Aweh Ruminants and Groupies
On Wednesday, Connor graduated with a computer science degree from Wits University. He represents the fourth generation of Wits graduates in our family, two great-grandfathers, one grandfather, both his parents, and now him.
Many of our family and friends are scattered around the world, but Johannesburg, Wits University, and St Stithians College run through our history like a stubborn thread. Perhaps we are too dumb, too stubborn, or too lazy to have returned to our Anglo-Saxon roots in Europe, North America, Australia, or New Zealand. Or perhaps it’s simply our love of hadedas, braais, and the curious efficiency of Johannesburg that keeps us here. Or perhaps it’s because we belong here. This is our home. Julius Malema will not change that.
The Picture
I could have chosen a graduation picture of Connor. But that would have been boring. Instead, I chose this one, and I know both Connor and Nerine will roll their eyes and probably reprimand me, again, for it. But this is my blog, and this is my favourite picture of him.
Shoulders back, calm, composed, very elegant, and faintly amused. There’s confidence there, but also a clear signal that he’s not to be underestimated. For the swipers, this is the sort of photograph that tends to produce favourable outcomes.
Petrolhead Origins
Now the vintage Rolls-Royce is in the background. Connor is a petrolhead, like his father and grandfather. Maybe vintage Rolls-Royces are not entirely his thing, but he is an F1 and Max Verstappen groupie. We follow F1 together, and he is constantly educating me on rule changes and arcane technical details of the cars and strategy. If F1 ever comes back to Kyalami, my credit card will get abused. We have also been known to discuss BMW engines over the dinner table, much to the bemusement of the rest of the family.
Quiet Confidence
Connor is, by nature, somewhat introverted, but there is a quiet, unshakeable confidence about him. He is not someone to be trifled with, despite inheriting a certain nerdiness from me. Anyone who tries to bully him is met with a withering put-down, delivered so calmly it lands before they realise what’s happened.
Nerine often says that, in some respects, Connor is a clone of me. Thankfully, he is far slicker and more polished than I ever was, or could hope to be, and that, without question, comes from his mother. This picture captures that balance perfectly, the edge, the composure, and then the smile, along with that quiet confidence that has always defined him.
Grunt Mode
And then, of course, there is the obstinacy, occasionally shading into a distinctly passive-aggressive mode, or what our family has come to call “grunt mode.” It’s that look which says, without the need for words, why are you interrupting me with this bullshit? And yes, that too is in the picture. Unfortunately, he inherits that from me.
Nerd Bonding
Then there is the bonding of two nerds. The caption on the personalised water bottle Nerine gave me reads, Engineer, noun, one who gets excited about things no one else cares about. Exactly.
Connor and I disappear down rabbit holes, the Mandelbrot set, or a shared science project on Lichtenberg figures. If you have no idea what those are, that’s a reliable indication you’re undereducated. Educate yourself and get with the programme, you dummy.
Something Completely Different
And now for something completely different, something almost otherworldly. Connor is a Protea archer, representing South Africa on the national team. He travels the world competing alongside the very best, with his sights firmly set on the 2028 Olympics.
This does not come from either of his parents. He has been at it since the age of eight and, very wisely, does not allow us anywhere near his equipment, an instinct for which we can hardly fault him.
Enter Capitalism
I tried to convince him to do an honours degree, but he was having none of that. He is now working as a software developer for a company that enables individuals and institutions to deploy capital globally in the pursuit of profit, on the quietly heretical premise that markets create wealth far more effectively than the endless criticism of them. Dad approves.
Some believe the state should provide for you, cradle to grave, efficiently and benevolently. Perhaps, in Sweden, that illusion can be sustained. But here in Johannesburg, placing your faith in the state or the municipality, where corruption is a core competence, is less a safety net and more an accelerated education in the idea that life can indeed be nasty, brutish and short. Ideology is optional. Money is not.
Lessons and Returns
Both our boys have taught me a great deal, for which I am deeply grateful. In return, they are learning from me about investing. Some may consider that crass, but it is far easier to be generous when you are not reliant on others.
Final Thoughts
Connor has enriched my life in ways large and subtle. He has taught me more than he realises and continues to do so. There is a depth to him, quiet, thoughtful, occasionally exasperating, that I value enormously. Grunt mode notwithstanding, he has made my life immeasurably better.
And when he does inevitably become a billionaire, I trust he will remember his father, preferably in the form of something understated and tasteful, like an Aston Martin.
Shared Friday afternoon lunches, just him and me. It doesn’t get better than that.
Until next time
Bruce
Ruminant Pink Friday 