Submitted by: Nettie van Aswegen
I have a long beautiful story to tell, but I feel it is the right story, the right time, and the right place. It started in the ’80s when I was widowed at a very young age and moved in with my parents with my baby daughter. My father was an active golfer and he had this young schoolboy who worked as a caddy for him and also in our garden after school. My mom and I never really took note of this young man. In 1989 my father passed away at the age of 48. The evening before the funeral there was a knock on our door and there was this black boy crying his eyes out and handed my mom R50.
My mother did not want to take the money but my gran on my father’s side told my mom it is their way of showing respect and she must please accept. My mother, who had no idea about any of the finances, had financial people from the mine to sort out all the paperwork. They went through all my father’s belongings and paperwork and came across a cash cheque written on a monthly basis which was a large amount and with only “M. Kuzwayo – school fees” as description. No one had any idea what this was all about, and it was left as unresolved.
A few years went by and I was involved in the management of ISCOR’s outside businesses and one of the projects was petrol pumps. I had to employ 4 workers and after finding them, this man came to me and asked to work there as well. I was hesitant as I had my 4 workers, but something about this man, Mishack, made me give him a chance and he ended up becoming the senior attendant. ISCOR started retrenching and I started making plans to move on in life and to secure a future. I decided to move to Durban and start my own business. Still preparing the final groundwork before the opening, I received a phone call… It was Mishack.
“Mommy, I’m in Albert Street, please come pick me up.”
I was shocked. “Mishack what are you doing in Durban?” I asked,” and where are you going to stay?” “Mommy, I will sleep in the car, I am coming to work for you.” Now people that know Albert Street in Durban, know that it is a long street. I drove there with a car that needed to be pushed to start. I drove slowly down the street and then heard this calling… “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” Looking in my rear mirror, there was Mishack running after my car, suitcase in both hands, a hat and a jacket.
Well, Mishack started working for me and lived in the wendy house outside. He did so much for us – gardener, managing the shop when I was not there, and driving the kids to school. He did all the repairs at home, built cupboards, and even was our mechanic for the broken vehicles. The business did not go as planned and I had to close my shop doors. My brother has his own dental lab and he employed Mishack in 2002 as his assistant. Mishack soon brought his whole family down to Durban, building his own 5-bedroom house with a church.
“I made a promise to God that I will take care of his family for the rest of my life.”
About 5 years ago my brother and son discussed this young boy from the past and the fees that were paid. Mishack listening to the conversation replied, “It was me. I was that boy. The cheque was for my school fees and school clothes for my siblings. Your daddy took care of my family and was planning for me to go study before he passed. I made a promise to God that I will take care of his family for the rest of my life.”
Well, Mishack is still in our lives. He attended my 50th Birthday celebrations and was the bride’s driver for my son’s wedding. I am here typing my story while Mishack is inside building cupboards for my son. He is the most amazing man with a good heart and soul and my brother for life.
P.S. Mishack’s son was murdered a few weeks ago, but he had my whole family there for support, just like he was there for us.
