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Old drew many to South Africa and it was gold that has just reaffirmed my faith in this muddled， mosaic nation.
As a Briton living in Cape Town， I recently received the call that nobody wants. My father had passed away. After the funeral in England， my mother showed me dad’s will. It mostly went to her with one named item for me—a gold ring， worn for decades by dad and before him， by his own father.
I’ve never really been into jewellery， yet when I slipped the ring on my left pinky it felt somehow right. Consoled in my grief by dad’s beloved bling， I flew home to South Africa.
All was well until a wintry Saturday when I walked on our local beach. As so often in the Cape， it was fiercely windy， a blur of sand and spindrift. When I got home and lit the fire， I looked at my left hand. The ring wasn’t there.
An emotional tsunami washed over me—shock， horror， remorse， anger， powerlessness. And when it pulled back， all that was really left was guilt—a potential life sentence of guilt. Hoping against hope that it had not been dropped on the beach， I looked everywhere else. Maybe the car？ I stripped it to no avail. Maybe the veranda where I dried off the dog？ No luck. Maybe the house？ Nothing.
It must have been the beach， an area stretching 200m from the car park—the ring， a very small needle in a very large and tidally wet haystack.
I was out at first light the next day but with no luck， spirits dimming. My only hope was this—the wind had been so strong the ring could have been buried. It might just still be there， somewhere.
I contacted local metal detector users. Two came to help， one even lending me his gear. “Take as long as you need，” he said. Days of searching passed forlornly. I found an old mobile phone， a 50 cent coin and a lot of bottle tops.
I rang mum that long week but was not brave enough to confess. If I had to tell her I had lost dad’s ring， I had to be able to say I had done everything humanly possible to find it.
With my hopes failing， a third detectionist offered to drive from an hour away to help， “I have only one condition，” he said： “I don’t want payment even if I find something.”
When things look too good to be true， surely life teaches us that is exactly what they are.
So late on Sunday， eight days after the ring was lost， Alan and his kids arrived. Fluid dynamics of wet sand being what they are， by now the ring could have burrowed anything up to 50cm down. Was this the last throw of the dice？ Alan surveyed the search area. He talked about the wind， the tide， the currents and then he got to work. Up and down he ploughed， earphones on， criss-crossing dry sand， wet sand and even the approaching surf.
His gear was so good; he was picking up something every three or four paces， ring pulls and other metallic junk so I rather gave up watching closely every time he started to dig.
And then， a miracle. From a hole 40cm down， Alan had heaped wet sand and his eye， tempered by years of peering into briny swill， had seen something. Calling out for me to come over， calmly he said the best of words： “There’s your ring， Tim.”
This could not be happening. My eyes， prickly with tears and blurry with expectation， couldn’t see straight to begin with. And then there it was， dad’s ring， his dad’s ring， 90 years of accompanying them on life’s journey and lost by me on a beach in Africa after a few weeks’ custody.
Alan grinned， the kids capered， the dog joined in and for a moment all was madness. I hugged this big， bearded stranger.
And there was a greater miracle at work. My saviour refused all reward. He was firm， he was insistent. No he would not accept a fee， no he did not want petrol money， no he did not want a celebratory drink nor fish and chips to drive home with. He wanted nothing more than to give something back.
I went down to that beach that day to find a ring. What I actually found was more valuable still—that there remain some decent souls out there. Now， at last， I can call mum.
金子吸引了很多人到南非，也是金子讓我在这个纷乱而多样化的国家再次坚定我的信仰。
我是一个住在开普敦的英国人，我最近接到了一个任何人都不想接到的电话。我的父亲去世了。在英国参加完葬礼后，母亲给我看了父亲的遗嘱。大部分遗产都归母亲所有，我得到了一样指定物品——一个金戒指，这个戒指父亲已经戴了几十年了，在他之前，他的父亲也戴了几十年。
我从未佩戴过真正意义上的珠宝，然而当我把这个戒指穿入左手尾指时，不知为何，我觉得很合适。父亲这件心爱的珠宝抚慰了我内心的痛苦，我戴着这个戒指飞回了南非的家。
一切都安好无事，直到一个寒冷的星期六，当时我在当地一个沙滩上散步。那时的开普敦和平时没什么两样，风很大，沙子与飞溅的浪花让人视线模糊。我回到家，点燃壁炉，看向我的左手。戒指不见了。
霎时，我心里翻江倒海，震惊、恐惧、懊恼、愤怒、无力等情绪在内心翻腾。各种情绪平复后，我只感到深深的愧疚——也许将背负一生的愧疚。抱着一线希望，但愿戒指没有掉到沙滩上，我找遍了其他地方。也许是掉在了车上？我把车子翻遍了也没找到。也许是掉在了走廊？我曾在那里吹干狗狗身上的毛。没找到。也许在房子里？一无所获。
一定是掉在了沙滩里，以停车场为起点，延伸200米以内的区域——要找一个戒指，就像大海捞针一样。
第二天，天刚亮我就出去找了，但依然一无所获，我感到很灰心。我唯一的希望就是——那时的风很大，戒指可能被埋起来了。它也许就在沙滩里的某个地方。
我联系了当地的一些金属探测仪使用者。有两个人前来帮忙，其中一个人甚至把他的设备借给了我。“随便你用。”他说。希望渺茫的搜寻工作一天天地过去。我找到了一部旧手机、一枚50分的硬币和许多瓶盖。
在那漫长的一周里，我给妈妈打了电话，但没有足够的勇气坦白这件事。如果真要告诉她我弄丢了爸爸的戒指，那也是在我试遍所有可能寻找到戒指的方法后。
在我希望落空之时，第三个探测者说他愿意开一个小时的车来这里帮忙，“我只有一个条件，”他说：“就算我真的帮你找到戒指，也不要给我任何酬劳。”
当看似天上掉下馅饼时，生活无疑告诉我们，那却是真的。
因此，在遗失戒指八天后的星期日，艾伦和他的孩子来了。根据湿沙的流体动力，现在那个戒指有可能被埋在沙子50厘米以下的任何地方。这会是最后的机会吗？
艾伦对搜索区域进行了一番研究。他谈到了风、潮、气流，之后便开始工作。他戴着耳机，踩着沙子一上一下地艰难行走着，他在干沙、湿沙，甚至是迎面而来的海浪中行走。
他的设备非常好;每走三四步，他就会捡到一样东西，易拉罐的拉环和其他金属垃圾，所以后来他开始重新挖掘时，我不再每次都紧紧地盯着。
然后，奇迹发生了。在一个40厘米深的洞里，艾伦挖走了许多湿沙，他用多年窥视海水翻腾所练就的眼力发现了某样东西。他大声地喊我过去，平静地说出最动听的话：“这是你的戒指，蒂姆。”
真是难以置信。一开始，泪水刺痛了我的眼睛，模糊了我的视线，我没办法看清楚，之后才看到，这是爸爸的戒指，爷爷的戒指，在生命旅程中陪伴了他们90年的戒指，在交给我保管的几周后，被我弄丢在了非洲的一个沙滩上的戒指。
艾伦咧嘴笑了起来，孩子们欢呼雀跃，狗狗也加入其中，霎时，一切都陷入了疯狂。我拥抱着这个高大的、满脸胡子的陌生人。
随后，还有一个更大的奇迹。我的救星拒绝了所有的回报。他毫不犹豫，一再坚持。他不接受酬金，不想要油费，不想喝一杯庆祝，也不想开车带些炸鱼和薯条回家。他不愿要任何东西，只愿付出。
那天，我去那个沙滩寻找金戒指，但却收获了更为宝贵的东西——我认识到，在这个世界上，还是存在着许多美丽的心灵。现在，我终于可以给妈妈打电话了。
As a Briton living in Cape Town， I recently received the call that nobody wants. My father had passed away. After the funeral in England， my mother showed me dad’s will. It mostly went to her with one named item for me—a gold ring， worn for decades by dad and before him， by his own father.
I’ve never really been into jewellery， yet when I slipped the ring on my left pinky it felt somehow right. Consoled in my grief by dad’s beloved bling， I flew home to South Africa.
All was well until a wintry Saturday when I walked on our local beach. As so often in the Cape， it was fiercely windy， a blur of sand and spindrift. When I got home and lit the fire， I looked at my left hand. The ring wasn’t there.
An emotional tsunami washed over me—shock， horror， remorse， anger， powerlessness. And when it pulled back， all that was really left was guilt—a potential life sentence of guilt. Hoping against hope that it had not been dropped on the beach， I looked everywhere else. Maybe the car？ I stripped it to no avail. Maybe the veranda where I dried off the dog？ No luck. Maybe the house？ Nothing.
It must have been the beach， an area stretching 200m from the car park—the ring， a very small needle in a very large and tidally wet haystack.
I was out at first light the next day but with no luck， spirits dimming. My only hope was this—the wind had been so strong the ring could have been buried. It might just still be there， somewhere.
I contacted local metal detector users. Two came to help， one even lending me his gear. “Take as long as you need，” he said. Days of searching passed forlornly. I found an old mobile phone， a 50 cent coin and a lot of bottle tops.
I rang mum that long week but was not brave enough to confess. If I had to tell her I had lost dad’s ring， I had to be able to say I had done everything humanly possible to find it.
With my hopes failing， a third detectionist offered to drive from an hour away to help， “I have only one condition，” he said： “I don’t want payment even if I find something.”
When things look too good to be true， surely life teaches us that is exactly what they are.
So late on Sunday， eight days after the ring was lost， Alan and his kids arrived. Fluid dynamics of wet sand being what they are， by now the ring could have burrowed anything up to 50cm down. Was this the last throw of the dice？ Alan surveyed the search area. He talked about the wind， the tide， the currents and then he got to work. Up and down he ploughed， earphones on， criss-crossing dry sand， wet sand and even the approaching surf.
His gear was so good; he was picking up something every three or four paces， ring pulls and other metallic junk so I rather gave up watching closely every time he started to dig.
And then， a miracle. From a hole 40cm down， Alan had heaped wet sand and his eye， tempered by years of peering into briny swill， had seen something. Calling out for me to come over， calmly he said the best of words： “There’s your ring， Tim.”
This could not be happening. My eyes， prickly with tears and blurry with expectation， couldn’t see straight to begin with. And then there it was， dad’s ring， his dad’s ring， 90 years of accompanying them on life’s journey and lost by me on a beach in Africa after a few weeks’ custody.
Alan grinned， the kids capered， the dog joined in and for a moment all was madness. I hugged this big， bearded stranger.
And there was a greater miracle at work. My saviour refused all reward. He was firm， he was insistent. No he would not accept a fee， no he did not want petrol money， no he did not want a celebratory drink nor fish and chips to drive home with. He wanted nothing more than to give something back.
I went down to that beach that day to find a ring. What I actually found was more valuable still—that there remain some decent souls out there. Now， at last， I can call mum.
金子吸引了很多人到南非，也是金子讓我在这个纷乱而多样化的国家再次坚定我的信仰。
我是一个住在开普敦的英国人，我最近接到了一个任何人都不想接到的电话。我的父亲去世了。在英国参加完葬礼后，母亲给我看了父亲的遗嘱。大部分遗产都归母亲所有，我得到了一样指定物品——一个金戒指，这个戒指父亲已经戴了几十年了，在他之前，他的父亲也戴了几十年。
我从未佩戴过真正意义上的珠宝，然而当我把这个戒指穿入左手尾指时，不知为何，我觉得很合适。父亲这件心爱的珠宝抚慰了我内心的痛苦，我戴着这个戒指飞回了南非的家。
一切都安好无事，直到一个寒冷的星期六，当时我在当地一个沙滩上散步。那时的开普敦和平时没什么两样，风很大，沙子与飞溅的浪花让人视线模糊。我回到家，点燃壁炉，看向我的左手。戒指不见了。
霎时，我心里翻江倒海，震惊、恐惧、懊恼、愤怒、无力等情绪在内心翻腾。各种情绪平复后，我只感到深深的愧疚——也许将背负一生的愧疚。抱着一线希望，但愿戒指没有掉到沙滩上，我找遍了其他地方。也许是掉在了车上？我把车子翻遍了也没找到。也许是掉在了走廊？我曾在那里吹干狗狗身上的毛。没找到。也许在房子里？一无所获。
一定是掉在了沙滩里，以停车场为起点，延伸200米以内的区域——要找一个戒指，就像大海捞针一样。
第二天，天刚亮我就出去找了，但依然一无所获，我感到很灰心。我唯一的希望就是——那时的风很大，戒指可能被埋起来了。它也许就在沙滩里的某个地方。
我联系了当地的一些金属探测仪使用者。有两个人前来帮忙，其中一个人甚至把他的设备借给了我。“随便你用。”他说。希望渺茫的搜寻工作一天天地过去。我找到了一部旧手机、一枚50分的硬币和许多瓶盖。
在那漫长的一周里，我给妈妈打了电话，但没有足够的勇气坦白这件事。如果真要告诉她我弄丢了爸爸的戒指，那也是在我试遍所有可能寻找到戒指的方法后。
在我希望落空之时，第三个探测者说他愿意开一个小时的车来这里帮忙，“我只有一个条件，”他说：“就算我真的帮你找到戒指，也不要给我任何酬劳。”
当看似天上掉下馅饼时，生活无疑告诉我们，那却是真的。
因此，在遗失戒指八天后的星期日，艾伦和他的孩子来了。根据湿沙的流体动力，现在那个戒指有可能被埋在沙子50厘米以下的任何地方。这会是最后的机会吗？
艾伦对搜索区域进行了一番研究。他谈到了风、潮、气流，之后便开始工作。他戴着耳机，踩着沙子一上一下地艰难行走着，他在干沙、湿沙，甚至是迎面而来的海浪中行走。
他的设备非常好;每走三四步，他就会捡到一样东西，易拉罐的拉环和其他金属垃圾，所以后来他开始重新挖掘时，我不再每次都紧紧地盯着。
然后，奇迹发生了。在一个40厘米深的洞里，艾伦挖走了许多湿沙，他用多年窥视海水翻腾所练就的眼力发现了某样东西。他大声地喊我过去，平静地说出最动听的话：“这是你的戒指，蒂姆。”
真是难以置信。一开始，泪水刺痛了我的眼睛，模糊了我的视线，我没办法看清楚，之后才看到，这是爸爸的戒指，爷爷的戒指，在生命旅程中陪伴了他们90年的戒指，在交给我保管的几周后，被我弄丢在了非洲的一个沙滩上的戒指。
艾伦咧嘴笑了起来，孩子们欢呼雀跃，狗狗也加入其中，霎时，一切都陷入了疯狂。我拥抱着这个高大的、满脸胡子的陌生人。
随后，还有一个更大的奇迹。我的救星拒绝了所有的回报。他毫不犹豫，一再坚持。他不接受酬金，不想要油费，不想喝一杯庆祝，也不想开车带些炸鱼和薯条回家。他不愿要任何东西，只愿付出。
那天，我去那个沙滩寻找金戒指，但却收获了更为宝贵的东西——我认识到，在这个世界上，还是存在着许多美丽的心灵。现在，我终于可以给妈妈打电话了。