Eulogy: Mike Crosbie

Lonnie Strickland Eulogy of Mike Crosbie

I first met Mike when he collected me at the Cape Town Airport and drove me to the University of the Western Cape in 1985. My family and I were visiting South Africa for the first time and we had just returned from our first trip to Kruger National Park and were awe struck.

As with any first encounter, Mike and I shopped around each other looking for common ground and discovered that we both enjoyed the bush. Mike was a fountain of bush knowledge and it was right there at that moment, a friendship emerged, a friendship that grew stronger every year and eventually blossomed into sincere love for one another. Mike was truly my best friend. We only saw each other for three months a year when my wife, Kitty, and I made our annual trek to South Africa to work and play, but it was always exciting getting back to our second home. This year will be our 34th year.

Mike was an original bush person and a great teacher. We so enjoyed spending time with him in the bush as he wowed us with great knowledge and stories. We first stayed in the Umbabat on the farm of Reinhold and Renee Joubert, which is in the now Greater Kruger Park about 50 Kilometers north east of Hoedspruit where the boundaries were literally Kruger National Park. Kitty and I enjoyed every minute of going on game drives during the day, and then sitting and listening to Mike tell stories of the bush around the braai fire. Mike was a great cook and he would meticulously and slowly cook meat like I have never seen. Carefully he would hold the meat on its side to get the fat going and then he would constantly turn and touch the meat to test how well it was done. The best part, though, was when he would take out his Leatherman and cut off a piece for us to taste as we sat around the fire.
Then there were the night sounds, the stars, and the smoke of the fire that made you feel you might just be in the hub of the Universe. Later in the evening, we would just sit quietly together after everyone had gone to bed and finish a bottle of wine. For both of us, we thought we were in heaven.

For 33 years, I have had the privilege to get to know Mike Crosbie and what a pleasure it has been!

Mike owned a very old Range Rover which needed constant care. But not a problem, Mike was a world class Range Rover mechanic. He worked and I handed him the tools. After a few turns here and taps there, the vehicle would come to life and we were off to the next adventure. He took us to the Kgalagadi Transfrontier Park where we froze almost solid as he did not completely explain, or I was not listening, that it is very cold in the desert. Kitty and I put everything we had brought on the bed, including the case, trying to get warm. Mike, on the other hand, had packed a bit better than we had. But the next morning we were off to see our first park, which included land in Botswana. The warmth of Mike’s friendship overcame the cold of the previous evening.

We took an adventure to Mana Pools in Zimbabwe in the Range Rover which was the most exciting trip we have ever made -- baboons and monkeys in the tent, Hyena eating the cool box, and Cape buffalo sticking their heads in the tent. Mike was the guide, the teacher, the mechanic, and the cook. My job was to bring him what he needed. We never forgot our beer in the afternoon and our wine at night. We went on many adventures.

Ron Dulek Eulogy of Mike Crosbie

As Mike Crosbie’s second-best American friend—I could never replace Lonnie Strickland in Mike’s heart—I too want to share a few brief memories of Mike.

First and foremost, as Lonnie noted, Mike was a teacher. And the bush was his classroom. He taught me about lions, rhinos, and elephants; and he also taught me about wood owls, spiders, snakes and bush babies. But he didn’t just teach you about a topic; he also taught you to love the topic. Mike was so kind, and so generous, but he would get so upset if he saw someone kill a spider or hurt a snake. He loved the bush and all that was in it. I once saw him pick up an ant and set it gently on the ground so that it could escape into the grass. Mike was that loving of nature.

Mike was also perhaps the most generous person I have ever met. He shared his knowledge, his belongings, his heart. He often gave gifts to us, including a pair of much treasured tongs that we use at the braai. He opened his home to strangers from America and made them feel welcome and safe in South Africa. Finally, Mike was a South African. Many years ago Mike came to the United States and spoke in my class. He charmed all the students. Then one student, just to challenge Mike a bit, asked him an interesting question. Specifically, she asked, “If you moved to the United States, would you call yourself an Afro-American?” The student asking the question was black, and Mike saw the implications behind the question. He paused, gave that all-knowing Mike smile, and answered as follows:

“First, I will never move to the United States. I love South Africa dearly and will never leave. It’s my home. But let’s say that I did leave and move here. Well, my ancestors immigrated to South Africa in 1614. My family has lived in the country ever since. We have lived in and loved the country for generations. So, yes, I am South African. And I guess that I’d have to call myself Afro-American if I moved here. But I never will.”

What a diplomat!

Last week South Africa lost one of its great ambassadors. The world is a little sadder without Mike but much better because he was here. Like Lonnie, I too will miss Mike but will try to carry on his spirit as best as I can.


Ron Dulek