who plays in one of our steel bands can read music and they have fortunately moved on from giving Joanna hope.  The Steel Bands now stand proudly on their own as musical features of Wynberg.

After two years of car park practices, three events happened which changed the face of steel drums at Wynberg. 

The first was the sizable bequest of a Wynberg Old Boy, Stefan-Rolf Nussbaum for the development of music at his old school.  With this money, we were able to construct a 150 seat theatre in the Alf Morris Centre with six music rooms attached.  We now honour his memory every year with our annual Nussbaum Concert, ‘The Best of Wynberg’s Music’.

The second event was the attendance of Charles MacGregor, a long-standing friend from my own schooldays, and his wife Trish, at the first Nussbaum Concert. Both were captivated and enthralled by the Steel Band performance on that night. They offered to pay for the manufacture of our own steel drums which has resulted in future generations of Wynberg musicians enjoying the privilege of learning a different genre of music. 

The third significant event was the arrival of a young boy at Wynberg who had come from the Junior School. He was besotted with music – in all its forms.  The Steel Band was another musical avenue for him to explore.  By the time he was in Grade 11, Keenan Oliphant, was teaching and coaching the boys himself. He offered his services to the school after matriculating and, under his tutelage, we now boast a steel band for every Grade.  Traditionally, the first performance of the Grade 8 band is at Grandparents’ Day in September. Grandparents are about as appreciative an audience as any aspiring musician could ever hope for. Wynberg Steel Bands now play at a variety of events around the Peninsula and have been heard as far afield as Greyton, Hermanus, Ceres, Franschoek and Clanwilliam.

Keenan has now also started an annual concert (in the Nussbaum Theatre, of course) to display the talents of his five Steel Bands.  I sat through the recent performance and could not help thinking back to that Bajan wharf and the journey which the succession of Wynberg Boys’ High School steel bands has undergone since that early idea took root.

Wynberg's Senior Steel Band

I am pleased to note that Wynberg music has progressed beyond Joanna and that she has now been dispatched to the dustbin of musical history at the school.  It is wonderful to see that the current boys have the ability and expertise to play a wide variety of tunes reflecting the full spectrum of classical, modern and pop music.

At this recent Concert, I was astounded by the rendition of the theme tune ‘The Mission’ as executed by the Matric Steel Band.  They interpreted it with a sensitivity and feeling which belied their years.  Dancing and moving those cheeks like seasoned professionals, they finished off the evening by going back to the populist roots of steel drums and playing ‘Like a Wrecking Ball’ by Miley Cyrus.

Wrecking Ball

It was enthusiastically received by the audience – none more so than by the appreciative members of other steel bands standing in the wings watching their more accomplished compatriots turning in a breath-taking performance.  Clapping and weaving, they snaked their way down the aisle collecting members of the audience (mostly young and female) into their group.  What an atmosphere!  The band fully deserved their well-earned standing ovation at the conclusion of the evening.

Thank you, Mr Ganja Man.   If you are still around on that Bridgetown wharf, I am giving you advanced warning that we are planning to send the Wynberg 1st Cricket team back to Barbados in 2017.  I would just ask, though, that you refrain from playing them ‘Give me Dope, Joanna’.