B J Roets - Eulogies

 

Ben was my knight in shining armor, he loved me protected me and made me feel safe and I will always treasure the memories of our life together. Ben loved his family and friends unconditionally. He had a quick wit and a wonderful sense of humour. Many years ago he delivered a forty eight toilet rolls to a company and one of the guys commented, “ I see we have a white delivery boy” to which Ben replied “ I wondered why such a small company ordered so many toilet rolls now I know its because they have such a big arsehole, working for them. I never tired of listening to the amusing stories he would often tell, about his young life and things that happened to him in the army.

The saying ‘a friend in need is a friend in deed’ he was that friend. Many were the nights I would wake up to the phone ringing and it would be a friend or a friend’s wife with some sort of problem and he would give me a kiss and be on his way to help them out. He was not a material man we could never have two of anything, if we had a second TV he would give it to someone who didn’t have one. He was forever lending his car out to someone who needed transport. Our house was always open to family and friends, he would invite a friend home and sometimes they would still be there months later.

We moved around quite a lot in the early years of our marriage, he would come home and say I’ve got a job wherever, tell me all about it and talk me into why it was a good idea for us to go, once he had talked me round he would leave to start the job and I would pack up and follow with the kids in tow a few weeks later. This must have happened at least a half a dozen times.

He is a very spiritual being, who read many religious books and took from them what was true for him. He wasn’t a church goer but believed in living your religion, just before he had his first stroke he was involved in spiritual counseling which he was very passionate about, but unfortunately he was unable to pursue it after his stroke. One of Ben’s many sayings was ‘Go gently with God’ so “Go gently with God my love till we meet again”.

 

by Marlene Roets

 

xXx

 

Thank you for joining my family here today, although I'm sure many of us wish we were here gathering in celebration rather than mourning.

 

My family is grateful for the love and support we have been shown by so many. Unfortunately, I am unable to be here today but my love and thoughts are with my family.

 

If a man's wealth were to be measured by the amount of friends they have, then my father was indeed a rich man.

 

As I write this it is Father's Day and I realise sadly that wishing him a happy Father's Day, Happy Birthday and a Merry Christmas will be some of the many things I will miss not being able to do any longer.

 

I will miss his friendship, his sense of humour and his guidance. The greatest gift my father gave my siblings and I was the ability to run our own businesses, to be able to earn our way in life without having to rely on others for a living.

 

Dad and Dion's shop assistant told them that that Dion was a kind man as he drank out of the same cups as the staff, and that Dad was a good man because he treated everyone the same no matter what their colour.  This must have pleased my father as he mentioned this conversation more than a few times -  But when he told it, the punchline changed to "I have been told I treat everyone equally badly"

 

I'm grateful Mom and Dad came over to visit last August and he was able to spend time with us.

 

I would like to close with a poem by an unknown author:-

 

Don't cry for me now I have died, for I'm still here I'm by your side.

My body's gone but my soul is here, please don't shed another tear,

I'm still here I'm all around, only my body lies in the ground.

 

I am the snowflake that kisses your nose,

I am the frost, that nips your toes,

I am the sun, bringing you light,

I am the star, shining so bright,

I am the rain, refreshing the earth,

I am the laughter, I am the mirth,

I am the bird up in the sky,

I am the cloud, that drifts by.

I am the thoughts inside your head,

While I'm there, I can't be dead.

 

Good bye Dad, walk with Murf, go with God, until we meet again.

 

by Sean Roets

 

   xXx

 

 

 

 

My dad was born in 1945 in Kimberly, he was very ill when he was born and they though he was going to die his father being a very religious man took him to the Dutch Reform church to be baptized the Minister wouldn’t do it because it was after hours, needless to say my oupa never set foot inside the Dutch Reform Church again. Here we are back at the Dutch reform church who have kindly held the service for us after 70 years so finally the circle is complete.

Dad’s family moved to Southern Rhodesia , his father worked for Murray and Roberts building the railway line between Wankie and the Vic Falls. So my dad grew up in the bush, his friends were Ndebele children, he wore a rimpy and the only languages he spoke were Afrikaans and Ndebele. His parents sent him to an English speaking boarding school at the age of 5 but of course he spoke no English, they also neglected to teach him how to button up his shirt or tie his laces. He was a very small boy so the bigger children would bully him, he very soon learnt how to fight and was a fighter for the rest of his life.

After school he did his apprenticeship as an electrician to please his father and went to work at Wankie Colliery. Dad was a proud Rhodesian who did his time in the war, he was still ready to dive for cover at any loud bang, well into his sixties.

He married his first wife Priscilla at the age of 22, they had two children my brothers Sean and Ben. Tragically she was killed in a car accident, she was driving, my brothers were in the car but thankfully they were alright. This was a very dark time in my father’s life and he was a broken man. Enter my mother who to use my father’s words saved his life. My mother had me and then my sister two years later and was a mother of 4 kids at the age of twenty, imagine!

When we came to South Africa my father saw the inevitability of majority rule and made sure none of his boys went into the army saying this family has fought in enough war’s that can’t be won.

My father spent many hours playing with us as kids and could often be found at weekends hidden behind a bush with a toy gun playing cowboys and Indians or with a sword being a pirate. He taught us all to box so that we could hold our own in a fight. In recent times he has been seen with his grandson light Saber in hand being a Jedi Knight.

He always wanted his own business, and during his life time had many. He loved new ideas and making different businesses work, his own and other people’s. He helped many people set up their own business or improve their existing business. He always believed the best skill you could give your kids was for them to be able to make their own living and all four of his children are self employed.

My dad and mom where married for over 43 years and were still very much in love with each other. I still remember him saying as we stood around the braai about a year ago him looking over at her and saying “ I really fancy that woman” He would often be heard to say “Your mom was the best thing that ever happened to me”.

Dad was my go to guy when there was a problem, as he was too many people. He had great empathy for his fellowman. He always saw the best in people and was generous to a fault. He helped countless people who had fallen on hard times get back on their feet. My father was not perfect, but as a whole he was the man I most aspire to be like.

A few of the things I learnt from my dad
Always have honour and integrity.
Do the hardest thing first.
Try to see both sides.
Always treat your lady like a lady.
Look after your friends they’re the most valuable things you have.

The last seven months since my dad’s first stroke have not been easy. My mother and sister have looked after my dad so well and on his behalf I would like to say ‘thank you’.

To his family and friends thank you for your help and support you know who you are. Also a big thank you to Maggie we could not have got through the last few months without your help, you took such good care of him.

To My teacher
My mentor
My best friend.
I love you and I’ll see you next life time.

 

by Dion Roets

 

 

xXx

 

 

Ben's Story

 

 

I have been asked to write a few lines about Bens younger years, here are those lines as I remember them. Ben and I had the good fortune to grow up in Wankie or to be more precise Number 2 Colliery or Madumabisa as it was known to the locals. We were best friends and spent most of our holidays together hunting and exploring the surrounding bundu, which began right outside our back doors. There were no restrictions on where you could go, no farms with fences, no built up industrial areas, just bundu as far as you could walk or ride a bike.

 

Life for us was full of fun and adventure, no TV, computers, iPads, Play Stations etc to distract us from having proper fun. We spent a lot of time riding our bikes. The brakes on Ben's bike were a bit dodgy and to stop in a hurry he would do a broadside kicking up dust and gravel, we thought that this was really cool and impressed the girls no end. I remember on one occasion we had picked up a couple of piccanins at the compound on our way down to the Deka river, we brought them along to help carry anything we shot or found of interest. They sat on the cross bar of our bikes and we then set off. On this particular day we headed for the Deka river on the old strips road which went over the Kamandama river. At one point there was a long fairly steep section where we could get up a fair bit of speed. As we came hurtling around a bend we came upon a huge troop of about 50 baboons milling around in the middle of the road. I managed to bring my bike to a screeching halt, but Ben knew he had no chance of stopping in time with the condition of his brakes and jumped backwards off his bike. The bike continued on at high speed into the troop of baboons with a piccannin hanging onto the handle bars screaming at the top of his lungs. Well all hell broke loose with baboons, bike and piccanni flying in all directions. Finally when the dust had settled we discovered no serious damage had been done and we all had a good laugh, and the piccannin had a great story to tell all his mates.

 

We often rode our bikes to Number 3 Colliery to swim in the pool there. During one of these trips we decided to explore a path leading down a survey line. The survey lines had been cleared in straight lines so you could see quite a distance ahead. The path was quite rough so the going was pretty slow, fortunately, as all of a sudden about 50 yards ahead of us this huge male lion emerged from the bush into the middle of the path, turned and looked at us. I don't remember a lot about what happened next besides finding ourselves back on the road going at least 60 miles an hour, leaving a bemused lion standing in a cloud of dust.

The local rivers were great places to go camping, as there were usually plenty of interesting things to see and water to drink. The Lukosi river was quite a decent size and from the Bulawayo road to Lukosi railway siding was about 14 miles. We got a lift to the Lukosi bridge and set off on foot up the river to the railway bridge and siding. The river is mainly sand with the odd pool of water here and there during the dry season so there was no fear of being washed away. After about 5 miles the river ran through a rocky gorge and here the water was flowing as it ran over a rock bottom. By now we had drunk most of our water, but were not worried as there seemed to be ample in the river so did not bother to refill our water bottles. We came out of the gorge and the river turned to deep sand with dense bush on either side and we were forced to slog it out in the sandy river. It was heavy going and hot work and we soon worked up a sweat and a good thirst, but there were none of the pools of water which we had seen previously. In a bend of the river we noticed that the river had eroded the bank and the ground was slightly damp. Being fairly desperate for a drink we set to and dug in the muddy sand with our sheath knives. After we had dug down a little way the hole started to fill up with muddy ooze leaking in. Using our hands we strained the mud through our teeth to get a drink, as Ben remarked "two chews to the swallow", but beggars can't be choosers. Finally with our thirst partially quenched we pressed on, only to find a beautiful pool of lovely clear water about half a mile further on. We decided that this was a good place to set up camp for the night. NOT A GOOD IDEA! We had set up our camp right on the banks of the pool, which was the only water for some distance, as a result we were kept awake stoking our camp fire most of the night wondering what animal, or animals were crashing about in the bush on the river banks looking for a drink. We survived the night and the next day made it to Lukosi railway siding were we sat and waited for the next train heading towards Wankie. In those days all trains had a guardsvan at the rear with seats for a few passengers. When the train finally arrived we hopped on and rode in style to Thompson Junction, only a short walk from home.

 

As I mentioned earlier the local rivers were a great source of fun. The Deka river had a good flow of water during the rainy season. One year Ben and some of his mates decided to float down the Deka river from the railway bridge to First Drift on the Wankie Zambezi road, a distance of some 10 miles. At the bridge at First Drift they had arranged to be met by another friend and get a lift home. For some reason I can't remember I was not around at that time so I missed out on a great adventure. Ben told me about it later. Each guy had a car tube to sit in and they just went with the flow, the river was not running all that fast, so it was quite a comfortable ride, half their luck!

While I am on the subject of First Drift I am reminded of another past time. Just below the bridge the river took a sharp turn and had over the years eroded a huge cliff out of the hill side. Below this cliff was a deep pool. We used to have great sport climbing the cliff and jumping into the pool, the challenge being to see who could climb the highest and jump. Ben being totally fearless always won.

Ben always showed an interest in wild life and at one stage went through a snake collecting phase. We got quite involved in this hobby, so much so that we became known as the town snake catchers and if anyone had a problem snake we would be called in. We built a snake pit in my back yard to house our collection. Unfortunately it was not totally escape proof and the occasional viper would go AWOL, much to the neighbours' excitement. One night we were on our way back from a movie at the club when we came across a massive Puff adder in the middle of the road. This was too good an opportunity for Ben to miss so he stopped the car and caught the hapless reptile and as we did not have our usual bag to put it in decided to put it in the boot of his car until the morning. The next morning we could not find the snake anywhere, we searched the car from end to end, but not a sign. For quite some time after that every time we used Ben's car we would poke around under the seats with a long stick before getting in, just to be on the safe side.

 

Ben was a great ideas man, he was never short of ideas on things to do. He was quite an avid reader and I suspect he got a lot of these ideas from all the books he read. He had a great store of sayings, almost one for every occasion. Some of the more memorable one's were:

 

"Sometimes I sit and think, most of the time I just sit"

 

If a friend was a bit slow in buying his round of drinks or whatever he would say "This time I'll fumble you pay"

If things didn't work out quite as planned "Oh well you can't be strong and handsome"

 

These are just some of the good memories I have of an exceptional friend who shared a lot of laughs with me. I know this is a sad time for us all having lost a friend, but the Ben I knew would want us to celebrate what a great life he had and remember all the happy times.

 

Go well my old friend until we meet again.

 

by  Mike Poffley

 

 

xXx

 

 

Hi Ben, I would say that I am sorry I am not there with you, but if we believe what you taught us, then neither are you - And you never told any lie that I know of, except MAYBE the one where you told me I looked thinner each time you saw me! 

 

I do wish I was closer to be able to boil a kettle or pour your ladies a Coke or an Appletiser though....  I know that words are precious little use at this time. No use at all really, but that's all we have to comfort, share & console each other with today.

 

I know this is meant to be a celebration of your life, it's just difficult to cross that bridge of loss and sadness again.  When I did it for my Dad, you were there.  When we did it for Uncle Tony, you were there.  Now you too have moved aside, and forced me and the children of your  other good friends to come of age, and grow up.  We don't want to.  While you were there, always a phone call away, we never had to.  No matter what the situation was, you were always very generous with your understanding, compassion and kindness.  You are so loved by so many.

 

You contributed so much to the lives of so many.  Speaking for myself, you were the person I could admit my frailty, confusion, sins and uncertainty to.  I can see your face in mind's eye after I burst in and dropped my latest bombshell....... Your expression wouldn't change, your voice would stay calm, and no matter what drama I was going through you would always listen, then ask what I was holding back, then hand me a drink, and tell me how to fix it.  

 

You were always on my side.  Never over demonstrative, I think the best compliment you ever gave me was,            "Clarke, you have got more confront than most good men I know."

 

I was one of the many kids running around the braai when I first met you.  You & my  Dad laughed away my scrapes, removed my splinters and reminded me I had spare fingers when one got jammed in a car door.  Later, you guided me through teenage angst, and stopped me committing murder.  You followed through by helping me through every real crisis  I ever faced, then you became my husband's best friend too.

 

Thank you for every time you made my father laugh, helped me make sense of the world, and for fixing every problem I ever brought to you.  Thanks for the lifts, the lectures, the wisdom, the understanding - and most of all, for the harmony you added to my world.

 

Thys says thanks for the fishing, the beers, and for always having a couch he sleep behind - (He declined, as Cindy gave up her bed for him because unlike you, he is OLD.)

 

Catch you on the flip side. 

 

Donna

 

xXx

 

 

We have tried to work out exactly when Ben Roets first entered our lives! It seems really weird that we can’t remember the exact date and year because he has probably been the most important influence ever in our lives! We think we first met him - and his family - some time in the mid 1980’s. He came over to England to help his friends, Ken and Lyn Skinner, with their business in Luton.

 

We quickly became devoted disciples of Ben and his technologies and philosophies - we spent many a happy hour solving all the world’s problems up to the letter ‘F’ (we were never allowed to go beyond ‘F’ ) and he changed our lives for ever! He has been a guiding light (a Mentor!) and a tremendous friend to us ever since.

 

We had a holiday of a lifetime in South Africa with him and his family and we are so pleased that he and Marlene managed to visit us for a few days in Ampthill only last year. Our thoughts and love go out to his family and we join them in mourning his huge loss to us all.

 

 

by

 

Peter and Jill Rose

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life's a beach .......

 

 

 

xXx

 

As I was sitting and thinking what to say about my uncle a flood of memories filled my mind. For 43 years I argued with him over religion, even while he was in a semi-coma after the first stroke. I think he would have been disappointed if I had given up “the fight”.

 

It was Uncle Ben who reconnected me with my Oupa, taking the risk of my mother's wrath. Because of him, I enjoyed more than a decade of my Oupa's love and affection. When my parents needed to immigrate here, Uncle Ben made it possible by giving my father and brother jobs. When my first husband lost his job, he shared his skills and knowledge so that my husband could start his own business.

 

On his 70th birthday I said to Aunty Marlene, “You two have a unique love”.  To watch the way she never gave up on him, right to the end, has been an inspiration for me.

 

My uncle lived a full life of love and I want to thank Aunty Marlene for that. In October last year, just one month before his stroke, we all went to dinner together. It was a wonderful evening with lots of laughter. When we went to the parking lot to go our separate ways, my uncle threw his arms wide open and said, “Jilly, come give your poor old uncle a hug”. He gave me tightest hug I have ever had. I said, “And now, Uncle Ben, I am going to see you in February for your birthday”. He just kept holding me.

 

As I got into the car, I said to Billy, “That was strange.”   Today I am so grateful he did that because he actually gave me a hug to last a lifetime. Goodbye Uncle Ben, I will truly miss you.

 

by Jill

xXx

 

 

To Marlene and Family,My Sincere condolences on your sad loss.To My Good Friend, Ben.We had a special bond from the first time we met, and saw each other’s vellies.From this moment on a very strong friendship was formed and you were often like a second father to me. (Our song – *Father and Son by Cat Stevens, which we sang together many times.)Every time we got together, for whatever reason, it was a new adventure for us, and created so many amazing memories which I will always treasure.I won’t forget to honour our agreement when Mugabe ‘goes’, and will share a drink with you on the Zambezi to toast the occasion.Thank you for the many happy times we shared.Farewell my friend.Till we meet again.

Jeff. 

( *checkout the Jukebox)

 

xXx

 

I read this in a paperback, and it made me think of you. 

 

 “I was not a great man whose history has been recorded for children to study in school. No bells will ring for me, no flags descend upon their mast. For I was an ordinary man, my son, one of many, with ordinary hopes and ordinary dreams and ordinary fears. I, too, dreamed of wealth and riches, health and strength. I, too, feared hunger and poverty, war and weakness. I was the neighbour who lived in the next house. The man standing in the subway on his way to work: who held a match to his cigarette: who walked with his dog. I was the soldier shaking with fear: the man berating the umpire at the ball game: the citizen in the privacy of the voting booth, happily electing the worthless candidate. I was the man who lived a thousand times and died a thousand times in all man’s six thousand years of record. I was the man who sailed with Noah in his ark, who was the multitude that crossed the sea that Moses held apart, who hung from the cross next to Christ. I was the ordinary man about whom songs are never written, stories are never told, legends are never remembered.” 

― Harold Robbins, A Stone for Danny Fisher  

 

For as long as your family, friends and their children live, your story will be told, Ben.  They are your living monument, and when we gather whether it be around a fire, via email, or on Skype -  you will be with us.  Our stories may alter with the years, as stories do.  You might get taller or have more hair, :)  but  they will always be true in spirit.  We will remember you the way you remembered your friends that left before you, until one day, it's our turn to join you guys.  Until then.....

 

xXx

 

Lake Mzingazi

 

​One weekend, Ben and Marlene visited us in Richards Bay.  The men, naturally, wanted to take a look at the lake with a view to fishing at some point.  I wanted to take the dog with us, Thys was against the idea because Sokkies could be a bit of  a pain really, but he gave in.

 

Marlene and I were enjoying the peace and tranquility of the area, generally taking in the beauty of the place.  The water was quite high, and lapped beneath thick bush then onto the sand.  The makeshift wooden bridge we stood on was right over a piece of road that had washed away in a recent flood.

 

Ben appeared behind us, and ushered us along.  Once we were away from the water, he said,

"I am really pleased you brought that dog with us, Clarke.  Crocs love dogs, and I have to assume that huge croc over there - and he pointed - must have been stalking Sokkies.  Of course, if it had been my wife he was stalking I would have had to wrestle him to death ......."  He had that teasing look on his face

 

Marlene and I stared where Ben had pointed but couldn't see any crocodile.  We tutted and shook our heads and rolled our eyes, men could be like silly schoolboys sometimes. THEN we heard a swish/ripplesplash  and spun around. 

 

We immediately saw that what we thought was a big tree trunk right below us earlier actually had eyes, legs and was using its thick tail to swim away from where we had been standing.  I have no idea how he spotted that croc from such a distance away, but that was typical Ben.  No fuss, no drama.  He would save your life in the same casual way that he'd hand you a cold drink. 

 

As we follwed the guys back to car, we heard Ben's voice on the wind, "You know Thys, I'm pleased that I never had to get into that water.  I am really quite fond of these shoes my wife for bought me.  If I got them muddy and smelly she wouldn't let me wear them anymore."

 

 

Thys & Donna

 

xXx