Tribute to Matui – the Legendary Chris Eyre

•LINDA BAKERI HEARD that Chris Eyre had seen his last sunset, and knew the end had come.

When I was a young ranger in the late 1980s, I had heard tales of this extraordinary man. Of how he had drawers full of unclaimed S and T (subsistence and travel allowance) cheques. Of how guests were treated to tea – water boiled in an unwashed sausage pan, with a lump of jam added when the sugar ran out.

But mostly, I heard stories about the terrible rhino and elephant poaching, and how Chris and a handful of people were fighting the scourge. Not with bullets, but by sitting down with the farmers, communities and leaders who belonged on the land, listening and talking. This was unheard of at the time, and a disapproving department of nature conservation head office banished him to far-off Keetmanshoop.

I heard too, that he said: “The day they allow women in the ministry (of environment and tourism) is the day we should close it down. That will be the end.”

I don’t remember when I first met him. But over the years, I came to look past Chris’s outwardly rugged appearance; his sometimes abrupt manner. I found that inside was a great man, where honour, integrity, respect and a deep love for nature lived. A man who learnt life’s lessons through listening, watching and understanding. Through gazing into a fire, deep in thought, armed with a cup of tea, his pipe and his dogs. He didn’t need more.

And I found a deep love for this man and all he stood for. A love I am sure those who met him share, one that observes his purity of intentions and spirit.

One day, he rang me from Ondangwa. “Linda”, he said. He always spoke loudly, and often twice. “Linda, I have to tell you. I have six posts for information officers. And you know, I am going to put women in all of them.” And he did.

Many years later, I reminded him of his early statements about the impending doom of allowing women in the MET. He smoked his pipe thoughtfully, then grinned his toothy grin and chuckled. “I did say that. Yes, I did say that.”

I don’t know what changed his mind. But, I think that, in true Chris style, he looked for what was needed, and cast aside any preconceived ideas he may have formed.

I hope, in his final days, while watching his last sunsets, his heart rested easily. Knowing that he had left behind a great legacy, one in which people talk through their differences, united through a common love of the land, its creatures and its future.

I hope he remembered the solid foundations he laid through those long meetings, of how he bridged the rift between farmers and the officials through trust and respect.

I hope he reflected on the many people he had met and the lives he touched. How he nurtured young conservationists who are today among our great leaders.

How he planted within all of us who met him the seed of hope, respect for each other and caring.

And I hope, as he watched his final sunset, he knew that we will not forget him or his sacrifices. But that in each of us, his legacy will endure.

If I have learnt a lesson from Chris, it is this:

Reward is not in riches, possessions and status. It is in the quiet satisfaction that our lives are in harmony – with nature, with others and with ourselves. Chris was one of those rare people who lived this.

He was, perhaps, the richest of us all.

I salute you, Matui*. Go well on your journey. Goodbye.

* Matui is the affectionate name given to him by the ovaHimba. It refers to his large ears.

Linda Baker worked for various Namibian environmental organisations from 1989 to 2011 – first as a game ranger and later as an environmental publicist. She currently lives in Kalk Bay, Cape Town.