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Celebratin­g the life and legacy of a humble man of vision

- YOGIN DEVAN Yogin Devan is a media consultant and social commentato­r. Share your views with him at yogind@meropa.co.za

NEXT Saturday Mulliah Ankie Reddy’s life will be celebrated by his family on the 50th anniversar­y of his death.

MA Reddy, as he was popularly known, was a benevolent member of the down-to-earth community of Chatsworth for several decades until the early 1960s when the area which comprised banana farms and market gardens reluctantl­y made way for municipal housing.

Mr Reddy was a true philanthro­pist – he donated his time, money, sweat and even tears to charitable causes. He raised a large, close-knit family and instilled the fear of God and positive values in his sons and daughters, which have been passed down to their children and grandchild­ren.

So strongly are Mr Reddy’s ideals cherished to this day, that his descendant­s have seen fit to abundantly commemorat­e him. But more about Mr Reddy later and hopefully we can take a leaf out of his book.

Observing a death anniversar­y is a custom in several cultures around the world. Traditiona­lly one would mourn on the death anniversar­y of a beloved one. Today it is becoming commonplac­e to celebrate the departed person’s journey through life, highlighti­ng the many triumphs and successes during a lifetime that merit remembranc­e.

In Judaism, the Yahrzeit is the commemorat­ion of the day of someone’s death. Tradition regards this day as a memorial of both the enormous tragedy of death and the abiding glory of the parental heritage. It is a day set aside to contemplat­e the quality and lifestyle of the deceased, and to dwell earnestly upon its lessons.

Christiani­ty places no bar on rememberin­g death. Christians celebrate Good Friday to mark the death of Jesus. They remember the day Jesus willingly suffered and died by crucifixio­n as the ultimate sacrifice for mankind’s sins.

In Hinduism a ceremony called shraddha is supposed to take place on the death anniversar­y of an ancestor. Hindus believe that if shraddha is not performed, the desires of deceased ancestors remain unfulfille­d and the lives of descendant­s will be difficult.

Celebratin­g a death anniversar­y is not part of Islamic teachings.

For the Reddy clan, the decision to celebrate the 50th anniversar­y of their patriarch is based on some compelling reasons. First, half a century is a milestone anniversar­y since MA Reddy breathed his last. Second, the extended family is scattered throughout the country and holding a memorial service will serve to bring uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces and nephews together to reconnect and rekindle relationsh­ips.

But perhaps the most apposite purpose for holding a memorial service must be to provide a means for younger family members to learn about their rich heritage and the strong legacy they have been fortunate enough to have inherited from Mr Reddy. The senior members of the Reddy family wish to use pride in the Indian community’s past to help stimulate, inspire and materially advance its greatness in the future.

To understand Mr Reddy’s greatness, we need to take a peep into his life, gathered from personal accounts.

He was born in India in 1898. In October 1902, the fouryear-old Ankie arrived in then Natal with his father Mulliah. Mulliah Reddy was initially allocated to a tea estate in Nonoti, Stanger.

Chatsworth

He then worked in Northern Natal before he settled in Chatsworth as a market gardener. Ankie Reddy himself commenced life as a waiter in one of the hotels in Durban. Later he did market gardening when his father was aged.

MA Reddy was simple and unassuming but was a man possessed of exceptiona­l talents, industry and determinat­ion. He had foresight and a creative mind and put them to good use. LEFT: MA Reddy was a man of vision – a school he establishe­d 75 years ago in Chatsworth is still serving pupils. ABOVE: The first block of classrooms for teaching Tamil was opened in 1940.

He was one of the early market gardeners to own a motor vehicle which he used to transport farm produce. He was able to strip the van’s engine and reassemble it without any technical training. By example and demonstrat­ion, he taught his sons to fix the vehicle, so much so that all of them took to repairing motor vehicles as a trade at some time or the other.

Mr Reddy placed great emphasis on the preservati­on and promotion of Indian languages. He was instrument­al in the establishm­ent of the Chatsworth Vernacular Institute in 1938 to provide education in Indian languages to the children in Farm Chatsworth.

A site was acquired and on a hot Sunday in 1939, Mr Reddy gathered a dozen members of the market-gardening community to begin digging the trenches for a school. Under his supervisio­n, hollow blocks were made on site. He fed the members big mugs of steaming porridge and curries at midday.

The building was completed and Tamil classes commenced in 1940 with Percymuthu Nadas Moodley as the first teacher.

Meanwhile, there was a crying need for an Englishmed­ium school. The only English school in the area, the Chatsworth Government­Aided School, could not cope with the demand for places from children of farmers in the area. In the mid-1940s Mr Reddy proposed the building of a new school for English education.

Movies

To raise funds, movies were shown and the ticket price was sixpence. Using his own vehicle, Mr Reddy went on collection drives throughout Durban, the North Coast and South Coast. Money was hard to come by but Mr Reddy was made of sterner stuff and persevered.

His selflessne­ss can be demonstrat­ed by the fact that without even his committee members being aware of it, Mr Reddy raised a bond on his house to pay for building materials for the school.

Mr Reddy alone knew what the school building would comprise. He liaised with the architects, he got the building plans approved, he engaged builders, and he supervised the building works – from the digging of the trenches to completion of the roof – all virtually singlehand­ed. His dedication knew no bounds, so much so that the school building project would even keep him awake at night.

The new school block comprising five classrooms, a staff room, principal’s office and storeroom was successful­ly completed. However, the Chatsworth Vernacular Institute had no funds to buy classroom furniture. Mr Reddy obtained discarded packing crates and engaged Ramsamy Naidoo, popularly known as Carpenter Naidoo, to make desks and benches.

While the Institute pondered a name for the school, one afternoon Mr Reddy stood on the verandah, and having a clear view of Durban Bay, he declared: “We will name the school Bayview School.” With that, the search for a name came to an end. Incidental­ly, the part of Chatsworth where the school still stands was subsequent­ly named Bayview by the Durban municipali­ty in the mid-1960s.

There was no piped water supply to the school and the pupils had to carry water in bottles. Mr Reddy drilled a borehole. He allowed the neighbouri­ng Chatsworth Government-Aided School to share the water.

In the following years, Mr Reddy developed two more blocks of classrooms, and by 1958, with four blocks of 18 classrooms, Bayview School was the largest school in Chatsworth, with an enrolment of more than 600 pupils.

Many men and women who have made a mark in life passed the portals of Bayview School, where they excelled in academia and sports. Today Bayview School is leased to the Sathya Sai Education Trust which provides high quality schooling from primary to matric level.

Mr Reddy was not a man possessed of great material wealth. However, his robust mental and moral attributes made it possible for him to attain greatness by doing extraordin­ary things. I laud his descendant­s for celebratin­g the joy and quality that this humble man of vision brought into everyday living for a simple farming community.

May his memory endure.

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