Bertha's Son

By Joseph Waddy

Bertha's son is an autobiography of a life filled with challenges and successes. Despite some serious obstacles in his childhood-----a cold, heartless father, sexual abuse by teenage relatives, and being unable to attend school until he was nearly ten years old---Joseph Waddy was determined to succeed. Armed with a high school Cambridg

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadersMagnet LLC
• Release date: Oct 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781959165699

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Bertha's Son

Copyright © 2022 by Joseph Waddy

Published in the United States of America

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of ReadersMagnet, LLC.

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Interior design by Dorothy Lee

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1      My Heartless Father

CHAPTER 2      Sexually Abused as a Child

CHAPTER 3      Going to School

CHAPTER 4      Attempted Suicide #1

CHAPTER 5      Attempted Suicide #2

CHAPTER 6      Sexual Rewards

CHAPTER 7      Luscious Cynthia

CHAPTER 8      Flirting Sharon

CHAPTER 9      A Virgin Forced to Date

CHAPTER 10    Snatched by an Ex-Veteran of WWII

CHAPTER 11    Chased by Jaitoon’s Father with a Gun

CHAPTER 12    The Beginning of a Rewarding Career

CHAPTER 13    My First Child

CHAPTER 14    Thel Broke My Heart

CHAPTER 15    Broken-Hearted Mavis

CHAPTER 16    Leaving the Shipping Company and Joining the Georgetown Hospital

CHAPTER 17    Injured on the Job I Loved

CHAPTER 18    My First Marriage

CHAPTER 19    Transferred to the Pharmacy

CHAPTER 20    Learning Medicine and Surgery

CHAPTER 21    I Became a Human Fertilizer

CHAPTER 22    Emergencies

CHAPTER 23A    Offered a Scholarship to Study Medicine

CHAPTER 23B    Good-Bye, Guyana, Welcome to the U.S.A.

CHAPTER 24    My Second Marriage- a Nightmare!

CHAPTER 25    Assaulted by a Nurse and Disrespected by a Physician

CHAPTER 26    Kicked Out of my Own House and Grabbed by Three Women

CHAPTER 27    My First Job in the United States – Part A

CHAPTER 28    My First Job in the United States – Part B

CHAPTER 29    Joining Coney Island Hospital – Bittersweet

CHAPTER 30    The Ugly

CHAPTER 31    Flogged by a Beautiful Damsel

CHAPTER 32    My Third and Final Wife: Jamaica, Yah Mon!!!!!

CHAPTER 33    Joe’s Travels

CHAPTER 34    Shopping in Paris: A Nightmare!!!!

CHAPTER 35    A Hint to All Women- Don’t Brag about Your Man

CHAPTER 36    Going Back to College as a Senior Citizen

CHAPTER 37    Where Is Bertha?

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank all my friends, relatives, and neighbors who have been encouraging and pushing me to write my autobiography. My best friend George, also known as Dennis, has been the main culprit. Although George and I have similar histories in life, he feels that I have outweighed him when it comes to life experiences. My sincere thanks go out to my wife Dorothy, daughters Janet, Beverly, Kathryn, Rachel, my sons Joseph Duane, Trevor, Godfrey, Joel, and Omar, my sister Vera, also known as Cynthia, and all my grandchildren. My dear friends Olga, Rita, Yvonne, Leoni, Janice, and Mike. My brothers Ivan and Compton. My sisters-and brothers-in-law and family.

CHAPTER 1

My Heartless Father

My mother Bertha was approximately 25 years old when she first met my father Cyril. Although she was that age, she was still innocent but was not emancipated. She was not free to do whatever she desired and was still living with her mother. It was the yuletide season of the year and the merchants decorated their stores with lights and played Christmas music. Cyril, my dad, invited my mom to go window-shopping with him. She was not allowed to make such decisions on her own, so she told him that she was sorry but could not go out with him unless she had gotten permission from her mother Clara. My mother was eager to get the experience of window-shopping so she took Cyril to her home and told him to ask her mother for permission to take her out. That was the first time of her life she would leave her home in her twenty-five years of age. Before leaving the home, my grandmother Clara lectured him and gave him a curfew time to return her daughter home. Cyril agreed to everything that he was told to do but he had different ideas. He picked her up from her home with his bicycle and disappeared from the sight of a worried widow, Clara. Cyril had no intention of taking my mother to see the Christmas display of the stores; instead he suggested he show her the room he was renting for only a few schillings per week.

My mom, being inexperienced and innocent to the world, was excited about her first date ever. She was totally disoriented and did not know where she was but went along with his program. My father convinced her that the night was young and they would have enough time to visit the store display. He told her that he only wanted to hug and kiss, but obviously he wanted more than that. Within a few seconds my mother was a victim of seduction. She was very upset and requested that he take her home. He complied. Since her mom noticed that they returned long before the curfew period ended, she became suspicious and questioned and examined her daughter. Bertha’s virginity was gone and she had no idea what had happened to her. Her mom was very angry. Cyril did not go back to visit her until two weeks later. After a fortnight had elapsed, he went to my grandmother’s house, who welcomed him in. Then she questioned him about the Christmas he was supposed to take her daughter to see. He could not explain himself so my grandma reached for an iron skillet in the kitchen and struck him in the forehead. He sustained a cut and a bump. Cyril did not want any further confrontation with Clara so he ran out of the house and never returned. My grandmother became concerned that her daughter could have been impregnated on the very first time she let her out of her sight. At the end of the first month after Bertha was seduced, a nurse/midwife confirmed that she was indeed pregnant with me. That situation created severe hardship for Clara. Bertha, being the youngest child of four, still had two brothers and one sister to support her. Cyril dropped out of sight completely.

My grandmother began to ponder whether she did the right thing, namely assaulting Cyril by smashing his head open or allowing her grandson to have a deadbeat father. Her frustration and disappointment bothered her. She blamed herself for allowing Bertha to leave, although their date was only supposed to last a few hours that night. The decision to let Bertha out of her sight bothered her for the next nine months when it was the expected date of birth of delivery. There were very few maternity units or hospitals; most deliveries of babies were done at the patient’s home by a nurse/midwife. I was no exception to that rule. At birth, I became a bundle of joy to my grandmother. She welcomed me with open arms and I was regarded as her favorite grandchild ever. From the day I came into the world I lived with my grandmother Clara, my mom, Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Eddie, and my Aunt Irene.

We lived in a modest home but they all had kids of their own. I was fed every day and enjoyed wearing a romper outfit that was handed down from a family member to me. I grew up very quickly, eating leftover meals from my cousins or bowls of porridge. I drank lemon- and limeade that was offered to me by my grandmother. As little as I was, I observed everything that was going on. I listened and retained all that was said around me. I became very uncomfortable and uneasy when I heard kids talking about their fathers. So, one day I asked my mom where my father was and if I had one too. Bertha, my mom, told me, Yes, you do have one. I asked where he was and how come I never saw him yet. That situation bothered me a lot. I kept asking her, though I was only about four or five years old, where my father was. Bertha began to feel the heat from me, her only son, so she was forced to do something about it. Feeling pressured, she discussed the situation with the only girlfriend she had. Her name was Ursula. That God-sent friend told her that her boyfriend knew where Cyril was employed. My mom told Ursula that she must find him. She gave my mom hope that she would find Cyril. Eventually after more than four years of not laying an eye on him, Ursula brought good news. She explained that my father worked on Camp Street at the Niagara Drink Company, and all the workers were usually back from their deliveries by 4 PM. Bertha said to me, Joseph, you will meet your father very soon. That was no consolation to me because from the frame of my little mind I wanted to meet him immediately, but we had to wait for another day for that to happen.

My mom kept her promise and prepared me to walk about three miles; that was the distance from where we lived to where he was employed. The direction my mom was given was to take Camp Street and go one block beyond a huge grey building which was on the left-hand side of the road. That was a Roman Catholic church. My mom told me to look out for the tall concrete building. It was known as the Church of the Immaculate Conception; located on the left side and one block over was the Niagara Drink Factory. As we walked my heart began to beat fast, and when I showed my mother the church I kept looking into the space for my father. I was not wearing shoes because I never had a pair. My mother held on to my hand very tightly, then we saw three men coming out of the doorway of the factory. My mom pointed to the trio and said to me, That tall brown-skinned man is your father. I yelled with my squeaky voice, Daddy, Daddy. He did not hear me. The trio picked up their respective bicycles and rode away in another direction. They were gone. I saw tears settle in my mother’s eyes and I began to sob. I told my mom that I wanted to meet and touch him. She promised to take me back to do so.

As we left to go back home, Bertha thought that by showing me who my father was, my desire to see him would diminish, but my condition grew worse. I could not sleep at night. I kept tossing and turning in bed every night and I refused to eat, then began to show signs of depression. My grandmother became very worried and told my mom to take me back to meet him. My mom always listened to her mom’s advice, so she did exactly that. Now that my mom had information as to where and how he could be located, she prepared me for the first visit with him. The second time we walked on the opposite side of the pavement road. That was the side where his job was located. When we got there we stood a few yards from the entrance of the business. We saw people entering and leaving the factory, but no Cyril. As it grew closer to the end of his workday, we moved closer to the entrance of the Niagara factory and I recognized him. I ran towards him shouting, Daddy, Daddy. He was in shock to see me. Some of his coworkers looked at me and then at him. I held on to his leg. He stared at Bertha in agony and disgust. I said to him, Daddy, I would like to go to school. Please give me a pair of yachting shoes (today we call them sneakers. The cost of the shoes was 8 cents but in those days it was known as a bit). He turned to me and said, I cannot give you the yachting shoes. He went on and said, I went to school barefooted in the Northwest District of British Guyana and you can do so too. I was later told that that was a lie. Bertha broke down with tears and left. When I saw my mother crying, I began to cry too. My mother grabbed my right hand and walked as quickly as she could back to her home.

Thinking about it today, I can still feel the heat of the pavement under the soles of my feet because I did not have a pair of shoes at that time. When we got home Clara was waiting anxiously for information of our visit. She questioned us and was told exactly what had transpired among Cyril, Bertha, and me. Clara told my mom not to take me back to visit him again. From the day I was born to this date Cyril never offered one penny, but he spoke with me on several occasions. It hurt me intensely over the years, but I learned to deal with that situation that only made me stronger. Once I met my father face to face I noticed his behavior towards me, and the desire of having a father slowly diminished. In my mind, I began to think about other things. One of the things I observed was children going to school in the morning and returning home in the afternoons. I wanted that. I asked my grandmother Clara to take me to school. There were not too many preschool or kindergarten schools then. The only one she was recommended to was called Mr. Ross School. It was run by an East Indian philanthropist and it was for all races. His name was Mr. Ramsaroop. He also ran a home for the poor and indigent. I attended that school for a few months, then my feet developed blisters and sores from walking to and from school on the hot white brick road.

Now that the pain of not knowing a loving father had dissipated, the psychological pain was beginning to alleviate as well. Since I finally met him and he was not interested in me, a new pain evolved. Sores and blisters under my feet. Those days there were not too many doctors in British Guiana (Guyana). My grandmother treated my feet with local remedies until the infection went away and was perfectly healed. She did not send me back to school, but during my short stay I learned to count and read in Hindi. Though very young, I learned a few lessons. I developed a burning desire to learn despite all obstacles. I sat day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year watching my cousins and other children in the neighborhood going to school. My only problem was I did not have shoes or clothing for that event. I kept bothering my mother, so she bought a small slate and tried to teach me at night. She came from work at 9 PM and we did not have electricity in our home at that time, so we depended on wicks and oil lamps to illuminate our house. With the poor lighting and at that time of night, her teaching attempts failed and resulted in an impossible task. I remember her trying to teach me how to write the number 17, and every time she asked me to do so I wrote number 71. She became very frustrated because she felt that she could not do any more for me. I felt her frustration but I also realized her situation in life, which was to help provide a shelter, food, and to take care of her mother’s needs as well as mine.

My grandmother slowly began to lose her vision from cataracts, but she continued to display love and affection to me. Her two sons and daughter were long gone and had created their own families. Bertha was fortunate that she found a job with a family from Europe. Those folks were very kind and nice to her but saw her looking depressed from time to time. One morning as Mr. Pereria, her boss, left his home for his office, his wife Cathy invited Bertha to have a discussion with her. Bertha became very frightened. She thought that she had done something wrong in the home or to the two young boys who lived at home with their parents. Mrs. Pereria detected her nervousness and immediately allayed her fears. Her boss told her that she liked her and that she was pleased with the way she took care of the two little boys and the home. She mentioned to Bertha that she would increase her salary by a few shillings per week and wanted to know what was bothering her. Bertha told her that she was thankful for her kind gesture of increasing her salary and she was very happy with the way she related to the kids.

Mrs. Pereria told Bertha that the two boys Ivan and Clinton were very fond of her. Bertha felt very comfortable talking with her boss, but Mrs. Pereria said to her that she still had not mentioned what was bothering her. My mother saw that there was an opening for her to talk to someone about her problems. She told Mrs. Pereria that she had a toddler at home with her mother. Bertha explained that her son’s father impregnated her and walked away. Mrs. Pereria looked at her in a consolatory manner. "Is there any thing we