Serpents and Ladders: A Memoir

By Dora Taylor

Serpents and Ladders is a memoir about hardships, headaches, and heartaches encountered by the author during her lifetime. It is a story everyone should read since we often face serpents at one point or another. The author realized that she had made some poor decisions by not searching for the plans God had for her. Her destiny was not in her hands. As she sought guidance, the Almighty set ladders to crush the serpents. The author takes us from a shattered world to a victorious one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781973625636

Dora Taylor

Dora Taylor is a French American who lives in Montgomery, Texas. She started travelling at the age of 5. Her father was a physician for the French community of sugar companies located along the Nile River in Egypt. When her father decided to join the RAMC (Royal Army Medical Corps) with the allied forces, the family moved to Zeitoun, near Cairo. After WWII, she spent her teenage years in Libya. Dora lived in 12 countries and visited 21 others. Dora holds English Proficiency certificates from the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, USA and the University of Cambridge, England. Teaching became a real vocation in her life. She taught English and French to teens and adults at all levels, in Europe, Africa, Asia, South and North America. Dora is the founder and honorary president of the American Womens Group of Languedoc-Roussillon, in Montpellier, France since 1986. The association has proven beneficial to its members and the local community. It has been successful in raising funds for children with cancer, battered woman and charity. Dora has also initiated an English service with the help of Pastor Van Dyk at the Evangelical Reformed church in Montpellier. Today, Dora attends April Sound Church in Montgomery, Texas and serves under the leadership of Pastor Dowen Johnson. Doras lifelong motto is To obey and trust in God at all times is the key to victory.

Book preview

Prologue

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed;

perplexed, but not in despair;

persecuted, but not abandoned;

struck down, but not destroyed.

2 Corinthians 4:8.9

My brother Daniel was concentrating on his weekly crosswords when his son Patrick came up with this question, How did Mémé meet Granddad? (Mémé was the way some French children call their grandmother). Daniel raised his eyes from his paper and gave Patrick a puzzled look. Unable to respond, he said, Ask Tata Dora.

Chapter 1

The Unexpected

The name of the righteous is used in blessings, …

Proverbs 10:7

This short conversation took place in 1994, a year after my mother had passed away. Patrick, my nephew, realized he didn’t know much about his grandmother, whom he cherished so much. As a matter of fact, the day of her funeral, he left the crowd in the living room and I found him all alone in his room, lying on his bed and tears rolling down his cheek. He was 12 then. I tried to explain that at 89 Mémé deserved to rest… she never complained but we all knew that arthritis and osteoporosis were crippling her. I went back to my guests, but he stayed behind with his sadness.

Years went by; he was now an engineer and working in Paris. He surprised me one day when he called and asked if he could come and visit me in the South of France and he added,

Be prepared because I have a question to ask you!

What about?

Well, I want to know how Mémé met Granddad.

I smiled but realized also that he was still interested in family history and I was the only one able to transmit what I knew. I have to say that Patrick had always shown very strong family ties, quite a different attitude from his siblings.

One evening in 2001, Patrick made a special trip arriving on a Friday night, at midnight to be exact, and was only staying for the weekend. He collapsed in a comfortable armchair and after the usual questions about health and work, he said, You aren’t too tired, are you? I am not sleepy at all; do you mind if we chat a while.

I smiled, I know you are anxious to hear about your Mémé’s love story but aren’t you curious to know everything about her?

Sure I am, tell me everything you know.

"Mémé was born in 1904 in Villevert-Albigny, a small town near Lyon, France. Her name was Emma Marie Laboret. Her father, Blaise Laboret was born on March 8th,1864 in Savoy, at Sainte Hélène du Lac, about 100 miles north of Lyon. I don’t think anyone knew why he left his family to come to the Lyon area. We assume he wasn’t interested in raising cattle or being a farmer! He started a wholesale and retail charcoal business and was prosperous.

He met Marie Favre, who was from the area, and they married. Their first child was born in 1893, her name was Françoise, but they nicknamed her Fanny to please one of Blaise Laboret’s workers who had lost a daughter by that name.

A few years later a baby boy, Blaise Fernand, was born on January 17, 1898, but died 11 months later, on December 31, 1898. On February 10, 1904 Mémé (my mother) was born. Her sister 11 years her senior was extremely domineering and terrorized Mémé. I think their mother, who was very quiet and humble, let Fanny rule the house and take control of everything. No matter what Mémé tried to do, she was criticized. As a result, Mémé grew up feeling very unsure of herself. She did, however, finish her studies and went to an industrial school and studied Industrial Design and English and German.

She was happy to find a secretarial position at a large silk company in Lyon. She became the director’s secretary and slowly regained some self-confidence. She was happy to leave the house early in the morning and catch the train to Lyon. I have to tell you a short anecdote about Mémé. You maybe don’t know that she had no idea what ‘to be on time’ meant! She always ran to catch the train and the station master, who got used to her tardiness, would hold the whistle to his lips and wait for Mémé to hop on the train before he whistled and signaled for the train to go!

At lunch time, Mémé and her colleagues went to a Pension de Famille (a kind of boarding house). These establishments don’t exist anymore. I think Bed and Breakfast has taken over. Anyway, they served a fixed price menu at lunch and their customers were mostly regulars.

David, a young man from Upper Egypt, who was about 22 years old, had hoped to do his medical studies at the University of Lyon. Unfortunately, he had an American High School diploma which was not acknowledged by the French Educational Program. Patrick was puzzled and asked, I don’t understand why there were American Schools in Upper Egypt!"

"American missionaries were traveling, converting people, and opening American Mission Schools. David’s father, your great grandfather, who was at the time a Coptic¹ pastor was ‘converted’ and became a Presbyterian pastor in the late 1800’s."

David attended the American Mission School of Assiut, in Upper Egypt. He was now in Lyon with letters in English from his High School. Some friends he had met in Lyon advised him to apply to medical schools in Geneva or Lausanne. Apparently, the American High School diploma was a valid document in Switzerland. However, he needed to have the documents translated.

Someone told him to ask Emma, the young lady who was a secretary and knew English. David didn’t speak any French, so he hesitantly came to her table and asked for her help. She agreed to translate the documents and they met every day at lunch time.

I believe he created more translations to be done so he could sit at her table! Anyway, the new friendship was becoming serious, but studies came first, and David was soon on his way to Geneva, determined to become a physician.

Personally, I admire his strong will to engage in such complex studies with his very limited vocabulary in French. He had studied Latin, which helped a lot. I remember he once told me he had the whole class laughing when he was explaining that the skin was formed by three ‘pigs’ instead of layers!!! The French words are almost the same: ‘couche’ (layer) and ‘cochon’ (pig). He became a brilliant student and when he completed his internship, his professor asked him if he wanted to become his assistant.

Unfortunately, David was unable to accept his professor’s offer because his mother was very ill, and he needed to be near her."

Don’t you think we should go and get some sleep, Patrick? I asked. We can continue tomorrow, if you wish, I added.

O.K., but remember where you stopped! he said, with a grin.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, Patrick was ready for me to continue what he called the fascinating story of his ancestors!

Was it easy for David to communicate with Mémé? They were now in two different countries.

Geneva is not far from Lyon, so every weekend or holiday David came to visit his Emma and the family. Surprisingly enough, Mémé’s sister Fanny approved of David! When David received his diploma, he and Emma were married on July 19, 1933, in the old church of Albigny. To this day, the church still stands in the small square of Albigny, and weddings baptisms, funerals of every member of the Favre-Laboret family are held there.

Chapter 2

A Blend of East and West

And we know that in all things God works

for the good of those who love him, …

Roman 8:28

"Shortly after their wedding, David and Emma went to Marseilles and boarded a ship to Port Said. Emma was ecstatic for multiple reasons. She was adventurous and always added a touch of poetry to every situation. She always saw the good side of things and never showed any apprehension or anxiety. Her loving husband was introducing her to the land of the Pharaohs! She was going to see the Pyramids, one of the Seven Wonders of the World!

Upon arrival, the young couple was met by Pastor Isteero, a colleague of David’s father. He invited them to his house before taking them to the train station. Their final destination was Assiut in Upper Egypt. It was a beautiful sunny day; however, Emma had never expected such torrid heat. She could handle 80 but 105?! She was about to faint when she asked for a glass of water. A cute young boy, about four or five years old, held very carefully the glass and brought it to her. He was the pastor’s son. Emma asked David to take his picture. This was her first awareness of a culture difference.

She later explained to David that in France a young child was never trusted with a glass or asked to serve adults, but her husband said that in the Middle East or Far East children are taught to serve elders at a young age."

Patrick was getting somewhat restless and he finally interrupted me, Tata, you know I have a train to catch in twenty-five minutes! Please do me a favor, promise to continue narrating the story as if I were here. I am enjoying every single detail. Write it or tape it but please don’t stop!

Fine, I replied, but I can’t tell you when I’ll have time to do it.

We hurried to the station and when I came back my mind was still on my mother’s trip to Egypt and the stories she had told me about her adjustments, surprises and mostly her love for the place. So, I grabbed my pencil and as promised, I continued!

After a short visit to the family and meeting David’s parents, three sisters and their husbands, David and Emma went to Cairo and started job and apartment hunting.

They found an apartment in Choubra, a district not far from the center of Cairo, and David found a job with the Assistance Publique a kind of ‘Day Care’ and ‘Urgent Care’ for outpatients. Of course, this meant Emma was left alone to fend for herself, but she didn’t mind. She was proud to have learned a few words of Arabic, but to this day I don’t know how they managed to understand her!

Buying vegetables from a street vendor was an art! The vendor carried a large basket on his head or pushed a cart and yelled the name of his product and always added an adjective or two purposely to ‘embellish’ or ‘flatter’ the item he was selling. If you happened to live on the second, third or fourth floor, you went to the balcony or window and yelled back at the vendor to attract his attention. You then asked the price, bartered, and when the deal was settled, you lowered a basket attached to a thin rope. The vendor put the product in the basket then you pulled the basket up, retrieved your goods, put the money in the basket and repeated the operation.

One day, the vendor was shouting, Koussa Zebda! Emma recognized the word Zebda being butter so she proudly asked him for it, but he was just saying Zucchinis delectable like butter.

To welcome her, the neighbors invited Emma for tea. They spoke some French and were flattered to have a French lady as a neighbor. They had prepared a real feast: cakes, cookies, pudding, tea and juice. Emma couldn’t believe she was the only guest! They talked about different subjects, but they kept repeating, now and then, that their place had a bright light, that the sun had entered their apartment! Emma was perplexed… She couldn’t see any sun and didn’t know if she had to agree with them or ignore the comment. She just kept smiling and nodding.

That evening, when David came home Emma told him about her afternoon and what they had said. He laughed and explained that she was the sun and the light! They were simply complimenting her!

She also asked David why there were so many sick people walking in the streets.

Why do you think they are sick?

They are in their pajamas!

David explained that most people considered pajamas like lounging attire.

Some lessons were important to learn in order not to hurt feelings. For example, Emma was told not to compliment a mother about her child. This would bring forth the evil spirit. Jokingly, a person may say to the child, How ugly you are… and laugh at the remark. I don’t think Emma ever managed to make a negative remark; she simply didn’t say anything.

Once, a friendly neighbor brought some cakes and the next day Emma washed the plate and started wrapping it ready to return it. David told her, You never return a plate empty! You can put fruit, cookies, candies, anything, but not empty!

This custom remained in the family and today, no matter where we live, we feel very uncomfortable to return a plate with nothing in it!

Getting used to all the available help around the neighborhood, such as shoemaker, carpenter, and grocer was educational, but going to the cleaner’s left her speechless.

One day, she decided to take David’s shirts to be pressed. As she arrived, he was finishing a shirt he was ironing, so she simply waited and watched. He filled his mouth with water, puffed his cheeks and sprayed the shirt with all his might! She hesitated to leave David’s shirts but if this is the way to do it, then why not? The hot iron must kill all germs, she thought.

Emma was having fun with all these new facets of her life. She was now expecting her first baby and David’s mother came, despite her illness, to help Emma during the last month of pregnancy. Unfortunately, they couldn’t communicate.

On March 31, 1935, I was born at home at 7 a.m. weighing only 5lbs. David had looked all night for a midwife but without success (I was supposed to arrive mid-April). So, he had to assist Emma and help me clear my lungs!

Shortly after giving birth, Emma was sick. She had a fever and couldn’t feed me, but I caught up!

In 1936, Emma and I went to France. She wanted to introduce me to the family. I think we stayed about a month and returned to Cairo.

Chapter 3

A Mind of My Own

Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved,

but whoever does not believe will be condemned.

Mark 16:16

In 1940 David, my dad, was offered a position as the doctor of a French Sugar Company located in the small town of Armant, along the Nile and nine miles from the antique city of Luxor. Sugar cane plantations were numerous along the Nile and the French and the Belgians had been asked by the Egyptian government to be in charge of the refineries. David was the physician for the expatriate community as well as the local employees.

Armant was very pleasant. It had a club with all the amenities: tennis courts, open air cinema, a restaurant and tea room and, to my delight, a large skating rink. At least, it seemed very large to my young eyes. I used to hold my dog Naughty in my arms and skate away. If my mother wanted to punish me all she had to say was, No skating today, Dora! I could beg but to no avail. I remember asking her once to spank me rather than prevent me from going to skate! There was also a French Nuns School which I attended.

As it was a Christian school, we had catechism every day. David and Emma were devout Christians and wanted me to be on the right path. I also had piano lessons after class once or twice a week.

Sunday afternoons were usually very dull. Everything seemed to come to a standstill and I was extremely bored.

At age 6 and already showing signs of independence, I decided to go and visit my friend Lilian. I didn’t think Emma, my mom, would let me go, so I grabbed my piano books and declared I was going to my piano lesson!

This went on for several Sundays until one day when my dad met Sister Cecilia, my piano teacher. He thanked her profusely for giving Dora piano lessons on Sundays!

Oh no, Doctor, never on Sunday! she replied, not knowing that she had just put an end to my pleasant Sunday escapades.

When the following Sunday came, I took my books and innocently said I was going to my piano lesson. My mother didn’t say anything but a few minutes later she asked the houseboy to follow me and find out where I went.

My friend Lillian was not home when I arrived, but her mother was concentrating on a jigsaw puzzle. I was amazed and watched with great interest how these little pieces of colored cardboard fit intricately to form a picture. I had never seen a jigsaw puzzle!

One hour or so later the houseboy came looking for me and said I had to go home. Didn’t I find it strange that he knew where to find me? I don’t remember what went through my mind then, but I remember vividly what happened next!

My father was sitting on the couch and motioned for me to come close. He was very serious, and he asked, Where were you?

Without any hesitation, I replied, At my piano lesson!

Wham! His big fat hand came across my cheek and I saw stars and heard bells! It was the first time he slapped me, and I don’t recall that he ever did it again.

Go to bed right now! he said.

I was crying so hard my whole body was shaking. My mother explained that I had lied! I then remembered that, at catechism, the nuns had told us that lying was a sin. So, I asked my mother, between two sobs, if I was going to Hell.

She assured me that if I asked Jesus to forgive me I would be all right, as long as I never lied again.

Needless to say, this was my first and hopefully my last lie!

A few months later my mother told me that we were going to Cairo to get the brother I had been waiting for. I was excited and delighted because all my friends had big brothers who always defended them when we fought or argued. It was time for me to have a big brother to defend me! So, we went to Heliopolis, a suburb of Cairo, and stayed in a boarding house. It was run by Madame Bazerghi, a vivacious lady who always had jokes to tell. We had a very pleasant room with a spacious balcony on the second floor.

World War II was in the beginning of its third year and curfew was on from dusk to morning. We were not allowed to turn our lights on unless the shutters were closed, and the drapes drawn. As the weather was pleasant in the evening, my mother preferred to keep the windows open and stay in the dark. I enjoyed this because I was fascinated by the search beams in the sky. There were several of them dancing and getting together. I didn’t really know what they were for until my mother explained that they were looking for enemy planes. I don’t think I realized the severity of the situation.

Meals were served in our room. I had been taught to eat everything but there was a dish I just could not swallow, and they seemed to serve it too often in my opinion. It was a green, slimy soup dish made of green leaves they called ‘meleghia’, and apparently it is a national dish.

One day, while we were having lunch and as I was staring at the soup, Emma declared she had to leave right away to get my brother. She left me, with my soup, in this big room.

A bright idea flashed through my six and a half-year-old mind. I did NOT have to eat this soup! I took my plate and slowly carried it to the balcony, then tiptoed to reach above the railing, tilted the plate and overboard the soup went!

Obviously, I was proud of my accomplishment and now I was ready for some company. I went to chat with the landlady and waited for someone to call and let us know how my mother was. At three o’clock sharp, on September 24, 1941, the phone rang and watching Madame Bazerghi’s facial expression and joyful exclamations; I knew my brother had finally made it. (I later heard that my brother was almost born in the taxi on the way to the French Hospital!)

David, my father, came the next day and we both went to the hospital to see my mother and my new brother, my new hero and protector! I was so excited…

Most of the nurses at the French Hospital were nuns and I remember being led by one of them to a room full of cribs. She finally stood in front of one of them and declared, Here he is, isn’t he darling?

I was speechless. I was so shocked. My hopes and my dreams were going through sudden death… How was this tiny, red faced bundle going to defend me? I was extremely disappointed to say the least. I felt cheated, so I did not answer the nun. As a matter of fact, I did not think he was sweet. On the contrary, I thought he was ugly!

When I was born, David’s father, the pastor, had asked my mother if she would mind for the first child to be raised protestant. My mother, a devout catholic, didn’t object but she was somewhat frustrated at not being able to guide me in her faith. When my brother was born, my mother asked my grandfather if he would mind for his two grandchildren to be baptized catholic. He agreed, and I remember a priest coming to the hospital for the christening in the presence of our godfather and godmother. We were both baptized. My brother’s name was to be Daniel and my Christian name was to be Thérèse, (a name I have never used).

I returned to Armant with Dad and my mother came later with Daniel. I suddenly became very ill and almost died. I had a very high temperature and I remember seeing myself in a black tunnel. No one could determine what the cause of the illness was since all tests were negative. Some even said it was maybe my reaction to having a newcomer in the family. A week later I was back on my feet.

One day, my mother took me aside and gave me a lecture on how important I had become. I was Daniel’s ‘little’ mother. I was responsible for his well-being when she was not around. This role never left me and to this day, I sometimes wonder if my mother’s advice was legitimate…

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Dad, Mom, Daniel and Dora

Chapter 4

A Dove Flew Out of My Hand

… "Let the little children come to me

and do not hinder them,

for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.

Mark 10:14

In 1943, David was transferred to another sugar company located in Abu BurQas. It was a small town near Minya. It was not as quaint as Armant. Whenever I think of the place, all I can remember is sandy roads under a burning sun. To my great disappointment there was no skating rink! Sometimes, I played tennis with my dad, but this sport didn’t really appeal to me, maybe due to the fact that I had to run all over the court to catch the ball.

The year we spent there witnessed two incidents which have remained engraved in my mind. The first one concerned my classmate and close friend Yvette. She was about my age and we shared some pleasant moments together. One day she became very ill and my father decided she needed to be hospitalized immediately. Of course, I wanted to be by her side. The nearest hospital was in Minya, quite a few miles away. We went by car early one morning. Yvette was stretched on the back seat, her head resting on her mother’s lap. No one spoke on the trip. Everyone sensed the gravity of the situation.

When we reached the hospital, I was told to sit in a big armchair at the entrance and wait. It seemed like hours before my dad and Yvette’s mother came back. Dad’s face was solemn, and he calmly said, in a barely audible voice, Let’s go.

I wanted to ask, What about Yvette? but the tears running down her mother’s face indicated that something sad had happened. The mother kept saying, between sobs, My dove flew out of my hand!

I knew then that my friend was gone! This was my first encounter with the cruelty of death. I had other friends but none as close as Yvette.

The second incident was when my mother asked me one day to take Daniel for a walk. There was no traffic in the residential area where we lived but I held my little brother’s hand tightly. A block or two down the road I met Fortunée, a classmate. She stopped me and asked me to go and play with her. I explained that I couldn’t since I was looking after my brother. She did not like my answer, so she stooped down, filled her hand with dust and threw it in my brother’s face! My reaction was immediate. I punched her and her nose started bleeding! Of course, at the sight of blood, she screamed, broke into tears and said, I’m going to tell your mother! and she left.

I cleaned Daniel’s face as well as I could and took him home. I found Fortunée waiting at the bottom of the staircase, anxious to hear the scolding I was about to get. My mother asked me the details of the incident and I was happy to relate what had happened.

Well, you defended your brother. I can’t scold you for that! You maybe shouldn’t have hit so hard. I had a hard time getting her white dress cleaned!

I knew Fortunée was waiting outside so I started singing, as loud as I could, by the front door so she could hear me and realize that I wasn’t punished.

David’s director was Belgian and for some unknown reason they did not get along. My father decided that he would be more useful to humanity by treating the wounded. So, one day, he announced he was going to join the Allied Forces and we were moving back to Cairo.

As soon as we arrived in Cairo, Dad enrolled and was assigned to the British Army, R.A.M.C. (Royal Army Medical Corps) and left right away with the troops, heading to Palestine where they were stationed for some time.

With the help of some friends we found an apartment in Zeitoun, a suburb of Cairo. It had a very large entry hall with four rooms at each corner. On one side there was my mother’s bedroom with a nice balcony, at the back of the house facing the garden, and the other room became a storage space for all of David’s medical equipment. The other two rooms were the living room and our bedroom. The kitchen was small but pleasant and bright with a large window and a door which led, six steps down, to the garden.

We had an icebox, a one-burner kerosene stove (Primus) and a tank on the floor with a supply of kerosene so we would not run dry and a cabinet to store our plates, pots and pans.

Emma was happy to have access to the yard from the kitchen. She could watch