Coming right slowly….many thanks for all the good wishes….
I am down with some awful lengthy stomach bug. This has temporarily stopped me from writing and editing coherently, and I have only been able to view some posts. I hope to be back up and running soon.
On Sunday afternoon Dad
stretched out on the living
room sofa to recover from
baby brother’s long night of
travail with an emerging tooth.
Beside him on the coffee table
was Dad’s state of the art smart
phone – locked: that mobile
computer of his skilled trades
man’s business, which also
took customers’ calls.
As he slept two little girls
saw that gem of the twenty
first century. Up to the minute
playground education had taught
the seven year old of its high
status and uses. The five year
old was her willing accomplice.
The seven year old drew the
five year old close, held up
the phone as they smiled
for the latest in selfies.
Now concerned at possible
repercussions they tried to
delete their selfies, in vain.
Dad woke up, very alert.
A word of advice to beginners
in using the latest technology:
to delete a smart phone’s photos
first unlock it, with its password.
After the seven year old’s
all important birthday she
flew with Dad to the vast
mega city for their cousin’s
all important eighth birthday.
Now the five year old was the
eldest at home helping look
after baby brother, having long
satisfying chats with Mum.
At afternoon tea time she said
“I’ll get it !” She brought
the little stool to the bench
spread avocado on rice cakes,
cut apples in pieces, filled
glasses with water, took it
all to the table for a feast.
Later in the bath Mum held
baby brother upright while the
five year old sang to him
“Five little ducks…” while
moving the plastic ducks around.
Baby brother splashed his hands
up and down, crowed happily.
Eldest for a day. A happy
time for the five year old.
As our low wartime birthrate soared
after World War II the hasty building
of school and hospitals ensued.
The government wanted this birth
rate well educated, granted
bursaries for university fees and
books in an economy full of
part time and summer time jobs
for sons and daughters.
Not all parents wanted their
daughters educated past school.
A working class daughter with
excellent grades through to
seventeen was sent to full time
work. University evening
lectures gave way to pregnancy
and early motherhood at home.
The farmer’s daughter achieving
so well at a state city boarding
school was sent to work in a
local town bank, then married
within that community.
The brilliant daughter of British
immigrants was allowed to accept
a higher teacher student bursary
after school staff rigorously
persuaded her puzzled parents.
The Chinese greengrocer’s daughter
impressed teachers and classmates
with her brilliant achievements, yet
by nineteen she was married with
child housekeeping at home, staying
within family and culture confines.
Though university students were all
self supporting while studying, they
brought in no income, mingled in city life.
Some parents kept them within home bounds.
From the vast oriental land they sailed
from coastal regions packed with villages
starving from the ravages of warring
greedy warlords and their armies.
Thin hungry men fanned out to
distant gold rushes around the Pacific
desperate for gold for their families.
They came to this island country in its
gold rush 150 yeatrs ago, panning gold,
sending it home. After the gold ended
they stayed on, for they still earned a
living, sent money home, though the
white foreigners persecuted them often.
Some orientals died in this distant land
far from their families who should tend
their graves, bring offerings each year on
the day of the ancestors, the hungry ghosts.
Coffins of embalmed dead were stored
over many years for the day living
kinsmen could ship them back home
for their families to bury and tend.
At last the day came, the coffins set
sail. A few days later a violent storm
buried ship, crew. and coffins at sea.
Breaking up on the seabed the ship’s
timbers released many coffins to float
to a shore sparsely peopled by its
original settlers’ descendants who
buried these seaborne strangers.
A hundred years later oriental descendants
remembering childhood rumours
searched and enquired up to the far
north, found the descendants of those
who had buried their ancestors,
found their ancestors’ graves. In full
Polynesian ceremony two worlds met.
At last the ancestors, the hungry ghosts
are tended each year by descendants
in the home far from home
at the end of the world.
As the 1950’s emerged from
the stark post war world
market gardeners sold produce
at city auction houses lining
a side street opposite the wharves.
White settlers avoided Chinese
gardeners who held tenuous
citizenship from old gold rush days,
spoke Chinese at home, heavily
accented English elsewhere.
But forms were required for
the supply and sale of their
produce though they read and
wrote less English than they spoke.
After morning auctions, afternoons
saw auctioneers visit packing
sheds, fill in forms, with broken
English and Chinese conversations.
They would then be presented
with other official letters and
forms to be answered, filled in,
and tax forms to be computed.
Much appreciation was shown
for this assistance with gifts
of Christmas hams, tinned lychees
in syrup, crystalised ginger in
fat little jars, an embroidered
hanging of rooster and hen, and
bags of vegetables at each visit.