“Fare thee well Bernardus Van Wyk”.
Joshua Razikua Kaumbi
Life is about the people we meet, randomly placed next to your seat. For every soul carries a lesson or spark, some bring the light, others walk in the dark. But each one reminds us [that] we’re not on our own, in this beautiful world we call our unknown. (Christina de Vries, edited)
On Wednesday morning, en route to work I noticed that the corner of Thuringer Hof Hotel was empty. Before I could make sense of it, my mind was swept away by the fast-paced rhythm of our capital, until the news came that evening. He left the same way he has entered our lives – without notice.
For many years, he was a familiar face at the corner of the traffic lights, someone I would see whilst driving every day. Dressed neatly, always calm and composed.
With his white hair and beard standing distinctly, he would sit at the corner with a stick in his hand and a flask beside his chair.
From the break of dawn, he remained a familiar face only to disappear in the late afternoon retreating into his world, just like me and you would return to ours. He would now and then change spots, but it would always be at the traffic lights.
It was only at the time when I heard that the man at the traffic lights passed away, that I realised he had an identity beyond the familiar figure. He was Mr Bernardus Biggs van Wyk, a father, grandfather and family man who passed away in his sleep at the age of 83 on 9 June 2026.
Typical of human nature, I never made time to sit next to him and get to know his story, which I once read in a local newspaper. I wonder whether such a sit down next to him, would have shown me the world he saw at those corners. His own sit-in.
I might not understand the reason for his decision, especially now that he blended with the night, but indeed I saw and felt his presence in this City of Dreams and hidden despair.
I am reliably informed that in his eyes and mind he showed up for His ministry. He would be driven every day faithfully to and from his port of call by his two daughters.
They did this without questions, because they reconciled themselves to the ‘calling of their father.’ I am further reliably informed by those from his generation who met him in his youth that he was a calm and composed young man.
Uncle Biggs, as we walk you home physically and spiritually on this Saturday, please know that we took note of your presence.
We will forever say what if we had sat next to you. We will indeed miss your chair, white beard, glasses, stick and you. You became a special part of the national family.
Whether we eventually hear your full story or not, we will forever carry your image and the subjective lessons for each one of us. You taught us that reporting for duty purposefully does not mean we had no pain.
We keep moving through pain and disappointments. You taught us that whatever our personal circumstances, the world is worth looking at.
Whatever the noise, constant movement around us, we should keep moving and not only show up, but show up in a polished way. Life is a lesson, even if to oneself.
Windhoek and our eyes will forever miss you sir. Your presence served as an unofficial landmark in the city of Windhoek.
Maybe when we start to speak to one another and not pass each other, just like we did at the nascent stage of our Republic, we shall unveil a statue of the man in the chair.
For now, we shall only say Fare thee well Uncle Bernardus Biggs Van Wyk, and may your children find solace that they fulfilled the fifth commandment to the end.
*Joshua Razikua Kaumbi is a holder of BA Political Science and Sociology (Unam), LLB (Stellenbosch) and an admitted legal practitioner, still on legal sabbatical. His opinions are expressed in his capacity as a Namibian by birth, and not choice.
