OSAmag88

T h e O l d S t a t i o n e r - N o 8 8
gracious hostess, and a perfect soulmate to
Ian, her contribution was immeasurable.
She was often a shoulder I could lean on
and tell troubles, always receiving support
and great advice.
So in celebrating Ian, I would like to
conclude with my impressions of the man.
A sociable companionable man, with a
fine appreciation of both the qualities and
the negative aspects of those he
encountered. No time for fools, sharp
tongued and direct when criticism was
needed, balanced by a similar capacity for
praise when anything deserved it. A bon
viveur, with great appreciation for the
pleasures of fife. A man who would enter a
new field with great passion, and seek to
make himself knowledgable about it
without ever ignoring input from those for
whom he had regard. An honest man, who
believed in fair business practice, and for
whom the shortest distance between two
points was a straight line. And above all, a
man who exuded passion for life, passion
for his interests, passion for his family and
friends. In short, I treasure the years in
which I shared his and Annie's friendship.
They are a high point of my life, and I
shall always have only the fondest
memories of them.
Prof Vishnu Padayachee, initially met Ian
through a well known book dealer in
Durban, Ike Mayet. His tribute follows:
I was deeply saddened to hear of the
passing of my dear friend Ian Snelling
after a long and painful illness. Ian was a
fighter and despite the prognosis of his
doctors fought on for over a year beyond
the time they gave him.
I tried to visit him and Annie as often as I
could and despite the circumstances he
looked forward to our lunches and we
always had an interesting and engaged
discussion over lunch. He remained
interested and knowledgeable about world
and South African affairs and was always
eager to hear my news, especially on the
economy, and of my academic
achievements, which he celebrated ( such
as they were) as only a good friend would.
As a former book-dealer myself and as one
who is well connected within the South
African book dealers and collecting
community, I can attest to the great respect
that Ian commanded in our community.
No one in the Johannesburg book
community where he was based for so
many decades had anything but good and
generous things to say about him. His
A poem read by Ian's younger daughter at the service
The old Syringa tree
Up the old Syringa tree
Were my brother, sister, and me
Building our thrones;
Entwined purple blossom, course vines, and ivy.
Bright sun glimmered through the leaves
There came a treasured voice on the breeze
Down the trunk I scrambled
My hero waited under the eaves.
Bare feet sprinted swiftly through the grass
The dry scent of summer hung thick and heavy
In the distance, the ha-ha-ing of a hadidaas.
Giggles of delight as strong arms held me tight
I stroked his bearded cheeks, then patted the bald bit on his dome
'Oh Daddy, I'm so glad you're home!'
Grabbing his hand I dragged him off to the land of sand
Where to cure me off my echolalia
He told me if I dug deep enough, eventually I'd reach Australia ...
Down I dug, dirt asunder
Faster and faster. Higher and higher. '
Making believe I was a bird flying through the sky.
At the bottom of the garden the Jukskei flowed by.
So many games we once played; me and my trusty big aide
Memories that will never fade
'Where's my nose?' 'Gee-up Tonto! And the singing,of silly prose
I can still see young me, perched on my dad's knee
Striking a hard bargain for 'just one more game of under the water,
under the sea'.
Time for dinner. Always a winner!
Bellies full and darkness setting
We all sat huddled round the table
Waiting in anticipation for the latest fable
From the Goons, Squad Cars, and Tracy Dark
What a lark.
My eyelids grew weary and thoughts of sleep filled my head
So my dad picked me up again and took me up to bed.
Downstairs the Commodors crooned a tune
As dim light threw shadows dancing round the room
'Daddy', I declared, 'I love you all the way to the moon!'
Laughing he kissed my chin before upping me one
'And, I love you, my baby girl, all the way to the sun!'
Quiet footsteps across the floor
Night, night. Sleep tight', he whispered, and closed the door.
I will always miss the dad I once had ...
Before all the tears and fears of the bramble years
When hugs came easy, and love was simple, and carefree.
Back in those days of the old Syringa tree ...
knowledge of books and especially of
modern first editions was encyclopedic
and I was fortunate to have benefited from
his wisdom and advice over a long period.
Ian and I built a special friendship despite
one of the greatest obstacles to such
relationships that one can conceivably
imagine. He was a passionate and lifelong
fan of Arsenal Football Club (and
that is a poor description of his dedication
to the Gunners), and with equal passion I
supported their North London rivals,
Tottenham Hotspurs, the "Spuds" to Ian.
But we always managed to keep our
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