Chapter 20
At Easter every year, all schools gave two weeks of vacation, closing the Friday before Palm Sunday and reopening the Monday following Easter Monday. Our family usually spent this time at a small caye a few miles east of the capital, where one of Mama’s half-sisters on her father’s side lived with her husband, who was the caretaker. The owner had built a spacious, comfortable house for his family, and four small ones which he rented to friends.
Because of our connection to the caretaker, we were allowed to rent one of these houses and spent our Easter holidays there most years. If we spoke early enough and the demand was not too great, we were able to obtain it to spend the May holidays there as well, but this had not happened as often as we would have wished, so we made the most of those two weeks, cramming our days with enjoyment — sailing, fishing, bathing in the sea, playing games and sleeping under the stars. The house was so small that most of our living took place outdoors, close to nature, taking beautiful sunrises, sunsets and moonlit nights for granted, enjoying the extra bonus of watching the sun and moon compete for space in the sky during Easter time.
Jerome had written the Senior Cambridge overseas exam in December of 1944 and received the results of his success just after his seventeenth birthday in March of 1945; and Matron, armed with the need for a surgeon at the hospital and the fact that money was available from both sides of the family to finance such training, had recommended a career in medicine to him, but had been experiencing difficulty in prying him loose from the pipe dream of playing professional football, a dream to which he had clung in the final years of his boyhood.
Even the fact of our being a colony and far away from anything like professional soccer football had had no effect, the obsession blinding him to all practical considerations; and he dared to dream of going to England and making one of the teams there!
Ever practical, Matron had drawn him a picture of the bleak state of the medical services in the country: the need for local professional staffing in every department and the lack of finances to pay for training such personnel; and, more importantly, the presence of only one surgeon at a time, his contract rarely renewed due to a greater demand and more attractive incentives for his services existing elsewhere than the government could afford, which usually meant that there were often long periods in between appointments of a specialist in that field.
Father, mother, aunt, Miss Eileen, paternal grandparents and friends all urging this great undertaking had created anxiety in Jerome that people’s expectations of him might be more than he could fulfil, and he revealed his fears to me in a discussion one day. I felt a deep sympathy at his facing a challenge of that dimension at such an early age, his seeming still a child in many ways.
To build up his courage, I had told him that I had every confidence that he could accomplish whatever he put his mind to, and this I really believed, having witnessed how he tackled his problems and challenges since childhood. Being left on his own a lot, with a mother preoccupied with her particular demands, he had learnt self-reliance and perseverance in matters from the physical to the emotional, and, like Matron, was not afraid to venture carefully into the unknown. I therefore suggested that he ask to be left alone for a time, say two or three months, during which he should give very serious thought to the pros and cons of committing to such an enterprise. They should ask no questions or put any pressure, just give him the time he needed and promise to abide by his decision, whatever it was. He had taken my advice and all concerned had agreed to his proposal.
The beginning of the decision-making period coincided with the Easter holidays that year and we embarked on what was to be the last of such for a long time to come, that period marking new beginnings in most of our lives.
We all agreed later that those had been the most wonderful holidays we had ever had. We had spent so much time bathing in the sea that Mama had said it looked as if we wanted to use up all the water; and went drop-fishing, trolling, conch-diving, sailing, exploring every piece of mangrove on a little piece of land; ate stuffed, baked snapper, fresh and dry-corned barracuda boil-up; cabio (kobia) fish balls, cubali (crevalle) fish tea, tapado, sere, conch stew, crispy dry-fried snapper, you name it! And the weather had been on its best behaviour too: cool trade winds making music on the roof with the fronds of the coconut trees serenading us to sleep at nights, and filling the sails as we roamed the seas from before daybreak until we caught our food! It was heavenly, and we returned to town at its end with sun-burn, loads of memories and ready to face anything the future would bring.
By the time we came down to earth, Jerome had already made his decision, although only two weeks had passed; and things were immediately set in motion for him to attend school in Canada to prepare for his medical studies. No sciences had been taught in the schools at home, so there was a lot of ground to be covered in those subjects, but he had joked that he was now in a hurry to go, as the sooner he went the sooner he would be back to enjoy holidays like these once again!
The institution he would be attending was opening in late August, and the time between then and the end of the Easter holidays had been packed with as much living as Jerome and the clan could fit into that short space of time.
The Invincibles had entered Open competition, most of its members now being over sixteen, and they threw themselves into the new challenges with their usual intensity, eager to make a mark before taking off into young adulthood.
Only Robbie was in his final year of school, and the rest of the team had made the most of his May holidays to include him in the drill of preparing for the season beginning in late June.
By now Lionel and Jerome and most of their teammates had settled on a major girl friend, which had not precluded flurries into the unattached girls’ pool from time to time. I had watched as their tastes and styles developed: Jerome retaining an attraction to young ladies of the retiring type and quickly becoming possessive; Lionel preferring the prettier, friendlier, outgoing, more confident girls; while Robbie, youngest of the three, tended to share himself eagerly among all those girls who showed interest in him.
Mama had given all three the talk she had given Rodney before, about the proper way to treat a young lady, what to watch for in their relationship to them and how to handle themselves in dealing with the different types. She had warned against flirts and too aggressive types, as well as the “easy river running deep” girls who could lure you into commitments for which you were not ready.
She confided in me, now nearly twenty, her concern over Jerome, who tended to be serious and very intense with his girl friend, holding her to an unreasonable standard of behaviour. At parties it was understood that boys and their girl friends danced the first piece, the midnight waltz and the last piece together, and were free to do as they pleased concerning other partners the rest of the time. Jerome, who was an excellent dancer, was popular with girls who liked to dance. From overhearing the talk among them we found out that it was his habit not to start dancing right away, but to wait on the sidelines to make sure that his girl friend did not dance with any boys who asked her before he showed up, judging it as a sign of disloyalty if she did. He was a gentleman always, but watchful for any signs of waning commitment on the girl’s part, in which case he would cut her off instantly. I fielded a few complaints about his hastiness from bewildered ex-girl friends, but made it a policy not to interfere, knowing both his acute sensitivity to rejection along with an obsession with privacy.
In the three months before he left for Canada, Jerome had had a full time of football matches, dances and partying with the young lady he was leaving behind, who had stood up to and passed his tests with flying colours.
When the season opened the Invincibles were scheduled to play three matches per month, on weekends, which meant that they fit seven games into the period before he left town. He was playing his favourite position of goalkeeper, and having the time of his life working out plays between Lionel, Robbie and himself, the three most often together, and introducing their ideas to the whole team during practice.
For a young team just moving into the Opens it had been regarded as commendable that of the seven games played they had won three, tied three and lost only one. Of those seven matches they had tied the first two, won the third and fourth, tied the fifth, lost the sixth to the last season’s champions, then rallied and won the next with a spectacular one-nil victory in the last.
Whenever their lives converged again after that season, the match they spoke of with the greatest pride and elation was that seventh one. They had reviewed and analysed the sixth match (the one they had lost) to the “nth” degree and worked out strategies for correcting mistakes and capitalizing on their familiarity with the styles of players who had advanced to the Opens ahead of them. They had planned and rehearsed carefully, and prepared for various contingencies.
One circumstance they later claimed as heaven-sent was a soreness in the right leg of their right-wing player, which tended to make him favour his left leg, creating a slight complacency on the part of the opposing goal-keeper not to expect much action from his direction. However, the Invincibles had set up a simple play that would start with Jerome sending the ball from goal forward down right field to the right-wing then to left-wing, who would take a shot towards the left side of the goal instead of passing to the centre-forward, confusing the goalie who, knowing of the right wing’s weakness might have expected the ball to go to centre first.
As things had turned out, the opposing team had intercepted the ball sent from right-wing to left and Robbie had sped from centre, taken it away then sent it back to the left-wing who, according to the original plan, had taken the shot to goal and scored, to win one-nil. Their triumph had been followed by a party at our home, attended by Jerome’s current girl friend, who could not have been more charming and gracious.
As Jerome had said when he returned for summer vacation the next year, he was lucky to have had such a great send-off, putting him in the right frame of mind to face the unfamiliar cold weather of Canada and the hard work of conquering the vast material placed before him.
ooo0ooo
Things had changed radically in the next few years. Nigel (Brandon) had “written in” for me, started visiting me at home regularly, and walking me to and from work at the hospital. He had been an only child and lived with his mother on the small pension left by his mechanic father, who had died in a freak accident at the sugar factory up north. They had moved from that district to the capital when he had won a scholarship to high school from the Anglican primary school there. The same age as Rodney, four years older than I, they had become friends and he had been a regular visitor to our house over the years.
Both he and Rodney had joined the Civil Service immediately after secondary school, which was the standard procedure for most young men of their background. Church-goers, like my family, he and his mother had fit easily into the respective social groups for men, women and children affiliated with the Anglican community. He had become a server at the Holy Eucharist, eventually carrying the cross, as per the title conferred on him by my earlier rebel pupils.
Excellent at figures, Nigel had worked in the Treasury Department, progressing in timely fashion to First Class Clerk, when he had been sent abroad for a year’s training before appointment to a post of Finance Officer Grade III in the Medical Department in the office of the government hospital where I worked.
Matron had been pleased when I had finally begun my nursing career the same year Jerome started his studies abroad. By then she had been coasting on an acting appointment as Principal Nursing Officer for several years, not having had any specific formal training for the post; but had performed with such efficiency that she had been confirmed in the post in 1948, a year after Nigel and I had got married in 1947 in a small family wedding. The following year our first child, a son, had been born that February. We had switched Nigel’s first and middle names around and christened him Lloyd Nigel. As there was now a lot of space in the house, with both Rodney and Lionel at sea, leaving only Robbie and Linda around, we had spent the first few years of our married life at home with Mama and Daddy and the family.
This arrangement had proven favourable, as, with both of us working, the family had been of great help supervising baby-sitters; and, also, good company for me when Nigel had been sent to the regional university to do a one-year Certificate course in Public Administration before Lloyd was one year old. The academic year had started in October, 1948 and he had returned home in early June, 1949.
Having decided to have two children (hopefully a boy and a girl) at two-year intervals, we had planned on some form of birth control eventually, but had not explored possibilities. In August of 1950, therefore, in keeping with our plan, our second child joined the family, after a labour of nearly fourteen hours; and as it had been regarded as a triumph that we had both survived the ordeal, Nigel had named him “Victor,” and we decided to sign off even though we had failed to produce a daughter.
Mama and her generation would not hear of my having a ‘tie-off’ after only two children, so a decision about the need for a birth control method became pressing.
To complicate matters, fate presented us with a challenge when Establishment decided to send Nigel to do the Diploma course in Public Administration (an extension of the Certificate course) beginning the next academic year, to report to the University by the end of September.
With the modern day methods of birth control available, there would have been no trouble at all, but this was 1950, and, true to good health and social practice, Nigel and I were in the middle of a six-week voluntary abstention programme after Victor’s birth on August 14th when the training opportunity had come up. Faced with the prospect of another nine months added to our sentence, we had thrown caution to the winds and done what any normal, imprudent, hopeful couple would do, and indulged the night before he left.
For people like Mama and her generation, the result of our impetuosity had been inexcusable; and although she was captivated by Alida, our precious baby daughter, who had entered the world on July 2nd of 1951, a few days before her father returned home from University (with the Diploma in Public Administration), it had been a long time before she stopped giving me her peculiar, questioning look. In time things between us had come back to normal, but it became a sore spot when their birthdays were celebrated, calling attention to the short time between the two dates, and to Victor being not quite a year older than Alida!
ooo0ooo
During the preparatory period before starting his medical studies proper, Jerome had come home for summer vacation each year; but with most of us working there had been little time for socializing and, after visiting with us for a short while, he would go south to occupy himself with work in connection with his grandfather’s estate and associated businesses, which were being managed by Mr. Solis’ eldest son, Andrew.
One year he had paid a work/visit to his great grandmother’s village, where he had conducted an anthropological assignment, some details of which he had shared with us before returning to school. He had told us how welcoming all his relatives had been, although the older heads had passed on by this time; but the ones of his mother’s generation had accepted him as belonging, a fact pleasing to both him and Matron. He had a prize collection of photographs and tapes of the music and dances performed by the villagers, which he shared with us and with the Anglican parish in their town on different occasions.
He usually came back to the capital to spend the final three weeks of vacation with his girl friend, and although he did not give her a ring they were regarded as a couple by their families and friends.
In 1950 he had left the country just before Victor’s birth, as he was starting on what he called the meat of his medical studies and had decided to transfer from Canada to the United States, saying he had had enough of freezing weather. The medical school was in Virginia, where it was not as cold as in Canada and where he met more people resembling himself. He had experienced no colour discrimination in Canada, but said he felt more comfortable among his own people, although it did exist where he attended school in the United States, but not in as virulent a form as further south in that country.
Not being sure when he would be able to spend time at home with her, this time he had given Elena a ring; and they had an understanding between them that they would marry on completion of his studies.
I think now would be a good time to give you an idea of what Elena was like. She was one of those soft-spoken, quiet types who did not say much, but had a mind of her own, somewhat like my own mother, I thought. Her father was a senior civil servant who had met her mother, half-Creole and half-Spanish, when he had been transferred to the Western District early in his career. She was the first child and first girl of that union, and had a special relationship with her father, a good provider. She was a year younger than Jerome and a good student at the Roman Catholic girls’ college where she had taken what they called the commercial course, which had featured subjects like shorthand, typing and book-keeping. Right out of school she had got a job as a stenographer in the Civil Service, as she “marked time” while waiting to become Jerome’s wife.
While he was away, several different young men had become interested in her, but had not ventured further when told that she was committed. He, in the meantime, applied himself to his studies and was making good progress, while corresponding with her about once every two months. He wrote to his mother and mine too, regularly enough so the rest of us could be updated how “fourth son” was progressing.
ooo0ooo
Things had proceeded without incident until the year before Jerome had been scheduled to complete the first part of his course, when Mr. Kisling, Elena’s father, had been sent to one of the campuses of the regional university to attend a labour seminar. While there he had contracted an illness which had been diagnosed as dengue fever when he returned home. Apparently having contracted a virulent form of the disease, he had been unable to work while under treatment, and had at first been given sick leave with full pay for six months, in the first instance, and thereafter half-pay for another period of time which had stretched out to many months; when, finally, he had been taken before the medical board and retired with a gratuity and pension.
In the meantime, Elena’s mother, who was unused to being a decision maker, and had had the additional burden of finding funds for paying medical bills as well as regular household expenses, had floundered helplessly under all the responsibilities.
Frightened and worried about her father, Elena, overwhelmed by all the problems facing her family and with Jerome so far away, had turned for comfort and encouragement to a long-time admirer and, unfortunately, found herself pregnant with his child after some time. An honourable young man, he had married her in a quiet ceremony, after which he had moved in with her family. She had continued to work, and with her income and his added to her father’s pension, they had been able to manage a fair standard of living. All that was left, then, was breaking the news to Jerome of her change of status!
I never found out at the time how she had done this. All I know is that at the end of the first part of his training, Jerome came home in 1955 for one month, the greater part of which he had spent down south at his aunt’s, then left for the United Kingdom to pursue his specialty there.
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Nigel and I had wanted Jerome to be godfather to our first child, but Lloyd had been born in February, 1948 when he was out of the country. Then in 1950 he had left for university before Victor had been born; so that, when I had discovered my pregnancy with Alida, I had written right away to tell him that he was being invited to be godfather by proxy to what I had decided would be my last child. Thus it was that when he came home for good in 1960 to take up a post of surgeon in the government hospital, he had first made the acquaintance of his goddaughter when she was already nine years old.
Alida, the darling of the household, had been an instant hit with “Ullojay,” which was what the boys had made of “Uncle Jerome” when they had first heard about him. Of their other uncles all three had spent time at sea during the children’s early years, Rodney staying abroad, Lionel showing up at long intervals, and Robbie going to work and live up north after leaving the sea and taking up residence on land. Although they did see their Granduncle Lito from time to time, his style was random, appearing suddenly, making a few jokes, a tickle here and there, and he was off again!
With Jerome there was a calm questioning, careful attention to answers and a serious interest in their welfare and activities. They had felt his concern for their well-being and were eager to tell him about their achievements in sports, schoolwork or whatever, and enjoyed themselves greatly in his company.
(Chapter 21 in Friday, January 03, 2020 issue of Amandala.)