(Originally published in FMR’s Opus Magazine, August 2024).
The American author John Steinbeck was 65 in 1967, when at the behest of Newsday magazine, he went to Vietnam to report on the war. (Steinbeck had received the Nobel prize for Literature in 1962). Alicia Patterson’s friend since 1956, he wrote a series of articles in the form of “Letters to Alicia” for Newsday following her death. At Pleiku, he flew aboard a UH-1 Huey helicopter with D Troop, 1st Squadron, 10th Cavalry, and wrote about the helicopter pilots:
“I wish I could tell you about these pilots. They make me sick with envy. They ride their vehicles the way a man controls a fine, well-trained quarter horse. They weave along stream beds, rise like swallows to clear trees, they turn and twist and dip like swifts in the evening. I watch their hands and feet on the controls, the delicacy of the coordination reminds me of the sure and seeming slow hands of (Pablo) Casals on the cello. They are truly musicians’ hands and they play their controls like music and they dance them like ballerinas and they make me jealous because I want so much to do it. Remember your child night dream of perfect flight free and wonderful? It’s like that, and sadly I know I never can. My hands are too old and forgetful to take orders from the command center, which speaks of updrafts and side winds, of drift and shift, or ground fire indicated by a tiny puff or flash, or a hit and all these commands must be obeyed by the musician’s hands instantly and automatically. I must take my longing out in admiration and the joy of seeing it”.
Knowing of Steinbeck’s love of music, I’m not surprised at his musical description of the pilots’ control. I do think many of the pilots (barely out of their teens) would have been surprised at the comparison, though.
Flying helicopters demands very fine coordination – left hand handling the collective and throttle, plus radios and switches, right hand unable to leave the cyclic with its tiny movements and many switches, and the anti-torque pedals requiring constant inputs to counter the helicopter’s natural wish to pirouette around its own vertical axis.
Watching the finalists in our FMR Bursary Trust Music Awards concerts on the 23rd and 26th July, I was reminded of Steinbeck’s description – the “delicacy of the coordination”.
The cello, the clarinet, the piano, the guitar, the uhadi or xylophone – all demanding total concentration, full commitment, and that delicate coordination. Resulting in the beautiful music we were treated to.
Four categories, Classical Instrumental and classical vocal on the Tuesday, and African Music and Jazz on the Friday again gave us an assurance that the future of our music is in good, coordinated hands.
Demanding a cerebral dexterity of another kind is the art of the wordsmith. Steinbeck may have achieved international recognition, but so has our own Amanda Botha, who wrote about opera and ballet for an international publication for many years, and last year they gifted her six weeks in New York to see some productions. A journalist since the late ‘Sixties, publicist for Afrikaans theatre and Opera, published author, acclaimed art curator – those are only some of her accomplishments – and, for the past 15 years, editor of FMR’s programme Boekkeuse. The vast amount of work this demanded was simply astonishing, but Amanda soldiered on – always smiling and always humble.
And now Amanda has decided to call it a day, and step back from the unrelenting demands of live radio at the end of August. She leaves a legacy, and the FMR family will miss her dearly.
We wish Amanda a well deserved rest, but knowing her, she’ll keep busy with her many other projects. We salute her.
Van almal by FMR – Baie, baie dankie Amanda. Mooi Loop!

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