PBHSOB ASSOCIATION NEWSLETTER

DEVELOPING TOMORROW’S LEADERS TODAY

We continue to tell the remarkable stories of remarkable Old Boys

Introductory remarks by former Headmaster, Mr Bill Schroder:

The Class of 1970 produced a unique book of their stories as they were unable to have their 50th reunion because of Covid-19. Over 100 old boys wrote about their time at School and what they have achieved in later life. This is a magnificent publication which we hope may result in other year groups doing something similar.
We have had such positive feedback from the previous special newsletter with the stories of Peter Cruse and Edwin Cameron that I decided to ask two of the Class of 1970 if we could use their stories in a further edition. Richard Michelle-Pentelbury and Mike Jablonski have written stories of their journeys, crediting Boys High for much of their amazingly successful careers and once again adding credence to our campaign Developing Tomorrow’s Leaders Today as the parallels are clearly there – Bill Schroder.

Richard Pentelbury (Solomon, 1970) In his own words:

When first arriving at PBHS, 1966, I not only was financially poor, and malnourished, but had become acclimatized to intellectual impoverishment. I also had suffered much physical and mental abuse. A charity case, I bicycled between the socially unacceptable Danville, and the prestigious school each day, sweaty and fearful that the snarling traffic of the 13 kilometers would get me late for the morning bell.

In Form Two I was given a bursary to attend Solomon House, as a boarder. My underprivileged social background quickly became obvious as my lack of tacit knowledge, of cultural affairs, of how to conduct myself socially, and most of all, how to be authentic was fraught with my own defences of pretentious bravado over shame-filled insecurity. (After all, I sang as Mabel in the school’s, ‘Pirates of Penzance’). But what helped, profoundly, was my perpetual drive to learn, from teachers and fellow boys alike, both how to, and how not to behave. I abhorred the cane. Yes, all through life, others have set an example for me, good or bad.

Still, at PBHS, I understood myself sometimes to be insufferably selfish, woefully needy, competitive, self-righteous, manipulative, arrogant, and beleaguered both by the inequalities and iniquities of the paucity of my personal background. In a consistent state of innate shame, these inner handicaps I felt most awkwardly, but could not readily surmount. I had to learn how ‘not to judge.’ (Then too, being cast as Judas in the play, in Form Five, kept on haunting me). So, seeing myself as an outsider, even after graduation in 1970, and with a debilitating feeling of not being ‘worthy,’ I did not re-visit the school, nor contacted any of my grad-fellows again, not for 40 years

But, with our 40th Reunion, the Old Boys’ Committee found me, and invited me to be the main speaker. Well, by 2010, in Canada, I’d obtained a double teaching degree, and had received prestigious awards for academics, outstanding citizenship, writing, excellence in teaching, and for innovative curriculum design, as well as art. Then too, given my inculcation of Spiral Dynamics theory into theatre, I’d received many awards for directing, and acting. (So, I’d gone from Mabel, in ‘Pirates,’ to being the male lead in ‘South Pacific’). Also, by then I’d achieved a post-graduate degree as a Gifted Education specialist. Well, given my website, I guess, it was easy enough for Brian Haynes Smart, after a 40-year absence, to locate me.

The 40th was a rewarding reintegration of people once lost to me. I was reunited with my dearest friend, Justin Neway. People like Bert Barnes, Gus Butow, Mike Jablonski, Rob Zikmann, Simon and Tony Brink, Tony Stockwell, Ken Jones, Glyn Jones, Roy Edge, Vernon Matthysen, Quenton de Kock, Len Sloan, Gerhard Snoeck Henkemans, and Alan Crowder all re-established contact. As well, there was the magic of having connection with Peter Ryan and Edwin Cameron. Many other ‘old boys’ were also models of consideration. Old teachers too! (In particular, I became reunited with my dearest mentor, Michael Moore). And thanks to all, I no longer felt ‘an outsider’; I too ‘belonged’ at PBHS. Those five seminal years, after all, had had a profound impact on my upbring, my maturing, my self-discipline, and my individual significance. Yes, one’s ‘worthiness’ needs not to be so hard won.

So, between the lines here, the message to you is much to treasure and maintain your contacts at school, and to not take things for granted, as I did. The people around you are deeply significant; you too are among those very privileged to become a part of The Old Boys’ Club!

Thing is, on a more personal note, there is an underlying battle for each of us, if not felt in the moment, then hopefully not in store for you, since life can tend to give one many demons to be dealt with, ineluctably. Mine has been a congenital-disc-disease, ankylosis spondylitis, which necessitated spinal surgery, in 1966, just before I came to the school, and that had me at first carting around my whoopee-cushion. The object of mirth, coupled with what was already a chronic pain, had me determined to show-up my fellows; I’d not relent! All my life, in all those rugby games, even while swimming, playing cricket, and in cross-country running, I’ve had degrees of persistent pain. At the army doctor’s line-up, I tried “for medical reasons” to get out of conscription, but then was asked, “What rugby team are you on?” Given my reluctant admission, I was stamped ‘in’. Truth has consequences. I hated every moment of my being in the army.

In Canada, in 1977, I had to have chips from my hips fused to my spine. Still, in theatre, I sang and danced; and hiked in the mountains. Then, in 2004, I had to have rods and screws to separate my vertebrae, and so, for 12 years, became wheelchair bound. I could not even push myself. Others had to help. (My dear wife, Linda Michelle-P, a professional psychologist, with her compassion and wisdom, had to accommodate my being much handicapped.) But despite the several health officials’ prognostications that I’d never work again, and thanks to the use of a power-chair, I went back to teaching, and directing, and acting, and doing my paintings. (Did over 100 performances as wheel-chair-bound Morrie, in ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’). There is always pain, day, and night, but determined not to take any drugs, my depleting reserves much paid the price.

Still, I was able to make it to that 40th Reunion, and was treated to a Kruger Game Reserve trip, by Bert and Rita Barnes. But by 2011, the severity of my condition grew too much, and I took early retirement. Linda and I moved to Vancouver Island (where there is comparatively little snow). Still taking no drugs, I could then barely walk five steps. But in 2014 my lungs were diagnosed with multiple embolisms. So, a modicum of blood thinning drugs had to be taken, as well as a nerve-sheathing drug to help dull the persistent pain. And I was determined to walk again. Five steps led slowly to ten, and then fifteen, and then thirty, and so on. Like training for a marathon, it took almost three years before I became entirely free of the chair. And now since late 2016 I’ve not used that wheelchair at all. Still, to be straightforward, there is no escaping pain. It’s what you do with it that matters. Work with it; integrate everything.

You are in these words. Mind over matter is a reality. ‘Good vibes’ are also attended by a host of friends, support systems, family, peers, and colleagues. But you alone must bear the brunt. Some will pray for you. Some will offer endless advice, alternatives, and guidance. So too for all your life. In the end, you are the one who needs best feel at peace, and successful, at whatever age you happen to be. In your own many stages of life, attended by your bringing a perpetual consciousness of integrating, including, and having a more comprehensive compassion as you seek to understand others, and yet more about yourself (without being narcissistic, or self-indulgent,) may you head toward 50 years on, indeed, and feel enlightened, more, and yet more. Now, by now, by now – Richard Pentelbury.

Mike Jablonski, 1970 in his own words

HEY THERE! YES YOU! DON’T READ THAT, READ THIS!

Excellent, now that I have your attention, I hope that you are smart enough to invest 10 minutes of your life in hearing me out. Why? Because it has taken me 69 years to write this, and I have a very particular message for you, which I hope will somehow, somewhere, sometime resonate with you. Should it however not, so be it; 10 minutes is nothing in your life at this point in time; what have you got to lose? Shall we begin?

Let’s get the introductions out of the way. My name when I walked on this earth, was Michael Rudolf Jablonski. I was born in a place called Wilhelmshaven in West Germany, at 5.10am on top of the kitchen table, on Friday the 18th of September in 1953. In 1958, when I was 5 years old, my parents emigrated to South Africa, and I grew up in Judith’s Paarl in Johannesburg. So that’s me, and you hopefully know who you are. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Shall we continue?

The neighbourhood was a true nightmare. It was on the bottom of the social economic scale and comprised of members of the lower end of humanity. Surrounded by poor, large South African families, and many immigrants of Greek, German, Jewish, Italian, Portuguese, and Christian Lebanese descent, it was a melting pot of culture, neglect, violence, unsupervised children, and general poverty. My parents told me that we were living there because the rent on our apartment was very cheap, and that they were saving money so that they could buy a house one day. I guess we weren’t the only people who thought this. Our next-door neighbour was running a brothel. He was also saving money. I actually only later discovered how dysfunctional this made my life. At the time, it was all and everything I knew. My world was my reality and the people who lived in it were my role models. Their behaviour and belief systems became the well that I drank from. I knew no different.

I was sent to Bertrams Junior School in 1958, and I was the first person in our family to learn to speak English. I was the official interpreter of our family. I had to accompany my mother on all shopping trips, as our shops back in those days were not “self-service”. They required you to ask for stuff from another human, who would then serve you from the other side of the store’s counter. Hence my first job at the age of 5 years, was German English Translator. I hated this part of my life with a passion because my mom was so fussy when she went shopping. “Tell him if the steak is tough, I will bring it back!” she demanded. I never did tell him.

The hood I lived in taught me survival skills from the get-go. I learnt to run. I learnt to fight. I learnt to ignore things and keep walking. I learnt to swear. I learnt to hide. I learnt to hang out in a little gang. I learnt to be street smart. By the age of 12 years, I was a “wise guy”. My folks had no idea what was going on in Judith’s Paarl outside of our apartment. They were not privy to all the unemployment, domestic violence, abuse, crime, bullying, and general depravity. They were deliberately oblivious to it all. Saving money when your father is a typewriter mechanic, and your mother is a housewife trying to bring up three children is a very difficult task indeed. When I became older, I realised that they must have known. They would have heard and smelt it.

I guess you can become deliberately oblivious to what is really going on for the better of the family. Not going anywhere on holidays, no fancy treats, limited new clothes and shoes, and not much to look forward to was the order of the day back then. We went to the park occasionally, and when my dad bought his first car in 1962, (VW Beetle) we went on Sunday picnics, and to the occasional Drive-In movie on weekends. It was what it was.

My mother used to knit my underwear to save money. She was the boss. Her word was law and there were consequences to those who did not obey her. I lived in two different worlds. Inside our apartment where everything was neat, clean, and orderly, and outside our apartment. That my friend, was a jungle. It was not a pleasant place to grow up.

The reason I have taken the liberty to tell you a little about my earlier Primary School Years (Prior to Pretoria Boys High School) is because it is so relevant to this story, as you will hopefully discover for yourself in the next few paragraphs. You see, everything touches everything, and everything is part of everything. I here today, am part of you there today. And, like me, you will be the sum of everything you ever felt, saw, learnt, and smelt. Back to my 10 cents worth. After a while, I had become like them. You had to if you wanted to go outside.

Eventually, the BIG DAY arrived. After 7 years (1958-1965) of scrapping, saving and squirreling away our nuts, my folks had finally saved up enough money to buy a house, or rather put a deposit on one, and realise their plan of moving out of the ghetto. My parents found a new house, in a new development, in Pretoria. We bought the 7th house in Monument Park. The new suburb was the first extension down in the shadows of Waterkloof Ridge. There were no other suburbs with houses other than the then new Monument Park. Our houses were nothing like the houses up on the Ridge. Firstly, the houses in Monument Park were much smaller, cheaper, and stood on a lot less land. We had no garages, pools, or tennis courts. We had no fancy gates, fences, driveways, or fountains. We had no postman, and no telephones. We had no tar roads, shops, streetlights, trees, or gardens, no bus services or parks, and no school. But the one thing that Monument Park did have going for it, is that it was zoned for school under Pretoria Boys High School. And that was a turning point in my life, although I didn’t know it at the time. One day I was in Doornfontein, Judith’s Paarl, Bezuidenhout’s Valley, and the next day I woke up in Monument Park, Pretoria. City to Bush, in 24 hours. It was unfathomable to me at the time.

I arrived at Pretoria Boys High after having just turned 13, straight into Form 1, and realised that I was in the wrong place. I had come out of a school called Observatory East Primary School in Johannesburg. We had no real school uniforms, no strict dress code, few rules, little discipline, hardly any respect for the teachers or prefects. There was no sports field, swimming pool, nor manners, pride, or spirit. There was no school hymn, choir, cadets, or band, and there was very little control. School wasn’t a safe place. If you had issues with a kid or a little gang out on the streets it continued at school. There was no amnesty just because you were in school. In fact, more often than not, differences were sorted out at school because you couldn’t run away. School, back in Joburg, was also the perfect place for the siblings and extended families to wait for you after school came out to settle any issues or scores that were outstanding. To my total surprise this new school that I was in now didn’t seem to have anything like that going on. Gangs were not a thing around Waterkloof, Waterkloof Ridge or Monument Park. That was my first big observation. I was safe.

My second observation was that the children here were totally different to kids back in Joburg. They were nicer. Not hostile, not so threatening, nor so intimidating. The school uniform seemed to make us all equal and took the stress out of not being dressed cool enough. I was blown away at the entire set up of Pretoria Boys High School, the discipline, and the respect that boys had for their teachers was a total revelation to me. It was a whole new level. Little by little, I began to realise that I was in a totally different world. A world I didn’t know that existed, had been served to me. Haircut standards, height of socks, summer uniform, winter uniform, standard shoes and they had to be polished, covered schoolbooks, daily roll call and attendance checks, and overall, there was order and general discipline. The school had something that the other schools I had previously attended did not have, or if they did it was rather rare. Consequences! If you disobeyed the rules, or misbehaved, whether towards a fellow scholar or a teacher, the consequences were very swift indeed.

These consequences normally consisted of writing out a couple of hundred lines, reduction in marks, detention, and/or being caned by the headmaster. The ultimate consequence was that your parents were called to a meeting in the headmaster’s office, or/and you were expelled. I often paid the price. I was a regular in the headmaster’s office. I held no grudge and deserved what I received. The discipline that the school ran taught me an amazing lesson in life. The rules were there to facilitate a smooth functioning of a system, or organization. Adherence to these rules was not negotiable. Later in life, I took these lessons into my working life and made sure that people adhered to them, understood the consequences, and were accountable.

I learnt that you got what you gave. Timelines and deadlines for homework to be handed in had no wriggle room. If you didn’t do it, or you didn’t hand it in on time, you got zero. The necessity to be punctual, deliver what you were supposed to, in full and on time, was another take away lesson I learnt at school. I applied that to my later life in the corporate world, and it stood me in good stead. If you committed something to me in the work arena and didn’t deliver what you said you would, then there were consequences. Discipline and rules.

The assemblies we had at school and the messages, insights, and learnings that I gleaned from them, further helped reshape my personal belief and value system. The singing of hymns, prayers, and the acknowledgement of those that had sacrificed all for some was not wasted, and resonated with me then, as it still does to this day.

The friendships I created whilst at school, and the stark difference between their world and my world was a real eyeopener. I was fortunate enough to become friends with a certain boy who shall remain nameless and the Friday sleepovers that we had at his house was a real interesting experience. I was accepted into his family and was privy to observe how the next level lived. I realised that I could hold my own.

I saw the gap between Monument Park and Waterkloof. I saw that hard work, ethics and empathy was a way that some people lived, and I liked that way of life. This life was so far away from my previous Judith’s Paarl neighbourhood; it was like day versus night. It didn’t make me jealous or angry. It made me determined that one day I would be like they were. It became an aspiration and an inspiration to me. I slowly began to get reprogrammed. There was an update to Mike Jablonski’s program, and it began to upgrade me. My horizons began to widen and broaden. In the back of my mind, I realised that I could become a successful person, who travelled the world, was respected by his peers, was an individual who could add value to the world and become somebody that people would look up to and respect. By the time we got to 1971, I was confident and hungry.

I realised that to be able to attend Pretoria Boys High School was indeed a privilege. I learnt that it was a special place. I learnt that I didn’t really belong there, and I learnt that it was comprised of special people, both scholars as well as staff. I learnt that once you were a Pretoria Boys High scholar you were one for life, and that the bonds and relationships you formed stood you good for the length of your days. This memoir is living proof of that.

So, in closing my friend, The School, its ethos and code, became a cornerstone that I anchored myself to. I accepted the new horizon that I was exposed to and adopted its compass and star points to navigate myself into the unknown world at the end of 1970. Despite receiving an extremely bad report card at the end of my 5 years at Pretoria Boys High, I was able to hold my own out in the real world and survive with some of the smartest businesspeople and entrepreneurs around at that time. What Pretoria Boys High School gave me, together with what lessons my wonderful parents taught me, added with what Judith’s Paarl threw at me, made it possible for me to become a shrewd mongrel, that was able to stand up against all that came. It formed my code, my ethics, and my value system. Despite not going to University, I became the Foods Executive for the largest Retail Store Chain in Africa (at the age of 34 years). In 1991, at the age of 38, I was the Merchandise Director for the largest Wholesale Distributor in Africa, and in 1998, I emigrated to Australia with my family and was the Group Merchandise and Marketing Director for Metcash Distribution Australasia. I was able to travel the entire world, meet exciting people, do giant deals, and make enough money to live happily ever after.

I leave this thought with you my friend: embrace the school and suck the marrow out of what it offers you. You have a head start over millions of other people on this planet. Go hard, go fair, and above all, be true to yourself and never give up!

Regardless of what you think right now, regardless of what your circumstances have been up to this very point, you are the captain of your ship. Plan your journey, check your boat, and make sure you have packed your necessities. Then go forth boldly and sail your ship. It has no use in the harbour. I salute you, and I am glad you took the time to read my contribution. You and I are not that different. I once stood exactly where you are right now. Pretoria Boys High School, the boys who were part of The Class Of 1970, I salute you. Good luck! – Mike Jablonski.

The above stories reflect the purpose of the “Developing Tomorrow’s Leaders, Today” campaign through which the campaign leaders hope to give similar opportunities to deserving boys who would ordinarily not be able to attend a world class school. For more information or to make a pledge, contact Mr Bill Schroder via the email address info@pbhsob.com or visit The Pretorian Trust website www.pretorian.co.za/donate/

REUNION NEWS

40 YEARS ON

The 40 Year On Reunion took place on Friday 28th and Saturday 29th October 2022. Over sixty Old Boys from the Class of 1982 enjoyed a full day at Pretoria Boys High School on Friday 28 October, starting with tea on the Solomon House lawn at 08:00. Old Boys from various locations in South Africa and from as far afield as the United States, the United Kingdom and Europe made sure that they winged their way home to reunite with their school and school mates.

After Headmaster Mr Greg Hassenkamp and Second Master Mr John Illsley gave the group a tour of the grounds and they stopped off at their old boarding houses, the museum and the Reeler Room, they enjoyed a visit to the Bill Schroder Centre. There they spent a lot of time looking at photos and news from 1982 on the memory board created by Mrs Karen Botha and the Media Prefects.

1982’s Head Boy, Angelo Stipinovich (Rissik House) gave an impassioned speech during a special assembly, during which Grant Askham (School House) gave the scripture reading.

After lunch at the Sommerville Pavilion, the group made their way to the Western Bell Tower where they observed the Last Post, played daily by a school bugler at 17:30.

The weekend was rounded off with a formal luncheon on Saturday afternoon at the school’s central dining hall, attended by the Headmaster Mr Hassenkamp, Second Master Mr Illsley, Deputy Headmaster Mr Chris Oldnall, the PBHSOB Association’s Chair Mr Jason Webber, former Headmaster Mr Bill Schroder and the Association’s Life President Mr Tony Wilkes.

Many thanks to the group’s convenor Simon Brown for all the hard work to ensure that the weekend was a roaring success. We hope to publish an article shortly in their own words!

JOHANNESBURG OLD BOYS GET-TOGETHER

The annual Johannesburg Old Boys Get-Together will take place on Thursday, 24 November 2022 at 18:00 at the Johannesburg Country Club, Woodmead. Each person to pay for their own drinks. Headmaster Greg Hassenkamp and PBHSOB Association Chairman Jason Webber will be in attendance. If you live in Gauteng and wish to join them, please email info@pbhsob.com (RSVP essential).

SUMMER SPORTS DAY 2023

Save the date! The Old Boys’ Summer Sports Day takes place every first Saturday after the boys return to school in the new year. Next year’s event will therefore be held on Saturday, 14 January 2023 at Pretoria Boys High School. Registration will take place at the Sommerville Pavilion from 08:00. A special edition of the newsletter will be published with more details early in December. Registration is already open via the link https://pbhsoba.alumnet.co.za/Event/SUMMER2520SPORTS2520DAY25202022-1

PBHS NEWS

The PBHSOB Association has congratulated Daniel Manley and Jack Stewart on their appointment as Head Boy and Deputy Head Boy of Pretoria Boys High School respectively. In a letter to each of them, PBHSOB Association Chairman, Jason Webber, said: “We, as the Old Boys community, wish you the very best in your new appointment. We know you will strive to share, encourage and demonstrate the ethos and values of our beloved School in all in which you partake during your final year. Please know that you have the full support of the Old Boys behind you and that both I and the Association office remain available at any time”. We offer our congratulations and support to all 2023 PBHS prefects and wish the 2022 matric class all the very best in their final examinations, currently underway.

IN MEMORIAM

Peter Doyle (Solomon, Class of 1962)

Submitted by Leon Kok (the full obituary can be found on our website)

It’s with sadness that we learned of the passing of Peter Doyle of the Class of 1962 and Head Prefect of Solomon House in his final year.

We received this note from his daughter, Fran Walters:
Born in May 1945, the middle child of five (an older brother and sister, and two younger brothers), Peter grew up on the Springbok Flats where he attended a local primary school. Following his years at Boys High, he went on to Natal University (Durban), graduating with a BA, but realising before completing his degree that academia was not his passion nor where he wanted to be.He worked for Nestle for 10 years, and it was there that he met his gorgeous bride to be, Patricia (Trish) Shaw, and they were married in 1971. They were blessed with one daughter, myself (Frances) in 1974.
Peter moved to Van Zijl and Schultze in advertising and went on to TW Beckett. He moved to Natal in 1981 to join Trish and his brother-in-law’s family farm in the Karkloof, and then moved to Cape Town in 1987 to join his eldest brother building yachts. He subsequently started his own business, making fibreglass products and ended up working for NCS Resins, one of his suppliers, in Cape Town.
He and Trish lived in a beautiful rustic spot along the road to Cape Point where the neighbours were baboons and tortoises and there was no electricity. In 2002 he and Trish moved back to Natal to be closer to their daughter. NCS Resins, anxious not to lose his abilities and knowledge, created a position for him in the Pinetown Office, and from there he travelled to many interesting places he would otherwise have never seen in Africa, Dubai, Bahrain and the States.
In April 2012 he joined Wedgewood Nougat, with his daughter and son-in-law, and it was wonderful to be closer to his two gorgeous granddaughters. He started as the cattle man, looking after over 100 head of cattle, returning to his farming roots. He was then asked to leave the cows in the fields and was ‘dragged’ into the factory to look after the ever-growing stores department. From there he moved across to help with the setting up and running of the new macadamia nut cracking facility that Wedgewood started.
He was a valued and loved member of staff – known fondly as “Peaches” by the girls in the office. His marketing knowledge was often soughtt out by the youngsters in the marketing division, even after his retirement. In 2017 he was invited to sail the seas from Durban to Madagascar with two other sailors on a yacht called Someday Forever, living a bucket list dream and exploring the ocean.
When he returned he bought himself a little yacht called “Fancy Free” which he kept and sailed happily on Midmar Dam – not quite the ocean, but close to home. He was retired at the age of 75 due to Covid. Peter was a quiet and unassuming gentleman to the core, humble with a huge heart. His infectious Doyle laugh so easy to recognise and heard often, and with a brilliant practical mind like an encyclopaedia, he was often caught pondering whatever problems needed solving. He is greatly missed by his wife, daughter and granddaughters, and all who knew him.

Erseille Chamond Hwang (Hofmeyr, Class of 2014)

Submitted by Kyle Hwang

Erseille Chamond Hwang (known as Chamond) was born to John and Julie Hwang in 1996. As the youngest of three sons to an immigrant family from Taiwan, Chamond was always the one that could put a smile on everyone’s face, whether it was his clever antics or quick-thinking, yet incredibly dry jokes. This earned him the name “Chamonkey”.

Chamond followed his older brothers, Kyle and Ronk to Boys High. Besides excelling academically, Chamond played in the orchestra, played the Last Post weekly, directed House plays, and played goal-keeper in hockey. After matriculating, Chamond was awarded a scholarship to study dentistry at the University of Pretoria where he was again loved by his peers and lecturers alike. He once again excelled in his studies and was selected to serve as a student ambassador for the university. He also travelled to Taiwan and Cape Town to visit his brothers many times in the midst of his busy schedule.

Despite his successes, Chamond also suffered numerous hardships during his life: he was crushed by a steel gate at the age of just five, fell off a balcony once and suffered from concussion after being hit in one of his hockey matches. After school he was diagnosed with sleep apnea, where he had to sleep with a CPAP machine to aid him every night. After his dental studies he went to on to practice at Rob Ferreira Hospital in Nelspruit at the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Sadly, Chamond passed away on 17 July 2022, shortly after his 26th birthday. His memorial was attended by many of his classmates, friends and members of the church. Both the venue as well as the online meeting were at maximum capacity as many came to pay their final respects to their colleague, friend and brother.

Although a son to Christian workers, Chamond was never at the forefront of so-called religious work. However, many testified at the service that although many knew him as loud and outgoing, Chamond did tremendous, silent work behind the scenes that no one knew about until the memorial. Many shared how Chamond would comfort, accompany, entertain or just be there for them in ways not known to many.

There is no doubt that Chamond left us too early leaving a unique void, a place that only he had in our hearts. He is survived by his parents, John and Julie, and his two older brothers Kyle and Ronk.

“So then if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” 2 Corinthians 5:17.

Derek David Brown (Arcadia, 1958)

Submitted by Alistair Brande

Derek David Brown was born in Pretoria on 22 January 1941.

Derek matriculated at Pretoria Boys High School in 1958, as a day boy he was in Arcadia House.

Derek had two younger sisters, Jill and Sandy.

Derek married Margie the “girl next door” or rather “who lived over the street” and this year they would have been married for 55 years.

A serious leg injury put paid to Derek’s rugby career.
He was a very good swimmer and as a Sea Scout he obtained his Queens Badge.
He was also the back-up bass drummer in the School Band.

After matriculating, Derek studied at university and qualified as a Mechanical Engineer.

After marrying Margie, they built their own house in Groenkloof, with Derek doing most of the woodwork.

Initially Derek worked for the Pretoria City Council and then joined BevCan (Metalbox) and worked for them until his retirement. Derek had many overseas consignments with BevCan and he and Margie were therefore able to enjoy the experience of living in other countries for many years.

I got to know Derek through the Thundergun Old Boys Lunches.

Nine Old Boys from various years attended the Thundergun lunch on Wednesday 21 September 2022 and we celebrated Derek’s life as well as the contribution he made to making our lunches possible. Derek’s dedication was such that he came through from Pretoria on a regular basis even when he had no passengers to accompany him.

We set a place for him at the lunch and raised a glass – a few times!

We also offer our most heartfelt condolences to the loved ones of Mr Louis Legat and Mr Kevin Verdoorn who recently passed away. Obituaries will be published shortly.

THE OLD BOYS CLUB

Old Boys, please drop in at the Old Boys Club in Lynnwood for a good meal (we recommend Steff’s famous eisbein) and good company!

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Please remember to send any snippet of interesting information to info@pbhsob.com for the attention of Sally