Figure 13 - Much less of everything in those days.
The following photos are the only record I have of Barry and Helen's wedding which Gill and I did not manage to get to!!
Figure 13 - Much less of everything in those days.
Figure 14 - Barry loved horses!
.
Figure 15 - Kommetjie - Cape Town
Figure 16 - Jill Doug Mosey - Barry's wedding
Figure 17 - The Mob - Christmas 95-96
Many many Years ago.
Upon this river of Gods;
Our ancestors stole away,
In boats packed with pods.
They went across the current,
And sang their secret song;
To keep away the crocodiles,
And stop it going wrong.
The Albida Pods they did rattle,
And the Kigelia boats did glide;
As those jolly people sang their song,
And got to the other side.
The crocodiles were mighty cross,
To see their prey escape,
But the rattling of the Albida pods,
Had only made them gape!
For in the oldest of their legends,
There lived a giant croc;
Who preyed upon the other 'diles,
And swallowed chunks of rock.
He was a mighty length all right,
He floated like a cork;
And as he made his way along,
The other'diles would gawk.
The reasons no-one Knows for sure,
Perhaps he was so smelly,
And then there was the rattling noise,
Deep inside his belly.
One day all the crocs did gather,
To discuss what should be done;
They lay upon the banks of sand,
And in the warm ol' sun.
They spoke and spoke a very lot,
About what should be done;
And carried on lying upon the banks,
Soaking up the sun.
And so they gathered tightly round,
And made a plan of note;
To rid themselves of ol' Rocks,
Who floated like a boat.
No-one knows how they did it,
Those crafty croc-o-diles;
With stones they their bellies filled,
And on their faces - smiles!
Around and around the river they swam,
Grinning and eating stones;
Getting so much heavier,
But happier in their bones.
0l' Rocks he was very pleased,
To see such heavy crocs;
And he had a feast of them,
And then swallowed some rocks.
Well that was the end of him.
He sank like a stone;
To the bottom of the Zambezi,
Which became his eternal home.
His legend lives on this day,
You can still hear him boast;
As our ancestors before us knew,
Ol' Rocks has a ghost!
He says it in the swirling currents,
"You croc-o-diles beware!
I'm gonna come an' get you,
And lay your bones out bare!"
"I'll be back upon the river,
Floating like a cork,
Cruising where I want to,
And leaving you to gawk!"
"The rocks inside my belly,
are enough to make me sink,
And all that will remain,
Is a little of my stink!"
"I'll creep upon your silly souls,
And tear them to shreds;
And the only little warning note,
Will be your floating heads!"
"And maybe if you're lucky, crocs;
And listen to your Gods;
You'll hear my thousand belly stones,
Rattling like Albidia Pods."
"And riding on my back, oh 'diles,
Will be the creature Man;
Paddling me up the current,
Like no other creature can!"
So if you paddle the Zambezi,
Remember poor ol' Rocks;
He helped our ancestors,
Keep clear of the crocs.
Remember too the rattling noise,
Of the Albida's pods;
They are the real music,
Of the River Gods!
Barry Newmarch 24-May-1995
Our
deepest sympathies to all those of you who knew Barry well enough to really
feel his absence now. Especially to Helen and children, Damian, Kallah, Barton
and Ayla, our hearts reach out to you.
What made Barry such a pleasure to know?
Barry had a natural way of making one feel comfortable in his presence. Since
I can remember I've been drawn to his company. It was always a feeling of anticipation
for I felt totally at ease with him, not requiring any pretentious behaviour
to establish a great rapport.
The experiences we had as children and adolescents will never die - the memories
embrace all stages of growing up - some good, some bad, but most really naughty.
But all touched by the wonderful pleasure of Barry's easy-going and optimistic
outlook. He always gave one that warm feeling of being befriended.
How many of you recall Barry's "deep-in-thought-and-I-can't-hear-you"
mode? With a studied and seemingly vacant stare into the distance, he would
commune with his inner self, using finger nails to fuel the furore of inner
imaginings. Boy, did Barry have an imagination! Great ideas for solving every
teasing problem were his daily bread and butter. Barry LOVED electricity! This
means that he was very dangerous with it! He once handed me one end of an extension
cord. You know, the end with the plug on it. I took the plug by the pins ......
well how was I to know the mastermind had also attached a plug on the other
end ....it was plugged in and switched on! For a very short, jerking while I
was quite disenchanted with Barry.
Barry loved writing poetry. Our English teacher once commended him on a very
simple little poem
......a road is like a long, thin, blue snake.....
may yours be a good road, Barry.
May he live long in our minds and the wounds of loss be healed by the wonderful
memories he has left us with.
Goodbye Barry
Our love to you wherever you are now good friend...
Ed Gill Claire and Susan
Barry
will live on in our memories for a long long time.
I hope this document is received in the vain in which it is intended - an expounding
of the wonderful times had with a terrific friend. Keep this as a memento of
another perspective on Barry's life.
As I close on this collection of fond memories of Ba, many more little incidents
keep popping into the old head. Over time this document will be updated to reflect
further memories and characteristics of Barry.
Please forward anything you would like included in another issue.
I also need a really good portrait photo of Barry...
---oOo---