Our Sutherland love story
In the past few weeks I have had the opportunity to visit Sutherland on three occasions - first with a large group of families from Xavier and Cyprian’s school; then with my work colleagues including Carolina’s staff (she had always wanted to take them to Sutherland but her health did not allow it, so I had promised her I would); and then again to attend a government-led stakeholder workshop on astronomy tourism and economic development in the region. During each of these trips, with increasing frequency, I was able to steal moments of reflection about how much this place meant to Carolina and me, both personally and in terms of our careers. It was these pensive, tear-soaked moments that sparked this little monologue...
Sutherland is a small town in the Northern Cape Province, about 4 hours' drive from Cape Town, and home to the South African Astronomical Observatory (SAAO), which hosts the Southern African Large Telescope (SALT - one of the biggest telescopes in the world). It is also known as the coldest place in South Africa (although not technically correct, it has maintained this reputation over the years probably due to it usually showing the lowest temperature on a weather map, if not just the lived experience of people who visit). As a small town whose main economic driver over the years has been sheep farming (later tourism, then wind farms), Sutherland has numerous social challenges such as poverty, unemployment, substance abuse, and related issues. The observatory continues to engage with and positively impact the Sutherland community through its Collateral Benefits Programme, which I was in charge of from 2006 to 2011. The work of this programme also inspired the creation of the IAU Office of Astronomy for Development.
The first time Carolina and I visited Sutherland together was in May 2007, only 7 months after we had first met. She lived in the Netherlands at the time and this was part of a 4 week trip to South Africa, during which we fell way more in love than we cared to admit at the time. Sutherland was one stop on a whirlwind tour of Southern Africa that included several work and social events (we had very quickly become good friends so the trip was a mix of work and vacation time). She was coordinating the international Universe Awareness Programme (UNAWE) and I was helping her establish it in the region. The many adventures during that 4 week period included planned Freedom Day celebrations (cancelled due to weather); two weddings of close friends; visits to several major national parks; meetings with education/outreach colleagues/officials around South Africa and three of its neighbouring countries; and a meeting of the international Steering Committee of UNAWE. Of all these incredible adventures, Sutherland was probably the highlight, and was to become a place we would visit regularly over the years, both for its skies and its people.
In 2005, when I decided to leave a research career path in experimental nuclear physics, it was to take up a position as Manager of the SALT Collateral Benefits Programme at the SAAO. At the time, while based in Johannesburg and working at the South African Nuclear Energy Corporation (NECSA), I spent most, if not all, of my spare time on community development and science communication/education projects. This job at the SAAO allowed me to do this full time, and at a place that I had already fallen in love with during my university studies, when I had the opportunity to visit Sutherland and use two of the research telescopes there. I saw astronomy as a powerful field not only to broaden minds and bring perspective, but also to stimulate rural economic development in the process, through tourism.
In the meantime, as Carolina concluded her Astronomy PhD at Cambridge University in the UK, she was given the opportunity to travel to South Africa for a few weeks in 2004 to teach at the African Institute for Mathematical Sciences in Muizenberg (coincidentally now the same suburb as our home since 2011). Her love for South Africa and its people was ignited back then and never wavered. When she and UNAWE found each other around 2005, it gave her the wings that the world seemed to have been waiting for her to have. Her articulate words, strategic thinking, multiple skills and boundless energy breathed life into the vision of UNAWE, and it quickly grew into the global project it is now known as - a programme to inspire young children with the sense of perspective and tolerance that would help make the world a better place.
Our independent desire to use astronomy to make a positive impact on people’s lives was strong, but when we came into each others' lives, bringing together our passion for the same things, it was a rare explosion of energy and love (love for each other and a mutual love for the world). Together we were far far greater than the sum of our parts. Sutherland somehow became a focal point of all that passion and love - a place that we would go to to replenish our seemingly boundless energy; a place to remind ourselves why we do what we do; a place that represented the merger of extremes - where one could have their heads in the stars, while keeping their feet on the ground; a place of love.
During our many trips to Sutherland over the years we engaged in numerous activities that would often be spoken about for years to come. I'll describe just a few of the more memorable ones, all characterized by love - love for each other, love for the universe and love for its people:
Carolina and I worked together on the celebrations surrounding the International Year of Astronomy in 2009 (we each coordinated a global cornerstone project - hers was UNAWE and mine was "Developing Astronomy Globally"). We wanted to launch this 2009 year with a significant activity, and after months of negotiation the SAAO kindly agreed to shut down all telescopes for one night - New Year’s Eve on 31st December 2008 - in order to allow the public to have full access to the telescope plateau in Sutherland all night (this is something that was never done before nor since - telescope time is extremely precious). In the days building up towards that night, Carolina and I ran a most intense programme of activities in Sutherland, including astronomy workshops for the public, night time stargazing, telescope tours, and community engagement activities. We worked longer hours than would be considered reasonable for most, and I was told that a large part of what made our workshops so special was the incredible chemistry between us - chemistry that seemed to supply us with infinite energy. Each night we would share a moment under the stars, physically exhausted but emotionally energized. Our love was built on such moments. We shared the last sunset of 2008 and the first sunrise of 2009 with members of the public, including a broadcast on national television, from the otherwise highly restricted observing plateau.
Another memorable experience was the bringing together of artists and scientists under the dark skies in the quiet, expansive landscape of Sutherland. This emerged out of our close friendship with Marcus Neustetter and Bronwyn Lace, two amazing artists who we grew so close to that they ended up being witnesses to our wedding. The four of us shared a strong connection around our passion for people. What Carolina and I were trying to do in using science for society, Marcus and Bronwyn were doing using art (and Carolina’s incredible artistic side - from music to photography to drawing - made the connection all the more stronger). Our work together in Sutherland, which started through a spontaneous trip that Marcus and I made to Sutherland, evolved into the Sutherland Reflections project, which included the construction of a Community Dome and monument at the observatory, kite making and flying activities with Sutherland children, an art installation in the SAAO visitors centre, a planetary highway along the main street of Sutherland, and numerous other conversations and connections among people. This whole series of art-science activities was an incredibly strong statement of the potential of the stars to bring people together across disciplines, and the fact that a place like Sutherland can serve as the ideal location for incredible innovation around community engagement and development.
One of the last projects I worked on while in charge of the SALT Collateral Benefits Programme was what is now called the Sutherland Community Development Centre. The idea for this centre emerged from numerous community meetings that we coordinated, during which we would brainstorm ideas for projects with the biggest positive impact on the community. With funding from the Department of Science and Innovation we established this centre in the main street of Sutherland. It is equipped with 24 computer workstations, all with full access to the internet (shared bandwidth from the SAAO), desks for homework, a small library, a play area for very young kids, and an outside braai area. It is meant to be a safe space for anyone from the community who wishes to learn or develop themselves, including young mothers who can bring their kids along. This centre has been a focal point for community development interventions such as one that Carolina and I ran to teach youth how to develop basic apps for mobile phones using block coding software. Carolina’s range of skills was unmatched and she was able to help beginners develop a fully functional app that they could actually install on their own phones. It was an incredibly powerful illustration of the potential of youth in Sutherland, all implemented with the combined skill and love that Carolina and I brought to all such interventions.
Our last big project together in Sutherland, which has now grown wings thanks to the recent follow up event in June 2023, was bringing families to Sutherland from Xavier and Cyprian’s school. Carolina and I first planned and coordinated this in 2019, together with their teachers. The idea was that it was more than just an educational trip to a scientific facility but an actual human engagement between families at our school and the community of Sutherland. That trip in 2019 was a huge success, and even though she was battling cancer at the time, we still had our incredible chemistry of earlier years, hosting this group of families in this place we loved, and engaging with them about so much more than just the stars. We intended to make it an annual event but the pandemic and Carolina’s health prevented it from taking place until a special weekend in 2023, about 7 months after her passing (read more in this post about the 2023 event).
These are just a few of many things we’ve done in Sutherland over the years, but there is a lot more to this place than just events or activities. Sutherland is a place where our love story was nurtured and grew. Whenever we were there, from the very first time in 2007, we shared countless moments under the incredible night skies - with so many stars from horizon to horizon that the "usual" constellations were hard to find; where dark patches in the sky were not clouds in our atmosphere, but interstellar dust in our galaxy; where nights were so clear that seeing shooting stars against the bright milky way background was a given. We would go on long hikes in the open lands around the observatory, sharing laughter and conversations with each other, and no one but dassies to hear us. It was the place we saw our first green flash at sunset, and even one at sunrise - experiencing with bliss the changing colours of a sky that had the sun just beyond one horizon and the earth’s shadow cast on the opposite horizon; with majestic silhouettes of telescope domes against a fiery orange background sky. We would run together, sometimes on early morning sunrise jogs around the telescopes (her incredible fitness was probably key in helping her battle the cancer and all associated surgeries/interventions for so long). Sutherland was a place where we could escape the frantically busy lives that we led and be alone with each other, with nature and the universe - to have those essential quiet moments in order to focus both on our love for each other and the work we shared.
I traveled to Sutherland so often in those days that it was also a place of immense sadness and longing while we were apart (Carolina only moved to South Africa in 2010, long after we fell in love). I remember numerous occasions when she was in a distant part of the world (either at her home in Leiden or traveling on work trips) and I was in Sutherland, and as we desperately missed each other, I would bring her close to me with my words, by describing to her what I was seeing in Sutherland, the place she knew so well and loved. Sometimes we would even be looking at the same object in the sky, like the moon, and it would bring us some scraps of comfort to know that we could connect in this way across a planet that was far, far too big.
Sutherland was also a special place to us for another reason. One evening, long before Carolina and I had even admitted our love for each other, I came out of the SAAO hostel after supper, as I often did in order to catch the sunset. An elderly couple was also staying at the hostel, and they had gone outside a bit earlier than me. As I came out I saw their silhouettes against a spectacular orange sky. I can’t recall whether I captured a picture of that moment (I think I did, and perhaps one day I will find it) but I was so moved by that scene, that I sent a message to Carolina promising her that I would bring her here for an African sunset when we were 80. At that time we had nothing more than a really good friendship across continents - we had made no confessions of love, nor commitments to be with each other. It was just a simple yet pure expression of a closeness that we had shared from the moment we first met. However, throughout our evolving relationship, that promise quickly became a theme song, a rallying cry, a hope that we held on to, and a moment we both looked forward to. Throughout the cancer journey, through all the challenges we faced, through every surgery and every statistically terrifying scenario, it was always our hope, our wish, our goal, our promise, that we would catch that sunset together when we were 80. And in her last days in hospital, when we knew what was coming, I repeated the promise - we would see that sunset, even if all I had left to take with me was her ashes.
In a place characterized by vast open spaces and a night sky that reminds us of unreachable distances, Sutherland was always the perfect trigger of the immense loneliness that one feels when separated from the one you love. During these recent trips to Sutherland, I experienced the pain of loneliness with more intensity than ever before. As I walked around the observatory, watching the stars, the sunrises, the sunsets (all of which I used to immediately share with Carolina by reflex) the loneliness was so inconceivably strong that I must admit I had moments where I almost forgot that she was not on this planet anymore. It was as though she was just somewhere else, on a long trip, or doing a long hospital stay, and we would be reunited again soon. It was so incredibly hard to imagine that she would never see this place again. I felt the pain and sadness that I used to feel when I was here and she was on the other side of the world, but then it became infinitely worse when I realised that she was nowhere on this tiny planet. She was gone. And the loneliness and sadness would be given no relief at some future airport moment or hospital visit - it would just remain, forever, as infinite as the universe. Of that incredible couple that once rocked this world so much, only I remain, along with our infinite love, both within my heart and personified in the form of Xavier and Cyprian. Our Sutherland love story had reached the end...
Or had it?
Part of the most recent Sutherland trip was handing over a contribution made by the parents and teachers of our school to a group of women in Sutherland who had organised themselves to cater for our large (150+) group a few weekends ago. A direct outcome of that weekend was that these women were now establishing a catering business, and the cash contributions from the school group would go towards the purchasing of catering equipment. Carolina would have been over the moon about this. This whole school-families-community initiative had been organised in memory of Carolina. It was put together out of love for her, love for the universe and love for its people, just like all those other initiatives that she and I had done together. It was implemented with a similar drive and energy that she and I used to put into such things, although with a much reduced capacity (dealing with loss is like walking through a thick swamp - every step of normal life is exhausting, both physically and emotionally - and it feels like it takes double the effort to accomplish half the tasks). But the impact of the initiative was significant.
So maybe this Sutherland love story has not quite reached the end yet. Maybe I need to rise up from the metaphorical swamp of sadness and loneliness and accept that even though Carolina is not physically here, everything that emerges from our love is all still very much real, and necessary. During the peaks of our work, we would take such strength and confidence from each other that nothing could bring us down. There is wisdom in the saying that when someone you think is amazing thinks you are amazing too, then anything is possible. Carolina and I would achieve impossible feats through unbelievable stamina (stamina that was so inconceivable by others that it once even got me a formal warning to slow down). Maybe that’s the kind of strength that I still need to take from our love, and from Sutherland, in order to handle the overwhelming grief, and more importantly, to push on with those things that we would have done together if she was still here.
While driving the Sutherland road alone, it struck me, more clearly than ever, that the impact of this love between Carolina and me need not end with the passing away of one of us. Just as the love will never end, neither should the fruits of it. And this applies as much to parenting as it does to the work. The passing of Carolina necessitates that I should somehow serve both the roles of father and mother. I could never fulfill the latter but I do know what Carolina wanted for the boys, and how she would respond to certain things. I can also constantly remind the boys about her character, her opinions, and her unconditional love for them. I can take strength from our love to raise the boys as I know she would have wanted.
In our work, which we always shared with each other, I could take on the things that I would have done together with her. Perhaps I should still take strength from our love and try to be the person that I was when she was by my side - the person she turned me into. Just as in those early years during lonely moments in Sutherland when she was on the other side of the world, and when I nonetheless took strength from our love to achieve big things, so too should I now take strength, and do for the world what we used to do together. In that way the boys will also see what their parents' love is capable of and what we could achieve through it.
And so I will not speak anymore of the Sutherland love story as something of the past, but rather I will sustain it, and take energy from it, in order to enable me to do the big things that we would have continued to do together if she was here. I will do this in memory of Carolina; I will do this in celebration of our love; and I will do this because Xavier and Cyprian (and the world) deserve to see what true love is capable of.
