Encounters with Life

By Robert Milne

As a youngster I was fortunate enough to sometimes spend the winter holidays with family in the Karoo, either in the small town or out on the farm at the foot of the majestic Swartberg Mountains. In those days life moved in a different way without the distractions of TV and IT and on evenings round the fireside or the kitchen table, one of the main pastimes was story-telling. From this early beginning I developed a love for the subtle art of relating a good story and a passion to one day contribute in some way. I have since over the years told many a tale myself round the fireside, leading eventually to my writing of short stories, some of which are contained in this volume.

This volume contains my own personal take on life’s incidents and stories, as I understood them when told to me or as I experienced and perceived them. If the narrative somehow occasionally resonates with you the reader, I am grateful. If not, hopefully it might inspire you to write your own take on your experiences and view of the world around us.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Milne
• Release date: Jan 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005599287

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Encounters with Life

Collected Short Stories

ROBERT MILNE

Copyright @ 2021 Robert Milne

First Edition 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system without permission from the copyright holder.

The author has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. If any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the author will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

ISBN 978-0-620-97376-2

Published by Robert Milne, using the services of Crawford Publications,

14 Watsonia Street, Sedgefield, South Africa, 6572

Edited by Riana Visser for Crawford Publications

Cover designed by Crawford Publications

Website: www.crawfordpublications.org

E-mail: [e-mail]

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

www.crawfordpublications.org

Just when you thought it was a short story, I wrote another whole collection of them - Robert Milne

This volume is for you Liz. Thank you for always believing in me and for bringing out the best in me.

Author’s Note

As a youngster I was fortunate enough to sometimes spend the winter holidays with family in the Karoo, either in the small town or out on the farm at the foot of the majestic Swartberg Mountains. In those days life moved in a different way without the distractions of TV and IT and on evenings round the fireside or the kitchen table, one of the main pastimes was story-telling. From this early beginning I developed a love for the subtle art of relating a good story and a passion to one day contribute in some way. I have since over the years told many a tale myself round the fireside, leading eventually to my writing of short stories, some of which are contained in this volume.

This volume contains my own personal take on life’s incidents and stories, as I understood them when told to me or as I experienced and perceived them. If the narrative somehow occasionally resonates with you the reader, I am grateful. If not, hopefully it might inspire you to write your own take on your experiences and view of the world around us.

Stories

Ironies of Life

Learnings in Life

Education in Life

Attorney Life

Insured Life

Money or your Life

A Bridge to Life

History in Life

Ironies of Life

It is an old truism that the victor gets to write the history and it has been no different for this country repeatedly over the decades and centuries. This has certainly not been spared in more recent years, with the endless rewriting of our school history textbooks at the behest of the current regime to reflect a story or narrative more in keeping with their view of the world and more supportive of their political ideology and need to retain future political power. The party-line school-taught history has also over the years been used to justify or divert attention from all manner of governmental failings, abuses and horrors.

I was extremely fortunate to encounter, despite the propaganda-like content of the previous regime's so-called Christian National Education curriculum that I was forced to endure at school, one or two enlightened and courageous educators. One of whom was my high school history teacher to whom I owe a great debt of gratitude, as he taught us conventional history but also taught us through the use of published cartoons.

Having completed his doctoral thesis on Cartoons in History he used period cartoons, gleaned from public and educational institution archives to enliven his classes and demonstrate that nothing, especially history, is usually as it seems - especially not the designated approved historical records but rather that they are simply a recorded, particular viewpoint of possible events.

This gains life and becomes clear when one views the same historical period or event through the eyes of multiple cartoonists of differing nationalities, ideologies, religions, political persuasions and prejudices. One soon begins to see the irony as well as the absolute distortion of past events, depending on the standpoint or viewpoint of the depicter, and begins to suspect that none of them on their own are particularly accurate but probably more of an attempt to reflect or manipulate the issues to the advantage of particular groups and their current and future financial and political interests.

A good example of this is the so-called Napoleon complex, namely that Napoleon Bonaparte was a short-shit which made him aggressive, domineering and somehow a lesser being. It turns out that despite this notion being treated for years as accepted historical fact and even perhaps becoming part of psychology lore, it was actually just propaganda emanating from his country’s main enemy to try and denigrate his achievements, demonise him or make him appear a less formidable foe. In fact, it would seem that Napoleon was actually of above-average height for his era.

Whenever a politician or person of power in a controlling regime forcefully pushes a particular questionable strategy or ideology, try wondering how cartoonists of differing standpoints would depict it. It might make you chuckle but the outcome is seldom pretty and probably a far more accurate presentation of reality than what the one in power is advocating and would like you to believe.

Our own so-called country, I say this as it is really a fabrication that came about through no desire to unify but rather due to British Colonial machinations, lumping together four vastly disparate regions and cultures, including two settled colonies and two recently conquered territories, for their own, hoped-for future political advantage.

In any event, this so-called country of ours has seen many phases and cycles in its history and prehistory, including: western colonization from the South and East, African colonization from the North, massacres of the Khoisan indigenous inhabitants caught in between, importation of foreign slaves and indentured labour, colonial colonization wars and genocide of the families of those that resisted, emerging democracy in the Cape and its forced dissolution, Afrikaner nationalism, Apartheid, civil resistance, exile, wars, conflict and armed struggle beyond the borders and internally, change, hope for the future, emergence of a fledgling democracy and then again as the wheel turns, the rapid onset of degradation of civilization and corruption at all levels, African nationalism, Black Economic Empowerment, suppression of minorities, the new dog-eat-dog struggle, and the scramble to loot the remaining assets in the country.

The official history of the country though, in short, is now portrayed almost exclusively as external western colonization, exploiting indigenous black Africans, completely ignoring their own southward colonization and exploitation, who eventually through bitter struggle gained freedom and democracy.

Any shortcomings or downward spiral of the new regime are firmly laid at the door of the past exploiters, not the new exploiters, even though this obviously does not solve anything or take us forward.

The irony that escapes most, wilfully or otherwise, is that in Asia many countries have a similar past to ours, but have largely managed with the correct attitude to rise above it and through hard work and especially educational excellence, they have achieved success and carved out a very different economic and political present and probable future.

Further irony can be found in examining not just the broad history, but rather the personal stories of individuals and groups of South Africans who actually lived through this so-called history and experienced it very differently, an example being that of some of my ancestors.

Following on from the Highland Clearances in Scotland (we might call them forced removals) and the Industrial Revolution, many Scots found themselves landless and destitute with little choice but to seek survival in foreign climes. Many Scots thus emigrated to New Zealand, Australia, Canada, America, and a not insubstantial group to South Africa, including a number from my paternal ancestor’s clan that came to the Diamond Fields of Kimberley.

Life for the majority of the diamond miners was one of intense brutal hard labour, struggle and if fortunate, survival. They were of necessity a tough lot, evidenced by one of my ancestors who became nicknamed Sarah, as when he ran out of money to feed himself and work his claim, rather than give in and die, resorted to taking in and doing the other miners laundry to earn and survive.

At one stage there were apparently seven of the clan playing rugby for Griquas. As fate would have it, I was posted to Kimberley during my military service and on advice from my father paid a visit to the Old Kimberley Club where I was able to browse through, the old team photographs still hanging on the walls, with a number of them containing members of the clan.

I’m not sure if it was just the lighting and print quality of the old photographs, but a rough, tough-looking lot they certainly were. My paternal grandfather was born in Kimberley, became a miner, and later moved to The Reef goldmines.

In Johannesburg he met and married my grandmother who had emigrated from Scotland to this country, shortly before the outbreak of the Boer War, with her father who was a pipe major in the Black Watch regiment.

My grandfather became Grand Master of the Masonic Lodge, and was later commended having been one of the first rescuers that went in to assist after a dynamite truck exploded near Braamfontein. Apparently, he was also involved in the leadership of the fledgling Mine Workers Union.

Conditions in the goldmines were tough to say the least and mortality rates were high due to the inherent dangers of working underground, but worse for so many who survived only to succumb to the horrible insidious killer that was known as Miners’ Phthisis. This was a build-up of inhaled mine dust in the lungs that slowly over time turned to cement and inexorable death from asphyxiation or complications like pneumonia.

Worse was to come for the miners in the early 1920’s when the mine bosses started laying off the white mine labour force and replacing them with far cheaper and even more expendable migrant black labour. The black workers readily accepted the jobs, thus screwing the white incumbents, even though the wages offered to them were a fraction of those paid to the miners they were replacing. The irony is that today this is exactly what black South Africans accuse black foreign nationals of doing to them, and their response is one of regular, very violent xenophobic attacks on and looting of the businesses and possessions of the latter.

Facing unemployment and starvation in 1922, the miners went on strike, demanding safer working conditions and an end to the layoffs and job replacements.

The political climate of the time was influenced by communist ideologies, exhorting the workers of the world to unite against the capitalist exploiters and evil owners of the means of production. The government of the day did not like red flags, obviously felt threatened, and were pressured by big capital, especially the mine owners to take the most stringent possible action. The strike was declared illegal, tantamount to treason or insurrection and the army sent in to crush it using deadly force.

Many of the miners had not long before returned from the horrors of the First World War where they had sacrificed enormously for their country, so understandably felt badly betrayed and fought back. Among other skirmishes, a major battle apparently took place at what was then a brickfield, later to become Ellis Park Rugby Stadium.

The government forces received a major setback but inevitably called in reinforcements, machineguns, armour, and cannon and brutally crushed the strike, killing numerous miners in the process and executing or imprisoning others.

My grandfather was diagnosed with Miners’ Phthisis and moved to what was then called Northern Rhodesia (Zambia today), while his wife and young children, including my father, remained in Johannesburg. The usual story goes that he was simply transferred to the copper mines there due to ill health, but another family story insists that he was ratted on during the crackdown in the aftermath of the strike and escaped. He died in Northern Rhodesia fairly shortly afterward of pneumonia and these were very tough times for his young family.

So! I had a grandparent of Scottish descent whose ancestors arrived here following forced removals, was involved in a major illegal strike against big capital exploitative mine owners, and in the resultant armed struggle with the South African government, who then died in exile from a disease emanating from his inhuman working conditions?

My maternal grandfather was born in Malmesbury, an inland town on the Cape West Coast, and spoke both English and Afrikaans with the brei or accent of the area. His forefathers had apparently fled from the Low Countries of Europe, due to religious political persecution and had settled in the Cape. After completing school, he moved to Cape Town and when the First World War broke out, enlisted in the Cape Town Highlanders and served with distinction in the invasion of and battles within, what was then

German South West Africa.

After the war ended he returned to Cape Town where he met my grandmother and settled in Muizenberg on the False Bay coastline. My grandfather became a grocery manager for Woolworths for whom he worked until his early seventies.

My maternal grandmother was born in the small Karoo town of Prince Albert, situated near the foot of the majestic Swartberg Mountains. Having excelled academically she