Our Wandering Years

By F. M. K. Ridgway

This book is an unusual true-life story as seen through the Diary of a teenage girl. The book portrays the adventurous and sometimes hilarious mis-adventurous life of a young widow and her 3 children, which takes place in 4 countries - South Africa, America, Canada and England. It paints a picture of the impact of the Second World War spent in South Africa. Their family is caught, while returning on an ocean liner to South Africa for a visit, by the declaration of war in September of 1939; then five years later, once again on a boat, they are delayed for almost a year in England. This time it is because of the announcement of V-E Day. They hope they are finally on their way home to America.

Flora Ethne, the oldest of the 3 children, starts to keep her Diary at age 14. She has an amazing way with words and describes the life of her family stranded in South Africa during the war, and her grasp of the progress of the war is vivid as she listens to the BBC radio broadcasts.

Its also a story of their Mothers courage and resourcefulness in keeping her family together and making a home for them wherever they happen to land, always with the day-to-day hope and determination of returning to their home in America.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 24, 2006
• ISBN: 9781469101552

F. M. K. Ridgway

F.M.K.Ridgway is the pseudonym for the three siblings, Flora Ethne, Michael and Kareth (Bunty) Ridgway who collaborated in the writing of this book. All three were born in Durban, South Africa in the early nineteen-thirties. Flora Ethne is the writer of the Diary that basically recounts their adventures and Bunty compiled the information. Michael was to have contributed some of his memories but unfortunately died before the book was finished. Flora Ethne married her pen friend Harry Coy and has nine children, she still resides in her grandmother’s house. Kareth (Bunty) married Mark Bostock, has six children and only lives five houses away on the same street as her sister. Michael moved to California where he married Nadine Lentz, and lived there for thirty years.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

 

To help the reader follow our wanderings it seems useful to give some background information. Our story actually starts back in the 1860’s when two groups of families left their countries of birth and set sail, as pioneers, for two very different and widespread New Worlds.

On our Mother’s side, the families left England and Germany, going through Canada and eventually settling in the United States.

Our Mother’s parents were Maud Carter, who was born in Canada, and George Heath from London, England. They were married in Canada, where their first baby—our Mother, Viola Heath was born. They eventually made their way to the small town of Bryn Athyn, Pennsylvania with the rest of their six children. They chose to settle in Bryn Athyn because it was the center of their church and provided a good religious school for their children.

On our Father’s side, the Ridgways and Cockerels left England and after a long and arduous voyage on a small sailing ship, arrived in South Africa, where they were carried ashore by Zulu natives, at the area which would become the beautiful city of Durban.

Our Father’s families settled in the then primitive area of Durban, where Henry Ridgway married Delia Cockerel. Their first child—Kenneth, our Dad—was born in Durban. By that time, 1900, Durban had become a beautiful city with good schools etc.

In 1914 the First World War started, and Kenneth, our Dad, at the age of sixteen, was sent to England to join the Royal Flying Corp. He fl ew his plane over France and Germany.

The two families, South African and American, belonged to the same church. So when the church center in Bryn Athyn put out a list of servicemen to write to, Mom liked the name of Kenneth Ridgway. They wrote to each other for four years.

When the war was over and he was finally discharged from the Air Corp, Kenneth came to college for a year in Bryn Athyn so he could meet and get to know his pen friend, Viola. They became engaged. At the age of 24 she left her beloved home in Bryn Athyn and sailed to Durban to meet her new family and they were married in 1923.

CHAPTER 1  

1939

Our first really exciting adventures in South Africa started on the day that war was declared between England and Germany. The date was September 3rd, 1939. We were on a beautiful ocean liner called the Dunvegan Castle, sailing toward Durban, South Africa. We were off the coast of South Africa, approaching East London for a stop-over. The announcement came over the ship’s loudspeaker. A very British, unemotional voice stated, This is the BBC Radio London calling. Great Britain and all her colonies have regretfully declared a state of war on Germany. As we were standing on the deck, wondering what, if anything, this would mean to all of us on board, the captain then came on the loudspeaker and informed us that we would have two hours to pack up all our belongings and that we would be disembarked at East London forthwith. But not to worry, the Cunard Line would see that we would eventually reach our destination, which was Durban, about three hundred miles up the coast. He further informed us that this beautiful ship that we had just spent three glorious weeks on was to set sail immediately for Australia, to be fitted out as a battleship. We later found out, much to our sorrow, that during the war, she was torpedoed and sent to a watery grave.

Of course, all the children on board were excited at this break in the routine and thought this change would add some more excitement to our lives. We doubt if the adults were thrilled at all. All the married couples must have been appalled at the news, as a declaration of war was sure to affect the lives of every one of them.

Image289.JPG

Sketch of South Africa

True to the captain’s word, the Cunard Line put us all up in a hotel overnight, and the next day we set sail again, on the Capetown Castle this time. And in two days, we reached our destination, the lovely city of Durban.

We were going back to Durban to settle our Dad’s affairs, and expected to be there about three months. Little did we know that our stay would last five years! Our Mother never really talked about the day we came back to Durban, but it must have been very difficult for her. It had been three years ago that we first left Durban after a very terrible time for her. Our Dad had just died under mysterious circumstances only three weeks before our sailing time. We think that our young Mom was so devastated by this tragedy, that all she could think of at that time was to return to her family in America. We know that during those early years, she never felt quite accepted by her relatives in South Africa. They were of British descent, quite wealthy and well educated. Then, here came this young upstart from America to marry their son, and perhaps they secretly blamed her for his death.

So now, she had come full circle, back to Durban, and she surely could not help remembering those years ago … .

CHAPTER 2  

EARLY YEARS IN DURBAN

To begin with there were three of us kids, Flora Ethne, born December, 1927; Michael George, born March, 1929; and Kareth Rosamund, born April, 1932. We were all born in Durban, South Africa.

Our Mother, or D’Ma as she was called for most of the latter part of her life, was born in Toronto, Canada, but her family migrated to a little town in Pennsylvania when she was about 3 years old. No matter where she roamed during her lifetime, this little town was always home to her.

So our Mom grew up and went to school in this little town of Bryn Athyn, Pennsylvania. When World War I came, she signed up to write to a serviceman overseas, and she was given our Dad’s name: Kenneth Ridgway. They corresponded all during the war. Dad had joined the Royal Flying Core at the age of sixteen, and flew the matchbox planes into France and Germany. We have old black and white pictures of these planes and they look like toys. When the war to end all wars ended, our Mom and Dad became engaged, and at the age of 25, she left her dearly loved home in America and sailed to the dark continent to meet Dad’s parents and other relatives in South Africa. After a brief courtship, they were married in Durban, which was the Ridgway family’s home town.

Dad and Mom were married in the small family church in Durban, in 1923. They made their home with Grandpa and Grandma Ridgway in a lovely house, quite far out of the city, which they named The Booms. (This is the name for trees in Afrikaans.) It must have been an idyllic life. They had servants to take care of their every need. And they were surrounded by beautiful flowers, and gorgeous scenery. Their firstborn, Ethne, was born at the Booms.

Mom had an exciting story she loved to tell about living at the Booms. In fact, many years after this incident, she wrote an article about it, and when in later years she gave lectures on South Africa to the school children in America, she had the snake skin and picture to prove that it really happened. So the following is a direct quote in her own words about this happening:

"On a chilly day in June [they have winter when we have summer) Delia [our Grandmother Ridgway] and I were sitting discussing the bareness of the grass plot in the front of the house and deciding to plant it with flowers. She rose and went to the window to point out what she meant. She broke off in the middle of a sentence with a little gasp—the expression on her face turned

Image299.JPG

The Booms. Aunty Doris, Viola and Grandma Ridgway with black mamba

to sudden fear, quickly I was beside her. Coming toward the house, its head high off the ground, was the longest, most ghastly snake I’ve ever seen outside of the zoo. The slimy, slithering horror fascinated me—we both stood rooted to the spot for several seconds, as people will under stress of emotion. As it came right up to the verandah, Delia breathed in a whisper,

‘The front door is closed but the window may be open above the verandah. I’ll watch the snake while you close the window and call the natives. Be absolutely quiet or it will be scared away and we’ll lose it—it must be killed—it’s a Black Mamba.’

I’ll never know how I got up those stairs—I just silently rose. In no time at all the window was quietly closed and I was half out of the back window calling in the loudest whisper I could muster:

‘Inyaka, inyaka, figa chetcha’ [Snake, Snake, come quickly].

There were eight large Zulus working on the tennis court and they all stopped like one man at the call of ‘In-yaka’. Silently with hushed exclamations they each took a garden tool or a stick and carefully, silently on their bare feet crept around to the front of the house in a sort of superstitious panic. I was downstairs again looking through the window at the place where Delia was pointing. The reptile had come up the brick pillar and settled itself around the ledge of the verandah, to have a long winter’s nap! We would never have thought of looking there for the snake, and if Delia hadn’t kept track of it we would have used the verandah all winter with that ghastly creature right over our heads!

All the natives attacked it at once—shouting and talking as they hit. Blow on blow with all the vigour of their savage strength until the horrible thing was dead. They laid it out along the path and it measured eight feet from tip to tip!

We were lucky that this was not the time of the year for the mating season. At that time of the year, no one would think of hitting a Black Mamba with a stick. It would strike like a flash and inject its venom before a person could raise his stick. One drop of its poison (which attacks the nerves) is enough to kill several men! When it strikes, the head vibrates with such a quick side to side motion that it is just a blur and the only safe way to kill it is to shoot it with a shot gun. Some of them grow to 15 feet long and six inches around. Seeing a creature this size gliding along the ground with its head held about three feet high is simply terrifying!

Horrible as these snakes are, they possess one good trait that they have in common with other wild creatures—they are true to one mate. While it is commendable on the one hand, it is diabolical on the other. For if you kill one Mamba, you always have to kill two. For the mate will come like a malevolent nemesis and try to destroy any living creature in its path.

Not long after this incident with our Mamba, in the same garden—true to its instinct—the other one came seeking its mate—but that is another story."

They only stayed at The Booms for a few years. Our Daddy was studying to be a trial lawyer, so they needed to be nearer to the city. They moved into a large house, right next door to our small church, in fact. The house was called the the Big Manse, at 129 Musgrave Road. It was a grand house for children, with a large front verandah stretching across the whole front of the house—tall, open windows to catch any breeze, and also with a nice back yard.

The back yard was where our servants were housed. In fact all the white people in Durban had their servants housed in the back garden in little individual rooms with a shower and toilet room in between. These rooms were made of cement or cinder block, with tin or corrugated roofs. Each person had a cot and a bureau in which they put their own belongings that had they brought with them. Our servants were Zulu people: they were loving, cheerful and kind. Most of them, when they had time off, would take a bus out of Durban back to their families, either to a hut or to a compound where they had a small house that they owned or rented.

Michael and Kareth (Bunty) were born at 129 Musgrave Road, and for a few years we had a lovely time there. We were too young to be aware at the time, but our Dad had contracted a dreaded disease, probably about the time he got married, called amoebic dysentery, which was to plague him and our Mother for the rest of the time they had together.

Image308.JPG

"Ethne, Mom holding Bunty, Michael then Daddy.

Servants quarters in background"

About now is a good time to explain the sudden name change of Kareth to Bunty. It was all our Mother’s doing. If Bunty had been a boy, Mother would have named her Kenneth after our Dad. But as she was a girl, Mom made up the name Kareth to take the place of Kenneth. Well, it turned out that our Zulu servants couldn’t pronounce the R sound in our alphabet, so her name came out Kaleth Losamund Lidgway. Mom thought that that wouldn’t do, so, as she had just bet on a horse called Bunty (and won), she nicknamed her youngest after a horse. It has stuck for these many years.

CHAPTER 3  

WE VISIT ZULULAND

The following is a quote from another of our Mother’s articles on South Africa written in about 1950:

"Where is Zululand? Zululand is a beautiful and inspiring country, with its vast spaces, high hills, deep valleys, and purple mists at eventide. It is called the ‘land of sunshine’. Far across the dazzling blue of the South African sky the sun rides in brilliant splendor.

Here and there on the hills little huts are clustered into small villages, or kraals. The huts are made of thatch, shaped like round beehives. They have one small doorway. These huts are cool in summer and cozy when the temperature falls to fi fty, which is about as much winter as the Zulus ever know. Around the kraals are fences to keep the cattle in at night. In the old days they kept wild animals out. Today the animals are kept in big parks, protected by the law. The Zulus are a primitive people. They are honest, loyal, lovable and courteous. They are good-natured, happy, and quick to laugh. They like to sleep in the shade when the sun is very hot at noonday.

The Zulus love to sing tunes that they make up themselves. Even very small children sing and beat time to the music. They have a wonderful sense of rhythm and they like to clap their hands, stamp their feet, and clap sticks together in time to their singing.

Zululand forms the northeastern portion of the province of Natal, in the Union of South Africa. It is about a two hour drive from Durban. Each village has its own headman who is responsible to the petty chief of the district. There have been no independent kings since 1879."

We were very young when we visited Zululand. Bunty was a baby, Michael was about 3 and Ethne was 4. Our Daddy had shares in a gold mine in Swaziland, which was further north than Zululand.

He drove us up to Eshowe, while he went on into the wilds of Swaziland. Uncle Will and Aunt Dolly Ridgway lived at the church missionary station known as Kent Manor. Ethne’s recollection of Eshowe was that it was a small dusty town with unpaved dirt roads. Some roads seemed to be shaded by tall eucalyptus or bamboo trees. At one point, we seemed to have to wait a long time while a team of oxen very slowly pulled a long, wooden sled across the road.

We stayed with Uncle Will, who looked very much like our Grandpa—Uncle Will was Grandpa’s older brother. Aunt Dolly was a lovely, plump little lady with bright rosy cheeks and a beautiful English accent.

Mike and Ethne were entranced with Uncle Will’s ability to play a zither, a musical instrument which sat on a table and was played by plucking with the fingers and a pick. He played many familiar folk tunes, but our favorite was Oh, Dem Golden Slippers, Oh, Dem Golden Slippers, which he patiently played for us over and over again.

We learned, many years later, that the gold in the mines was in a difficult area and required specialized equipment to extract. This had been ordered from England, but the war put a stop to that, so Mom sold her right to the mine.

Our Daddy was a kind and loving man, but we only had him for a few years. He was over 6 feet tall, quite handsome and a champion at any sport he took up. His dream was to be a Physical Education instructor, but it seemed that Ridgways did not become Phys. Ed. instructors. They became lawyers.

His own dad and a number of uncles were all lawyers, and he was expected to follow in their footsteps. And so he became a trial lawyer, having to take his exams when he had a bad case of the measles. Grandpa had to hire a special examiner to sit with him while Daddy sat in bed in a semi-darkened room to write his exams.

Ethne has a few precious memories of him. Michael and Ethne used to say, "Play Pennies from Heaven. At that he put his hands in his pockets, drawing out change. Then he put his hands behind his back and somehow managed to throw the change into the air—scattering coins all over the floor. They both scrambled around on hands and knees and were allowed to keep whatever they found—Pennies from Heaven."

When Ethne and Michael started at Kainon School—which was right next door—(it was part of the church compound)—our Dad brought them satchels filled with crayons, pencils etc., and he brought them each a little red scooter.

He had a yacht berthed in Durban Bay, where our whole family had some lovely times together. In fact that is the only memory two-year-old Bunty has of her Dad: sitting on his lap, riding on his boat.

Ethne has special poignant memories of him, as she was the oldest. He would take us to church and patiently show her how to put each little finger into her white cotton gloves. One time she must have fallen asleep in church, because she woke up to find him gently carrying her home. She was so happy to find herself cuddled up against his chest, that she pretended to be still asleep so that he wouldn’t put her down.

CHAPTER 4  

ALPHA

1934

One Christmas, Ethne remembers, Daddy was so sick that there was some question about whether he could even come out and open presents. Our Mom was also sick with pleurisy. To speed Mom’s recovery, we were all invited to Alpha, our Uncle Norman’s farm. It was up in the Orange Free State, a province of South Africa, near a town called Ladybrand, about 400 miles north of Durban. So Mom, Ethne, Michael and Bunty, accompanied by our beloved Zulu nanny, Beauty, traveled by train to spend a few months with Uncle Norman and Auntie Nona at Alpha.

Alpha was a beautiful big farm, covering about 4 square miles of land. It was owned by the Rev. Theo Pitcairn, and was used as a mission school for the Basuto people of the General Church, which was associated with the church that we all belonged to in Bryn Athyn, Pennsylvania.

Our Uncle Norman was the manager of this large and lovely estate. Alpha was a working farm in every sense of the word. It was situated fifteen miles from Ladybrand; over roads that were little more than wagon tracks. It was bordered on the one side by the Caladon River, which separated us from Basutoland.

It had a real mountain on it known as Alpha. Mind you, it was not a gently rolling hill. It was a stark mountain rising straight up out of the red soil (very typical in South Africa). This mountain came complete with a real, live witch doctor that lived in a cave at the top of the mountain. Of course, we children thought he was probably a terrible, scary person.