He went to the chimps, dear Henk. Once again he left us, but this time for good. Into the forests of Africa.
He arrived years ago. Static and still. Iron Henk was his name, given by Alexander during an excursion on an island in the North. At the time he seemed impossible to move.
Henk’s family owns a farm. A milkfarm. With cows. Most of his old time friends have stayed in his youth time village. Henk moved away. Not far away, but into a different world. The intellectuals. They too can be friendly.
So friendships grew. Later, when Henks house was on the list of buildings to be brought back to the ground, he came to live with us and we got to know him. Even if he doesn’t always express it, Henk is a very active man. He took care of big parts of the garden and of the animals. Organizing big events at the side. Full of surprises.
One day, Henk and I took up the task of moving some chariots full of willow branches from a parking lot. “How will we discharge it?” I asked. “Well… we could tip it over…” Joy in his eyes. Two meters high, two meters long and a meter wide; he made a massive device into something quite small.
You usually don’t hear it in his voice or see it in his movements, but through the years you learn to tell. Henk is driven by a tremendous will to live and enjoy. No roles, just Henk. We’ll miss him.