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From Mary Henderson, A Family Friend
So strange, and agonizing, to be asked to share a few thoughts about Scott and Barbara, Zoe and Noah, four of the most alive people my family and I have ever known. The questions 'Why?' and 'How?' and 'What if?' echo in my heart as I try to find the grace and composure to look past the violence of their passing, to treasure the time we shared together and to put into practice so many of the things they taught me. Little Noah……our 2 ½-year-old Noah, to his great delight, became 'Big Noah' when Scott, Barb and Zoe returned to Moçambique in 1997 with their 6-month-old son and brother. Little Noah had a rather fretful babyhood, but it became clear why, when the joyful child emerged as soon as he could stand on his own two feet. He never much liked that immobile 'neneque' stage, although he did love his Teresa. Noah had an infectious, gloriously dimpled grin, and he adored his big sister, Zoe, which adoration he regularly demonstrated by hitting her. He gave and received food, gifts, dry Cheerios, stones with two hands together, palms upward, or left hand clasping his right wrist, to the utter delight of his parents and friends; Africa was in his soul. His first full sentence, "Rhinos chased our car!" (the product of an adventurous trip to Hlane in Swaziland), was repeated endlessly for months….. "Hey Noah!" you'd say on arriving at their house, and he'd respond "Rhinos chased our car!" "Uh…....yeah!" Zoe……for a 5-year-old, Zoe was incredibly introspective and sensitive. Shortly before I left Moz in January this year, Barb was telling me about a bedtime conversation she'd had with Zoe. This dear little child was pondering a very big mystery, wondering how it was possible to feel so happy and so sad at the same time. When Barb asked her what she meant, Zoe told her that she felt so happy to be living in Moçambique, with all of their friends, and Dudley, and animals to visit in SA and Swaziland, but at the same time, so sad to be so far from the grandparents, the aunts and uncles and the cousin in the US whom she adored. She was a loving and protective child, and often shielded our painfully shy Noah from the normal bullying and snatching that goes on at any pre-school, that occasionally happened even at the Sunshine School. We went on several beach trips together, but Zoe was always reluctant to go near the water…..too noisy and scary, it just didn't appeal to her. But our Noah's brave assaults on the shallows at Jays brought her all the way into the waves on our last trip together, 3 days before we left Moçambique for our new home in Zimbabwe. Barbara……my lovely friend…….a devoted mother and partner, she gave 25 hours a day to the children and Scott. Even her seemingly endless hours with Sandy were often spent concocting plans or projects for their families or the Sunshine School, the project she created with Sandy so that Zoe and Casey could have the perfect pre-school experience. She was often amused and bemused by my constant agonizing over the 'to work or not to work' quandary, so sure was she of herself and her priorities and how she wanted to live her life. Their home was decorated in Early Childhood décor, photos and pictures glued to bright construction paper hanging everywhere; her children, their words and achievements were the sources of her greatest joy. Her shyness and quirkiness and yes, her strident views on some things, made it difficult to get to know Barb, and it took an effort of many months to build our special friendship. But Barb was a paradox. While she could be rigid in her opinions on so many things, she was also passionately opposed to being judgmental. She taught me to see through the veneer of popular opinion to get to know the person behind the face, the truth behind the appearance of a situation. One of Barb's especially endearing qualities was the importance she placed on rituals and celebrations. The time and effort she put, often to Scott's chagrin and her friends' amazement, into birthday parties and home-sewn holiday outfits and Zoe's Christmas ballet recital party and Noah's End of Breastfeeding celebration and surely the list goes on, was truly astounding. In fact, when some of us moms didn't quite have the knack for creating birthday magic, Barb would step in with Sandy and provide some active birthday consulting so that the kids would have a party to remember. She treasured each and every opportunity to celebrate an event or a friend, her vibrant way of honoring the gift of life. As I sit writing about this remarkable family of dear friends we have just lost, I can feel Scott hovering over my shoulder, reading my words and grimacing, I can hear him pleading, "Oh geez Mary, don't say that, c'mahn……oh puh-leaze!" in that twangy, mid-Western voice of his…… Scott…….. utterly dedicated to Barb and the kids, an honorable man, outrageously silly, genuinely funny, startlingly smart, compassionate, humble (except when boasting about his poker wins), frugal and unwaveringly committed to his work and his principles. In Sandy's words, he believed that one person can and should make a difference. In the world of development and diplomacy, it is often easy to pretend that we are people we are not; most of us carry impressive titles and live in a style that we could only dream about in our home countries. Scott was different from most of us. Self-effacing from the moment we met him in 1995 when he came to Moçambique as a Fulbright scholar, Scott merely told my husband, Mark, an alumnus of the University of Wisconsin, "Oh, I'm a student at Madison, too." Full stop. It was rather like pulling teeth to get him to acknowledge the honor that first brought him, Barb and Zoe to Moçambique. Scott hated snakes. Really. Hated. Snakes. What I'm trying to say is that he couldn't stand the thought or the sight of a snake. Epa! But that didn't keep him from plying the back roads of Zambézia Province on a bicycle as he pursued his research on the political dynamics of food security. (Or something like that. Whatever it was, it was over my head.) Why hop a chapa cem when you could be closer to the people on a bike? Well, I could think of one or two good answers to that question, but Scott didn't share my perspective. Once, after four weeks in the field, Scott returned to Maputo and descended on us for an evening bowl of soup as Barb was in the states awaiting Noah's birth. His main story that evening, of all the possible ones, was that he had run over a giant snake on his bike. He couldn't get over the horror of that. When they returned to Moz in 1997 with a 'real' contract, replete with benefits, they continued to live simply and frugally. Although Barb was almost as non-materialistic as Scott, she would have loved to have had a few more of the kids' special toys and furnishings in Moz, but Scott didn't believe that it was necessary or right to use the home leave shipment allowance if you didn't really need it. At the time, those of us close to them felt that Scott was a be-it obsessive on certain points. But now, I'm sure to remember his perspective as I stock up on American chocolate chips and brown sugar on future home leaves. Or perhaps I won't stock up on them anymore. More than any of what I've shared here, this family lived gently and joyfully on the earth, fully celebrating the miracle of being alive. Their joyful noises and voices and examples will help to carry those of us who loved them through our own lives. And I think again about Zoe's reflection: How is it possible to be so happy and so sad at the same time? To have known them, to have lost them. Scott, Barb, Zoe and Noah, we shall miss you.
From Ken Jenson, Scott's Father
Shells on the beach can enable thoughtful reflections. They are often objects for search, for special collections, and for valued memories. Our family has spent many hours searching for the best shells-unbroken ones, pretty ones, unusual ones, and a few just sort of cute. Those shelling times were exciting. We brought home pails full of shells, saved some special ones from the best collections, and made a memory arrangement or two. The shell has now taken on a new and very deep meaning in our lives through a shell sharing story from our daughter, Laura. We look at shells today with more pause, pride, and promise. Laura was asked to share an object special to her with a group of fellow young mothers in an Early Childhood and Family Education class. She chose to share a shell. The group of young mothers had developed a comfortable rapport in their class sessions to date and Laura wanted them to hear why this shell from the sea was important to her and her family. This sharing really began with a 1997 Lenten series based on the shell. Pastor Rod Anderson had emphasized how the shell provided and represents
As related to Lent and Easter, it reminds us of joy, suffering, sorrow, and an empty tomb and the promise of eternal life. Each person attending a Lenten or Easter service received a shell. They were encouraged to use this as a reminder of the promise of Easter and as a source of strength. The sermon on Sunday, March 9th was particularly meaningful to Laura since her due date (and Barbara's) was the next day, March 10th. In the sermon, Pastor Rod talked about visiting a man dying in the hospital. During the visit, the man leaned towards Rod and said, "I'm going to be OK, I've got my shell." This story gave Laura comfort that she, too, would be OK. That evening, Laura took her shell into labor as she gave birth to her first child, our granddaughter Samantha. I remember the birth of our own children, particularly our firstborn, Scott. I was not allowed in the delivery room in those days, but as I first saw Scott, I genuinely felt it was a miracle. I felt remarkably close to God; it renewed my faith; I felt great joy; I was deeply thankful. I can remember trembling and crying and laughing all at the same time. When I saw Samantha in the hallway, these types of feelings were renewed. When I was able to see the new mother, Laura, she looked radiant and showed me the shell she had held during the delivery. Samantha was baptized using the shell held by Laura in labor to then dip the baptismal water. Scott and Barbara were sponsors for Samantha. Their son, Noah, due on the same day as Samantha and born two days after Sam, participated in the celebration as did cousin Zoe-Noah's older sister. It was a special day; it was a joyous day. The shell was used to help affirm the promise of everlasting life. The birth of Laura's second child was expected exactly two years after the birth of Samantha and Noah. Cousin Zoe, now in Africa with her family, had almost unbounded excitement regarding her new expected cousin. Zoe prayed for Laura and her new cousin every night; in the morning, her first question was, "Do I have a new cousin yet?" She talked about the upcoming event with joy to her African friends in both Portuguese and English. When cousin Hanne was born, two years and a day after Samantha s birth, an excited phone call was received from Scott, Barb, Zoe, and Noah to Laura and Don, Laura's husband, in the hospital. Laura had held a shell again in the delivery process. We were so happy, so thankful. We had three healthy and loving grandchildren with birthdays March 10, 11, and 12 respectively, plus our oldest granddaughter was born on June 3. Hanne was baptized using a shell collected for the occasion by Grandma and Papa on a vacation after Hanne's birth. Uncle Paul, Laura's brother, was Hanne s sponsor. We received phone calls and emails from Africa. It was a day again for celebration and thankfulness. The shell again helped to affirm the promise of everlasting life. Two months later on June 23 1999, Scott (34), Barbara (34), Zoe (5) and Noah (2) were all killed in a tragic accident in South Africa. I was in Canada fishing with Paul, Don and friends on a trip, which usually included Scott. Marlys was awakened from early morning sleep by a call from the U.S. Embassy in South Africa with the unbelievable, wrenching news. Our world seemed to have come apart. We cycled through most of the stages of grief and wondered where God was in the process. Our faith was tested. Friends and family were wonderfully supportive and sensitive in retrospect; they were probably our searched-for hand of God. I defensed many of my feelings by focusing on tasks of notification, funeral arrangements, and the laborious, frustrating, grievous process of getting our loved ones' bodies from Africa to Minnesota. Our family was able to view the bodies of Scott, Barb, Zoe, and Noah the morning of the funeral day. Difficult and sad are not adequate words to describe our feelings. We cried; we sobbed; mostly, we held each other. We knew the bodies were now just shells but we wanted them to talk, laugh, share and plan with us again together. Laura was particularly close to her brother Scott, who was only 19 months older. They competed with each other; they respected each other; they supported each other; they enjoyed each other; they loved each other. It was so hard to say good-bye. Our faith said we would see each other again. As we stood by Scott's open casket, Laura held the shell she wore around her neck for strength. The shell had gained meaning through the Lenten series, the birth of Samantha, the baptism of Samantha, the birth of Hanne, the baptism of Hanne, and now at this time of sorrow. Then, Laura took the shell and placed it in the hand of her brother Scott. This sharing a shell was a spontaneous act of love. It did remind all of us to be thankful for Scott's life, love, and absolute dedication to helping others; it reminded us to be thankful for life continuing; it made us thankful for a wonderful family; it reminded us of strength from a protecting hand, even with unanswered questions, and of a promise for eternal life. Laura shared this story with those young mothers at a community class. Marlys and I are proud to share this story with you. We will never forget. Shells have a deeper meaning today.
From Ken Jenson, Scott's Father
We thank you all for coming to help honor the life of our Kloeck-Jenson family-and to share in the promise of everlasting life. Scott Kenneth was our son. We are very proud of him. Early in his life with us, he had an emergency operation, an early baptism, and eight godparents. He began talking early and practiced talking the rest of his life. Conversations with Mom and Dad took place in the car and in the fishing boat, with many long discussions at bedtime-particularly with Mom. For summer vacation during grade school, one of his favorite past times was to read books-and then write lengthy evaluation reports on them. He actually thought this was fun!! He was an All-Star Little Leaguer, played the piano some, and did chores. He loved to tease, play, go camping and laugh with his brother Paul and sister Laura. The three of them were very close and protected each other. Scott organized the first of a long series of Jenson kids family Christmas programs. His favorite song was "What Child is This?" and they sang all the verses every time. He had an unusually strong relationship with his grandparents. He talked at length, biked, and golfed with the Carlson grandparents. In a High School autobiography Scott said, about his Grandpa Jenson: The values infused by my Grandpa provided me with a strong base for a Christian faith. We read devotions, told stories, sang songs, and talked about God simply and directly. These values also extended into the common respect of man and nature. My Grandpa and I shared many wonderful memories. His love and compassion resulted in a Grandson having self-worth and sets of values nearly parallel to his, and he developed a friendship with his Grandson, never to be forgotten. Scott was a champion High School debater. He spoke at his High School graduation and quoted his dad. At St. Olaf College, Scott participated in Adopt-a-Grandparent Program, Amnesty International, Central American Concerns Group, Faribault Scouting Program for Handicapped Youths, and Elderly Awareness Honors House. He graduated magna cum laude, drained his bank account giving it to the poor, and joined the Peace Corps. We sometimes shook our heads with his decisions-but always loved, admired, and respected him for them. We first knew of Barb in the Peace Corps when she walked for many miles to be with Scott when he was to be told of a stroke his Grandma Jenson had suffered. She showed support and then love early in their relationship. We appreciated Barb. She was a caring, free spirit-and very creative. She loved to hear stories from days with animals on the Elk Mound dairy farm. She was a wonderful, caring and loving mother. A friend of Barb's has said, Because of Barbara, I will always remember to sit on the floor to talk to my children, to turn off the TV and make a collage, to celebrate different peoples, to love animals, to stay up late making Halloween costumes, to blow up as many balloons as possible for a party, to make someone a present instead of buying it, to look at life through other people's eyes, and to tell my friends that I love them. Zoe was our first grandchild. She was another family treasure. Scott called Minneapolis when Barb went into labor-Grandma J. and Aunt Laura were in Madison prior to Zoe's birth. We had many wonderful weeks with Zoe in our home. We raked leaves, stacked wood, picked raspberries, jumped into the water like a dog, and learned to snorkel. We loved to hear her prayers at night. She loved playing with her cousin, Samantha. Last summer while picking flowers near our cabin, Zoe said, "I love being in America with you, Papa-but do you really know how to get all the way back to the cabin?" We found our way back easier when Papa carried Zoe. A family friend said, Zoe was an incredibly bright child who was already doing basic math and reading simple words in pre-school. Even more impressive was her amazing sensitivity to other living things. She was always keenly aware of other people's feelings. Like when she was awaiting the birth of her baby cousin, Hanne (pronounced Hannah). She would pray every night for the baby to arrive even though it had been close to a year since the last time she saw her Aunt Laura. She was a child who was never afraid to tell you how important you were in her life. We had precious little time with Noah. We feel cheated. We are thankful though for tractor rides together, finding doggies, and many pictures. A family friend said, He was just beginning to reveal his unique personality. He loved all the simple pleasures in life. Among favorite pastimes were searching for rocks on the sidewalk and going on bug safaris around the yard with his big sister, Zoe. This little boy walked as if propelled by his swinging arms. He loved his wild play times with Dad and equally loved the stacks of books read to him by Mom. He had just learned to sing the "ABC song" and was speaking in full sentences in both English and Portuguese. The Kloeck-Jenson family memories include their work in homeless shelters in Washington, DC, for Luther Place, teaching and helping for human rights and an orphanage in Guatemala, and a passion for making a difference. Scott was most recently the leader of the Land Tenure Center Program in Mozambique to help develop a democratic system for land use and to help small scale farmers gain access and secure rights to land. Barbara was co-leading a pre-school program. In a letter written by Scott from a hut in Lesotho, Africa, after hearing of his Grandma Jenson's stroke, he wrote the following: Grandma and I would differ greatly in our concepts of Christian ethics and theology, but much of our difference is illusory. At the very core, we both believe the same thing: that human being are to follow Christ's example and love all human beings, caring for them, their needs, and also realize that by doing so we also grow in the process. If you believe in something, act on itScott then closed that letter from Lesotho in 1988-and maybe we need to remember it again today-by saying, I don't want this to make you sad or worried. I just need to share my thoughts and feelings with someone and you can probably best understand. Barbara will be with me when I call next week so please don't worry about me. It is so hard, but us Jensons" (and we should note this quote has been family advice when faced with adversity) "can 'pull our caps down' to tough it out. I love you all very much.
From Anne Pitcher of Colgate University
This obituary first appeared in ASA News (vol. 32, no. 3, July/September 1999), newsletter of the African Studies Association. It is reprinted with the kind permission of ASA and the author.Friends, relatives, and colleagues were shocked and saddened by the tragic deaths of Scott Koeck-Jenson, his wife, Barbara, and their two children, Zoe and Noah, in a car accident in South Africa on June 23, 1999. Scott was the project Director in Mozambique for the University of Wisconsin-Madison's Land Tenure Center and he was also working on a doctoral dissertation based on research in Zambezia Province, Mozambique, at the time of his death. He and his family were active, joyous participants in various communities in Maputo and they will be greatly missed. Scott was born in Minnesota in 1965 and received his B.A. from St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota, in 1987. After two years with the Peace Corps in Lesotho, where he met his wife, Barbara, Scott obtained a Master's degree in Political Science from the University of Wisconsin-Madison in 1993. Awarded Fulbright and MacArthur scholarships for doctoral research, Scott and his family then traveled to Mozambique so that he could undertake fieldwork in Zambezia Province for his dissertation. The ease with which he fit into Mozambican society and his considerable intellectual ability caught the attention of the Land Tenure Center at Wisconsin-Madison. Before he even finished his thesis, he was appointed their Project Director for Mozambique, a position he occupied for the past two years. He was due to return to the United States in January 2000 to complete his dissertation in Political Science at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. As Resident Project Director for the Land Tenure Center, Scott was responsible for coordinating a number of research projects on land use and development, and he participated also in official policy debates on the land question. His real gift was that he championed the rights of local communities to participate in decisions affecting the use of land and tree tenure but without underestimating the complexities of defining what a local community was, who belonged to it, and how it could be addressed in legislation. He wrestled constantly and thoughtfully with the issues affecting the use of resources in Mozambique as evidenced by his series of policy statements and position papers addressing forest resources, tree tenure, and land law. His sensitivity to the various concerns of diverse actors in the land debate is evidenced by the broad spectrum of people who spoke at a memorial service for him held at the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries in Mozambique. He was mourned not only by the Minister of Agriculture and Fisheries, who noted how well Scott understood Mozambique's agrarian challenges, but also by the National Union of Peasants' Associations, who praised his sincere identification with the issues that most affected rural people. As David Tschirley of Michigan State University noted, "When people talk about Scott in Portuguese, they frequently use the term 'simpatia.' It translated into English as 'regard,' but it implies a deeper level of emotional identification than that. Even in his professional work, Scott affected people in Mozambique on an emotional level. He combined intelligence, real competence, kindness and concern, a wonderful sense of humor, and lack of self-importance in a way that led people to develop a great regard for him. Not many people in life bring all those qualities to what they do and what they are." At the Universidade Eduardo Mondlane where the Land Tenure Center was based, Scott also collaborated with his Mozambican counterpart, the Nucleus of Land Studies, to train Mozambican students and scholars in the study, research, and promotion of land-related issues in the country. With the aid of Mozambicans, he expanded and made accessible to both nationals and foreigners an extremely well-organized library that really ought to bear his name in perpetuity. He was completely unselfish about sharing research ideas and references and he encouraged others to do the same. Anyone who met Scott was impressed with his extensive knowledge of Mozambique, his genuine passion for ideas, and his innate sense of fairness. Although he displayed a solid grasp of development theory, he eschewed abstract models in favor of an eclectic and innovative blending of detailed fieldwork combined with relevant theoretical contributions from political science, anthropology, and history. Doing fieldwork with him in Zambezia Province, northern Mozambique, in 1998, I marveled at how patiently and carefully he conducted interviews with smallholders, slowly eliciting from them their life stories without any sense of wanting to rush onto the next family. He appreciated and positively valued qualitative approaches and didn't hesitate to spend hours or days with one family, or to stray from his questionnaire if he thought he would learn something new. If he had to walk through stagnant water or drink the local brew in order to pay his respects to a village notable, then he would do it, with a great deal of humor and grace. All of these things made him a dedicated researcher, an engaging intellectual, a gifted conversationalist, and a promising scholar. In every sense Scott was a whole person. He balanced his professional life with a totally full family life. No one who ever visited the Kloeck-Jensons at their home in Maputo will forget the pictures of Scott and Barbara's wedding, or the dozens of photos in every room chronicling the big and small occasions in the children's lives, from Zoe reading one of her favorite books to Noah taking a bath. The kids, ages 5 and 2, spent most of their lives in Mozambique and were as much Mozambican as they were American. Relatives of the Kloeck-Jensons, friends of the family in Mozambique and the U.S., and Scott's colleagues all feel greatly their loss. But we shall draw inspiration from their graciousness and the dignified way they treated people. We hope to remember them through Scott's writings and the creation of several scholarship funds in their names.
From Harry G. West, Friend and Colleague
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