15. Lighting a Lamp

Our morning task was to clean the lamps and D.G. Mills had taken me under his wing. True to his nature, he was meticulous and expected the same of me. He showed me how to carefully remove the glass chimney and clean it gently on the inside with some newspaper. My hands have not been known to fit in small spaces, but at age 11 they managed to squeeze through the bottom of the cylinder and I gently wiped the soot away. My efforts were inspected and a final flourish with toilet paper completed the first assignment. We then pumped the paraffin out of the large tin, filled each lamp base and screwed the top with the wick back on. We wiped these carefully, placing the clear, clean chimney back in the clasps and setting the lamp aside, ready for use in the evening. It would be many years before this seaside holiday village would get electricity.

“Oupa DG” as I called him was not really my grandfather, but he was my Aunt Jess Mathew’s father and he took a kindly interest in me in the years I lived with the Mathew family. I remember going in his car to Betty’s Bay, together with the gardener, Raymond. Raymond worked outside clearing the yard around Hill House, while Oupa DG and I did some maintenance work in the house. On occasion he took me to check on each of the four family houses, in preparation for their visits. He did not ask me if I was missing my own family, nor did he enquire about how I was. He simply included me in his activities and seemed to show pleasure in my company. For my part, I felt accepted and even welcomed.

As we worked, he shared about his mountaineering exploits as a pathfinder. I was fascinated to hear the stories and receive his wisdom about how to plan a trip in the mountains. One experience he seemed to enjoy was the account of leading a group of young people on a mountain climb. “I lead the group at a steady pace and just kept plodding along. Some athletic, young men rushed past me and moved rapidly ahead. It wasn’t long before I came across them trying to catch their breath on the side of the path. I simply kept plodding past them, and eventually towards the end of journey, I was still fresh and they kept in step with me, seeing the wisdom of ‘slow and steady wins the race!’

When we had arrived at the holiday home, Oupa DG had found a few wizened and shriveled oranges left from some previous visitors. Not wanting to waste anything, Oupa DG called us outside to sit on the steps and eat every bit of dehydrated orange. It was a lesson in conservation that I remember to this day. His idea of a well-executed plan was to only have a few raisins left after a hiking expedition. It showed foresight and realistic stewardship of resources.

By the time the rest of the family arrived, the house was spotless and I was excited to show them how well I had cleaned the lamps. Oupa DG had a corner room reserved for him and he could retreat there for some peace. We all knew that was a ‘no go’ zone, although once he asked me to go and get some keys ‘in the middle shelf of the left hand cupboard’. I took this as a great honour to be entrusted to set foot in his sanctuary. And of course the keys were exactly where he said they would be.

During the years I lived with the Mathew family, Betty’s Bay was a bright place in my life and our times there gave lightness and joy to my life. I had the freedom to roam around the lake, down at the seaside on the beach and also up the nearby mountainside. It became my place of utmost bliss at many different levels: physically, emotionally and spiritually. Almost every school holiday we went to Hillhouse for most of the period. The long Christmas holidays in summer were very special to the Mathew family as the extended ‘Mills’ clan all met together in Betty’s Bay. The houses Oupa DG had built for his other daughters were called Malkopsvlei, Craggy Burn and Betu, on the other side of the lake. Family gatherings were large, raucous and lots of fun. We played a lot board games or charades and went on walks and rowed in the lake. I was made to feel one of the family and was included in the different events.

After watching my own family leave by train, I had settled into the Mathew household. Jim and Jess had prepared a room for me and I began to adjust to their routines of meals, sleep patterns, hygiene habits, leaving and returning protocols as well as what to do and where to be when nothing specific was arranged or planned.

My school days were somewhat regimented, with order, schedules and routines firmly in place. I rode the 5 miles each way to school by bike whatever the weather, attended classes and sports activities as expected. The household arrangements became second nature as the days went by. Initially, I went to and from school with Uncle Jim in his car, but later on obtained a bicycle with a Sturmy Archer three speed with which I could actually vary the gearing. Stripey became my cat. He was a Tom with many scars and would snuggle up and keep me company when he felt like it. He was a cat that walked by himself, but made a friend of me.

Every Sunday we went to the Claremont Baptist Church in Grove Avenue and then came back to a scrumptious Sunday dinner. Sunday afternoons were usually restful and family time although there were occasional outings arranged. I developed a habit of venturing further and further onto the Rondebosch Common on many Sunday afternoons, sometimes with Jimmy James but mostly on my own.

On various holiday occasions I was able to go on Schools and Varsity camps at a number of places in the Cape: Twice to Kersfontein, then to Elgin, Swellendam and Piketberg. At these camps I learned to play rag rugger, paddox and to run cross-country as well as enjoy swimming, marquee nights, wide games at night and midnight snacks. One of the most impactful things in my life related to understanding something of what it meant to be a follower of Jesus. I, and a number of my friends grew in our faith through these camps. I was learning to allow God’s Word to be a light for my path. Much, if not most of what we learned at camp was reinforced and lived out in the Mathew home and over the holidays at Betty’s Bay.

I had never heard of rugby prior to starting at the Wynberg Boys’ Junior School. Eventually I became a hooker, placed between the two front ranks and that became my specialty whenever I played rugby I had to hook the ball from the middle of the scrum. It took me a while to work out an agreeable relationship with that ball, but eventually rugby was a very important part of my life. I did what I had to as far as schoolwork was required, but it was never my forte.

In recent years, Jess and I have often talked about my time with them. It was not easy for them or for me in many respects. Jess’ own children were much younger than me, and she perhaps credited me with more maturity than an eleven year old could handle. For my part, I am very grateful for the Mathew family and for their willingness to take me under their wing. I also understood from my mother something of the ache it was for them to leave me behind. It took me years to realize the impact on me in being apart from the family, even though at the time I did not actively grieve their absence. I have come to realize that I characteristically adapt to the present and relate to a positive alternative world. I know some see this as escapist, but I consistently look for bright spots that are meaningful to me.