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Enter Mercedes “Mechi” Olivera

FeaturesEnter Mercedes “Mechi” Olivera

From British Honduras to Belize: one family’s drama – a novel written by the late Chrystel Lynwood Hyde Straughan

Chapter 19 cont’d

During their stay Mr. Reg and Jerome had occupied the bedroom off the study, approaching it through the hall door, while Matron had shared her sister’s bedroom, which had given her a chance to try and get a feel of what the next day’s meeting with her father would be like. All Miss Millicent could say, however, was that Mr. Bertram had remarked to her, about a month before, that it was time for him to wind up his affairs now that he had reached ten years plus beyond the allotted three score and ten and, also, that the threat of another World War was imminent.

After breakfast the next morning Mr. Reg had assisted his father-in-law into the study, where he had left him with Matron and Jerome before going out to look after some business in connection with the elder St. John’s properties, which he had supervised since his parents’ emigration to Canada.

Matron said her father had lost no time in saying what was on his mind, starting with the remark to Jerome that it was a pity that he had not had the opportunity before to speak with his only grandchild, as he did not count the time when he had met him when he was much younger. However, there was no point in crying over spilt milk: he was there now and he, his grandfather, hoped he was doing well in school, like his mother, an outstanding student in her day.

Jerome had replied that he had never failed a class, but that sometimes his mother had stopped him from paying too much attention to football, which he very much enjoyed playing. Matron told Mama how she had listened in surprise to hear her father engage in talk on the subject of sports, even asking Jerome what was his favourite position on the team, in drawing him into conversation about his interests. He had opened up, replying that his choice was goalkeeper, as, in that position, you usually got to play the whole game from beginning to end and had the chance to view the whole field and study your opponents especially and try to figure out what they might do next. Matron had been impressed at how well they had got on, remarking it must have had something to do with being male, as her father had never been like that with either Millicent or herself.

After admitting that sports played an important part in a boy’s development, however, Mr. Bertram had paraphrased the saying about too much work making Jack a dull boy, and had admonished his grandson to apply himself to his studies to begin preparation for responsible citizenship later. However, when his enquiry as to what Jerome wanted to be when he grew up had received a vague reply, Mr. Bertram had lightened up and changed the subject, asking him if he liked fruits. Pleased with his reply that he did, he had sent him to his Aunt Millicent to get some “grown on the property” while he continued conversing with his mother.

####

“Now, Octavia, bring me up-to-date on your accomplishments since you left home,” had been his opening remark to her, Matron said, and that she had been surprised at the leading questions he had been able to ask about her activities. All through the years she and Miss Millicent had corresponded regularly, she getting the news from home while, at the same time, confiding her actions, hopes and plans to her ever-loyal sister. She had ended her letters with the conventional “Regards to Mother and Father,” but had not realized how much her sister had shared with them or, even, that they had been that interested!

He had gradually brought the conversation around to the main reason for requesting her visit by saying that he was sure she could see that he would soon be called upon to meet his Maker and wanted to update her about how things stood in the family and what he was hoping for when he was gone.

First of all, he was leaving the house and the land on which it stood to Millicent for her lifetime, along with a generous amount for its annual upkeep and her maintenance, to be provided from his estate, which included savings and income from the farm and other businesses, all of which he was leaving in Matron’s custody to do with as she saw fit during her lifetime and to share with his grandson when he reached the age of twenty-one. Additionally, she was to place $100,000 at his disposal as soon as he reached that age.

His reason for explaining all this to her, he had said, was that he intended to arrange things in such a way as to minimise the amount of Death Tax payable to the government, so that she would have funding to continue on the course on which she had embarked, and on which, judging from her record, he had confidence she would accomplish.

She had felt a spark of elation at this vote of confidence expressed so casually, followed immediately by the nostalgic wish on her part that she could have shared her vision with her father, and maybe even worked alongside each other towards its fulfilment.

This was early 1939, at which time property could not easily be willed to a woman; but, he had told her, he was appointing his son-in-law as executor of his estate and would avail himself of his expertise in effecting the legality of these transactions. He had taken the opportunity, also, of recommending him to her as a good advisor and consultant when he was gone.

Matron said that she had known of her father and Mr. Reg’s association in connection with the elder Mr. St. John’s business interests in the town, but had not realized that they had become so close.

Her father had taken the opportunity of commending her choice of a husband, one not only knowledgeable and well-informed, but, also, trustworthy, principled and a gentleman. He had admitted awareness of their estrangement, remarking that, while the situation was regrettable, he did not consider himself qualified to comment beyond saying that he knew her to be complicated and not an easy person to understand. He was pleased, however, to see that they had such a good relationship, as evidenced by his presence there and their courteous behaviour towards each other.

He had then embraced her, kissed her on the cheek (for the first and only time to her recollection) and given her his final blessing since, he had said, it was not likely that he would see her again before moving on.

Matron had remarked on her father’s description of her as being complicated and hard to understand, and supposed she could say exactly the same of him. There had still been stiffness in their relationship, despite his unexpected goodwill; and there had remained much about him that she did not know and wished she could have asked, realizing she would never get another opportunity, but that, sad to say, she had been unable to break down the wall between them.

He had come to this country at the age of thirty-six, and now, nearly forty-five years later, no one knew anything about his life up to that time, except the biographical information that was on record in the archives of the Diocese and tidbits of information that had come out over the years in conversation with a few of his contemporaries. She was his daughter and yet had no knowledge of what had made him the man he had become: what were his mother and father like? Did he have brothers, sisters, other relatives? What kind of life had he led? Had he lived in poverty or was he well provided for? Had his parents loved him, and had he loved them? Had he left anyone behind who could say anything startlingly new that she didn’t know about him?

He was her father (one couldn’t be closer than that), but he was a stranger to her, embittered by what traumatic experience she would never know. She had detected, with a twinge of disappointment, a greater openness with Millicent, Reginald, and even Jerome, than with herself. With a heavy heart she had had to accept that this was the end of their association and all chance of ever having her questions answered.

The rest of their stay had been spent pleasantly enough, with her mother and father taking a normal interest in Jerome such as she wished they had shown in Millicent and herself at his age, even taking their leave of him with hugs, she had reported.

####

It had been true that she never saw her father alive again as, just as he had anticipated, World War II had broken out that September, and, before a year had passed since it started, the trio had made a second trip south, this time to lay him to rest.

Matron had shared with Mama that she had been so touched by the interest her father had shown in her affairs and by his obvious endorsement, that she had applied herself to her work with new purpose.

ooo0ooo

By the time of the following events, Justin had completed secondary school and was working temporarily in his father’s office before going to New Orleans to do a Bachelor’s degree; and Lionel had just started his secondary schooling at St. Paul’s College where he had been joined a year later by Jerome.

At Matron’s insistence more time was spent at schoolwork than before, but the enthusiasm for sports, to which cricket had now been added, still remained high on their agenda on the weekends.

When my youngest brother, Robbie, joined them at St. Paul’s the next year, the long vacation was still given during the month of May when the dry season was at its height, the days were bright with sunlight, the weather was glorious, flowers were in bloom and fruit trees at their most productive. End-of-year exams were taken in December, studies suspended for two weeks of Christmas and New Year celebrations, after which it was back to school the second week of January.

Whilst the British system of education was the official, the American system was observed by a large segment of the population in schools administered by the Roman Catholic diocese and taught mainly by Americans. Most schools catered to the Cambridge Overseas Examinations, the Senior School Certificate representing the successful completion of secondary schooling. At some point had come a switch to the description of “high school” for institutions of secondary learning, yet the title “College” still continued to apply to older ones.

When Lionel, at 15, was in Form III, Jerome at 14 in Form II and Robbie in Form I at thirteen, their solidarity had been breached by inter-class rivalry in their favourite sport, although in inter-school and open competition it remained as strong as ever.

I had completed secondary school a couple years before, but had stayed at home before deciding on going into Nursing. During this time my brothers and Jerome began to show interest in girls, and I became popular with aspirants to the role of “girl friend,” who tried to enlist my help in delivering messages and arranging contacts, a role I steadfastly avoided, preferring the role of spectator instead.

I watched in amusement the rivalry which developed between Robbie and Jerome over a girl who was playing them against each other. Robbie was speedier and had better ball control than Jerome, who was stronger and a strategist in arranging plays. Robbie played centre-forward on his class team, while Jerome played back-up and captained his. As centre, Robbie had greater opportunity for the “glory” plays like scoring goals, whereas Jerome’s skill as tactitian and defence were not as striking. The young lady liked to be associated with the star goal-scorer Robbie, while also, revelling in the company of the more sophisticated and, as captain, prestigious Jerome.

Whenever they played other classes she was present at the matches with one or the other, but when their classes were opponents, she was never around but was only seen afterwards with whichever’s team was the victor. Jerome soon caught on, while the more happy-go-lucky Robbie took no notice. Things came to a head when all three playing on the Invincibles won the finals of the Under-Sixteens and she came forward to congratulate them and could only find Robbie, Jerome having persuaded Lionel to go after two other young ladies, whom they took for ice cream at a popular snack shop.

This had been the occasion for the change in operating method where girls were concerned, spearheaded by Jerome, of being the aggressor in such relations and shunning those girls who came after them.

ooo0ooo

The next year Lionel in Fourth and Jerome in Third Form each studied one of the two Shakespearean tragedies “Julius Caesar” and “Macbeth”, and the comedy “Twelfth Night,” for the Senior and Junior Cambridge Overseas Certificate exams. It happened that in my time in school I had studied all three and had performed at above average in the exams, Literature being one of my favourite subjects.

Matron and Mama got it into their heads that I should be appointed to coach the boys in Literature, as all three hated the subject, claiming that a pass in Language would be satisfactory for their purpose. The mothers, however, had decided that good control and usage of English was desirable and best obtained by a study of both Language and Literature; and, so, appointed me to assist in this regard, with the incentive of an honorarium plus a bonus for their success at the examinations.

Anyone who knows about teenaged boys will appreciate the difficulty of my assignment, except Matron and my mother it seemed to me. Both were experts at managing subordinates and knew instinctively how and when to assert authority. Lacking experience, on the other hand, I hoped that commonsense methods and the magic of Shakespeare would make up for my deficiencies. I can now say that I earned that honorarium and bonus by the investment of energy, patience, persuasion and effort as never before. I can also say that the experience had proven valuable preparation for my nursing career in providing insights into human nature, which had aided in my interaction with colleagues and patients alike.

The timetable for these sessions, set by the two mothers, was 4.30 to 5.30 p.m. Monday to Thursday, with the possibility of extended hours depending on progress. One would think that four hours per week would not be too burdensome for three young men of average intelligence (Robbie had been included in the classes), with very few chores to perform and their shelter, clothing and food supplied by generous parents allowing them unfettered weekends from Friday to Sunday evenings to indulge their sporting obsession. But no, they were outraged and I bore the brunt of their dissatisfaction. I was accused of causing them trouble just for the sake of collecting money that I didn’t need!

They turned up late for classes, chewed gum for spite, made a racket pulling out and pushing in their chairs, broke the lead on their pencils, dropped their books noisily, crushed their writing sheets, and were responsible for innumerable other disturbances that occurred to their fertile imaginations, using up about fifteen minutes of each session, leaving a full forty-five minutes of their valuable time in which to be tortured! And I am proud to say that I survived their persecution without even once reporting them to my employers!

One of their main taunts had been that people like me were responsible for catering to the colonial government’s need for servants to understand and carry out its instructions, (a direct quote from the gospel of Uncle Lito, who had not attended high school, my grandmother’s resources at the time not permitting; and who was convinced that the subjects taught were to prepare a docile citizenry to function as upholders of the colonial government’s system of control). Another and more painful taunt had been that all I wanted money for was to spend on clothes and shoes to dress up in church for show to impress the “Cross-bearer,” this a reference to my suitor at the time, my now revered spouse, Nigel Brandon, who carried the Cross in the procession of clergy and servers at the Holy Communion service at our church.

I can smile now when we have philosophical discussions about the waywardness of the youth of today, with these same people who caused me such misery; and quote the Bard’s wisdom and insights to understanding companions who have conveniently forgotten their days of rebellion.

ooo0ooo

Before moving on, I’d like to mention a couple of significant incidents which had shaped the future of Jerome, (Matron’s only child) in particular.

One of the most painful to me, personally, had been when Jerome was in his junior or third year at St. Paul’s, and involved my youngest sibling, Belinda, who was twelve at the time and the pampered darling of all the males in my family from my father down, and including Jerome. She was favoured with anything she wanted and became used to having her own way, many times at my expense; and I had predicted that the day would come when they would regret their role in spoiling her.

The Friday before school had closed for the long holidays in May/June that year, Jerome had stopped at his home to pick up a parcel before coming over where Lionel and Robbie were eagerly waiting for him so they could start their game. He had leaned his bicycle against the back step, hung the string bag with his football on the newel post, adding his school bag after taking a small cardboard box from it. This box contained five luscious custard apples, the largest of which he took out and carried in his hand as he came up the back stairs and into the kitchen, where I was setting the table for tea.

The fruits were part of gifts made from time to time to Matron and came from grateful patients and their families with whom she had maintained contact. Jerome usually selected the best to bring to Mama with whom, as I have said, he was very close. He had put the box on the dresser and, carrying the special fruit behind him in his right hand, had asked me: “Where’s Miss Eileen?”

Just then Belinda had caught sight of him with his hand behind his back and asked what he was hiding, and he had replied that it was for my mother. Peeping, she had seen the beautiful, mottled rose-pink and brown fruit and said she wanted it, her mother would give it to her if she asked for it anyway, so he should hand it over to her. He had replied that he would first put it in my mother’s hand and she could do what she wanted with it after that, but that she, Linda, should wait and have some patience. At this she had demanded it, shouting that it was HER mother, she wanted it and that he MUST give it to her. When he had placed his left shoulder to block her reaching it, she had raised her hand, opened her palm, and slapped his shoulder blade as hard as she could. I heard the noise of the blow and saw his hand tighten involuntarily on the fruit, squeezing so hard that the skin burst open and the pulp rolled down his arm as he stood shaking with anger. I had reached for a towel and quickly wiped the mess off his hand, following which, without saying a word, he had turned, jumped down the stairs, grabbed his schoolbag, leapt on his bicycle and rode off under speed.

By this time Mama, who had been at her sewing machine, came into the dining room asking where Jerome was, as she was sure she had heard his voice; and when I had told her all that had happened, had shaken her head at Belinda’s rude behaviour and sent her to her room to settle down before dealing with her later.

Lionel and Robbie had come in, string bag containing the football in hand, to find out why Jerome had left so suddenly; and when they had heard what had happened there had begun such a long persecution of my little sister that in the end I had had to appeal to them to stop. She had been shunned, teased, criticized, and taunted as only brothers knew how. We didn’t see Jerome all that weekend and the next thing we had heard, through Mama via Matron, was that he had travelled alone by the “Heron H” to spend the holidays with his Aunt Millicent down south.

Mama had confiscated the football for all the time he was away, and on his return had had a long talk with him, convincing him that his presence in our family was more valued than any gifts he brought; and also how much she had been hurt by not having been given the opportunity to straighten things out before. He, on his part, had explained that he had reacted without thinking and had just had to get away. The air was cleared and they were reconciled, becoming as close as before; my brothers and I welcomed Jerome back into the fold with open arms; but, as for Linda, their relationship lost its tender quality and it took well into their adulthood to heal, Jerome nursing through the years the pain of rejection by her claim that his beloved Miss Eileen was “her” mother (not “his,” although she had not actually used these words).

ooo0ooo

At the end of that year Lionel had sat and passed the Cambridge School Certificate exam, completing his secondary schooling; and Jerome passed the junior exam and advanced to Fourth Form, the final year of his.

This was 1943, in the middle of the war years, and a young clergyman had joined the staff at St. Paul’s to round out the small group of teachers at this college for boys attended, now, by only Jerome and Robbie from the clan. It was claimed from the outset that he was South African, but this was a label applied to any white person who was arrogant and obnoxious, news being rife at the time about that regime’s abuse of its native population; and this man was disliked not only by the students of the school but by most people with whom he had any dealings, being a most unpleasant and ill-mannered fellow.

His classroom behaviour was insulting, intolerant and hostile, marked by open criticism of the students’ abilities and appearance, until the day came when he overstepped his boundaries in connection with none other than the youngest of Earl Braddick’s five sons, the same Earl Braddick mentioned earlier in connection with Matron’s father all those years before.

He had ended up in the capital where he had become involved in the stevedoring business, making a name for himself for his physical strength and organizing ability. He had married and had five sons, all of whom he had sacrificed to send to “college,” no mean feat, the youngest now in Fourth Form like Jerome, becoming the target and victim of the South African.

The school uniform was white shirt, dark green pants and dark green tie with purple diagonal stripes. This tie was usually worn only the first day of term, the rest of the time the shirt being worn with the neck open. By the end of each week a plain white tee shirt was deemed acceptable in this tropical, Third World environment.

On this particular Friday the South African had come up behind Brian Braddick, rested his arm heavily on his tee-shirted shoulder and asked him if he was preparing for a workout. A physically developed and fit Braddick had shaken the hand off his shoulder roughly, challenging the teacher with the warning not to “try anything” with him. Affronted by this disrespectful response, the teacher had punched the student on the arm. Brian Braddick, a skilled amateur boxer, had reacted with a left uppercut to the jaw of the teacher, who, enraged, had swung his right arm and connected with a blow which had knocked the student to the ground and which he had followed with a kick to his body while there.

Young Braddick had jumped up, boxed the teacher into a corner and connected with several punches, while the whole class, in a vengeful spirit, had stoned him with chalk, books, blackboard eraser, ruler and whatever had come to hand. The Principal had arrived on the scene just in time to call a sudden halt to the action, rescue the teacher and order all the students out of the classroom.

The school administration had sent a notice to the parents of all the students of the offending class that they would be barred from school until such time as they had each submitted to a caning for their part in the incident.

Corporal punishment in secondary schools was a rarity in our country at the time, so that on the following Monday all students but one English boy had stayed home. It had been rumoured that this boy had been accompanied by his father and allowed admission without punishment after the parent had spoken to the Principal in private.

On the Tuesday morning, Matron, who had gained the reputation in the community as a champion of the oppressed, had received a visitor while on duty at the hospital, who had come to inform her that Mr. Braddick, along with his son Brian, had been standing in front of a shop across the street from the college with the intention of beating up the offending teacher as soon as he had appeared and been identified.

The story had been told how Matron, with cool deliberation, had requested and received urgent personal leave and had taken one of the taxis parked near the hospital and asked the driver to take her to the shop and wait while she spoke with Mr. Braddick.

It was later reported that Matron had appealed to him not to turn his right into wrong by such rash action as to assault the teacher, but to come along with her and let them work on a reasonable solution together.

At his declaration that he only had time to deal with the problem and get off to work, however, she had allegedly countered that, dealing with the problem with his fist instead of his brain might leave him with no work to go to, by which she had been able to persuade him to listen to her proposal; and, after agreeing on a plan, they had asked the taxi driver to take them to the Bishop’s office, where they had requested and received an audience lasting for several hours.

####

I had been strictly barred from the discussion which had taken place between my mother and Matron about the incident. All I knew was that after a week the entire class had been accepted back into school after individual written apologies from each, addressed to the Principal, had been received. No caning had taken place. The South African had been transferred to a rural post, where boredom had supposedly led to his resignation and return from whence he had come. And the class, without further drama, had been allowed to complete their final year of high school.

I had been forced to contain my curiosity about that famous audience with the Bishop for quite a long time until things had calmed down, when I had found out through the daughter of the Diocesan Manager of Schools that her father, who had naturally been present, had been impressed with the points Matron had raised concerning the antiquated practice of corporal punishment, especially at a time when other denominational administrations were moving away from that; warning that an immediate consequence might well be a wholesale transference of students from the Anglican to one or the other of those institutions for the rest of the school year until after the examinations for which they had already paid entry fees and preparation for which they would be in need of tuition.

When it came to their children’s future, people could not afford to put denominational loyalty before their welfare and investment; and when the Bishop, a realist, promised to do his best to arrive at an amicable arrangement in consultation with the College Board, the negotiators had known that disaster had been averted.

(Chapter 20 in Tuesday, December 31, 2019 issue of Amandala.)

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