I'm
Malcolm's second cousin - my dad and his mom are first cousins. Though
I am really sad that due to his emigration from SA (and my subsequent
emigration to London) I didn't get to know Malcolm that well, I am lucky
enough to have a 'Malcolm story.'
About
3 and a half years ago Martin (brother), Jodi (sister-in-law), Nikki
(sister) and I were in Cape Town and so was Malcolm. One night we all
went out for supper and I left early because I had a party to go to.
Malcolm and Niki got a lift back with me. At that time I didn't have
a car in London and hadn't driven for about 10 months. When Malcolm
learned of this, he offered to drive. Now I know he was a gentleman,
but trust me, his offer was motivated by fear. And rightly so. I reversed
my brother's rented car straight out of the parking lot and into a security
pole, you know the ones that are put up to stop you going into reserved
parking bays (in SA they use them to prevent you from leaving with somebody
else's car!). Malcolm again nervously asked if I was sure I didn't want
him to drive, but I defiantly refused the offer. I managed to get him
to his hotel without further mishaps, but Nikki and I still laugh at
how he jumped out of the car before it had even stopped moving. I can
only imagine the women driver jokes that flowed that night.
I
was recently ill, and just a few days before Malcolm went into the hospital
for the last time, as sick as he was, he took the trouble to write to
me to find out how I was. The way he dealt with his illness, and lived
his life, serves as a constant inspiration.
Linda
Sacks
U.K.