Tributes to Cynthy, Mummy, Granny
GOOD AFTERNOON EVERYBODY.
I got so many things that I can share about Cynthy an myself, but I will only share a few. It is almost impossible to know where to start.
'N hele klompie jaar gelede, soos gewoonlik vroeg een oggend bel CYNTHY vir my (toe bly sy nog in Duiwels Piek) Die eerste ding wat sy vir my vra is, slaap jy nog, die kreef loop al in die strate rond.
Ek vra toe vir haar, vir wat se nonsies bel bel jy my, sy se toe dat Geraldine haar nou net uit Jo burg gebel het en gese dat sy dit op die TV gesien het. Ek vra toe vir haar…( weet jy waar Elands Baai is) sy se toe dat daar baie karre uit die kaap Elands Baai sal wees, ons volg net vir hulle.
Ek staan toe maar op en gaan maar na Cynthy toe, want as ek dit nie doen nie, sal ek nooit die einde hier van hoor nie. Toe ek daar kom het Cynthy al reeds pad kos in gesit en vir die eerste keer was sy reg om te ry. (Cynthy was mos altyd laat). Sy wil toe met haar motor gaan maar ek se toe vir haar, jy kannie kreef in jou motor laai nie want jou motor gaan ene kreef stink. Ek sal maar met my bakkie ry.
Ek sal nie nog uitbrei op hoe ons in Elands Baai aan gekom het nie. Toe ons uitendelik op Elands Baai kom en sien hoe baie kreef uit geloop het. Ken vir Cynthy, sy vra toe dadelik vir my of ons sommer die bakkie gaan vol laai. Want sy weet nie wie almal moet kreef kry nie, sy was baie ontevrede toe ek nie die bakkie wil vol laai nie.
As my foon soggens lui en ek sien dat dit “PRIVATE NUMBER” is dan weet ek dat dit Cynthia is. Kan jy vir my KALK BAAI toe neem… en tel sommer vir STELLA op. Ek se dan vir myself steek a paar extra rande in jou sak,want as ons in KALK BAAI kom en daar is vis dan koop sy vis en nog vis, as dit by betaal tyd kom ,soos gewoontlik, het sy nie genoeg geld op haar nie. (MERVYN betaal die difference, sy weet nie eers of ek geld op my het nie) ek sal weer jou geld gee.
'N PAAR DAE LATER.
Mervyn kan jy vir my Piketberg toe neem ek wil gaan vleis koop. (Tel sommer vir STELLA op) ek se dan vir haar dat die prys van vleis somtyds goed koper in die KAAP is, dan se sy vir my dat dit free ranch skaap vleis is, en as daar nie vleis is nie dan het ons darem u outing gehad.
'N PAAR DAE LATER
“Ek moet hospital toe gaan om my bloed te laat toets”…tel sommer vir STELLA op. As sy klaar by die hospital is en in die motor klim se sy, ek wil go Wynberg toe gaan om skoene tekoop. (ek sal nie verder daaroor uitbrei nie.
'N PAAR DAE LATER
Dan weer Mervyn kan jy vir my MAMMA COS toe neem ek wil gaan wol koop….. (tel sommer vir STELLA op) by MAMMA COS het sy u stoeljie waarop sy gaan sit en geese's met almal, want almal ken haar. Nou moet jy maat wag, jy is gelukig as sy onder u uur daaruit kom.
'N PAAR DAE LATER
Dan weer ek will Kenilworth gaan (klere winkel toe en slaghuis) by beide winkels het sy u stoeletjie waar op sy gaan sit en gesels met die mense. As sy by die slaghuis kom gesels sy en die eienaar weer oor perdtjies. As sy uitendelik uit die slaghuis kom dan se sy die man het vir haar weer u paar tips gegee, meeste van die tyd is die tips 90% verkeerd. Ek se altyd vir haar as daai ou vir jou perd gee en hy se vir jou die perd is 10 to 1 dan kom die perd eers 10 past 4.
DOMINOES.
Elke vrydag aand speel ons dominoes by Cynthy, as ons daar kom dan se ons dat ons nie vanaand laat huis toe gaan nie. As ons die laaste boom gespeel het dan se Cynthy speel nog u boom en dan weer u laaste boom, as jy vir haar se sy moet gaan rus of slaap dan se sy ek kan more heeldag rus. As jy weer vir jou kom kry is dit twaalf uur.
Mervyn.
From Thelma M. Pinto
This is difficult to write for obvious reasons. Each of us has a special relationship we think needs to be mentioned. I will limit this memorial to one incident. It was late afternoon on Friday, July 31, 1981. We (James, Rayner, Mondli and I) arrived at Salisbury (now Harare) airport after having been travelling for almost a whole day from Amsterdam. As we stepped off the plane on the tarmac and looked up there you were (Cynthia and Geraldine) waving from the balcony.
This was a magical moment. This was the first time Rayner and Mondli were in Africa. Finally they saw family members they only knew from memorizing their names from photographs. We had no prior knowledge that Cynthia would be here. We only knew that Geraldine would meet us at the airport. I had been sent to Zimbabwe by a Dutch NGO (Novib) to set up a women’s educational center for female ex-combatants. Geraldine joined me in Zimbabwe the year before when I came as a consultant on a fact-finding mission.
As Melfort Farm, our destination, was forty kilometers north of Salisbury we decided to have dinner before we left the city. Although we could all fit into the station wagon we found it risky to leave it parked in front of a restaurant with all our luggage visible. Geraldine suggested that she call to find out if it was okay if she brought us to their residence which was the ANC house in Ashdown Park. We stopped briefly to pick up take-away dinners and drinks. We were warmly welcomed by Joe Gqabi, the ANC Chief Representative in Zimbabwe. We were happy to see everybody and talked excitedly about our own struggle. During the parking of the car it was noticed that the outside lights were not working. While the men fixed the lights, we put the food and drinks out. This felt like a real homecoming indeed! We toasted to our freedom and sang Nkosi Sikelel’iAfrika while we took pictures of this historic occasion. We were overwhelmed to be back in Southern Africa after 14 years. We knew that our turn to really return home could not be very far off.
(Family reunion in Salisbury, with Joe Gqabi on the right)
We left for Melfort as it became dark, maybe around 9.00 pm. Joe walked us to the car and said good-bye to the children too. He picked the almost 5 year old Mondli up in his arms and said to him “what is a big boy like you doing with a bear?” Mondli responded in typical Dutch fashion, by explaining to him the reason he had brought this huge teddy bear to Zimbabwe. “The last time I went away and left the bear at home, when I returned the bear had become so much smaller”. Joe smiled knowingly as he helped Mondli in the car. Cynthy decided to accompany us and maybe stay the night in Melfort as we had so much catching up to do.
James and the boys went to bed immediately while Cynthy and I sat down and talked for hours until the early hours. They had made beds for us so we could literally just go to sleep. I woke up with a start the next morning with Geraldine standing in our bedroom. I was totally confused wondering who let her into the house. Her first words said in a whisper made both James and I jump out of bed; “They assassinated Joe last night!”. Horrified we rubbed our eyes and could not fully grasp the enormity of the message. She described how they found him sieved with bullets from three sub-machine guns discarded at the scene. This was like a complete horror movie.
Immediately everything looked different and the future looked bleak and frightening . Cynthy decided to return to Salisbury with Geraldine to help with the many difficult issues. This was not death, but a slaughter. Fortunately they had a minister they knew so that they could start the process of informing Joe Gqabi’s family. Gradually we came to the realization what it meant to be in a war zone. The curtains at the huge windows like our Dutch passports did not seem sufficient protection against sub-machine guns. We felt afraid and extremely vulnerable.
We were hardly dressed when two men knocked at the door introducing themselves as detectives and asking to speak to me. They said they had to ask a few questions because we were the last people to see Joe Gqabi alive. The hat which was found at the scene of the crime belonged to James. We assumed that it must have fallen out of the car when we left. This was a surreal experience to put it mildly. It felt like an old-fashioned thriller. From the questions it became apparent that the detectives thought that we could be implicated in the assassination. They wanted meticulous details of our travel plans. When did we decide to come? Who knew about the details of our plans. Slowly it became clear that they were only concerned about Geraldine’s involvement in the plans. This became more frightening because of the two young children with us. From the way they were questioning us it became clear that these detectives could be South African police. Why would the South African police be running the investigation into a political assassination in newly independent Zimbabwe?
Whereas we were too afraid to attend the funeral because we had just arrived, it was Cynthia who attended the funeral. She was the bravest of us all. She was aware of the political implications on her return to South Africa as her very presence would be interpreted as a crime. What Cynthia’s actions showed was her courage and determination. We were so afraid that we looked under the car each time we parked in the street somewhere. Geraldine sensed our distress and said quietly, “Aunt, you have to remember that in all wars there are casualties”.
All we could surmise later was that our arrival at the ANC house that evening may have saved Geraldine’s life. The killers who must have been watching the house could not have expected this whole party including young children at Ashdown Park that evening. Cynthia returned to South Africa a few weeks later. We remained on in Zimbabwe until August 1982.
I’m here to say thank you, Cynthia, for being yourself, a kind, nurturing and generous oldest sister,
RIP.
Bilthoven 17/06/2020
From George Joseph
I will never forget the first time I met Cynthy, on August 8, the day before South African Women’s Day, 2000. I had come to South Africa to continue a new courtship with Thelma. It was a last-minute decision. I really did not know what to expect. Cynthy drove Thelma to pick me up at the Cape Town airport. When Thelma introduced us, Cynthy held out her hand to me but other than that, she looked away in stone silence.
As I got to know Cynthy, things changed. According to Thelma, since I come from America my politics and ideology were important. Only after she thought I was o.k., did she speak to me. Subsequently, we had fun times with Cynthy. She danced at our wedding. Every time we returned to South Africa, the thought of seeing Cynthy was always a special part of our anticipation. With her sense of hospitality, she knew how to be the calm center of game nights and other family events. Being a morning person, I had a difficult time staying up until 5 a.m. much to Cynthy’s bewonderment. “Why does he get so sleepy”! she once asked. We loved going shopping with Cynthy, be it on the Waterfront or in one of Cape Town’s fancy malls. By the way, she could not understand why New York had so many dingy little stores. We tried in vain to tell her that most New Yorkers consider them chic and charming. Always special, was going to a restaurant on the Waterfront or at Seapoint. Cynthy thoroughly enjoyed herself. She knew how to live. There was something joyous about going down to Hout Bay with her to scoop up 20 snoek which she would distribute to the family. Things were in perpetual motion around her, but she was our rock, our point of reference.
Cynthy knew what was going on and observed with a critical eye. Once we were watching a report on the news, and she turned to me to ask quietly, “Do you believe that”? That was of course a rhetorical question since it went without saying that the answer was “no”.
Cynthy was a force larger than life. On Women’s Day, we followed Geraldine on her tour to give speeches to various women’s groups. I was immediately impressed that one of those groups, disabled women, was one that Cynthy helped to sponsor. Cynthy’s reach on behalf of the community stretched across continents and oceans to the Netherlands. “You belong to a church, don’t you,” she asked. “Why don’t you ask the pastor to dedicate the takings of one Sunday to our children’s charity.” When asked about it, our priest, Father Bernd Wallet of the Old Catholic church said that a collection plate was not nearly enough, and that he would get back to us. We heard nothing for months. Then one day out of the blue, Father Wallet said that he had what was a quite substantial contribution to the charity. The church had received a donation, half of which went for the restoration of an antique that the Old Catholics had saved from Dutch iconoclasts during the Protestant Reformation. The other half went to the children’s charity. Father Wallet also offered to sell things made by the children at our annual church fair! We set up a stand with photos of the children and an explanation of their work.
Hamba Kahle Cynthia. Please put in a good word for us at the heavenly game tables of eternity.
From Geraldine Fraser-Moleketi
Mummy, today is about celebrating your life. I will touch on some of the difficult times and hope to balance it with the fun times.... and mind you, I still have a piece of the much vaunted fruit cake, the December 2019 batch that I will savour slowly with a cup of tea.
Reverend Chris Nissen reminded us on this Memorial of our Mother, that two days ago was 26 June South African Freedom Day and that on 27 June 1985 the Cradock Four (Matthew Goniwe, Fort Calata, Sparrow Mkhonto and Sicelo Mhlauli) were brutally murdered by the Apartheid Regime. It is a reminder as we are having this celebration of the life of Mummy that Freedom was and is not Free.
For us as a family, it appears that June, Mummy passed away on 14 June 2020 and separately June 26, is about death and life. Ma (Gogo) passed away on June 26, 2017 and on the same day we were blessed with the birth of Malachi on 26 June.
Today, it is important to acknowledge that Mummy was a different persona to different people. To some she was just a sister, just a friend, just a mother, just an aunt, and many just called her “granny” and to others she was Ma Fraser. At different points in time these roles were consciously and deliberately kept distinctly separate. It was necessary for the different roles she played and the circumstances at hand.
Our household was one where debate was allowed and encouraged on a wide range of issues. We would debate faith and religion much as our parents were deeply religious and active in different formations within the Methodist church. What was non-negotiable was a commitment to justice , equality, non-racism and the human dignity of all people.
As a family we believe, with the passing of my Mom, it is important to tell HERSTORY, “Granny’s” story. It is particularly important as we, as a country, are dealing with the scourge of femicide and gender based violence and we are seeing a global reaction to racism, “We can’t Breath…”. In our tributes today we share Herstory to avoid it being old by those who could never walk in her shoes and live her truth.
And in her own words when interviewed late in 2018, Mummy said “And so this is a story because this story shaped and affected my life and that of my children, and it will shape the lives of my grandchildren. This story gives sense to my world, all my experiences. It is the way in which I teach and explain myself, and so with it I can teach and explain myself to my family, and the larger community.” We hope we will do some justice in telling HERSTORY.
Our struggle, the South African struggle, was fought on different fronts, it involved many people both in and outside South Africa in various sectors of society. It was not only led by those at the front of the marches, by those who made the headlines, it included thousands and millions of South Africans who fought the battles at multiple levels. These struggles have not all have been recorded, and those struggles were real.
So, would I describe my mother? I would describe my mother as a “mensch” ( Oxford dictionary definition - a person of honour and integrity ) , “salt of the earth” (a representative of the best or noblest elements of society or “those who are considered to be of great worth and reliability” ), that was my Mother. She was tough, unpretentious, enterprising, no nonsense, one who knew hardship, who lived hardship, one knew pain both physical and emotional pain, and yet she loved life, and she loved beautiful things and good food. During the difficult and challenging days, she would say, “I am so scared” and yet she mustered the courage to take the leap to do the next thing and the next … that was my Mother, Cynthia Fraser.
Just one week, and one day ago, ( on 19 June 2020) Dr Allen Boesak (or ‘Boesak’ as he is fondly known), described her in the following manner in a larger context during his eulogy at her funeral,“…Who knows Klipfontein? Who talks about Klipfontein? There is this thing about small places in our country and that thing is that the smallest places may be forgettable places but they produce the most unforgettable people. It’s true in her life…. She stood in the tradition of those Christian activists like Albert John Mvumbi Luthuli who said, I am in Congress because I am Christian and I go into these battles taking my Christian faith with me”, that was Cynthia Fraser. Albert Luthuli himself comes from Groutville, at least he was born on a mission station close to Bulawayo, but he grew up in Groutville. She comes from Klipfontein. Small places, forgettable places produce unforgettable people.” I had never thought of my Mother and the former President of the African National Congress in this way before “Small places, forgettable places, produce unforgettable people.” To us Mummy is unforgettable indeed ….
How Mum’s political involvement was shaped and I will draw on her own words… :
“The union came from outside and organised the workers at the factory and my mother [May Pinto (Mabel)], she was an intelligent woman even though she had only a little bit of schooling, knew that it was important to be a part of this union. She was a shop steward. They started the union there because they were paid too little. She would tell us about the union and what was happening at the factory and about what the union was doing and how it was organising, like the first strike and how they went to court with that strike.
I think this is where I first started thinking about politics. But not really, maybe I just learnt about things without thinking what it really was, the workers and the owners, one had more and the other had less money. No, now I was not really learning about the ANC, more about the union and the rich and the poor. And we were the poor…”
She went on to say,
“… somethings [were] organised through the church like the Christmas club. Most of what we talked about when we talked politics and, what was the ANC was in the church, because this is where all the people we knew came together. All the children would go around selling Christmas club stamps, every week we sold them to people. You could buy as many stamps as you wanted to, you just had to have the money. … When the stamps were sold it was accompanied by pamphlets and newspapers, like the Guardian (banned in 1952) followed by The Clarion (1952). These were newspapers that raised awareness about what was happening in the country. We knew we were not free. Then when one newspaper was banned we would just hand out another. It was the 1950’s, and these papers were the only thing that gave us information.
Yes, sometimes I would also read the Clarion to my father. This is also how I learnt about what was happening, about the ANC and other politics”.
“I would read to my father … including about the Suez Canal crisis … My father would later talk to his friends about the articles that we had read…”
On education: “I often wonder if I would have been different if I had been educated. But I was not and I can’t change this. And anyway my brothers and sisters were and they achieved things so I think that this is okay! What must I say, I can’t change it. But I think this is why I made sure that all my children were educated, all of them, the boys and the girls. I, we, worked hard to send them to school, college and to university”.
“I remember driving past the University of Cape Town (UCT) with my husband, Arthur, my first son’s name is also Arthur, and looking at UCT”. “Let’s drive up the hill and look at the buildings of the university”.
“Why”?
“I hope that our children will come here, to this university.
They will! Ek is seker dat hulle sal hie’(r) kom.
And they did, Barry was the first, much as he did not complete his undergraduate degree at UCT because he had to leave the country but he graduated with an Honours degree at the University of Kent, in the United Kingdom, and Envir completed his undergraduate studies at UCT, my sons, they went there.”
Subsequently, four of her grandchildren went to UCT and one is studying at Stellenbosch university once an Afrikaner bastion. … A far cry from Klipfontein and from 1934 the year in which she was born and ‘invisibilised’ by virtue of her birth and the then Apartheid government, in terms of her gender, race and class which she would oppose throughout her life and live to see change.
As, Mummy, intended all her children studied and all her grandchildren either graduated or are studying towards the completion of their degrees both undergraduate and post graduate. They also understood that education is not only academic but also about life and lessons from the ‘university of life.’
Family support:
My mother reminisced in discussions, over recent months, about her stress after I went into exile… “after you left the country in August 1980, when I was coming home from work, on the train, I used to think, “I wonder where this child is now!” This would be the thought of many a South African mother who had a child or children in exile or involved in underground activities and were unaware of their where about or safety.
So, the 80’s was a period of “hunkering down” for my parents, and the nuclear family, because their involvement was no longer the public community work whether through Heatherdale, Helping Hands, the Guild, the Women’s Association ( with Mum being the President from 1978 - 1980) but to mention some, their role changed. They cloistered off even from extended family because their engagement changed. The danger was different and they tried to insulate and protect the family, their children whilst their roles also changed…
After a meeting between Rev Allan Boesak and Joe Gqabi in Harare Zimbabwe in 1981 he brought a message to my parents, unbeknown to me, that if they wanted to see me that would have to do so within two weeks or there about. My parents decided that my Mom would come to Harare as my Aunt was arriving in Zimbabwe, on July 30 having left South Africa fourteen years earlier in 1967, and that served as a perfect alibi for her travel. Boesak through Rev Begbie assisted with her passport etc. Just cryptically, their arrival coincided with the assassination of comrade Joe Gqabi and we can but merely speculate that this may have saved my life and that of the other comrade who lived in the Harare house…. More for another day, another time …
My mother next returned to Harare in 1983 around the time of Nothando’s birth and then the family travelled to Zimbabwe annually. Part of the trip to Zimbabwe was a family re-union and in part for “consultations.”
Today, Arthur will make reference to Mummy’s role in the underground in the 1980’s and into the beginning of the 1990’s even after the unbanning of organisations; the open surveillance of the 26 Rue Emmy, Glenhaven home …
As Gorky writes, “We kill everybody, my dear. Some with bullets, some with words, and everybody with our deeds. We drive people into their graves, and neither see it nor feel it.” And this very much captures that moment in time and in instances we see some elements of this today.
Reverend Comrade Chris Nissen said, on 19 June 2020, at the graveside when we were laying Mummy to rest , “there is a need for Operation Reminder…” He pointed to graves of comrades close by in the Maitland cemetery, including the grave of Tata Malinga reminding us of the people who made this struggle a reality … Let HERSTORY contribute to “Operation Reminder.”
So Mummy, we were not there when you drew your last breath. We don’t know what your last thoughts were but I hope among them were the words of Nikolai Ostrovsky, “Man’s dearest possession is life. It is given to him but once and he must life it so as to feel no torturing regrets for wasted years, never know the burning shame of a mean and petty past; so live that, dying, he might say: all my life all my strength were given to the finest cause in all the world - the fight for the Liberation of Mankind.”
Because you Mummy contributed “to the finest cause in all the world - the fight for the Liberation of Mankind” as have your children and your son in law. You were one of the millions in the back ground doing so.
Geraldine J Fraser-Moleketi , 27 June 2020
From Debbie Fraser
Our mom always tried to give us the best that she could, both in a supportive and an advisory way. She made us entrepreneurs at a very young age, in a bid to provide financial assistance to the house. We did not have abundant resources but mummy would always scout for bargains. These bargains were shared amongst her siblings as well.
I recall myself and Geraldine being dropped by my mom at the “kampie” in Crossroads and we would walk from the “kampie” to the “saaiplaas” to sell fish to some of the households. People would spot us from a distance and say “Daar kom Cynthy’s se kinders weer met die vis”. Mummy would be waiting for us at the end of the saaiplaas.
Our mother was the housemother at the state children’s home in Faura. She would ask us to assist in preparing meals for the children when staff members were not available. The community was close to my mom’s heart and she would look at different ways to fundraise for the community.
I will miss your daily phone calls and your sound advice. You always said “today it seems as if it Is a mountain and when you compare it 10 years from now it will be an anthill”. Your grandchildren would look forward to your visits. On your visitations you would make sure we always played cards and dominoes into the early hours of the morning. We were all very sad when you said you were unable to travel to Gauteng in December 2019.
I will cherish the moment when you were able to have the last dance with your children and grandchildren at your 80th birthday.
Our mom knew our strengths and our weaknesses and would give guidance. You always had a special bond with each one of us. I recall how before I started working, I had to attend Tod’s typing school to acquire the necessary admin skills. This would not have happened without Mummy’s instruction and encouragement. This opened doors for me into different workspaces.
Birthdays were always acknowledged with a phone call. If she heard news about one of her children or grandchildren, she would make a call and ask “why was I not told”. She wanted to kept abreast with news around her, mom constantly had the radio playing and was an avid reader. We will miss your stories and laughter.
We would like to thank you for the mother, grandmother and great-grandmother you have been to us. Unfortunately, you were unable to hold Khanyisile but thanks to technology you were able to see and talk to her. In frequent phone calls of late the new phrase was “How’s Poppie doing” or “What’s Poppie doing”. “Poppie” is going to know her great granny loved her and we appreciate the cloak that you made for her. I suspect it will become an heirloom for my future grandchildren.
We as your children will strive for you to get the recognition you deserve. Even though you are not physically there to witness it.
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From Arthur Fraser
Reflections on Ma Fraser’s Life as a Mother and Activist
My earliest memory of Mom was her defining presence.
Whilst it is a fact that she had a special relationship with each of her children, ours was unique in many ways…
Being chronic asthmatic as a toddler, my early memories of us, rushing to the Red Cross hospital on many occasions to seek medical intervention, remain crisp in my mind. From those early days, my life lessons were shaped. In this instance…. I could always rely on her.
As a young boy whose inherent nature was not to conform to accepted norms, Mom was very firm in channeling my energy.
Upon reflection I realise that she prepared me from a tender age for the harsh realities of life and demanded that I develop a work ethic that was not tied to stature - but rather grounded in strength of character that is forged in hard work and excellence even in the most menial tasks.
So from the early age of 13, holidays for me were dedicated to working on the factory floor - only she knew why sweeping a factory floor would be important for me…. So obviously, the next phase was when she volunteered me (at 16) to work on the long distance trains. That was my mom…
The truth is that my rough edges needed sanding, but I could always count on her support even when these rough edges landed me in a tad of trouble…
But despite her firm discipline and piercing eyes – for those of you that grew up on the Cape Flats, you would know that we called it a “panga kyk…” which clearly communicated her displeasure, we would often find time to laugh and share special moments together...
Her witty humour had us doubled over many a times… I already miss your laughter Mom…
I remember the day Geraldine left for exile (1980), when aunt Jenny brought the letter to my parents in which Geraldine had indicated that she had decided to go into exile.
It was then - that our parents sat us down and instilled an awareness that our conduct could compromise Geraldine’s safety.
I think that our extended family may now, on reflection, realise that our interactions with them during the 80’s became minimal, as we as a family unit closed in and became quietly active.
Our parents instilled in us a consciousness for the plight of the marginalised and disenfranchised.
So as I reflect, I have to pause and recognise that Mom impressed upon us: that discipline, respect and rationality would take us a long way, no matter our station in life.
During the volatile 80’s Mom and Dad readily reached out to other parents and families to provide support, no matter how difficult it must have been for them.
I remember on occasion, when Mom and Debbie would prepare sandwiches for families and supporters attending the court appearances of Comrades. Mom was ever active and present, but never overtly visible.
This was not unique to Mom, but formed part of a broader effort by many other Ma’s who saw their children being victimised, persecuted, tortured and even killed by the security apparatus of the Apartheid regime.
Mom however, seamlessly fulfilled the role of a surrogate mother to young combatants and activists who needed guidance and support that only a mother who understood the depth of their individual sacrifice could give.
What is evident now, is the deep sacrifices that all our Mothers of the Struggle made for this country and the broader disenfranchised society of the time.
It may be useful to recall that during the entire period of the 80’s the onslaught of the Apartheid regime exercised extreme repression.
During the mid to late 80’s we saw an escalation of arrests, tortures and killings by the Apartheid state that had penetrated our progressive body politic and underground structures.
It therefore meant that it became especially risky to be part of / or associated with any activity linked to the ANC.
Here I want to indicate that my unit was earmarked amongst others to be deployed for Operation Vula. Our Unit was given multiple tasks, including setting up a front company for operational and self-sustainability purposes.
To this end, we had developed a cover (legitimacy) for the business and secure guarantors in order to rent the required premises.
Mom and Dad volunteered to stand surety for this element of the operation, fully cognisant of the associated risks attached to these actions.
With the alias “Mother”, her house was used for underground purposes, with security protocols in place and on occasion, served as a transit point for Comrades.
I am also reminded of other assignments, including that of an active security operative who worked for the Apartheid regime. In this instance “Mother” and Dad, upon tasking, utilised their networks to gain access into the house of this collaborator.
Their access and reach provided breakthrough support to the Unit on this assignment, and provided sight of the intelligence apparatus and its reach within the ANC and progressive structure networks. There is much to talk about this and for the country to still understand.
I left the country on instruction during February 1991 when exiles were returning. This was done for security reasons due to the collapse of Operation Vula, as a result of large scale arrests.
Notwithstanding the collapse of Operation Vula, our Unit was instructed to remain in place until advised otherwise.
During this period, Mom became the “Postman” (the link) between the Unit and Comrades Charles Nqakula, Christopher ‘Bricks’ Manye and Geraldine.
It would be remiss of us just to celebrate our mother – when there are numerous mothers, to mention a few:
Ma Mjobo, Ma Williams, Ma Miya, Ma Mlifi
Ma Waterwich, Ma Konile, Ma Kriel and Ma Fransch, whose heroic combatant children paid the ultimate price….
With the unbanning of the Liberation Movements and the suspension of the armed struggle, the concomitant impact of these decisions affected operations and the funding thereof.
This had a direct bearing on our parents and their livelihood, due to their aforementioned commitments.
From this point on, my father had to draw on his pension and meagre assets to remain afloat.
Geraldine assisted to engaged the office bearers of the ANC during 1991 to 1993 to recoup the unintended losses suffered by our parents.
It may be important to note that at this point, the ANC was also struggling with resources and reimbursed them in part.
To survive during these three years, my parents decided to sell their vehicle and acquire a microbus to commute passengers (better known as taxi’s) to try and sustain themselves.
Mom and dad would transport mourners and Enver would help on occasion, from the Western Cape to the Eastern Cape just to generate an income, notwithstanding the escalation of taxi violence at that time.
It is important to note that the taxi violence in itself was a stratagem by the regime to destabilise black communities at the time.
Post the democratic dispensation, Mom seamlessly transitioned as you heard here today, with her focus and efforts to the transformation and developmental agenda of our National Democratic Project.
As I reflect on all the above, I have to say that yours was really a life well lived…
As was said by many today – “Mom, we will miss that private number…”
She took a keen interest in all our careers and always wanted to know how work was…
Mom was always concerned with the trajectory of the ANC and whether it remained true to its goals and objectives.
A growing concern of Mom was: “Why are the loudest voices unable to provide critically independent analysis, rather than their preoccupation to “Kow Tow”?
As Comrades, she challenges us on whether we are fulfilling our revolutionary objectives or how far are we straying from our North Star?
I am reminded of the quote by Frantz Fanon, who said: “Each generation must, out of relative obscurity, discover its mission, fulfil it, or betray it.”
As they would say in the Cape Flats: “Jaaaaa…. she definitely was not just a factory worker....”
We salute you, Cynthia Fraser! The mother that is ours, yet you so selflessly gave… We honour your legacy and a life well lived.…
Thank you.
From Barry Fraser
We come here to lay to rest the body of Cynthia Florence Fraser. I knew her as Mommy.
There are many emotions and thoughts that crowd our minds at this moment. There is the mixture of sadness at losing her presences and joy of knowing I was part of her story. Then there is the uncertainty of a world without her as one of its reference points.
The question I asked when thinking about her passing and this funeral is what is mommy’s legacy? As you know a person’s legacy is the property, money or wealth they pass on. It is our inheritance. It was not hard to figure out that mommy is not leaving us with a financial legacy. I asked my children what they thought was granny’s legacy and I would like Callum to share his reply…
I agree that mommy was fulfilled but she was never satisfied. While she celebrated the battles fought and victories won, she always saw the task still to be done. I believe this is her legacy.
Her legacy is a philosophy and practice of activism.
Her starting point was not based on an abstract theory or utopian fantasy, rather it was grounded in her understanding and insight into the lives of people. She did not challenge us with a theoretical problem but rather by pointing to our reality and asking is this the best we can do? Is this good enough?
She was compassionate but she did not end up celebrating the victims and wallowing in pity. Rather she confronted the situation with a call action, what can be done to prevent this situation being perpetuated.
The activism she embodied is an outlook to life that engages with reality through action to achieve a better future. Whether that be at an individual or collective level.
There was no great theoretical framework that formed her point of departure, however in practice her activism has distinct characteristics:
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It is not a hobby or fad, but a purpose;
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It is not for pleasure, but a willingness to confront and transcend pain and adversity for a greater good;
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It is not for an end goal but for progress;
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It is not for a slogan or banner but for a new and better reality.
Her legacy is a reminder that future progress is secured through;
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Critical assessment of the current reality, and considered and deliberate action to achieve progress
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Confronting adversity with a clear aspiration for a better brighter future
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Knowing that this can only be achieved through principled action and sacrifice.
I say goodbye to mommy, granny, ma, Mrs Fraser.. and I say thank you for challenging me to make my life matter in the pursuit of a better life for all.
Be that in pursuit of knowledge that will help enlighten, pursuit of justice or the pursuit of new opportunities and possibilities for a better tomorrow.
Thank You Mom.
From Erica Fraser
A letter to my Mummy with love from your daughter : Our mother’s voice
Dear Mummy,
Over the past two weeks there has been so much planning for a fitting tribute and send off that speaks to who you were as a person given the novel circumstances we are faced with. I know you would have been so happy seeing us together and surprised that there were no arguments either. With so much to say, where would I start? Perhaps with a few observations and reflections as the youngest daughter.... So here goes: For 18 years I have lived in a time zone that differed by 6 or 7 hours and yet I could call you at any time and be greeted with the same “Hello”. It was always a strong and steady voice that would quietly listen and ask probing questions before you shared your opinion, followed by “I won’t lie to you.” The fact that after 18 years I have not lost or gained an accent speaks to the foundations you laid. As tough as you were and as much as we disagreed, you were always the first person I thought to call, as a sounding board or to hold space for whatever I was working through whether that was how to cook duck or make sago pudding. On these calls we celebrated both the BIG and the small wins.
As I reflect on the times that you demanded the best of me, your support in raising Zoe is a testament to your mothering,love and care. I was never concerned about Zoe’s wellbeing despite being 8000 miles away because she was in your care. I knew without question that Zoe would be front and center of your life and that she would always have the best of you and what you could provide as well as my siblings. Despite your body becoming increasingly frail over the years, your mind remained sharp as a whip, you were an avid follower of current events and your philosophy of life was simple: work hard! Always do the best in whatever you choose to do, be honest, face up to the consequences, never give up “because spring and summer always follows winter.” You reminded us when we invariably faced challenges that “life is NOT easy”. You took pride in not having a fear of people (“ek is nie bang vir mens nie”) and encouraged us to always speak out for truth and justice not only for ourselves but our siblings and the larger community. Together with Daddy you lived an unquestionably ethical life and expected nothing less of us. You knew what you knew, and the TRUTH was what mattered. You were never swayed by doing what was popular. Daddy was the consummate diplomat, statesman and teacher whereas you unapologetically spoke your truth.
You lived your life through example. You had a stoicism and poise that carried you through times of adversity and grief. The only times we saw cracks in this poise and stoicism was at the sight of blood and your immediate reaction to us getting hurt being “ didn’t I tell you…” and subsequent hiding so that there would not be a repeat .No kissing of the boo boo here.. I will be the first to admit that I was never the fastest learner and always seemed to find myself having repeat performances of these and other life lessons followed by consequences. Along this vein of honesty while the adage that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger still holds true…. I will also admit it could make me feel pretty sorry for myself at the hands of Cynthia. I remember forming our first Trade Union around the kitchen table pricking watermelon skins and Barry being the Union rep. I remember strong negotiations on upping the rate for a big fat piece versus the thin, skinny piece and you relenting by differentiating the wages from 1 Cents to 2 cents a piece and us keeping careful count of how much we pricked.
Mummy, you taught us to close ranks when it mattered and do what was needed to do to keep our family intact and safe. You sacrificed much and expected much in return. I remember Debbie working to supplement the household income so that we could visit with Geraldine before Debbie also left the country. I think about the 25 hour road trip from Cpt to Zim, in a Mazda 323 hatchback, with daddy driving and later Arthur helping sometimes 4 or 5 in the back seat!
I remember Lionel Richie and Whitney Houston on repeat as we made this journey. That was a lot of Lionel and Whitney!!!!!!! And mind you we had to do this trip going back home with the same two cassettes. So I say “sail on Mummy”, the “Children are our future”.
Mummy you had an intuitive ability to read people and situations, your discernment of people and loyalty was second to none and kept countless individuals safe. My mind goes back to the night that Geraldine left the country and we all gathered in the “girls” bedroom. Unny was there and Aunty Jenny, Daddy led the prayer meeting. I remember a tangible sadness in the room. At the age of 8, I did not understand the gravity of what was happening and how this would shape our lives going forward, but I knew it was serious. We went on our knees to pray, I can not imagine what you and Daddy were going through at that moment as you turned to your faith. Your bravery and strength in the face of the unknown and during the political climate of the time is what legends are made of.
This has been a narrative that has remained a constant throughout your life. Last night, and the night before and the night before that I wanted so much to call you and share what we spoke about in our meetings, what the boys were doing and that Adam started a new job. I wanted to share the boy's grades and how the one
“who would forget his head at home were it not attached” is doing so well at school and that the other believes opening a school book 3 days before an exam is more than enough prep. I know you would laugh out loud and relate stories or make connections with one of us or one of your siblings. … So I will make time to sit, very very quietly in an apartment in New York in the coming weeks, months and years ahead, I will listen for the sound of your voice. I know what you would say… “talk to them don’t fight with them ‘ and I will roll my eyes. It is this voice that I will draw strength from as I continue to navigate life, guide and raise humans in a foreign country but one that is home to Adam and Liam.
Go well Mummy. What an INTERESTING life you have lived. How FIERCELY you have loved.
All my Love and Gratitude,
Erica
From Lyall Fraser
So where do I start........... lets start with two grannies, for me that was the beginning.
My earliest memories were this beginning. I had one on the hill and one at the bottom of the hill. On the hill is where my Granny lived. On the hill things were different, there were more rules, vicious dogs, afternoon naps and the first tastes of consequence.
It was one of my fondest memories having my two grannies so close. I could run between both of them though I mainly lived at the bottom of the hill. On many occasions one could see dust on the field between the two houses, this was me making a quick escape when things got a bit wild up on the hill.
I remembered there were always people at the house on the hill, familiar faces, people having discussions, Grandpa in the room and my cousins around. I understand now all the movement at that house.
Granny made sure we napped at that house, it was the bane of my existence and I resisted it sneaking out of bed trying to continue playing. I'm sure however it was the source of the significant pace I cultivated from a young age. If she got hold of you it was over, what over meant is not for here. Uncle Themba was slower than me. Keep someone slower than you close always in every situation trust me.
Granny was very strict hence I called her Mrs Fraser till I was 6 years old, so things were very formal for a while. She was your Granny from day one and that's what you called her.
Both my Grannies looked after myself and your aunty, who you call "Yanda". This was due to your Gogo and Gum Gum still living in England.
As I got older I understood Granny a little more. You knew she loved you, you understood the meaning behind the discipline. You understood why there was always something to do while you were there and why she said there is no substitute for hardwork.
I have many memories of sitting in the back of a bakkie being driven by Uncle Mervin to places around the Western Cape with Granny. I was dressed as father Christmas and was delivering presents to schools for kids that were less fortunate. This at some point Malachi you will have to do, when the time is right.
These kids would sit on my lap some of them really not much younger than myself and tell me what they would want for Christmas. All I could do was give them the gift we brought, which was much more than they had.
For me at the time it was just something Granny asked me to do, now I understand the significance and the impact she had and the small part I played through her. There is always a big picture Malachi and when you are old enough you get to see it. I remember moving back to Cape Town in 1998 and coming from playing rugby in Pretoria to a school that only had soccer, I needed soccer boots.
Granny took me to get those boots my parents gave the money and off we went. I think your Gogo and Gum gum were happy for me to get some new boots. Granny had a different view. Her view was lets not waste money, I was playing rugby we don't know if I can play soccer. She took me to a second hand store and bought me a pair of Olympic soccer boots.
These boots were probably R59 brand new in the shop at the time and for good reason.
I won't disclose how much that second hand pair cost, but that whoever owned them first seemed to bare most of their weight on the inside of their feet. I played a game and Granny came to watch, her words were " jy kan dan speel Lyall".
I never got the new boots that year but what I did get was a supporter that tried to watch as much as she could whenever I ran out on to a field and this went on till I finished high school. But after that I appreciated any shoe or boot that I got and made sure I looked after them, as those Olympic boots were always there waiting in the wind. In this day and age this lesson you may not even practically experience due to current circumstance but it is something you must understand.
She watched most if not all my home rugby games at Imhoff which was convenient for her, she was always pitch side there to support and my school was always ready to accommodate her, which I will forever be grateful. (As if they had a choice). I know for sure if she could she would've loved to support anything you did.
This support went on from the field into life and Granny was always there checking things were ok. You will hear about that " private number" later. I didnt want a 21st birthday or any sort of fuss. Granny wouldn't have it, she did something and I had 2 or 3 friends at the table. Feel free to tell me there is no need for a fuss when your time comes, you'll understand why I do.
The thing about Granny is that once someone meets her through her kids or grand kids you become one of those kids. This ofcourse if the person wasn't " vol nonsense".
I recall one Easter before your mom moved to Johannesburg she was coming to visit me. Granny heard and politely asked her if she would be able to fly with some pickle fish, the usual " I hope its not a problem", " ek willie haar pla nie Lyall, is it ok" was a Granny saying. Let's be clear it was just a saying!!. Your mom flew with the fish but was clear if it spilt when she landed it wasn't coming out the overhead compartment. By the time you able to read this you would've heard that story I'm sure and would understand that context in relation to your mom.
I remember your Uncle Kyle and Matthew saying they just saw Granny, they went to the shop for her or they helped her with something at the house, Granny could call on anyone and they'd be happy to do it. Whenever I traveled to Cape Town I had to build a stop in for a visit with Granny, she had a vast and wide network. Just touch down and not see her she would know, then you would know. Just hope you figure it out that she knew before you spoke to her. I accept that my relationship may have not been any different than the relationships that Granny had with other family and friends, but the way we got on it felt different and that was Granny.
Always whispering to me, sharing stories, her thoughts and hearing all those classic sayings I will not hear again. She had that laugh that was silent, shook her whole body and you could see her teeth briefly, I'll miss that laugh. You won't remember it.
She had relationships with everyone she came in contact with. I listen to Gogo and Gum gum friends, my friends and the messages we receive from people, feel that she had relationships with them independent of ours and its a testament to her, that was Granny.
Your Granny loved you. You used to sit and let her push you on her walker. It was something you did everytime you saw each other and you loved it.
Some of the things you won't get to do with Granny:
Pricking those figs
Playing with the Christmas geese before "Christmas"
Seeing her watch your games or activities
Getting you and other families clothes at factory shops
Taking a picnic basket of food into a restaurant because it was cold outside.
All of which I did and may not have wanted to but what I would do to being doing those things now.
I know Granny had a long life, contributed to the liberation movement, did things we may never know about, met many important people, had lots of family, friends and acquaintances, touched countless others in different ways.
In the end she was just your Granny. She loved dominoes, card games and playing them with your uncle and aunts and definitely would've played with you.
At this point in time you may not notice she is gone but very soon when the world begins to see some normalcy I know that question will pop up and I will have to tell you something that I myself have not accepted yet.
You can see your relationship with Granny in pictures and that will tell you all you need to know about how she felt about you.
From Njabulo Mbete
I will always remember Granny as the matriarch of the family, a person of principle and dignity.
I will also remember Granny as one who enjoyed new adventures, these adventures I refer to are our late night escapades to the casino spending time together. On a few occasions that we were at the slots we would discuss a variety of things that were pertinent to that time. This turned a guilty pleasure into a bonding opportunity. Granny understood how to find a balance and connect with me.
I was so looking forward to our discussion around which horse would win the Durban July this year, before COVID disturbed those.”What are your predictions Jabulo”; these discussions were and will forever be treasured.
I enjoyed experiencing this adventurous side of Granny that I feel that I was only getting to know. I will look back with regret and pain that I didn’t give it more attention to let it grow further.
I remember Granny for being invested in what was happening politically, and giving her view no matter who and what it favoured at any given time, her political activism never ceased.
We would have long discussions on the challenges facing the country and what we felt could be the best way forward, I will miss these so very much Granny.
The late nights of rummy, “los Baadjie voor” (caught with a joker on the hand) and granny always trying to take the card that best suited her situation in the game will be remembered fondly.
She is and was a mother and grandmother who was protective of her own regardless of any situation and time, which made us all feel loved and protected.
I remember granny’s daily calls with my mom most times, multiple times a day talking about anything that she wanted to share, these couple of days I have missed the phone ringing and my mom saying “Hi mummy what’s wrong?” “ What else do you want to say?” “Don’t finish your airtime I will call you back”, such simple but fond words that were shared between a mother and daughter.
* A message to my mom and her siblings. I know you did the utmost (best) for granny and loved her unconditionally regardless of the challenges we faced as a family.
I am glad that I was able to introduce you to the special lady in my life (Katlego) and was so happy for you to have embraced her and any new person that was introduced to the family so warmly. It is a character trait that I will remember forever and so, implement in my life too.
Granny was the one to share what was happening in everyone’s lives when we’re not able to connect. My question is who will be this unique and special person now?
From Themba Moleketi
A short story from the long one that I’d like to share…
I don’t think we ever understand our parents or grandparents until we are left to go it on our own. In my eyes granny was tough. Very loving but tough. Tough in how she appeared uncompromising or unfair when we were children. Tough that she was strict.
In hindsight, I get it.
What I thought was uncompromising, was her protecting us from the world for as long as she could. Granny allowed me to have a childhood in the late 80s and early 90s. She shielded me from the reality of the political tension of the time, unaware of how close to home it actually was. I was allowed to play, run, climb and laugh but only in the street in front of the Bellville house. I never understood why I could not leave the street like the other children. Even with her subtlety, which was probably difficult, I want her to know I understand. I now move through the world always knowing when to “stay on the street in front of the house.”
Granny was strict, she would send us to bed by 7pm everyday (except weekends if I remember correctly). For context, at 7pm in summertime in Cape Town the sun is still up, so some nights I fell asleep before sunset. For the longest time this made no sense to me, but it makes for funny telling today. But I get it. The sense of discipline and routine that instilled in me is irreplaceable. I have come to realize that accomplishment is not about being successful under perfect conditions, when everything is going right. A more satisfying sense of accomplishment is when you are ‘successful’ under stress, pressure or when you’re in the storm. This is only possible with discipline and routine to lean on. I want her to know I understand. I’m in bed by 7pm everyday.
Thank you for all you’ve done for me. There is so much more I could say but we’ll keep that between us.
Rest easy Granny, much love.
From Solomzi Moleketi
When I recall Granny I feel unconditional love & pure refuge.
It was always the home I wanted to go back to because I remember so many mornings where I just felt surrounded by love, warmth, & the greatest sense of family. I always felt home. I remember the floor being covered in cousins. You sparked my imagination with the stories you told. I marvelled at how you described people falling through chimneys and eventually when I grew older you were patient enough to listen to my stories about orcs and elves. & when I matured you were loving enough to understand my paintings.
I remember bottomless pots of pickled fish. I remember trifle, my favourite desert. Maybe that’s partly why I wasn’t ready to be there. I don’t think I’m ready to be in a Cape Town where I can’t run home to Granny’s house.
I remember after one night which stretched across Long & Kloof street ended somewhere in the middle of town I felt lost. Over the course of the night I lost my friends, my phone was stolen, as was my wallet, really everything went missing short of my ID. I knew I was in trouble. I didn’t want to go to my parents yet because I knew there would be no mercy. But, I never felt alone in Cape Town as long as I could get home. So… I hopped the turnstiles at Capetown station to get on the Metro rail(I do believe I still owe the city of Cape Town R9.50).
I don’t know how much I owe the city of Cape Town for the emergency stop I caused because the first train out of the station was an express train. I ran fast and I knew the way from the Rondebosch station to your house. Because if it is in Newlands, Rondebosch, or Claremont that’s where home is.
I’m sorry I introduced you to so many different partners. I thought saying “My magtag!” So often in our conversations kept your heart young. I promise to be better. One day I’m going to have that big wedding we spoke about & I know you’ll be there.
It was because you sat there making sure I studied that I got that distinction in Physics which surprised everyone, myself included. You believed in my potential even though so many people had given up on me including myself. And it was you that looked at all my paintings and asked questions when people gave up on me again because my wild spirit had picked yet another bold direction.
In one of our last conversations you said “we’re the same, we do things at our own pace in our way.” I’ve learned that is what makes us beautiful & brilliant. I love you, granny.
From Nyameka Mbete
There will be no more trips to the wool shop.
There will be no more fresh fish from Cape Town neatly wrapped for us Joburgers.
There will be no more fruit cake to last us the whole year.
There will be no more RSG playing on endlessly.
There will be no more dentures that need to be cleaned.
There will be no more picking of figs while trying not to get pricked.
Granny, as much as tears and sorrow cover us up like a heavy cloak, we will never forget the joy of what it was like to know you. As much as the tectonic plates have shifted we will remain grounded in your principles of love and truth. As much as the phone seems to have been taken off the hook we will reminisce about how we always stood in your kitchen because there was always something to be eaten or a meal to be made. You brought people together Granny. You are timeless. You are the evergreen wonder of our lives. Because of you, we are rooted as individuals and as family. Because of you, we are assured of the fact that we can achieve and overcome anything. We stand on the shoulders of greatness. We stand on you.
From Ayanda Fraser
Granny was stability when I had none.
She was strength and hard work.
Granny was hushed whispers under the cover of darkness.
She was the radio being turned up and dancing in the middle of the night.
Granny felt like bruised knuckles and quick reflexes, soft hands and rubbed knees.
She was big pots of soup, confyt and Christmas.
Granny was bursts of laughter and the echo of a slammed table.
She is the soft warning in my head.
Granny was routine and care.
She was an open ear when the world seemed closed.
She was the bed that could always use company.
Granny was the,” Don’t you think?”, “what do you have to tell me?”, “that’s what I’m saying” and “now don’t say I said” that was echoed throughout my life.
Anything I lacked I found in Granny. There was always someone to hear me, to see me and to support me, Granny was always ready to receive me.
I will miss dancing for Granny and spurring on her silliness.
I will miss her telling us that we were ‘streetwalkers’ and that we like ‘this doof doof music’
I will miss her folded hands and soft ‘hmm’ as she prompted me to tell her more
And her questions so many questions spanning many facets of life
I will miss Granny’s laughter and her quick-fire responses.
There aren’t enough words to illustrate who granny was to me and how we grew towards each other over the past few years but I will say that Granny is love and understanding. She is everything I needed and more.
From Bulumko Mbete
My most vivid, early memory of Granny is Granny preparing pizza with myself and Zoë in our Clubview home. This meal was very unlike a classic Granny meal, but at my young age I was in awe that my granny could make my favourite restaurant go-to meal! This lady was quite great in my eyes.
Granny and I often bonded over food. Roasting, baking, stewing. It was always decadent and indulgent. Granny proved that with love you can make a lot from a little. Granny your values and teachings were always reinforced by how you taught me your recipes. The recipes were always generous and provided sustenance.
You always indulged my love language of touch. I will miss doing your nails or putting lotion on your skin. I valued my time in Cape Town so much because I finally got to experience you as a mother (something I mildly envied about Zoë).
You were the axis of this family and we’ve fallen off balance because of this shift. In good time you will be the gravity in our step and the force that guides our love. The brightest star in the sky.
We love you Granny and will deeply miss your physical presence .
From Zoë Fraser
For nearly half of my life we shared a bed. You are healing, you are home, you are rest. You are the skirt that I hold on to. You are the strange dream shared from opposite ends of the house. You are the salt thrown over my left shoulder. You are home. Goodnight, girly.
From Sidney Fraser
Condensing what granny meant to me into a few lines is a difficult task. She represents so many different things to me and played very different roles in my personal development. One thing remained constant, offering me warmth, love and affection. There's just too many things that I loved about granny. The one point stood out for me was that she always wants what's best for those close to her (especially her grandchildren) and as long as you try your best, she would be your loudest and biggest cheerleader and proudest supporter. I always felt I just could not have asked for a better grandmother. My admiration for her is unfathomable. Granny was a wonderful storyteller and throughout my life I would look up at her in awe by all the accomplishments that she made in her life. There are so many more stories that I wished I could’ve heard and ill miss not being able to call her up and talk.
I'll love you forever granny.
From Callum and Harleigh Fraser
We will remember Granny for her warmth, caring nature and sharp mind. She was always elegant and her love of beautiful things was reflected in her scarves, clothes and home. We knew that Granny could be stern but what stood out was her wonderful sense of humour and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes when she laughed.
We loved that Granny shared our appreciation of good food and, particularly, unhealthy desserts. Arguably, she made the BEST sweet potato ever! But, unfortunately, she was also the supplier of our least favourite food - fish - far too often!
Granny, thank you for calling us every day when we were sick or at other times just to check up on us or to chat. You and your calls will be sorely missed!
From Dineo Fraser
When I think about granny I remember the long nights I spent up playing dominoes with her. Granny fills every room she enters with positivity and a naughty smirk when she accidentally reveals a secret.
I'm going to miss all the late night calls checking in on my schooling and wanting to know what I learnt and so on.
I'll miss the times Granny would ask me to come to Cape Town and keep her company. I'll also miss the times we laughed as granny watched me do chores around the house.
I'll miss making fruit cake with you or more like watching you make it.
You have made an impact on all of our hearts.
I found this poem fitting : Granny has ears that truly listen. Arms that always hold. Love that's never ending and a heart that's made of gold by Lauren Williams
We will love you forever xoxo
From Dené Fraser
Granny instilled in me a lifelong love of card games and with that, a very competitive spirit. We would always set out a specific number that a person could count before we would end the game and go to sleep, however, every time we would reach that number she would make it bigger so that we could continue playing. We’d often end up sitting around the table into the early hours of the morning, falling asleep in our seats.
Granny was always open to new ideas. Our generations were worlds apart in terms of our thinking, however, she was always open to changing her mind or listening to a new perspective. I have loved getting to listen to her stories and I know that there were so many I had left to hear.
I will miss knowing that granny’s presence is in this world as it was always nice knowing that there was someone out there who would only want the best for you.
I love you granny. Thank you for giving me the most incredible group of people that I am so lucky to call my family.
From Liam and Adam Johnson-Hill
Spending time with Granny always made me feel at home despite being a good 12.5 thousand kilometers from New York. I always felt comfortable with her and, in some cases, I was actually too comfortable like when I asked her how she eats breakfast without teeth or when I told her that I can’t wait to get older so I can be downstairs with my teeth in the bathroom upstairs. Whether it was losing to her in dominoes for the fifteenth time at one o’clock in the morning or being made to sing or dance for her I always felt happy because she was enjoying it. While I did not get to spend half as much time with Granny as the rest of you did when I think back to those annual three-week visits I have only fond memories with her. I only wish that, as many of you do as well, I was able to make more lasting memories like these.
From Ava Fraser
Dear granny I miss you and you will always be in my heart. I love you with all my soul and heart. I love you when you come over to our house so we can play cards and dominoes.
