memories of granny.

When it was then.

The older I get, so it seems, the more I remember my grandparents.  Funny that? I guess because
I have reached an age, where I too could become a grandmother anytime? OY!  Or perhaps it's
because I find that I tend to do the things that they did, I wonder.

Spending all of my holidays in the North Eastern Transvaal, where my grandparents farmed,  I
find that certain  smells tend to make me hark back to when I was really young. The smell of
baking, the smell of peanuts, the sound of elderly Jewish people chatting, their accents, so far
removed from the  way folk seem to express themselves today.

The time I spent with them, was in an area "groundnuts" were the main crop. That and those
magnificent Red Afrikaner Cattle, with their wicked horns, so noble and  almost prehistoric in
appearance. 

Nowadays, I only have to smell peanut butter to see the red scorching earth. I can feel that hot,
hot sun....... the bees busily going about their work, the smell of the gum trees swaying in the
wind;  the cattle nosily asserting themselves.  Hens scratching and clucking away.....
......the lines
of busy ants that I used to tease.......just to see if they would make a new pathway........stubborn
critters! Every day was summer; it was long, endless, and such fun.

Things used to have such? routine? One rose every day at 5am; breakfast was always served at
9am. Huge bowls of piping hot oats, creamy unpasturized milk. "Wads" of toast and home-made
marmalade...........one had time for prayers, talked about the plans for the day. We had to be
washed and back on the stoep,  at 11 am for tea, and heaven help you if you were not on time for
lunch at 2!!     HUGE roasts, with mountains of vegetables, farm cream and potted fruit for
dessert..........granny and gramps off for their nap till the afternoon bell rang for tea
again................helping with the milking as the sunset..............agrab-anything-for-supper-of-left-overs, the games, mending being done and chat till bedtime..........such a time of love and togetherness, such tradition and joy.   Mostly, for a child, stability I guess. I was never lonely. There was always something to do, time to play, time to learn?
                        

Never the blare of the television, or the harsh static of the radio; this contraption was only turned on three times a day, for the news.

Being a Jewish family, our week ended at 3pm on a Friday, when we would
all have a real "scrub" and dress up in our "best bib and tucker" and pile into the gleaming motor car for our trip to the town. We had to be in time for the Friday service, and strictly speaking, back home before the sunset, as traditionally, neither our staff nor our stock where allowed towork after sunset. Gramps used to say, that God would understand, and make allowances for our situation, let alone the time factor, this side of the equator.

Driving home always  found us pensive.....I loved that time of the day, (still do, as a matter of
fact)  when the sun is almost down and the colours soft and serene.   The river intensifies..............everything, making it more beautiful, heightened somehow. In the quiet of the dusk you could hear the  birds, their last plaintive cries echoing over the river, insects  droning, and the slap of the water as the as we crossed the causeway. It is the time of the day when you paid  attention to beauty. I let my used to let my hand hang out of the window in the wind rush. Or was I trying to hold onto it all?

The Friday supper, was always a whopping great feast, lots of singing, and
storytelling. Our working day, began on a Sunday, and in order to accommodate out staff, we
really only started on a Monday, like everyone else; but granny and I used to work in the garden
on a Saturday. I learned so much from her. I still find myself, after all these years, whilst working in the garden, hearing her voice saying to me........"darlink, alvays ven you take mit dis (plant or shrub), you must tickle de roots, (always sounded like groooots!) end den dey giff dem some love, and den dey vill grow tall!"  She had a spectacular garden! Her annuals were always the tallest I have ever seen! Great glowing Zinnias, masses of shrubs and trees, and the joy of
finding a hens nesting  in the garden used to be my delight! If I inherited anything from granny, it was this love of gardening, and find myself now, in the midst of all the marvellous gardens, some, which I helped create, hearing, if I pause, her voice speaking to me.

I was not strictly speaking a sickly child, but managed to ‘catch’ a few of the mysterious illnesses, that children go through.  OH! what love and attention I received.  How I loved granny's callused hands, her smell, when she stroked my forehead.  I could smell the mixture of paraffin, candle wax and lavender, she used, to soften them.    The feel of her ample bosom, and the sound of her voice, as she crooned to me.
 

I cannot remember bad days, rainy times were for learning. Gramps used to say? "idle hands??"   I  had  to practise my  handwriting, and reading. Draw for them, tell them stories, Embroider, and knit.  It was my “dress-up” time too. I spent hours, going through all the trunks of old clothes, and making up plays to perform for their enjoyment.  One-man shows, which more often than not, when I got to the musical parts, they would join in. Isn't it strange? how every thing I did, they thought was wonderful?

My grandmother was, I must tell you an extraordinary "dresser". The word eccentric, was invented with her in mind!  Not for her the floral, button through frocks, and apron,  oh no!  Her standard "uniform," while working in the house and garden, were the most colourful of wide-legged trousers, with HUGE floral shirts.  Masses of gold bangles, on her wrists, men's lace up shoes, years before that  became a fashion statement.   She wore grandpas socks, which meant they fought constantly about who had the right to which pair.  On 'high 'n holy' days, or when their were visitors for a meal, they were stunned by the sight of her in outfits, mostly which she made herself, and bore no resemblance at all, to anything their wives, (or the ladies themselves), had ever seen before!

I was lucky enough, and  I still have these items, to inherit from her some of her marvellous jewellery.  I never wear the pieces without thinking of her, and remembering so many of those wonderful times.  Ah 'bobba" I miss you so.

You know, she tried really hard,  and she was the most patient person alive, to cook. Basic
cooking, baking, canning and Jewish dishes, also I  had to help her make up her funny recipes, for the products, which she assured me would keep my skin always looking young and beautiful.   ( You failed miserably there my darling, on all counts!)

*sigh*  I would give anything for just one of those days now. I would give anything, to show them, that despite their misgivings, slathered in love as they were, I did not turn out to be so bad after all.

But, I guess that was then hey?

As a child of the 40/ 50's, and maybe 'cos I was a play-by-myself Jewish child on a farm, far from anyone, I used to collect miniatures; these were samples, given by all the manufactures of comestibles. This, alongside my passion for "charms" which were tiny "Bakealite" or early plastic, tin? animals, that came as a "freebie" in the packets of sweet "Sherbet" one could buy. They had a tiny ring, for hanging, and I used to thread them onto cotton (remember REAL cotton thread?) and make bracelets. Naturally I had dozens of bracelets, as I bought as many as my grandparents would dole out the money for.

The miniatures that I collected, tiny boxes of corn flakes, oats, Coke, and many more that I cannot even remember, were carefully packed in a wooden box, housed under my tall cast-iron bed, and brought out on rainy days to "play shop." I used to make a counter and pile all the goodies up in colourful rows, and for hours on end, pretend to be not only the customer, but the best of all, the shopkeeper as well! Naturally, as children will do, I ate all the contents of the miniatures, and in those days, the Coke and Pepsi was real ! Oh ! the Coke and Pepsi, had the cutest little crates as well; these were a real prize possession!

My grandfather, on seeing these games, bought me a tiny tin cash register one birthday; this was the best present ever! I endlessly, rang the little buttons, putting in the tiny copper farthings that he gave me, and even kept a book, for my customers who did not pay cash! ( I learnt early).

The funny thing about this early passion for collecting, is that it never left me, still hasn't. I am a veritable magpie! and have owned, antique toys and dolls, atifacts and memorabilia, all my adult life! Don't start me off with a single "goodie", the next thing it becomes a passion, and I spend hours haunting second-hand shops, auction houses, and anywhere I think I will find similar...............but! it doesn't end there............ I still have this "thing" about miniatures, I cannot resist them! Every hotel, from Cape to Cairo, who supply those adorable little bottles of shampoo and handcream in the bedroom? know them? .....well I pack them into my handluggage as fast as I can. Every free sample handed out by airlines, (including the drinks and nuts!) I load those as well...........I never use them mind! No, they are for "in-case".....................oh! and I even buy things in tiny quantities.......wherever I can, I buy those cute little jellies and jams, I'm a sucker for those tiny pats of butter.......perfume samples, "buy-one-and-get-a-sample-free"......yes please.

Hey! I'm the very best granny a child could have...........do we play shop or what? with all the goodies......and did I tell you I still have my tea-set from when I was young? Of course I never throw anything away! Perish the thought.

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