Zambia World Wide

From an Afrikaans speaking family where this was the only language spoken I, at the age of eight, found myself being sent to an English school of good repute. It was time my parents decided, that I became thoroughly bilingual.

Thus happily ensconced, my rapid learning of this new language so enthralled me that it was all I wished to speak. I took to it as a duck to water. This did not create a happy time at home for obvious reasons. I could speak English outside of the home and Afrikaans only within. My love of English though encouraged me to not only embrace books, but poetry also. Pretty soon, the far off places I read about became a quest I yearned to see and experience. I somehow felt I was rapidly outgrowing the small town I lived in.

After completing school and a year at college I refused to return for another through sheer boredom and constraint – last mentioned being the students’ place of abode. The horrendous archaic regulations imposed by the ‘house mother’ who not only looked like an absolute witch, was apt to dole out sermons on hell fire and brimstone should you be seen to go out on a Saturday night. She literally put the fear of God into us and in her opinion, this was the night of all evil for young girls when, without the glimmer of a doubt, we would all become fallen angels …

I returned home and my work became that of Assistant Librarian and read! Did I read! Into the early hours, often only managing three hours sleep before I staggered forth the following morning turning up somewhat bleary eyed. This fuelled my intentions of travelling all the more as I absorbed the work of English authors and the poem “Daffodils” by Wordsworth, the photograph included only fuelled my fervour further.

For my 21^st birthday I was given a choice. An overseas trip, or, a car. Finally, freedom gleamed brightly as I felt urged to accept the trip, but, on uttering the word car the look in my mother’s eye lingered longer over the word. I then realised that I could do no more than choose a trip than find the moon was made of cheese … Neither drove and I felt I owed it to them for saving enough money to offer me such a gift in the first place. The yearned for travel would have to take a seat, any seat. I must add that within a year of my driving parents round bends, mother decided it was time she bought her own car and at the age of 50, passed the test to take the wheel.

I felt betrayed, distinctly miffed by this turn of events.

But, all was not quite lost …