Funeral - sad in more than one way

Recent funeral of an old friend – deeply sad in more than one way

The Revd Des Adendorff of the Methodist Church died a few weeks ago, having nearly reached the age of 90. It is sad for more than one reason. We were close friends since many years and as he lived at an old age home in Rondebosch we were not far from each other. So the last few years we had also been able to keep in touch. Until his last days he had a burning zeal for social justice and during the peak of his career he was able to demonstrate that in Cape Town. His contribution to a better life for all and in exposing injustices during the apartheid years is substantial and he made an impact in disadvantaged areas in the Cape Flats.

He was instrumental in forming the Churches' Urban Planning Commission, CUPC, and developed a concept for community work that was radical: it would build all activities on the scope and potential of the local communities from the beginning. Des was in other words completely dependent on highly qualified community workers who had this ability of facilitation. The late 1970s and early 1980s were very intense years for CUPC and centres developed in Hannover Park, Mowbray and near Muizenberg was Dora Faulke Centre. Lutherans were quite involved in this organization and gave also support as a church. As a young priest I was for a period chair person of the board and saw with my own eyes how self confidence grew in various leaders and communities. Des was one of only a handful whites who moved freely and effortlessly in the various black areas at the time. I, and my wife, felt that we were not alone. CUPC was an organization that already then practised a non-racial attitude and held staff members from all groups.

We even did a fund raising trip together in 1979, to Sweden and USA. Such a trip was criticized by some of the staff for good reasons, and we could only say that our hope was to fund raise far beyond our travel costs. And so we did. Church organizations at that time were more than willing to support us. There were not many organizations like us around. So our mission went to Uppsala, to New York and even to Minneapolis.

Des could also talk about one of his great disappointments in life. It was when, as he saw it, CUPC was high jacked by people with a political agenda. It was a time when Johnny Issel (who died only a month before than Des) and others came in and took over, some time around 1983. I believe Des has a case here and he may be right in having tried to steer his group away from the actual political forces, be they covertly ANC or overtly UDF, as after all CUPC was a church organization. But I will leave the actual events of that period to scholars who will one day do essential research on the intricate role of the church into the arena of politics at this time.

The sadness is there, but one should rather thank God for a life like that of Des Adendorff, and I do. However, there is a second sadness, so typical, so South African, and also in a way so marked by deeply engraved resignation. I attended the funeral service in Rondebosch Congregation Church on 10 February. It was well attended, and almost one quarter of the congregation was black, all categories. This may in some way mirror the legacy of Des Adendorff I thought to myself. But that was not to happen. The last few years, understandably for those who know South Africa and Cape Town, Des had been largely with his white Methodist friends in the Southern Suburbs. And apart from one speaker, Chris Nissen, it was almost all about other sides of his life, but very little about his major contribution to South Africa, that is the CUPC. It was simply not articulated even if this contribution was duly mentioned. One of the two pastors officiating even felt inspired to relate to some of his origins in Scotland, as a source of inspiration and consolation. We sorely missed some more words about Des Adendorff’s significance for transformation in South Africa, something that he was busy with thirty years ago.

It must though be pointed out that those officiating or Des’ family cannot be held accountable. I do not know who is accountable, but I felt very sad. Perhaps a few of the blacks present should have taken courage and spoken out about this part of Des’ life history. Maybe they should have challenged the picture of Des Adendorff that was emerging at the funeral. But this is South Africa, a divided society, to the extent that many of his old community workers did not know that he was dead; they had lost contact long ago. We live in different worlds in this city, and for how long? Those of us, who fight a battle against this segregative living on a daily basis, are we fighting a winning or a losing battle? God knows. But thanks Des, you have enriched my life and I have had an incredible life companion in you.