When Mike’s Dad was alive and used to come and visit or when we visited him and Granny, when grace was prayed, he always prayed the same Dutch prayer,
“Danken Vader vir wat ons eten, laat my nimmer U vergeten”
Translation: Thank you Father for what we eat, let me never forget You.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner, that prayer was prayed.
It rubbed off on me.
While we don’t say it these days, we remember it. In Dutch it rhymes. In English it doesn’t.
But it is part of our heritage.
Everything we have comes from God – let’s never forget that.
It was a good prayer, passed down to this generation, if not in practise, it stays in our mind.
Let us never forget God.
Mike’s Dad aka Grandpa, was born on 2nd March 1921. He was named Pieter Johannes van Niekerk. Johannes was very much a family name with both his father and grandfather named “Johannes Adolf”. He grew up in Kokstad in the Eastern Cape, before moving in 1927 to Pietermaritzburg. The one thing about Grandpa – he was mischievous. He was regularly in trouble and by the time he moved, he already sported a serious scar from badly cutting his wrist on a bottle and had broken his elbow. His father ran a meat supply called Kokstad Butchery. On Saturdays he did the rounds in the town to take meat orders for the following week. His Dad kept him out of trouble this way and rewarded him with a whole shilling. In Grandpa’s (also named here as Pieter’s) diary, he outlines what he spent this money on: 2d for a bun or koek, 2d for a cool drink, usually raspberry, 7d for entrance to the Rinko bioscope and 1d for chewing gum. Life seemed to go well until the force of the great depression hit the family. In 1932 they stood dejectedly on the market square behind the City Hall, Pietermaritzburg (old Victorian Coronation red bricked building which is today a National Monument). He was 11 years old. His father found a job in a neighbouring territory. His mother and two younger brothers went to an uncle. Pieter and his sister Lulu went to his maternal Grandfather. The family was split three ways until his father was settled in his job and accommodation could be found for him and his family.
His Grandfather was in his 90s and had been with the Voortrekkers as a baby. He was now married to his 5th wife. They cared for very well for Pieter and Lulu who went to school for 4 years in a small schoolhouse near by.
The old Grandpa (Oom Piet) had an interesting dinner routine. Grandpa Pieter writes in his fascinating journal,
“By 4pm Oom Piet would have moved indoors and taken up his place on the “riem bankie” in the ‘spens’ in preparation for the evening meal. An interesting routine is shortly to follow. At 5pm in winter (5-30pm in summer) “Ou man, kom eet.” The old man would get up, shuffle along the ‘bankie’ and then briskly walk into his bedroom. the wardrobe door would creak. You cannot see what is happening, but I know as I have spied through the bedroom window. The half bottle of Commando would be lifted and the cord unscrewed, a good mouthful would be taken, neat from the bottle, re-corked and carefully returned to storage and the creaking door closed. The hand moved across the mouth and moustache and the old man would return to the spens, which also served as the dining room. Only four people could be accommodated comfortably in this small room. there would be a highlight in the cheeks of the old man as a result of the brandy. “Zeegen, Vader, het gijn eten, laat wij nimmer Uw vergeten” and the even meal would be taken with a fair amount of conversation. “Wij danken Uw voor de gawes Uw hebben geskonken. Amen.”
So that’s where it came from. Grandpa’s Grandfather on his mother’s side prayed that prayer 80 + years ago and passed it onto Grandpa Pieter who prayed it all of his life.
By the time it came to our house, it was “Danken Vader vir wat ons eten, laat my nimmer U vergeten”.
I think I need to scan in his biography. This Mike’s Dad (Grandpa Pieter) at our wedding in 1986. He was 65.
Deuteronomy 8:11
Make sure that you never forget the Lord
These are the days.
Keep the smile going.
God bless you.
In His Grip,
Helga xx 🙂