This is where it begins...
My earliest memories are of the fun I had out of doors.
We lived
in very remote rural areas where the streams sparkled. Picnics were our
outings, and we took our bathing costumes with us. Mine was yellow. I don’t
remember ever hearing of crocodiles in the stream we frequented. An outing I don't remember but which is often related in family get-togethers, is about a picnic we had. We were all cooling off in the stream when one of my siblings called out, "Mommy! Mommy! Help me! The raisin's carrying me away!" Happily it was hilarious rather than serious.
I remember playing in the shallow irrigation furrows on hot days. The furrows ran through our garden. A dear little
kitten, Whitespot, kept me company. I loved her but I doubt that she loved me on the day that I
picked her up and tried to put her into the furrow. My mother, was
watching me through the window, and soon spoiled my plan.
My siblings and I were all soon able to swim, and our father built a swimming pool in the garden. The pool had
no bricks, cement or lining. It was just a very large mud pool. A plank served as a
diving board. How we loved that pool.
Farm children in remote areas had to be either home schooled
or sent to boarding school. My siblings, who were some years older than I was, went to boarding school. After an attempt at home schooling, so did I. I was five
years old at the time and my school trunk was almost as big as I was. The school I went to wasn't the same one as the one my siblings were at. It wasn't even in the same town.
The thought of boarding school upset me terribly and my mother
gave me a wind-up clockwork roundabout to pacify me. The first thing the matron
at the school did was to take away my new toy in case the other children broke
it. I never saw it again. I'm sure I must have cried myself to sleep...
I had to adjust to a lot of new things. The other children spoke Afrikaans, a language I didn’t
understand. I had to clean my own shoes and I’d never done that before. I had
to make my own bed – another thing I’d never done before. We said grace at each
mealtime – something else new in my life. We weren’t allowed indoors at all
after rest time in the afternoons, and I had no friends so I sat alone on the
edge of a big field while the other girls sat in their little groups and
played.
Perhaps because of my loneliness after school hours, I
excelled in the classroom. It wasn’t long before I was moved from Sub A to Sub
B.
(Next... We leave the farm. See Tanganyika and the Groundnut Scheme.)
This is fascinating, Patricia, and a real insight into a child' s world and viewpoint. No doubt all was being done for the best even if you didn't appreciate it at the time. Five is very young to live away from home. Here people are debating whether formal schooling should really start that early as other countries choose six or even seven and seem to get comparable or even better results.
ReplyDeleteAnn
Thankyou, Ann. Where I live now, the age of starting school is seven. However some private schools will accept younger children. They possibly give them a school readiness test.
ReplyDeleteThat is a very moving story, Patricia. I find it hard to understand a parent sending a child away to school at five, but I daresay your mother suffered from the separation as well. I remember feeling horribly guilty when I left my own children at scjool on theri first day, although I knew I'd be collecting them again in a few hours time.
ReplyDeleteYou're right, Jean, my mother must have hated sending us to boarding school. But if she couldn't cope there was no other option. We were actually a very close knit family.
ReplyDelete