18. A new band of brothers
For the first few years after my parents returned to Lebanon and left me in Cape Town, I lived with my uncle and aunt, Jim and Jess Mathew in Bonair Road. I went to school every day by bicycle, come rain or shine. Theirs was a growing family, and when Libby and then Alison were born, they needed extra space in the house. I don’t know all the ins and outs, but it did seem best for us all that I moved into the Wynberg Boys School boarding establishment, Littlewood House. Most weekends, I was at Bonair Road, and I continued to spend my holidays with the Mathew family, or with other relatives.
Becoming a boarder meant I became part of another community, and I needed to learn new ways of relating. In my adult life, I have had the opportunity to live and work in a number of different countries. In those instances, we adopted deliberate, conscious actions and attitudes that would help us become Belongers in a new culture. As a teenager, no one helped me work out this process, and quite likely, not many people realised that my cultural cues were very different to theirs. The school's motto, Supera Moras, can be translated from Latin as Overcome Difficulties. In many ways, this is what I had to be doing to belong to this new ‘band of brothers’. There is an unofficial motto that is used frequently, "Brothers in an endless chain." Perhaps a little idealistic, but connections were made and developed.
By nature, being a curious observer helped me and I learned quite a lot by trial and error. Mr. Alf Morris and his wife were the house parents who lived on the property in a flat attached to the boarding establishment. I was given a corner room on the second floor and shared it with three other boys, Sheddon from Oranjemund, was one of them. He was an interesting and complicated character, and I became wary of him. He was flown down from the north-western Cape, along with a number of other boys, a day or two before school term started and then flown back once the term was over. I was shocked when, soon after my arrival in the hostel, he shot the milkman pushing his bicycle in the street, from the upstairs window with his pellet gun and treated this as normal. Another roommate Isak used to kneel and pray by his bed every night and his life challenged me to better things. Our fourth roommate, Knight, kept to himself and was mostly involved in the band as a drummer. He, like Sheddon, would fly to school from the north west. He set the pattern for tidy, clean dressing and taught me how to wash my clothes.
Not all my learning was voluntary. Some initiation practices conducted by a group of older boys were supposedly designed to make us ‘tough guys’ but, rather gave bullies a forum for free expression. I mean, who comes up with activities such as making newbies push an acorn up the hill with their noses, and their hands behind their backs? And did we really need holes drilled in our chest with a piece of wood? Respect did not come into the picture, but putting on a brave front did. Thankfully these activities were short-lived.
We soon got used to the pattern of life at boarding school. After breakfast, we would head off to school just across the quad. Lunch was given at midday then we went to afternoon classes till around three p.m. Various activities occurred after school, like rugby practice or swimming or just messing around on the “C” field with others, playing touch rugby, hanging out with friends or listening to the orchestra practicing in the school hall. Supper was followed by study hall, where we were able to do our homework, study and write letters to parents. I wrote a letter to my parents a couple of times a month, and they had to be vetted by the prefects. I am sure this kept the communication neutral and uninteresting. Then came time to wash and prepare for bed. The lights were out around nine thirty. And so the routine continued.
In our matric year, I was selected as a reserve hooker for the Western Province team at ‘Craven week’ rugby. Our coach told me I was only a ‘reserve’ because the other guy had two years to play and could build on the experience – but he privately told me, “You were the better player.” True or not, it was encouraging to hear and reassured me as I sat on the bench watching the Western Province team play.
In summer, I was the captain of the swimming team in my final year, and this was where my broad feet were a great asset, and they propelled me through the water easily. We would practice swimming lengths early before school, and our eyes were often red from the chlorine in the pool.
Uncle Jim also insisted that I play cricket, as ‘this develops character.’ I had never had my eyes tested, and no one picked up I had a problem with my eyesight. I could never see the ball so was hopeless at cricket and only managed a ‘C’ team. My highest score at school was 8 runs – needless to say, I was not a sought-after team member. I wasn’t much of a bowler either.
My friend Freddie Glaum was an avid member of the mountain club with me and with Table Mountain on our doorstep, we spent many days (and nights) on the mountain apart from the Club activities. Our 1965 school magazine reported on some of the Club activities. “During the summer holiday Mr. Cronwright led a large party of Wynberg boys to the Cedarberg, and I am sure that the eight days in such beautiful surroundings made a lasting impression on the members. The year was opened with a pleasant climb every fortnight ranging from easy scramble to difficult rock. Worthy of note are the climbs on Postern and Silver Stream Buttress led by Mr. Scoble and Mr. Weller, and also more difficult routes taken by senior members. We are indebted lo Mr. C. Katz for allowing us to attend several rock-meets under the South African Mountain Club. These formed a very good training ground for correct climbing technique as well as giving great enjoyment.” Mountain climbing remains a passion of mine.
I was also part of the Christian Union at school and even became the Chairman in my final year. My room-mate Isak Nieuwoudt led the boarding section of the meetings and friend Malcolm Emms was on the committee with me. The visiting speaker I remember the most was when Rev Mellsop from the China Inland Mission came to speak to us. He told us wonderful stories about China and the gospel outreach there. He also related how, on the brink of execution, he and other missionaries were rescued by a commanding officer in the Chinese army.
Since most Saturday mornings were the time for sports, I usually went home to be with the Mathew family on Saturday afternoons, where I had a corner bedroom set aside for me by the family. They had made additional extensions to their home as the family grew so that Jimmy and Bruce had a room and then the girls, Sheila, Libby and Alison, had theirs. Being in boarding school probably saved my relationship with Jim and Jess and the family and freed me to relate to my new realities in a healthy way. It also gave them the opportunity to be a family on their own without me in the week, and I still saw them at the weekends.
Pictured with Granny Hannah at the weekend.
On Sunday afternoons, around three in the afternoon, I was able to attend the Netherby Boys’ Meeting held above the garage on the property. Boys from the Rondebosch School nearby mostly attended as well as a handful from Bishops and SACS. I was the only one from Wynberg, due to my family connections. Some of the older boys led the meeting each time and we’d have various Christian leaders came to speak to us on topics of interest. These times, together with others, learning to apply Bible truths to life, were invaluable to me. The emphasis was always on Jesus’ teachings and how it worked out in daily life.
Wynberg badge. Credit: By Chris Merrington - https://www.wbhs.org.za/, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=87422176
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