Some memories of Keith Mattison
My first “typical” memory of Keith stretches to
when I managed to get a last-minute acceptance to the part-time IS Honours
class of 1991 (UCT course convenors had a bit more discretion in those days). I
was told that I was to have the first student presentation of the course in the
very first module. Somehow, between Keith’s canonical brief instructions and my
desire to impress, I managed to mistake the topic of the entire module as the
topic for my presentation so I duly went through about 90 transparencies (as I
said, those were the days!) covering pretty much the entire module content in
just under two hours. Keith let me present without interruption and only at the
very end gave the most laconic relaxed comment somewhere in the vein of “well,
now that Jean-Paul has covered most of the lectures, we can reduce the lecture
times so that we will have more time to exchange ideas in the pub” (ok, I am
making this largely up, but can’t be far off the mark). Of the rest of the
course, I only remember those “after the lecture” sessions in the pub
which, sadly, is no longer. See pic of the thirteen students in the class ...
nowadays we are told that postgrad diploma class sizes of less than thirty-five
or forty are not economically viable.
However, my starker memories come from the few
times I went sailing with him. Once, when we were moored in the Houtbay
harbour, a woman friend had not only brought her cell phone with her but she
dared answer it – against his sternest rules of no cell phones aboard. Needless
to say, the expected mishap did in fact happen and said phoned dropped into the
cold harbour waters. Despite our assurances that the phone was a write-off, she
insisted that we made an attempt to retrieve it. I wouldn’t have dreamt of
giving in to such unreasonable demand but, ever the gallant gentlemam, Keith
started stripping his clothes in preparation for the dive! (Being some 20 years
younger and a more experienced diver, I did have to stop him from jumping in
and, on what we agreed was my final dive, did in fact recover the now utterly
useless object from the harbour bottom.)
My most vivid memory, however, comes from a time
when we had to take the boat around from Hout Bay to Simons Town harbour in
preparation for some False Bay event later that week. I knew less than nothing
about sailing but acted on occasion as dumb manual help. However, he had two
“experienced and seasoned sailors” on visit from England who were to join the
two of us for what was expected to be a relaxed pleasure trip. The weather was
as sunny with a light breeze, i.e. as perfect as could be and we merrily
set off. It was the first time I tried “gin and tonic” and I was completely
unawares of its effects until I’d had about four, six or whatever number of
those. Needless to say, as we rounded the Cape the weather turned completely
and a storm like only the Cape can muster at such short notice let loose.
Within minutes, the two “experienced sailors” were utterly seasick and
disappeared below deck ... it turned out that they may have been experienced
but had only sailed on the Thames, never out on the open sea. Luckily Keith
kept his cool, made sure that I was properly fixed up with a rope and life vest
and had me crawl to the bow to get our sails (the jib?) down on the heavy seas.
I was still completely wasted from the many gin and tonics but the first wave
that engulfed the entire boat sure sobered me up in record time! We lived to
tell the tale no thanks to his positive attitude, experience and cool-headed
handling of the situation and the obscure magic by which he finally managed to
convince his rather fickle engine to spring to life. We finally got to the
safety of the harbour in the pitch dark, at least four or five hours later than
the expected arrival time, by which time my worried wife had already called sea
rescue and various port authorities to report us as missing at sea...
Sending you lots of love and wishing you strength,
Keith - from Jean-Paul.
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