Yes, his name was Piet K….., we never questioned it, but my father said that was his family name for generations. He was a short, wiry very black man.Piet was also a kind,patient man and we all loved him. He was part of our lives.Piet worked as my father’s assistant at the huge power station that belonged to Randfontein Estates mine.
The artisans that worked in the big workshop each had his own workbenchand assistant.They were responsible for the maintenance of all
the electricity on the mine. My father was a fitter and turner then and he trained Piet to work with him.They were a great team, spending a lot of time together as they often worked overtime. The artisans also took turns to be on standby so when there was an emergency.the one on the timetable would get a call out We did not have a phone at the time and Piet sometimes pitched up late at night to get my dad.
My mom gave them tea and the two men would set out on their bicycles. My dad bought Piet’s bike one Christmas. Piet was so happy, his teeth flashed white against his skin;he could not stop smiling. I have never seen him so chuffed! He looked after his bike as if it was a grand car!
I remember when he came to the house how my brothers would hang around jhim, admiring, chatting about the bicycle PiI let would give them lifts on the pillion, riding up and down the back alley while he waited for a note or some food to take to my dad.
My father looked after Piet,he gave him clothes, even a jaunty cap.
Once a year he would get new overalls and a pair of boots.
Come a Christmas time, my dad would buy him a box,similar to ours, of sweets straight from the factory for his kids.We never saw the kids, but he always talked about them. My father also went to work on his bike, using a footpath in a huge piece of veld.
The power station was within walking distance.Sometimes when my father, most people called him Bill,had to work on
Sunday. Mom cooked a huge dinner and we would walk along the footpath ,taking it to them. Piet K also got a plate of food.There would be a flask of freshly brewed tea.
When Piet or his family was I’ll, Mom would see to it that the got medicine.
Dad smoked a pipe,using Boxer tobacco,so Piet also got a pipe and tobacco.x
When we had a crisis, Piet was involved somehow, taking messages, hovering on the background.
Piet K…. was very much apart of our lives and I still remember him with great fondness…as I would a favourite uncle..