Childhood Memories of Addo by Jane Meiring

Childhood Memories of Addo

By Jane Meiring

When we ‘emigrated’ to Addo from Johannesburg in 1929, and while my father was having our house built on ‘Rosedale’, we were given accommodation in ‘Duncan’s House’ (who was Duncan?), situated near the road to the Elephant Park. It was quite large and elegant, and entirely surrounded by Addo bush, but is now degraded, bereft of bush, exposed, and part of a brick-making industry.

Coming from Johannesburg, and suddenly living in the bush was a wonderful experience and it wasn’t long before we children had collected all manner of small animals, tortoises, field mice, and a myriad of insects including dung and stag beetles, stick insects, lizards and – to the consternation of our Zulu cook, who had come down with us – chameleons! My mother, although I never heard her complain, must have longed for all the comforts of her former existence and deplored copper geysers for the bath, candles and lamps, no water laid on. I do know that she was not enchanted by an enormous, hairy baboon spider which confronted her one morning in the kitchen.

Quite frequent glimpses of wild animals during the day, and the wonderful bush sounds at night, together with the knowledge that we were only a stone’s throw from the Addo Elephants, added another dimension of excitement to our lives. While my mother uncomplaining coped with adjusting to difficult conditions, my father, a retired Mining Engineer, reveled in farming and was often heard to say that he regretted not having chosen farming as a career. Once installed in our new house, we began to meet members of the Addo Society, most of whom were 1920 Settlers in Sundays River Valley, many of them very eccentric, to say the least! My mother was more than a little taken aback one day when Mrs. Horn came to call on her and arrived at the front door dripping from having fallen in a canal on her way! Other stories have been told of this remarkable woman, and of many other eccentric people – too numerous to mention here. There were lots of children of our ages, the Rogers, Elliotts, Dykes, Merryweathers, Osmonds, Howells, to name but a few and without T.V. and all the other distractions of today, we had a truly wonderful childhood. There were river parties in ‘Dykes Pool’ and at Townsends, where a ‘foefie slide’ had been erected for us – the river was brown and brak, but we loved it! There were tennis parties, moonlight picnics at Aloes (St. George’s Strand), birthday parties and the unforgettable house parties given by Nana and John Champion where we played all kinds of exciting games, like “Murder” and were taught to dance the Lancers; Christmas parties given by Mrs. Jordi where we plucked apples out of a tub of water with our mouths and where we tried to escape a rather amorous, quite elderly gentleman lurking under the mistletoe.

So many things come to mind, like Gruskin’s Store. Walking into this store was like entering another world full of exciting and strange things – blankets, German prints, big farmers’ boots, implements, tools, sacks of beans, samp, buttons, sweets and ‘twak’ tobacco. There was something there for everyone – black and white – and was a welcome oasis in the early days when Port Elizabeth seemed so far away. I can still see dear old Mrs. Gruskin on guard behind the till to forestall theft by some of her white assistants. Kindly Mr. Gruskin, who had fought with the British in the Boer War and who was always ready to lend a helping hand as he did, during the struggling Twenties, tiding some of the Settlers over hard times, and what of Bert with his wonderful knowledge of the Valley’s old days and its inhabitants, and his fluency in Xhosa which gave him an edge on all his dealings with the Africans with whom he came in contact and who were devoted to him. In the days before deliveries were eliminated from our lives, the Gruskin’s delivery ‘boy’ used to come round to the houses in a little donkey cart with his order book in which the housewives would place their orders for the following day. Shortly after arriving from Johannesburg, my mother was surprised to find the oxtail she had ordered had been ‘booked for that week’.

The only road to Port Elizabeth was untarred and so narrow that when a vehicle was encountered coming in the opposite direction it was necessary for one or both vehicles to reverse until a place was reached where they could pass in safety. Meeting a donkey cart was a different matter as donkeys are easily persuaded to go into reverse. Sometimes when the river had come down in flood, and before the big bridge was built over the Sundays River, we had to wait for the water to subside before we could cross over the Addo Drift. Before the development of the Fish River Scheme we used to have devastating, soul-destroying droughts, followed usually by destructive floods when the river went roaring down to sea, taking with it carcasses of animals and large, uprooted trees and eroding its banks so severely that it took several substantial homesteads and several citrus orchards with it to the sea. Memories are endless – the passing parade of personalities – the ex-soldiers to tell, e.g. Captain Reddie, who was taken prisoner and ate his papers so that they shouldn’t fall into the hands of his captors. Commander Petrie, Commander Merryweather, Captain Wilkie, whose Irish Terrier ‘Ponkey’ was always given pride of place on the front seat of his car and closely resembled his master. Eccentric Miss. Magnias, daughter of a distinguished English general, who brought out a group of Land Girls who unfortunately all soon dispersed for several reasons and destroyed her dreams of settling them on land. Miss Magniac was a strong advocate of the League of Nations; also a great benefactor, not only in the Valley where she earned a reputation for taking in a great number of stray and ailing animals, but for establishing soup kitchens for the poor in the African Townships in Port Elizabeth. It was also her eccentricity and careless disregard for elegance that saw her frequently with her dress on inside out! It was after her that the Valentine Hall was named. Seeing the Hall now in all its splendor, and venue for the world-famous ‘Rose Days’ it is difficult to imagine how it was in the early days – just a plain barn-like edifice where all social gatherings took place, including a travelling “Bioscope”, where we sat on planks placed on upended paraffin boxes to see films like ‘Captain Blood’ and ‘Sunshine Susie’.

There was the irascible Captain (‘Skipper’) Walters on whom a certain lady confessed to ‘concentrating on for four years’ in the hope of a marriage proposal – all in vain, however! Formidable Mrs. Swann, who had wonderful stories to tell of her childhood and of their neighbour G.K. Chesterton who used to produce exciting pantomimes every Christmas. Old Mr. Mohon, retired engineer, who carried his flute hidden under straw in his mule wagon, hoping that someone would invite him to play. The Filmers, who sometimes had dinner with us and entertained us afterwards, Mrs. Filmer on the piano and her husband with his fine voice. Mrs. Filmer was the mother-in-law of the famous actor and playwright Emlyn Williams. Later we were allowed to go to dances in the Hall and it was here too, that unforgettable play readings were held. These were organised and participated in by such stalwarts as Vivienne Gruskin, who has been responsible for their continued existence over many years. One evening the Thespians came out from Port Elizabeth to perform for us and at the end of the evening John Vincent was asked to thank them. He did, nervously, thanking the Lesbians for their fine performance! It is said that the Thespians later remarked that they were waiting for someone to make that faux pass. Memories of Addo must include Miss Higgins (“Higgie”), a famous schoolteacher and unforgettable character. Her school, a large grey wood and iron house, stood at the Addo Station and here she gave elementary education to many of the Settler children who later went to private schools in Grahamstown. She was one of the kindest women I ever knew and she extended her kindness to everyone, black and white and, in fact was invited to a ceremony in New Brighton where she had the title of M’Bantu conferred on her. The Polo Club where the Nivens had their own team, three sons and their father, with Mrs. Niven umpiring. Lots of splendid horses and lots of social activities, with Val Sullivan as a sort of presiding deity. A story is told of the early days when Mrs. Horn climbed into one of the very few motorcars in the Valley at that time and went hurtling around to stop until the petrol ran out.

Geoffrey Benough and his wife Anndora, gardener par excellence; the Briggses, Commander Francis and his beautiful wife Garness, and Grace de Kock; So many memories, so much more to write about, so many people, most of then gone now. When World War II broke out many old W.W.I veterans joined up, some of who were placed in administrative posts in Pretoria – Captain Reddie and Rathbone were two of these. Sadly three of our childhood companions were killed in this war – John Bunton, Peter Osmond and Tony Rogers, the last-named doing bomb disposal in Malta and posthumously awarded the George Medal.

What a childhood we had! And what a wonderful Valley we lived in! With the tremendous development taking place in the Valley today, with lodges and B&B’s, restaurants etc. it is difficult to imagine a time when the early Pioneers struggled to make a living, when droughts and floods dominated their lives, bringing despair; so many people, brave and resilient, too many to mention in an account of this kind.

If they could see what we see today would they not say: “How Green is my Valley now?”