Miriam Abrams and I accompanied several academics in 2003 who were pioneering multi disciplinary research at a place called Makapansgat in Limpopo. Over 150 years ago, thousands of Ndebele died of starvation in the month-long siege by the Voortrekkers. Fossils dating back 3.3 million years have been found preserving a unique record of hominid habitation. After the paleontologist, archaeologist, geologist, chemist, social anthropologist and other academics spoke about their research interests, Miriam and I sat on some rocks eating our sandwiches while debating the existence of the soul. She argued that the caves were filled with the souls of the dead. I playfully jotted some of these words and we both had a good laugh. I revisited these words when she passed away in 2011 remembering her zest for life, political acumen, culinary skills, vast reading portfolio, among other passions and interests, and, our deep friendship which I still miss.
Come to my memorial, I may just be there
I am the smoke emanating from the Cuban cigar
I am the pause in the continuous laughter of friends
I am the twinkle in the clinking of glasses
I am white man’s conscience at an untransformed white institution
I am the breeze blown from the turning of Rushdie’s prose
I am the sweetness in each spoonful of scrumptious dessert
I am the wave that carries Miles’s tune
I am me me
Come to my memorial, I may just be there
Dear Fazel – this goes direct to fierce memories and to the tender heart. You have invoked her energies so precisely, and reminded us how she inhabits us all still, and we have the power to bring her back amongst us, as you have done here. With huge gratitude
Rob
Pleasure Rob, she left an indelible mark on many of us.
Fazel.
She still lives because she is remembered by many. There is no doubt that she is still here.
Thank you for the beautiful poem and photographs.
Much love ❤️
Pleasure Shereen, she will always be remembered and left a gaping hole. She was special.
Fazel
Dear dear sweet Miriam. She was a light in my life as she was in so many others. She was truly fierce when any injustice small or large fell under her gimlet eye. She was never afraid to speak truth to power. She was kind beyond description and she mothered us all. And her cooking, always made with love and when you tasted it you knew that. There was never a meeting so dull that she could not reduce us to helpless laughter with a turn of phrase or slightly scurrilous observation. She was a speech writer who always found the right words. If you needed a representative to plead your best case our Miriam was your woman as more than several very grateful folk will attest. There was no letting up when there was a job to be done and there many and all lined up and perfect. I doubt that one could be more content than sitting in her office at the end of the day with feet up on the balcony balustrade cigar in hand and red wine close by discussing all manner of things. She was a wise woman. Problems shrunk to manageable portions in her hands.
Your poem caught in lovely images what a wonderful person our Miriam was
She was a friend of the heart.
I miss her every day and terribly so at times like this.
Whilst I’ve missed the opportunities to know your dear departed friend, it feels as if I now know you better than before thanks to her… and perhaps — even if only in the scent of a wish — I may know yet learn from Miriam, through you.
Thank you.