Measles and love

At the end of my second year at school, I got measles and couldn't see my teacher (who I absolutely adored and worshipped). I was so upset, and the more I begged to go to school, the more angry Ma got. I felt my life was going to end right there and then if I couldn't say goodbye to her.
Maybe that's one of the hidden reasons why I have always loved teaching this age group, and hate saying good bye to them on the last day of the year.

Final Words

In the last week of her life, Ma asked me to come and see her, and she seemed agitated and disconcerted. She spent the next 36 hours talking to me as I sat on the edge of her bed, her - hooked to the oxygen tank gasping for fresh air, me - wanting to get out into the fresh air.
She proclaimed over and over that she had always been very proud of me, and my achievements, and that she did really love me.

What a pity it was too late, too hard for me to forgive her or even to believe her!

Lucky Dip

I love the story of how Ma and Dad eventually got together. Dad used to visit her step-brothers and he once told her he was going to marry her some day. She just sneeered at him because he was a lowly usher in a lowly bioscope, with low wages and even less prospects. His eldest brother, Jack, had paid for him to do a plumbing apprenticeship, but he was lazy and unmotivated and never completed it-thus ending up at the local bio. She was a bookkeeper by then and highly efficient, earning well with high ambitions. Ma was dating Karl, a mature man of 35, (she was in her mid-twenties), but supposedly not 'in love' with him. She was a very big woman and already on the 'shelf', so probably saw Karl as her 'last chance'. One evening they both arrived with engagement rings, asking her to marry them. She was in two minds and weighing them both up, money and security versus youth and excitement (and maybe even love?) They sat in her kitchen and glared at each other till 4 am until Karl got up and wearily trudged off home. Accordingly, she accepted Harry (and later told us that his ring was the nicer one anyway.) I think he just had more patience...or maybe more 'love'?

Spike the puppy

I must confess, I don't actually remember when Spike joined our family. I know till then we had only Spotty, a sort of Jack Russell and terrier mixture, white with some black patches, a tall long thin body and a very long tail that used to thump hard on the parquet floors whenever he saw us. Then we got Spike, and soon after, Sheba, as his mate. We had never had bulldogs before and they were a revelation. They snorted, drooled, farted and snored loudly. They were large, lumpy, bumpy, rolly, flabby creatures with pooled pleading eyes and flat squashed noses and it was love at first sight. What I will never forget about them was Ma's absolutley undying, unbending adoration of these new arrivals. I had never before seen her so warm and tender, her absorbed slavish behaviour threw me and I often wished she felt like me the way she felt about them. Her love for bulldogs has been passed down to me as I adore them too, and would get one tomorrow if I could.

Morris attack

Another boy who 'fancied' me was Morris. It was only the wierd and wacky boys who liked me, and this didn't change as I grew older. It was the waifs and strays of this world who wanted me. Somehow I recognised that their inner neediness was akin to my own. Morris used to phone the house daily and ask to speak to me. He never just popped in as Dennis had, he was terrified of Ma, and so he should've been. She was stern, unfriendly and downright rude to him on the phone, always refusing to let me talk to him. He was a few years older than me and I didn't like him anyway. All girls wanted to be liked by the most popular boy in school, not by the geeks! And I was no different.

Dennis attack

Dennis was a short, fat boy with a lisp and he 'fancied' me. He was always at our house, arriving at any time, and staying for ages. It didn't bother me either way, whether he was around or not. He was always nervous of Spike as a puppy, and when he became a fully grown bulldog, he literally quaked in his shoes. It made the lisp even worse. One Sunday morning we were all sitting on the divan couch talking when Spike came in and jumped up next to Dennis, putting his large meaty paw on his chest to greet him. Dennis started screeching and jiggling up and down to get rid of his bulk, and Spike's paw cut his upper lip. Then chaos erupted. Dennis was screaming at the top of his voice, blood was running down on to his shirt, Ma grabbed Spike and pushed him to the floor, and we all rushed over to ascertain the damage. His parents were wonderfully understanding, rerfusing all medical payment for the stitches, and went off gracefully and gratefully taking their blubbering blob with them. Of course he never came over to our house again, just admired me from afar!

Bulldog puppies

Two days before my 16th birthday Ma had a stroke. She was a very heavy smoker, had high blood pressure and suffered with excruciating migraines. She was only 42 but the doctor's weren't surprised. While she lay in hospital, our bulldog, Sheba, had four gorgeous puppies. I had no idea what to do with them or how to care for them; I was at College and running the house and trying to stop Dad from crying every day. Little did I know that bulldogs are the worst mothers, as they can't chew the umbilical cord after birth with their protruding teeth and have no idea how to feed or manage their pups. So, each day, when I got home from College, she had smothered another puppy. She took them into her mouth by their heads and held them there, with her jaws clamped round them. It was a heartbreaking few weeks for me, I was so strung out and felt so guilty about these adorable creatures, yet I felt helpless. We buried one a day in the back yard and said a little prayer for it. Then on I got with my daily tasks, keeping the family going. After all, I was only 16.

Girl Guides at night

I started going to GG camps when I was about 14. I know Ma was only too pleased to get rid of me for a few weeks. We usually went to Magaliesberg(only about 30 miles from home) and set up camp. I adored the freedom, the social whirl, the novelty of each new day and was never ever homesick. Leaving the tent at night to wee was exciting in itself. I took my torch and ventured out into the African bush, which is abslolutely pitch black. I stumbled a few metres and squatted, hastily shining my torch downwards to make sure that no creepy crawlies had come to investigate, and also that I wasn't peeing on my leg. It was always thrilling. This was mostly a solitary procedure, unless someone else had the same urgent need. Getting caught 'with my pants down' then took on a literal meaning.

Pain- some gain

1.) The piano lessons:

PAIN: were not what I wanted, but then which little girl wants to learn how to play the piano.

GAIN: far from being a concert pianist, I can still read music and have adequate skill in order to music to 5 year olds (which is great fun).

2.) The wooden ruler with a steel edge:

Pain: was what some teachers used to discipline us with at primary school. Mr Logan often struck me on the upper arm, mainly because I was a chatterbox, which often drew blood. Of course when I got home, Ma always said, 'Serves you right, you must have done something bad!'. No parents went rushing off to their local Council or Member of Parliament in those days screaming, Get rid of this man!'

GAIN: I became a teacher and have had 39 wonderful years, giving my 'all' to thousands of children, and never once laying a hand on them, unless in kindness and love.

3.) My mother's methods of punishment :

Pain: included the plastic flyswatter, her heavy hand and the dreaded 'sjambok', which was a thin leather strip, about 3-5 feet long, curving from one thin end to a very thick handle. This was kept behind their bedroom door, and if it was only used for very severe crimes!!

GAIN: I have tried to bring up my own two sons with firmness , fairness and honesty, and of course-the main ingredient- unconditional love. I believe I have largely succeeded.

Saturday Treat

Every Saturday our parents used to go to the local bioscope (cinema) and leave us with our nanny, Miriam. One time, they had an emergency phone call as soon as they got there, saying that I was screaming and scared and wouldn't go to bed. So Dad went to fetch us and took us back with them to see the film. In those days there was no censorship on movies. This then became a weekly habit. But, in order to go out on a Saturday night, we had to sleep all afternoon. We were put in our respective bedrooms and as she shut the doors, Ma uttered her weekly warning: 'If you don't sleep, you won't come with us'. Then she collapsed on her bed and slept for hours while Dad went to his bowls' game. I had absolutely no intention of resting. As soon as I heard her snoring, I crept out and went into Ian's room where we played for hours: pillow fights, jumping on the bed, just generally messing around or 'hullering' which is the Yiddish term for being bloody naughty. I intuitively knew when she was due to wake up, and would steal back to my room quietly, creep under the covers and pretend to be fast asleep when she 'woke' us up. Then off we'd go to the bioscope feeling very grown up. The only thing that spoilt my fun was that Ma held Dad's hand, never mine. Never had, never would!

Boys are more important than girls

One of my dreams was to become a doctor, but there wasn't enough money to send me to medical school, and of course my grades were never good enough. But of course Ian had to be educated. He was the son and the future breadwinner in the family.

He had wanted to become an Accountant ever since I can remember, perhaps because Ma was a Bookkeeper, and he was very attached to her. Also, he could do this part -time, working as an articled clerk in the day and going to University at night. In this way he would be earning at the same time, thus not be a drain on the household. I was told to go to work and went on an interview in my last year at school. The first thing I saw when I walked out of the lift were six or eight typists sitting silently and expressionlessly in a row, tap tap tapping on their machines. It was gruesome, so I turned and fled. At that time the Government were prepared to fund teacher's studies as long as they paid every penny back after qualifying. Dad went with me to Teacher's Training College in Johannesburg and he signed on the dotted line (as I was a minor).

Thank goodness for that interview. I probably wouldn't have had such a fulfilling career if I hadn't been forced to go to it. Oh yes, and I have travelled extensively because of it too.

The first 'drag' is the deepest

My parents both smoked, heavily, day and night, so we grew up in a fug of second-hand smoke. Of course, the day I found an unlit cigarette under Ma's bed, I realised I was the luckiest person on earth. Grabbing Ian after supper that very night, I rushed outside behind my bedroom window to 'light up', using a box of matches from the kitchen drawer. What a 'rush' I felt, so grown-up and sophisticated. Of course I never dreamed that Ma was watching me through a slit in the venetian blinds in my bedroom. 'Harry' she shouted, running out of the back door towards us. Hastily, very hastily, I put the cigarette out with my bare foot, thinking 'help!!!' Dragging me inside where Dad had a hidden stash of huge 'phallic' cigars, they decided to 'teach me a lesson'. When he handed me this monstrosity,I started off thinking 'oh this should be fun' but gradually got greener and greener at the gills with each puff I took. I remember her words' if you wanna smoke, I'll show you how to smoke'. Thanks Ma, you certainly did. As soon as I turned 18 and left home, I bought my first packet and didn't stop for 20 years.

Nightmarish night

When I was about 7 or 8 (I supose a lot happened in these particular years), I saw Ian having an epileptic fit. He had Petit Mal Epilepsy, which is referred to as 'absence siezures' these days. They occur mostly in young children, don't affect their growth in any way, mentally or physically and they outgrow them in their teens. But 50 years ago they were quite serious and little was known about them.

We shared a bedroom, and one night while Ma was lying on the end of his bed, talking to him just before bedtime, she suddenly yelled 'Harry, switch the light on', and rushed to grab him. She told me to 'get out, get out, get out' and I was foisted from the house and found myself, barefoot on a Wintery night, wandering up and down our garden path, waiting for the doctor who had been summoned. I had never felt so scared in all my (short) life. I remember shaking with cold and fear, and sobbing, while begging God to please let him live. This had some profound consequences for my life. Firstly, it cemented me to my little brother forever, providing a fierce 'motherly' instinct that has made me protect him ever since. Also, it made me very nervous and unsure about doctors and wierd health problems! Mine and others!

Pram or rubbish dump?

As I've already mentioned, I loved that pram. It was actually blue and seemed larger than life. It was roomy and warm and dark. No, I didn't actually get in it, but I would've if I could've. Not only did it house my dolls, but it also had my whole life in there too. Scraps of paper, incomplete homework assignments, dirty clothes, as well as my 'plate' which was supposed to be in my mouth helping somehow to correct my crooked teeth. Every now and then, actually more regularly than that, specially if something was missing, like a school shoe, Ma used to come storming in and fling everything out on to the parquet floor and yell, 'Now clean it up, how many times have I told you to keep this clean?. There was no answer to that question. It was my pram and as such it shoud have been left alone, my personal property, mine and mine alone. After tidying it all neatly, I don't think it took half an hour before it was being comfortably refilled once more, Aaaah, peace and my pram.

Move over, Diana Ross

I was smokin'. I was cookin'. I was de buziness! I was standing on the front 'stoep' wearing Ma's gorgeous snake skin (not really) very high heels, with the peep toe at the front. Yup, long before the girls of today ever wore them, I did, and I was 'cool'. Then there was my school cardigan, not draped over my shouders like Doris Day, but plonked on my head, tied under the chin a la looong flowing hair. My audience was Ma and Dad, who had come on to the stoep to sit on their bench and relax, smoke a few fags and discuss the day's work events. They were quite compatible in this way, sharing fags and discussing their day. And Ian was there of course, championing me all the way. It didn't matter that the sun was setting and the day fading into night slowly and quietly, I felt I was bathed in the limelight, belting out my tune, the same one day in and day out with new words, all along the line of 'you're a lady, a pretty lady, the best of all, a wonderful singer' ad nauseam. I was going to be that singer, famous and loved by all. Look at me now, just a teacher. But still loved by all (well 5 year olds anyway.)

Eina, that's sore

The awful day had dawned and I needed braces...not like the braces of today, I must be honest, but still bad enough to be a form of torture weapon. Actually I am fussing, it was more of a 'plate' a denture made to supposedly push front teeth backwards, or was it back teeth forwards? Who knows? All I know is that it was huge, big, hard, heavy and mine! As soon as I got home from the dentist that very first day, I hauled it out and threw it in my pram. This pram was not like any other pram and will be described later. But the 'plate'lived in it for most of the time I had it, only to be taken out when it was dentist check -up day, and inserted painfully into my mouth once more. He knew, of course he knew, but being a fine and honourable man, he never let on that it was basically doing nothing, as it was never in my mouth! Maybe he didn't want to wrangle with Ma either!

The ants make a discovery

If we didn't finish our food, Ma wrapped it up or covered it with a dish, put it in the fridge (oh yes we did have one of those) and gave it to us again for the next meal and the next and the next. 'There are children starving in Africa you know!' I used to think, ' well why don't you give them this stuff then?'

One Sunday morning we were faced with a particularly gooey, gluey mass of congealed porridge oats, dry and 'glompy'. If I didn't eat it, then Ian didn't do it. At that stage in our lives, if I were to say 'stick your head in a fire', he would have said, 'sure sis, now?'

There was knock at the front door, oops, she didn't want them to see this little drama unfolding. (Dad was playing bowls, he played bowls every weekend in those days, lucky man.) Ma hurriedly rushed us off to our bedrooms with the bowls and large tablespoons, threatening us not to appear till she called us. Ian immediately ate his up, nearly choking and vomiting, and has never eaten porridge oats since. I set about placing a spoon of the stuff carefully on every shelf of my built in cupboard behind all my clothes, then covering it over with my stuff, till it was hidden forever(or so I thought).

Three days later there was an ant army having a party in my room. They thought it was fiesta time! They were everywhere and, as ants do, were marching round systematically collecting dried clumpy oats and carting it off down the walls and out through a crack in the floorboards. What a mess!

Ma went mad. Screaming and yelling, she threw everything out of the cupboard on to the floor and told me to clean it up, with other choice words thrown in too. Although I was very sad and hurt and ashamed that day, I love this memory and chortle about it every time I retell it to my family, which is often. What a rebel I must have been!

Picnic Pleasure

That was a day everyone would remember and keep reminding me about in later years. I myself have no memory of it as I was probably only about 14 months old, and newly toddling. I know this as I have a picture somewhere of Terence walking me around carefully clutching my hand. Ma and Dad and Auntie Doris and Uncle Aurthur and us two kids went off to Boksburg Lake for a picnic. They lived on a big farm outside Pretoria, and I was never very fond of Arthur. He had a rough, crude,cruel, sardonic, no downright sarcastic form of wit, which always cut me to the quick when I was older.All I know about that day, was that I ruined it, little ole me, hardly even walking, got an eruption of measles (and presumably a temperature) and the picnic had to be cancelled and everyone left. Whenever I was reminded of this, I used to think 'so what?' and I still do!

Rumble in the Jungle (Pietersburg)

Of course we often used to bicker and quarrel, as all siblings do, at the age of probably 7 and 8 years old. And Ma used to shout and shout, as all mothers do. One day she came home from work with a pair of boxing gloves, and called us outside on to the front lawn. She put the right one on me and the left on Ian, which was very fair as I was right-handed, and he was left-handed. The other hand had to be kept behind our backs. Oh yes, there were rules to this 'game'. She then said, 'Now fight, but do it properly this time!' Of course, we didn't want to, and she then shouted, ' You will fight, come on hit him, hit her, and then you're both going to get a bloody good hiding and go to bed without any supper'. Of course this made us want to punch even less, knowing what our fate would be. And so it was , no good punches were thrown, no satisfaction was achieved and no supper was had that day!

The tooth fairy

While Dad was driving (an Austin I think) we used to sit at the back and squabble as kids so often do (we were 5 and 6 years old.) Ma got angry and shouted at us many times, but we just ignored her.

One very hot day, she swung round and told us to 'Shut up!' swiping me across the face, knocking out my front tooth. I can remember screaming my head off, him stopping the car, and her saying: 'That serves you right, you would not listen!'

We drove off again as if nothing had happened, and that shocked me more than losing my tooth.

Mind you, the 'tooth fairy' did give me ten cents for it that night, which helped.