It’s Father’s Day on Sunday and Windhoek has lost one of its most recognisable patriarchs and, with him, a little of the city centre’s charm. Where once the white-haired and seemingly eternal presence of Biggs van Wyk inspired equal parts curiosity and comfort, Windhoek’s grandfather sits no more.
To many of the people who regularly passed “that old man” as they ran errands, went to work or hurried by, dogged by the urgency that characterises modern life, Van Wyk’s stillness and seeming serenity was a point of intrigue.
Urban legend says the man lost a child in a car accident and stood vigil for some twenty years, praying for those who call Windhoek home while honouring his loved one. As Father’s Day arrives, Van Wyk’s decades-long devotion looms large. It speaks to the profound bonds fathers can potentially share with their children. It illustrates the depth of Van Wyk’s grief yet also underscores his ability to alchemise his sorrow for the benefit of his fellow man.
The stories say Van Wyk stood spiritual guard. Not just watching but actively interceding on city dwellers’ behalf through steadfast presence and prayer.
On one occasion, as I crossed the road on Independence Avenue, I took my chances with traffic lights and speeding cars. I made it across the street amidst a blare of car horns. But it was one of those moments when you vow to be less of an idiot and far more grateful for the gift of life.
Turning back after barely making it to the other side, I saw Van Wyk seated across the way. Sunglasses hid the direction of his gaze, his expression was inscrutable but I felt he was looking at me. Perhaps, I had made it into his prayers and across the street.
Another time, less dramatically, he alerted me to my untied shoelaces, maybe stopping me from tripping in traffic. He didn’t speak, only pointed down at my feet, so I’ve never heard his voice.
I hoped and planned to chat with him someday. But something always held me back. I thought perhaps he was tired of being asked why he sat in the central business district every day. I imagined that I would be disturbing his peace or intruding in some way.
So I waited for tomorrow, the next time and the next. But now Van Wyk is gone and that “someday” has turned into never.
The last time I saw the old man, he was seated near Trip Travel on Independence Avenue. I admired him then and honour him now as a reminder to seize the day, don’t wait for tomorrow and because his presence will truly be missed.
Van Wyk was a constant and we can all admire his consistency. He was a gentle man in a world bent on normalising the violence of war and of men and his generosity of spirit was evident every day.
Whether you believe in Van Wyk’s godly mission or not, he came out for us. To watch, to safeguard and to unwittingly become a recurring character in the various seasons of our lives.
For those who encountered him, standing, sitting, reading the newspaper and praying for us all, Windhoek’s central business district will always seem in want.
Farewell to a father, to the watcher and the sidewalk sentry.
May his guardian soul rest in peace.
