The phrase “I am my brother’s keeper”, is perhaps the most telling in the whole of Marius Barnard’s autobiography, Defining Moments.
Despite his status as an eminent surgeon and politician, there is undoubtedly a great burden carried by Marius Barnard even today – the weight of conflicting feelings still focused on the relationship with his famous brother, Chris.
Born in the “coffee and petrol” Karoo town of Beaufort West in 1927, the youngest son of dutiful parents, Marius Barnard was exposed from his earliest years both to the hardships of his own family as well as those of South Africans at large.
His father, Adam, clawed his way up from a miserable life as a wood-cutter in the Knysna forest, escaping a lifetime of illiterate serfdom at the hands of corrupt businessmen – much like Dalene Matthee’s literary hero, Saul Barnard.
Although now he thinks of this as one of his own “defining moments”, the young Marius was hesitant to admit his humble roots: “As a youngster, I never let on that I had originated from such stock when people referred to ‘poor whites’ in derogatory terms… today I am extremely proud.”
Racial disharmony was the order of the day, tainting even the religious life of the community – Barnard’s father was the minister of the coloured Dutch Reformed Mission Church, which shrank before the white Dutch Reformed Church in size if not in spirit.
Institutionalised racism found its way into the geography of the land: “The town of my childhood was carved in two not only by the Gamka River, but also along racial lines.”
The closing chapters of World War II also heralded the advent of Marius Barnard’s days as a medical student at UCT.
He found himself immersed in a world which, although it held great interest for him, was as challenging as it was rewarding.
All lectures were in English – Barnard spoke very little of the language at the time. He also found himself sharing lodgings with his older brother, Chris – “a brother I hardly knew”.
The years that followed saw Barnard working in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and, after a period, in America, where he learned much – both about cardiac surgery and his own character.
It was upon his return to South Africa that he was offered a position by his brother – the position that was to see him in the spotlight of the world when the first heart transplant was performed.
“Throughout the centuries, man has looked at the heart as the site of religion, love and nearly all human emotions,” writes Barnard. This, indeed, might explain the residual fascination with the iconic operation, although when interviewed Barnard is adamant that if he were to list his greatest achievements, “the heart transplant wouldn’t make the index”.
About his brother’s consequent fame and unravelling, he says he is not bitter, but sad.
It is perhaps true to say that it is Barnard’s defining characteristics, rather than defining moments, that stand out in his autobiography.
A determination to do his duty, to find and make known the truth whether or not it is easy, and a dogged willingness to sacrifice almost anything for the welfare of a patient are the cornerstones of Barnard’s attitude.
Despite his career both in medicine and politics – he was an MP for the Progressive Federal Party (PFP), forerunner of the DA – he is self-deprecating, and, of the latter, says, “all that talking and political meetings… never achieved anything”.
Defining Moments, although ostensibly the story of one Barnard brother, is undeniably suffused with the story of the other.
In an indefinable way the book seems almost like a case study: impeccably written, inclusive of every relevant detail, yet somehow detached from the very life it describes.
When asked why he did not write his story sooner, Barnard’s reply was: “While Chris was alive I would not write the book.”
It is evident that his relationship with his brother is something that troubles Marius Barnard deeply. In Defining Moments he alternates between praise and criticism, resulting in a read that raises more questions than it answers. “I’ve had to be fair,” says Barnard of his account – yet with a detachment that is almost puzzling: “I would call him a successful failure”.
Defining Moments will fascinate and puzzle its readers – although perhaps not entertain. It is revealing both by way of the facts it presents and the style in which it is written – revealing, at times, an inner conflict stretching back further than the turmoil of the heart transplant.
At heart, it is the enduring voice of a generation bound by duty and ever-conscious of its decisions.
Lara Sadler