Hans Bornman: the man who preserved the Lowveld’s history

Few names are as closely linked to the recorded history of the Lowveld as that of Hans Bornman. Over decades of writing, illustrating and researching, he became one of the region’s most dedicated storytellers, capturing the people, places and events that shaped Barberton and the wider De Kaap Valley.

Beyond the books, awards and carefully inked illustrations, there was also a father, a builder, a musician, and a man who seemed as at ease with a black mamba as he was with a pen.

Born on February 27, 1933 and raised in the Lowveld, Bornman spent much of his life in towns such as Barberton and later Lydenburg. The landscapes and communities of the region became both his home and his subject.

He married Moreen Prinsloo in 1957 and the couple had two daughters, Thurl and Marielle.

His journey into history began in the 1970s while working as a young journalist. Assigned to research the history of Barberton, he started interviewing elderly residents and collecting their memories. He later remarked that he realised he was, quite literally, speaking to living history. The urgency of preserving those stories ignited a passion that would define the rest of his life.

Over the years, Bornman authored, co-authored, edited or illustrated dozens of books, estimates range from around 25 to as many as 50 titles. His work covered pioneer families, gold rush personalities, historic towns, wildlife and plant life of the region.

Through his publications, he preserved stories that might otherwise have faded into obscurity.

Bornman was not only a writer but also a gifted illustrator. One of his earliest and most notable works was Aloes of the South African Veld (1971), in which he served as both co-author and illustrator. His meticulous botanical drawings reflected both artistic talent and scientific care.

His daughter Marielle Styles Nienhuis recalls being so small at the time that she could barely reach the tabletop in his studio. Rare aloe specimens were arranged carefully for sketching, “like treasures,” she remembers. At one point, she nearly destroyed a rare plant with her eager hands. After that, her mother kept her well away from the studio, where her father worked among plants and paper in quiet concentration.

Illustration remained part of his life throughout the decades, including later publications such as Owls of Southern Africa, which carried his full-colour artwork.

Bornman inherited a portion of his family farm, Perl, at Eureka opposite the Sheba goldmine, outside Barberton where he resided for many years. When Marielle was about five years old, she stayed with him there while he built the house they would later live in, the home where she eventually matriculated from.

With only two helpers, he constructed the house largely with his own hands, piece by piece. “Dad was the kind of man who could look at a problem and simply make a solution,” Marielle wrote. “Wood, tools, hinges, machines, he could turn his hand to anything.”

He loved woodworking most. The kitchen cabinetry he built for his wife Moreen was solid, practical and enduring.

On the farm stood an old Lister pump, heavy and temperamental. Every so often, father and daughter would haul it down to the river and crank it into life to push water back up to the farmhouse. Once it caught, the handle could kick violently and he once nearly lost a hand to it. It was, she says, a love-hate relationship.

Many knew Bornman as a historian. Fewer knew his contemplative side.

Marielle remembers evenings spent sitting under a blanket of stars, talking for hours about faith, mystery and meaning. Their conversations were sometimes gentle, sometimes spirited debates. Those discussions shaped her own spiritual journey in lasting ways.

“He was deeply spiritual,” she wrote. “We talked about what can’t be proven but can be felt.”

As a young man, Bornman played piano and worked as an organist at the Capitol Theatre in Pretoria. Although there was no piano in the family home later, music remained important. He owned a large record collection, including old 78 rpm records. Among them were recordings of Glenn Miller, whose wartime melodies echoed through the house. Through these records, he passed on a love of many genres of music to his daughters.

If Bornman seemed most alive anywhere, it was in nature.

According to Marielle there was a three-metre black mamba living beneath a water tank above the farmhouse. Rather than kill it, he would sit nearby and speak softly. When snakes found their way into nearby cottages, he almost never killed them. He caught and released them back into the veld.

At one stage he cared for rare blue duiker with great gentleness. An old kudu bull would come to greet him when he visited neighbouring land to feed antelope. Zebra and antelope moved freely around him, unafraid.

He once remarked, “The more I have to do with people, the more I love my dog.”

His eldest daughter, Thurl Jackson, recalls freelancing with her father as tour guides in the Kruger National Park during the late 1980s. On one hot morning, while guests admired impala, Bornman quietly pointed to a leopard stretched out on a branch above them. Thanks to his keen eye, the sighting became the highlight of the trip. “Dad just had a knack to spot elusive animals,” Thurl wrote. Today, Thurl lives in Lilongwe, Malawi, and Marielle, in New Zealand. Marielle has two daughters, Tayla and Courtney.

For his 80th birthday, he visited Marielle abroad, where he painted seascapes and went fishing with her husband Johan, an experience he spoke about for years afterward.

Hans Bornman passed away on March 27, 2024, leaving behind not only a remarkable body of published work, but also deeply personal memories treasured by his family. He did not only preserve the history of the Lowveld. In his quiet way, he lived it.