Letter 011- Horsing about!

26th May, 2009.

Dear Jeremy,

Though I wrote in my last letter to you that Michael and I finally got to know one another in June 1946 I was not really sure of that date. I thought it was during January. I had returned early to Rhodes to work in the library and many of the ex-soldiers were also back early to study as they were to take examinations in March. Because I was not sure, I looked up in Dad’s book No 124280 and that was what he had written. However, many years ago, you and Pam gave us a book called ‘Grandparents Book: Our Life Story written for our Grandchildren’. We had made some entries though never completed it. There I found that Dad had written ‘We first met in January 1946, started going out regularly in March, agreed to get engaged in September and announced it in December’.

During 1947 my Father exchanged his faithful old Chevrolet for a brand new Oldsmobile. It was big and comfortable and he called it The Magic Carpet as it glided along noiselessly, almost floating. He and my Mother planned a trip to take my Grandmother to visit one of her brothers who lived in the Orange Free State. He was a retired Postmaster.

This coincided with Michael’s Mother’s visit to him in Mohaleshoek so it was arranged that we should all meet there where Michael lived in a big house. I stayed a few days while the family went on to Wepener.

You can imagine the excitement and the trepidation. Ladies did not often wear trousers in those days but my Mother and I each bought a pair – hers were maroon and mine green. If this was daring it was also very dashing.

We were warmly welcomed by Michael’s Mother, Celia, the houseboy/gardener, Skelly the dog and the horse called Rogue. I felt quite shy as I knew there was a strong bond between Michael and his Mother and it was important that she like me. I think I found her quite a strict lady and remember she objected when Michael climbed into bed with me when he brought me the early morning cup of tea. It was winter and there was no central heating.

We were entertained by some members of the community and we were invited to dine with the District Commissioner and his wife but I do not remember much of that except that Granny was very gracious and charming.

A great treat was to be a horse ride into the mountains. I had never ridden a horse before so was quite anxious as well as excited. I was assured that the white Basuto pony was very docile and so she was. She needed much encouragement to get her moving.

It was a beautiful day and we breathed in the fresh, pure mountain air. We followed a path leading up and up the steep slope. This was quite magical especially when a group of African children followed behind us singing, their voices echoing around us.

By this time I was feeling quite at home in the saddle and thoroughly enjoying myself as the horse carefully picked her way back down the mountain. What no one had warned me was that once on the straight, with noses pointed for home, horses just GO!! And that is exactly what mine did. I lost my balance and off I came but my one foot was caught in the stirrup and I was dragged. Michael kicked Rogue into action and managed to stop my horse by which time my foot had come loose. Of course I had to get up and ride home. I was not hurt just shaken.

Though we decided not to tell Michael’s Mother, somehow she found out. I suppose sons can just never lie to their Mothers as Mother’s always know when something is wrong.

One did not often get long distance phone calls in those days so imagine my surprise when I was called to the Beit House phone and there was Michael at the end of the line.

What did I think if he applied for a teacher’s grant for Natal University? Well, what could I say? Though Michael had hoped for a career in the Basutoland Colonial Service, prospects were not good. India had gained her independence so there were many qualified and experienced British Officers available who were given preference for available posts in the colonies.

So almost on the eve of our wedding there were different plans to be made. I left Rhodes for the last time about two weeks before Christmas. By this time my parents were living down on the banks of the Buffalo River where my Father was in charge of the Pumping Station which supplied East London with water. A narrow pass wound down to the river where there were three houses. The scenery was wild and there were leggavaans in the river and that was why I never swam in it.

Love you, Mum

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