I met Gary for the first time in 2004 during my first year at UCT. Within your first few weeks at university you quickly learn how to pick out the professors from the crowd, but Gary was an anomaly in this sense. He rode a motorcycle to work. He wore jeans. He sometimes blasted U2 from his office in the late afternoon when he thought no one was around.
These things were more than enough to make me look forward to a semester course in computer architecture that he would be taking in my second year. Studying computer architecture is not typically seen as a life-affirming experience, but the passion and sincerity that went into each of his lectures gave new meaning to the subject for me. I recall him pretending to be an electron, dancing around the floor as he flowed through an imaginary circuit. He also enjoyed randomly placing pieces of irrelevant information on his slides, such as a column for "number of oranges", in what he described as his attempt to "let the madness out slowly". And I liked him all the more for it.
Although Gary was undoubtedly a gifted educator, his true passion (besides his family) was unmistakably evident when he spoke about his research, which inevitably had the end result of helping someone. His commitment to and belief in his work is one that I continue to admire, and I was fortunate enough to experience this first-hand after my supervisor resigned from the department at the end of my first year of my MSc. I instinctively called Gary (in a panic), and he met with me that day. I couldn't believe it when he agreed to be my supervisor.
That conversation signaled the start of an unforgettable year for me. Being part of the ICD4D lab afforded me the opportunity of being surrounded by people who were looking to bring about positive change in the world, and were led by a man who had devoted his life to this endeavor. Gary quickly cottoned on to the idea that positive change could be brought about quicker through the introduction of a proper coffee machine to the lab. He truly was concerned with the well-being of his students, whether it was a need for funding, equipment, or just a conversation that inevitably helped in re-framing our perceptions of what it was we were working towards.
Even though Gary's passion for his research was unmistakable, it was secondary to his love of and commitment to his family. I was fortunate to have had the opportunity of meeting his family and spending time with them during the braais he used to host at his house for the lab during the year. I recall one instance where Gary, hands and arms ladened with all of the food that had just finished cooking, was making his way from the braai to the kitchen. Jake called out to him, wanting to show him how much better he was able to kick his football after having been given impromptu training by Raymond. In my mind I can picture most parents declining their child's request in such a situation, their mind focused solely on delivering the food to the kitchen. But Gary stopped immediately, turned to Jake, and with no sense of urgency or irritation, asked his son to proceed (Raymond had indeed done a good job - the kick was a substantial improvement over Jake's previous attempts.)
Gary was one of the most sincere and genuine people I have ever met, and I am deeply saddened by his passing. Although the void in the world and in our hearts that he leaves behind is one that surely can't be filled, the positive change that he was able to instill in the world continues to live on and multiply through his family and the people he met. And for this, we will forever be in his debt.
Cheers Gary.
Ian Saunder
( (+27) 72 638 2997 (cell)
On Wed, Jan 1, 2014 at 6:53 PM, Fritz Meissner <fritz.meissner@gmail.com> wrote:
Thanks all for the opportunity to grieve in community like this.
In 2010 when I started my M.Sc. in the UCT Computer Science department, I told my supervisor I wanted to sit in the "ICT4D lab". It worked because I was a match by research area, but what I didn't realise at the time was that I was the only student there who was not supervised by Gary Marsden. Still, I was welcomed in weekly meetings, at which I was given the same space to talk and hear his advice for my research as any of his own students.
He put effort into many things that would create a good atmosphere for all of us, including buying furniture and having us over to his home for a meal to mark the end of a term. In 2011 his tireless efforts at networking and fund raising resulted in the group getting an attractive work space in the computer science building. I was proud to be there. Any time a friend visited the University, I made the lab a part of the tour. In spare moments Gary joined us there, drinking coffee and making conversation which was always worth taking my headphones off to hear, even if I wasn't actually part of it.
One of the biggest benefits of being part of this group has been the endless stream of friends and contacts to whom Gary introduced us, including some very senior people in the field. When I meet them later, they remember me as one of Gary's students, even though I wasn't introduced as such. I think I understand why: it was unusual for someone in his position to pay attention to and promote students whom he didn't supervise, because there are significant incentives for academics to only invest time and energy only where it is most necessary and where return is most likely. It wasn't just me, either. As the group grew, more students joined from other supervisors, some of them not even from the same department. We all experienced his encouragement, infectious enthusiasm, and generosity.
In my (short) research career, January was always a great month because of the quiet in the lab, conducive to good concentration, but also -- more selfishly -- because Gary would split his attention between the few students who were present at the start of the working year. This meant more great conversation, and getting the scoop on his exciting plans for the new year.
In 2014, January will be different. It holds sadness at amusement and wisdom lost, at plans that could have been, but won't. It would be unhealthy to deny that sadness, but in the midst of it I'm determined to hold on to the example he set, and hopefully one day emulate: to welcome the outsider who doesn't quite fit; to find meaning in blessing others; and to always go the extra mile, even when there is no obvious reward ahead.
Fritz
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