Inez, Janet and Agnes
By Jacqueline Krynauw, née Hayward (1945)
This was written in Afrikaans and the literal translation does not fully capture the intended meaning and tone.
I knew two of these three sisters of my father-in-law (David Willem, 1908). We had especially close contact with Aunt Inez in Paarl. She was a teacher.
Aunt Janet was a school principal in Oudtshoorn. After Aunt Inez’s passing in 1996, many fascinating writings were found among her documents—plays, letters, and even an operetta she had written. This generation exchanged letters and notes—often in rhyme. Here are a few examples.
Inez Krynauw (born 1901)
She wrote the following at the age of 90 in the retirement home:
Aging
When I was young, I could kick backwards,
Bend my feet right over my head.
Over time, I became stiff,
Yet New Year’s Eve was still too short.
Now that I am old and my ears ring,
I can’t walk down the street without gasping.
I rise each morning and pick up my newspaper,
Reading the obituaries from end to end.
If my name is missing, I know I’m alive,
And can return to bed once more.
The Key Story
Who took my keys away?
I put them right here—just here. Now they have vanished.
No, man, they are not on the ground.
I searched everywhere around.
My pocket! My memory is not that weak!
See for yourself! Goodness me, they are not in my pocket.
Oh, Annatjie, please unlock the door.
I lost my keys somewhere.
This has never happened to me before—
Except sometimes, but hardly ever.
They were safe in my pocket.
Now I have unpacked everything.
Nowhere to be found.
Can you believe it! They are still hanging in the door.
Who locks the doors so early?
We came back early enough!
That I could leave my keys at home.
Now it’s the sickbay—no other choice.
But I will speak my mind about this!
Wait—now the final word must be said.
I forgot the doors are locked at eight.
Janet Krynauw (born 1904)
A family member challenged her to respond to “Give me…?” Here was her reply:
“My lighthearted, irreverent answer to his very solemn “Give me” request
The Transvaler
Give me a hearty bowl of maize porridge,
A sausage fried in its own juice,
A big cup of coffee, straight from his mother—
And what more could I ask of life?
Just ten Naas Bothas for our football team,
And a Western Province team to scold.
The Bolander
Give me a few chunks of smoked snoek,
Fresh grapes straight from Franschhoek,
A day at the Strand or Gordon’s Bay,
With a cool southeaster blowing away.
A glass of sparkling wine as evening falls—
And keep the whole of Transvaal for yourselves!
Me—(except for the pill)
Give me a quiet hour with a book,
A comfy chair in a peaceful nook.
Young again for a few precious hours,
Sharing the hero’s grand adventures.
Gone is my hearing aid, gone are my glasses,
Gone, too, is the dreaded blood pressure pill.
How’s that?”
Agnes Krynauw (born 1890)
We did not know her. She worked as a missionary in Mochudi, Botswana, for 22 years, and the girls’ hostel at the Homecrafts Centre, founded in 1941, was named after her.
The three sisters never married, but they literally helped shape the character of thousands of children. They had a significant impact on us, the Krynauw family’s children, and the schools they taught in. They were dedicated, positive, yet humble, instilling respect, discipline, and ambition.