Review: Vivien Horler

Breaking Bread – A memoir, by Jonathan Jansen (Jonathan Ball Publishers)

If you drive down Joe Marks Boulevard in Retreat to Prince George Drive in summer, you will often see a pop-up stall selling fresh snoek.

I’ve never given the stall holders a second thought, never wondered who they are. But clearly, as this memoir by one of SA’s foremost educationalists attests, my lack of imagination is my loss.

Many years ago one of the young men selling fish on that Retreat corner for Oom Japie Solomon was Jonathan Jansen, eldest son of Abraham and Sarah Jansen of 10^th Avenue. (The improbably named couple also went on, like their biblical counterparts, to have a son called Isaac.)

At the time, Jansen thought he could make “a decent living selling snoek to white people driving between the suburbs and Muizenberg”.

Then there was the possibility of a postman’s job, after he served as an assistant to a fulltime postie along the Fish Hoek line. His ambitions were modest.

But Jansen was destined for more.

Today he is Distinguished Professor of Education at the University of Stellenbosch, chairperson of the SA Academy of Science, fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and former president of the SA Institute of Race Relations. He has a fistful of degrees, some earned through academic study, many honorary; writes regular media columns on education; and produces two or three books a year.

None of this, he says, was a foregone conclusion when he was growing up, the eldest of six children. “My horizons were set by what I could see and what my parents had accomplished. Finishing matric would already be more than their junior certificates.”

His parents were devout members of the Plymouth Brethren, and the Jansen children were expected to follow suit. The church gave the young Jansen his founding values, although there were many aspects of its teaching he came to reject.

His parents’ beliefs meant he couldn’t smoke, drink, attend his own matric ball, watch television or go to movies. As a primary school pupil he decided to flout the family rules and accompany his class to the Princess Bioscope in Retreat Road to watch the recorded 1968 Olympics.

“I rationalised this was, after all, the Olympics, not one of those romantic movies with kissing and stuff.”

Alas for Jonathan, Retreat was a close-knit community, and by the time he got home from the bioscope, Sarah had already picked a Port Jackson switch.

The family spoke English at home, so when Sarah switched to Afrikaans it was always an ominous sign. Also, she did not just beat you, she accompanied her klaps with her views.

When Jonathan tried to explain that watching the Olympics was not the same as ordinary films, she responded, accompanying every word with a stroke: “Moet. Nie. Vir. My. Se. Bokdrolletjies. Is. Rosyntjies. Nie.”

Founding values. “Readers will no doubt see that I left this church, but in many ways it never left me.”

The young Jonathan was not a natural scholar – the only thing that excited him about school was soccer. But one day at Steenberg High he was playing in the quad when the energetic young Latin teacher Paul Galant called him over.

He told Jonathan: “I’ve been watching you. You pretend you know nothing but actually you’re very smart. I have high hopes for you, my boy. You have potential.”

Jonathan was gobsmacked. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. In his bunk bed that night he resolved to prove Mr Galant right. The remarks changed his life.

The future was not plain sailing. There was no money for studying, university was very different from school, he dropped out of his first year at UWC. But he persisted and – crucially – people helped him.

In a closing chapter of this memoir, Jansen says he often plays a mind game in a bid to explain what he calls his extraordinary good fortune: What If?

What if his parents’ faith – and Port Jackson switches – had not kept him on the straight and narrow? What if Mr Galant had not told him he had potential? What if his childhood friend Archie Dick had not taught him the benefits of studying hard?

“What if Ernest James had not given me R20 to reregister for studies at UWC? What if Bishop Tutu had not co-invented a scholarship fund that allowed me to study in the US, the single most important event that changed my social and academic fortunes?”

At the end of the memoir he lists 10 life lessons. Such as: despite any advantages that come your way, you still have to show up. “When the door of opportunity opened for me, I sprinted through it.”

If you have singular views, expect criticism – or worse. Choose respect over love. Everyone wants to be loved, but being respected for what you believe is more important.

Everyone can achieve. “If I can get this message through to South African youth, I know it will change lives.” Mr Galant’s remarks did that for Jansen.

You cannot be a leader in a racially divided society if you have racial issues. On this topic, the single most important predictor of a child’s racial attitudes is the home which raised them. Janson begins chapter one with a quote from the American author Robert Fulghum: “Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.”

Then there is the importance of failure or, as Jansen puts it, failure is your friend. “Failure is not failure if you learn from it.”

Jansen has been controversial, although he doesn’t like being called that. He says the label arises because others are often afraid to speak out when they see something wrong. “In short, the only reason I stand out is because so many others stand down. I cannot be called controversial because others are afraid to speak.”

This memoir reveals the human behind the powerhouse, one who is not always certain of himself, who has been afraid and out of his depth.

But the man who moved on from selling fish was one who took the chances offered, worked hard, surrounded himself with good people who did not suck up, stuck to his core values, and enjoyed family, friends, food and sport on TV.

Breaking Bread is honest, often humorous, insightful and inspiring.

 

 

 

 

 

– or worse. Choose respect over love. Everyone wants to be loved, but being respected for what you believe is more important.

Everyone can achieve. “If I can get this message through to South African youth, I know it will change lives.” Mr Galant’s remarks did that for Jansen.

You cannot lead in a racially divided society if you have racial issues. On this topic, the single most important predictor of a child’s racial attitudes is the home which raised them. Janson begins chapter one with a quote from the American author Robert Fulghum: “Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.”

Then there is the importance of failure or, as Jansen puts it, failure is your friend. “Failure is not failure if you learn from it.”

Jansen has been controversial, although he doesn’t like being called that. He says the label arises because others are often afraid to speak out when they see something wrong. “In short, the only reason I stand out is because so many others stand down. I cannot be called controversial because others are afraid to speak.”

This memoir reveals the human behind the powerhouse, one who is not always certain of himself, who has been afraid and felt out of his depth. But the man who sold snoek on Prince George Drive has has taken the chances offered, worked hard, surrounded himself with good people who do not suck up, stuck to his core values, and enjoyed family, friends, food and sport on TV.

Breaking Bread is honest, often humorous, insightful and inspiring.