In 2005, my parents made the move to our farm, just after my partner, James, and I purchased it. We set about renovating the old farmhouse, adding a splash of cheer with a new kitchen and a fresh coat of paint. It was a significant transition for us, especially since we had recently relocated from Creighton to Port Shepstone in 2003. With my brothers no longer in Creighton, I felt the pull to have my folks closer to us.
When James discovered the farm advertised for sale, he fell in love with it instantly. It felt like the perfect opportunity to invite my dad to join us in farming—a chance for him to indulge his lifelong passion. We wanted to show our gratitude for everything my parents had done to support us during our early days in Creighton when our business began to thrive.
From as far back as I can remember, my dad had a dream of farming. Even while managing a village shop in Creighton, he leased land from a local farmer, raising a few beef cattle on the side. I still chuckle when I think of those early days when we briefly had milking cows allowed in the village. Every morning at 10 AM, local farmers, including my dad, would bring their milk in big cans to catch the train. Picture my dad, balancing his milk can on his 50cc motorbike as he made his way to the station—such a vivid memory from the early ’70s!
My dad often shared how those cattle provided him with pocket money, allowing him to open his own store, “Mundell’s Central Store.” It was during this time that the locals affectionately nicknamed him “Mkhulu,” a term of respect in Zulu, and his store earned the nickname “Kwa-Mandela.” Eventually, he sold the store upon retirement, ready to embrace a new chapter.
When he settled at the farm, he brought along a small herd of Inguni cattle, along with some sheep and pigs. Farming kept him busy, and he poured his heart into it. Sadly, his time with us was cut short when he fell ill and passed away in 2008, before we could truly understand the illness that plagued him. We suspect it was some form of aggressive cancer, a cruel twist given that he had been a heavy smoker for most of his life.
Despite the heartbreak, I find solace in knowing that the farm was his happy place. It will always be a cherished memory for our family, a testament to his commitment to his craft and his family. His love for his grandchildren was undeniable, and it’s something we will carry forward, honoring his legacy in every corner of the farm he adored.
