Charles Quinche was born in 1900 in Bulawayo of a French-speaking father, Emile Quinche, and an Ndebele mother whose name is not rem
embered. But his father died in 1908 and his father’s brother appears to have left the country in 1911. Thus he was effectively an orphan and the little left of his inheritance had been spent by 1914 on schooling and board at Inyati mission. Thereafter he was completely dependant on the charity of the mission and well-wishers.
Nevertheless he made the best of what life offered and did very well with his studies and became a teacher. There are the occasional longueurs in his account of his scholastic attainments and teaching duties, but to him they were victorious milestones in a life of loneliness and hardship. For he had to make his way alone in a society that was geared almost exclusively to the provision of services for Europeans and Africans.
And it was doubly hard for youngsters like
Charles, even within his own community, for it is a sad, but little known, fact that the Cape Coloureds who predominated were more prejudiced against those with African mothers than Europeans were! So much was this so that some historians deny that there was really a Coloured community as such—it was a colonial construct of false consciousness. But it may be argued that the ultimate success in life of people like Charles shows that this was not so. As no other members of the Coloured community, as far as is known, have written the story of their lives, this document is presented as a unique insight into a neglected part of our history.
I was born in Bulawayo in an area that was then known as the Brickfields where my father, a Frenchman had a plot. He was a market gardener and strawberries were his speciality. He was short, quick tempered, industrious and versatile. He was a blacksmith and wheel-wright. He built his own one-horse cart in which he conveyed vegetables and strawberries to market. The horse, a large docile animal with big hoofs served three purposes. He drew the cart, a single furrow plough and was ridden. I think he was an Australian horse. Dad manufactured containers for strawberries on his home-made press.
These had ?uted corners like old fashioned jelly moulds. He built his own house and was also a welder. He and his brother, my uncle Maurice built two row boats. There was a dam on the property. Uncle was a man of annoying practical jokes. He would take one for our row in the dam and deliberately capsize the boat. If his passenger could not swim he saved him and had a good laugh. I was keen on building. I put up a little structure with stones and mud. Uncle would come along, [and] say, ‘That’s a nice house you have built, now let’s see if it is strong.’ He would put his foot on it and ?atten it.
He had to run with stones ?ying after him.
Dad could play the mouth organ, concertina and accordion. He may have had some rank in the French army. In his bedroom there were two swords hanging on the wall. They were crossed and in the centre hung a holster with a heavy six chamber service revolver. Dad and uncle often held shooting competitions. They lined up empty soda water bottles as targets. The type of soda water bottle of those days had a neck which was constricted at two points one above the other. In the centre bulge was a glass marble.
This arrangement may have had to do with controlling expansion and contraction. I don’t know. However, I had no lack of marbles as there were many of these bottles in a dump near our place. All I had to do was knock off the neck of each bottle. Dad and uncle liked having a bit of fun. Some of it, a bit doubtful. They made themselves stilts and would strut around the yard on these. A short distance away from our plot was a hole in which obsolete ammunition was dumped and a fire lit to explode the bullets. When all was quiet Dad or uncle would go along there and pick up live bullets that had been hit out of the hole. These were taken home, a fire started in the forge and the bullets thrown in. The explosions were counted.
One day they must have mis-counted. Dad had to work on some iron. A fire was started in the forge and I worked at pumping the bellows when there was an explosion. I was thrown to the ground by a mass of charcoal. Fortunately I was unhurt. As for religion, there were no prayers or grace before meals. The only hint of it was when Dad told me that I’d burn for my misdemeanours. Once when Dad and uncle were away for a few hours I was left in the care of a Coloured family living in our neighbourhood. At lunch, closing our eyes and somebody and someone seemingly talking to nobody was so funny that I burst out laughing.
I have no collection of what my mother looked like. she was an ‘Ndebele soaked in the traditions and beliefs of her face. From Old Jim, my fathers faithful assistant I learnt that I cut top teeth first. This meant that I was an ill-omen and should be disposed of. Old Jim must have tipped off Dad who on his horse followed mother into the bush and rescued me in time. What happened to mother I shall never know. From then on Dad looked after me himself. Dad and uncle did their own cooking.
One year Dad went home to France leaving me in uncle’s care. He returned with his sister Aunt Adele and grandpa. I then had my first experience of being mothered. Unfortunately this was short lived. Auntie fell ill, was taken to the Memorial Hospital and died of black water fever. Grandpa returned to France and died there.
I spoke three languages, French, Sindebele and English which I picked up in my association with white playmates. I was born in 1900. The exact date is unknown. My kind were not registered in those days. Uncle could not remember the exact date but was sure of the year. The 30th of June was later adopted for legal reasons.
Of my early memories one was a scourge of red locusts that ate everything to the
roots between 1904–05. The other was Dad and Uncle in deep conversation and tracing with their fingers on what I believe was a small map of South Africa. I believe they were discussing the tail-end of the Boer war. Of children’s peculiar ideas and escapades I had my share. I found that when I shut my eyes tight it was dark and strangely believed that the surroundings were also; so when someone came after me for something I had done I ran, dodged and decided to bring on darkness. Needless to say the experiment was to my cost. Our W.C. was a deep pit over which was a structure composed of a wooden frame-work. The walls and roof were thatched with grass. One day as I approached the W.C. a snake slithered into the grass wall. I ran to the house, got a box of matches and set the grass on fire. That was the end of the snake but the total result shocked me. I was given a sound thrashing. Another wooden frame work was erected and this time the walls and
roof were corrugated iron. I considered my thrashing worthwhile.
Close to our fowl-run were two bee hives. I decided to see what was happening.
I lifted the roof of one hive and I knew no more. I was stung all over. My head felt
heavy, my eyes were swollen and I could not see for two or three days. Dad successfully treated me himself. We lost over a hundred fowls. In hot weather bees are very vicious. Dad intended sending me to Cape Town for my education, but in 1906 he also died of black water fever. Malaria fever was rife all over the country in those days. Uncle was left to run the business and take care of me.
One day in 1907, I think it was towards the end of the year, Uncle packed a supply
of clothes into a small portmanteau and he took me to the station. I had never been there before nor had I ever been near a train. I was ushered into what to me was a very small room. There was a white gentleman there who was to take care of me and see that Igot off at Insiza Station. After a few minutes I was surprised when the room began to
move. Railway coaches of that time had no corridors. Each compartment had a door on each side. The top half of each door had a sliding window. At Insiza I had to wait in Mr. Wilson’s Store for transport to take me to the London Missionary Society’s Mission at Inyati [now Inyathi].
The Rev. Bowen Rees a Welshman was in charge. Late in the afternoon a scotch-cart drawn by two oxen arrived. I was lifted into the cart and we set out on a 30 mile cross country journey and arrived at Inyati just before sunset. The Rev. Bowen Rees looked so much like my Grandfather that I greeted him in French and was disappointed when he responded in English. Another coloured boy
older than I was, was there. He was George Stuhardt of German and African descent. He helped me to fin. His father who was a farmer in the Insiza district had died. His two brothers Peter and Jack were later admitted. Mr. Rees had been on furlough and returned by himself. Mrs. Rees and their youngest son Llewelyn arrived later. On the firstSunday after Mrs. Rees arrived I was in our room putting on my shoes when she called. I told her what I was doing but that was not good enough. My shoes were taken away together with some of my clothes. I never saw these again. My companions were barefooted and I suppose I had to be. We had to have our meals with the
servants but had our own sleeping quarters.
We had thick porridge made with coarse
mealie-meal. We had to grind the mealies
ourselves in a hand grinder. If we dared to
adjust the machine to produce the meal we got into serious trouble. We were told that we were wearing out the teeth of the machine; but I have a shrewd suspicion that the old man made sure that we got some roughage.
Most of the time we had skimmed curdled
milk with the porridge. Occasionally there
was some meat. There was no separator so after the cows were milked, the milk was poured into large basins and left to stand till the next day when the cream settled at the top. This was skimmed and put into a bowl or a hand propelled churn depending on the quantity. Most of the rest was fed to the pigs. The pails for the pigs’ food had to be scrubbed and washed spotlessly clean. As we never seemed to have enough to eat, whoever was lucky to be delegated to feed the pigs, took a jam tin with him and helped himself when he got to the sty.
On Sundays depending of course on
the mood of the old people, after lunch we
were called to the dining room bringing ourplates. We lined up in single file and were given food from their table. Anyone guilty of a misdemeanour was sent away empty. We easily got round the problem by sharing on the quiet. One day I heard Mr. Rees say to a friend, ‘These people are difficult to handle. You cannot treat them as black or white. They are in between.’
I suppose that is why we were somehow treated as both. I was sometimes patted on the back and told that I had more white than black blood in me, but if I did anything wrong I was black in and out! The Reeses were very strict. We daren’t kick a tennis ball around on a Sunday. One day I got into trouble for having miniature playing cards which I got out of ‘Flag’ cigarette packets. When I was 14 to my regret I asked Mr. Rees if Jack Johnson, the Negro boxing champion had won his fight.
On my first Sunday I had been warned that in Church I had to be absolutely still.
During the service I wanted to go out badly. In the end I let go. A fine Christian African lady who became our life long friend attended to me as though I were her own child. In those early days the Church was packed. Even old men and women clothed in their traditional way attended. Young men wore boots. The more these squeaked, the more popular they were. One would strut into Church late so as to draw attention to himself. This was soon stopped. Boots had to be left outside. Two services were held, commencing at 11 a.m. and the other at 3 p.m.
On Christmas Day virtually the whole population of the mission turned out. After
a Church service they were supplied with mealie-meal and an ox or two. An ox was
either shot or stabbed with a spear. The throat was quickly slit and the blood collected in a pot. Pieces of fat were added to this and then cooked. This black pudding had to be stirred continually and allowed to simmer slowly. The people had to bring their own pots. Some of these were large enough to take the whole hind quarter of an ox. Those who could, brought wooden platters with them. The meat was boiled. Some strips were
roasted on the coals. Some of the meat was placed on leaves. The people sat in circular groups. One would take a chunk of meat which would be passed round, anyone having a knife cut off a piece for himself. If not he bit a piece off and passed on the rest. Chunk after chunk disappeared.
After the feast there was singing and dancing. There was one interesting dance I have never seen since. This was done in two rows. A row of young men facing one of girls. A translation of the song is:- ... “Flesh of a male, choose whom you love!” A young man would dance towards the girl of his choice [and] if acceptable she would join his row. The young men crossed over in turn. Another song I remember them singing and dancing to, said: ... ‘Don’t be taken in by his suit, he is riddled with V.D.’
This was actually a warning to the girls to avoid a particular individual. We had daily chores to do: weeding or sweeping the yard, watering and weeding the garden, feeding the pigs and fowls and rounding up the mules whenever they were required. Now and then one of us would go out with the cattle herd. I went out twice with this old man, and each time I went we killed several snakes. The next time he refused to go with me. ‘This boy’s head is bad’, he said, ‘every time I go with him we encounter snakes.’ We had to look for eggs and got into trouble if we didn’t find any.
The fowls were on free range and laid anywhere in the surrounding bush. There was a well in the yard but the water was useless for washing, drinking or cooking; so early every morning we inspanned two oxen to a scotch cart with a square tank to fetch water from the river about a mile away. With bare legs and feet this was an unpleasant task in winter. Our general treatment tended to be harsh and at times gave us a feeling of being unwanted. One day I was scolded for something and told: ‘We are not obliged to keep you, you know.’ I said ‘Well let me go.’ To which he replied, ‘Where would you go, the wild beasts would get you.’ It may be that they acted on the principle that, ‘The devil
finds work for idle hands to do’, but we found being pushed all day long so irksome that we dodged whenever we could.
We had no W.C. so whenever we went out into the bush we stayed there as long as we dared. We got away with it if we were not called in our absence. Peter and I tried to run away several times. If one of us happened to be missing, the bell was rung summoning the whole populace to search for us. I don’t remember ever being found. I suspect that those who spotted us were the sympathetic ones who just turned a blind eye.
The mission house was apparently built on the site of an old African village. A short
distance from the yard there was tall grass which was another of our hide-outs. Under the grass there was old cow dung. One day Peter and I were prodding this with sticks when we struck something hard. We scraped away the dung disclosing a ?at stone about two feet square. We lifted this and found an abandoned empty corn bin. It was perfect
and polished to a fine gloss. Two of us fitted ed in comfortably and whenever we wanted a break we disappeared into our new hide out. One day we didn’t realise that we were being watched. The game was up and we had to fill the bin with refuse. At my present age I ask myself, ‘Was it as bad as all that?’ It could have been worse. What would have happened to us if no one took us under their wings? So I look back without rancour.
Our first school building was a rectangular pole and clay structure with a thatched roof. There were empty openings on each side for windows. The new block of three classrooms was near completion. The teacher knew no English, so we had to learn to read and write ’sindebele. We also learnt very simple number work. We must have been the last of the stone-age people. We had no paper and lead pencils, but did our work on slates. This was most unhygienic. To clean their slates some children just spat on them and wiped them with their hands. It was not until my third or fourth year that we had teachers who had a smattering of English. We read ‘Step by Step’ a series of phonic primers. In less than a year I knew more than my teacher. Academically the first five years of my school career were largely wasted.
In 1910 we saw Haley’s Comet and trembled at the stories of the impending end of the world. We heard about the death of King Edward VII. There was an interdenominational Missionary Conference at Inyati. Here I met some old missionaries, including the Rev. C. D. Helm who on seeing me thought I was from the Cape and addressed me in Afrikaans.
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In 1912 the Reeses were going on furlough, [and] I was to travel with them to Tiger Kloof. From Inyati we travelled to Bulawayo by mule cart. We spent the night in the Carlton Hotel. I had my meals in the kitchen and slept on the ?oor in the old people’s bedroom. The next morning I was called to meet a gentleman I had not seen for five years. Asked who he was I could not place him. It was Uncle Maurice. He was allowed to take me for an hour. He took me on his bicycle to have a look at the plot which had been sold. One of the new owner’s sons had my B.S.A. air-gun.
Later we boarded the Cape train. I was placed in a compartment with a Coloured
man who had been a mule driver for the District Surgeon at Inyati. When we arrived at Tiger Kloof Siding, George Stuhardt who had preceded me was there to meet me. The Reeses travelled on to catch their boat in Cape Town.
Tiger Kloof Native Institution as it was designated, was a school set up primarily
for Africans mainly those from Bechuanaland, but pupils from all over South Africa were admitted. There were also as many as 60 or 70 Coloured students. This was due to the fact that the fees were the lowest in the country. Fees covered food, bedding and clothing and for trades were on a sliding scale. The value of the work done during apprenticeship was considered as part payment. Each trade was for four year course with no fees for the fourth year. 10 shillings a year was for medical attention. We had a monthly medical check-up. After reporting to the Principal [Rev. W. C. Willoughby] all suitcases or trunks were handed in and stored in the basement under the dining hall. We then lined up at the tailor’s shop and [were] issued with uniforms. These consisted of khaki coloured corduroy trousers and tunics with brass buttons for week days, blue
serge trousers and tunics with silver buttons for Sundays.
Shirts and vests were also provided. We had peaked caps similar to what our postmen wear, with a silver badge and number on the forehead. Apprentices were issued with veld schoens. The rest of us had to find our own shoes. I, and a few others who had no money were barefooted and suffered in winter. The climate there is one of extremes. The
Principal Rev. W. C. Willoughby wrote a letter of protest to the Rev. Bowen Rees about my having to go around barefooted. Mr. Rees gave authority for me to be supplied with a pair of veldschoens. Not a single pair fitted me and Mr. Rees was obliged to send me some money to buy shoes in Vryburg, seven miles away. I assume he paid out of his own pocket as I had nothing from my father’s estate.
I was so small and skinny that special uniforms had to be made for me. At Inyati I gained a religious background which was invaluable. Apart from ChurchServices the Reeses held regular prayer meetings in their lounge first thing in the morning and last thing at night. We all had to attend these including the African workers. At one point in my life I was so depressed that I considered life not worth living. Then I recalled that an African Teacher evangelist in his sermon on a previous Sunday had pointed out that, ‘Thou shalt not kill,’ applied as much to killing another person as to doing away with one’s own life. When I came to Tiger Kloof I had already been received into full
membership of the Church at Inyati.
At Tiger Kloof they would not accept this. They thought I was too young and could not believe that I was 12. Another two or three years elapsed before I was received. Strangely I was often selected to act as a steward during Holy Communion Services.
When we were allotted classes I was placed in Standard II. We were subjected to almost military discipline. We were roused by a bugle call in the morning. There were bugle calls for meals and lights out. The school bell was rung for classes. We had prayers, scripture lessons and drill every morning—now we call it physical education. There
was a pipe band and a brass band which played on alternate Sundays. After a church service, we fell in, in fours, were strictly inspected and marched to the playground with one band leading. I was three years in the fife band and five years in the brass band.
The dining room and classrooms were lit from gas piped from a central acetylene
plant. The residue from the carbide was used for white washing the stones that lined the roads. Our dormitories were in blocks of four. Between each pair was a wide corridor with basins on one side. Very often in winter the water in the tanks froze and there were occasional pipe bursts. Each dormitory accommodated 15 pupils, one of whom was the Dormitory Chief—what we now call a prefect. He was distinguished by a chevron on one sleeve and epaulettes.
I was a Dormitory Chief for four years. We were supplied with soap to do our own
washing and one candle a week. I used to go round from dormitory to dormitory offering to clean their candle sticks. They never knew why. I collected the candle grease and asked the cooks to melt it for me. I had a bicycle pump casing with a piece of string in the centre, poured the tallow into this, allowed [it]t o cool—[and] pushed out a home-made candle. I used these candles to put in some extra study into my lessons in some corner or at the bottom of a stone quarry.
How the school was named ‘Tiger’ Kloof I’ve never been able to establish. There
are no tigers in Africa. Over the cliffs on either side of the kloof I noticed many tree
stumps which suggests that there might have been wooded areas. An odd leopard might have been seen which probably lived in some cave in the side of a cliff. Rock rabbits and land iguanas abound here.
The original Tswana name of this area was ‘Moeding’ which means at the fountain, a reference to the springs that existed here. When I arrived in 1912 the springs had all dried up. There was a channel leading water from one spring to a swimming pool carved out of the rock. This also was no longer in use. What became a Bible School was originally a laundry. We carried our washing in pillow cases to the kloof where there
was a stream with more or less permanent pools of water. Some bigger boy always took over my washing. While our clothes and sheets were drying on the grass we walked around and climbed up a cliff. At the top the land was ?at with scrubby moretlwa bushes with very sweet berries.
One day while picking berries I spotted an old live bullet on the ground. There was a small anthill. I scratched around with a stick and unearthed more bullets. I think this was a legacy of the Boer War. My friend and I lit a fire over the bullets detonating then. The pupils were a cross section of Botwsana tribes, Xhosas, Swazis, Zulus, Griquas, Kalanga, Ndebele and Coloured. One friend I had was a 6 ft, broad shouldered Griqua who bought me a tooth brush and a tin of toothpaste (Gibbs Dentifrice).
He was the bass drummer of the brass band. Soccer was run by clubs formed by the pupils. I was lucky to have a sponsor who paid the fees and lent me a pair of boots. I spent 8 years at Tiger Kloof and came out top of my class right through. I was considered clever, but I know it was solid consistent hard work that did it. I earned some pocket money by watering two or three ?ower gardens for some
members of the staff. They offered me 1½d. an hour but always gave me more. On Saturday afternoon[s] an Indian fruit and vegetable vendor came from Vryburg by mule cart. I managed to buy something. My dormitory chief looked after my money and somehow I never overspent. He trained as a teacher, taught in Vryburg where he died. I inherited nothing from my father’s estate, and therefore cherish the kindness of
fellow pupils and members of the staff to this day.
Travelling southward from Vryburg we pass through bleak and desolate looking
country. After seven miles tall gum trees and stone buildings show up to our left. This is the girls’ school and some distance further we see the boys’ school. The first building to attract our attention is the dining hall with a four faced clock on a 40 foot tower. As soon as I got a drawing book I spent hours sitting on some grass and drawing the front view of this building.
One day the principal, Rev. W. C. Willoughby came uto me, looked over my shoulder and asked me to draw a copy for him. The clock was donated by Chief Khama. The inspector of schools travelled by mule cart from Mafeking [Mahikeng] as far south as Taungs [Taung]. He had a suitcase full of Arithmetic cards which he distributed personally from class to class [for the pupils to do tests]. The teachers invigilated. The inspector corrected the papers himself. He then listened to individual reading class by class, selected a passage and a number of words for what was termed ‘dictation and spelling’. The teachers did this but the inspector marked the papers.
Classes ranged from Sub. Std A to Std VII during my time and there was no
difference in the curricula for white and non-white. We had African teachers up to
Std IV and from there on white teachers. The trades were inspected by departmental instructors from Cape Town. In spite of the fact that the apprentices did drawing theory and practice, the powers that were did not regard this department as a technical college but a trades school. In 1912 and 1913 I went through Stds 2 and 3 top of the class. In 1914 I was kept at Inyati, the idea being that I should work, help at the school and do a number of chores to pay for the two years I had been at Tiger Kloof.
Journey to Prince Tshakalisa’s Village.
Mr. Rees decided to let Peter Stuhardt and me go on a holiday to Tshakalisa’s village in the Shangani Reserve (now TTL). Prince Tshakalisa was a son of Lobengula
and a very close friend of the Reeses. Tshakalisa’s son Dabulamanzi was a pupil at Inyati. Late one afternoon we set out by donkey cart. Our party consisted of a driver who was a Khumalo of the royal clan, Tshakalisa’s son, Peter Stuhardt and myself. We arrived at the Lonely Mine
later in the evening, outspanned on the western outskirts of the compound and spent the night under the cart which was covered with a sail sufficiently wide as to overhang to the ground on all sides. The four donkeys were tethered to stumps of trees close by and given a feed of crushed mealies. We had to sleep with one eye open so to speak for fear of being robbed. I, in particular was rather suspicious of folk who spoke a foreign language and associated this with cannibalism.
I heard one of a clique say, ‘Let them sleep . . .’ and finished his sentence with an unintelligible remark; so I nudged my companions and warned them. The dawn of the next day was a great relief to us. The next stage of our journey brought us to the Queen’s Kraal on the Bembesi River. Prince Tshakalisa’s son Dabulamanzi was a grandson of Lobengula so we were obliged to call on Queen Losekeyi. We were ushered into a large round stuffy hut, where in compliance with ’Ndebele custom we squatted on the ?oor in perfect silence, the Queen, a six foot tall corpulent figure reclined on a mat, her head propped up in her right hand. Within her reach lay a huge snuff box, a dagga pipe and a large wooden platter with meat, a Royal relish in it, namely an ox’s dewlap and a large can of African beer.
The Queen was bare from the waist up. she wore a black glossy skirt which appeared to be a mass of tassels. At first I wondered if she wound a number of old fashioned black silk shawls; but was told that the skirt was made of an ox hide, which was scored with a metal comb with sharp points until it was all tassels
except for a band along one edge to form a girdle. The tassels were then rubbed with fat and soot which gave the skirt a glossy appearance. The odour was anything but pleasant. The awful suspense was at last broken when she greeted Dabulamanzi and asked several questions about Peter and me. We were then given ‘amasi’ (curdled milk) and
some boiled meat. No sooner had we disposed of these than she ordered a calabash of beer for us. We excused ourselves to no avail. Fortunately the driver drained three quarters of the calabash so that our scheme of merely dipping the mouth in and passing the calabash on proved a success, much to the driver’s delight, who in the end gulped the last drop.
During the meal she made remarks about my nose, ears through which she could see the sun, and wonderful intelligent looking eyes. She gaped when I entertained her with string tricks and rubbing a chalk mark right through a solid wooden bowl. According to the ’Ndebele idiom she was so amazed that she had no saliva left. before we left the Queens kraal we saw a gruesome spectacle.A young African lad while swimming in a pool was attacked by a crocodile which bit a buttock to the bone. An African herbalist treated the boy. He knew something about cauterisation. He used an African heart shaped hoe. This was heated and passed as close as possible to the wound and then powdered herbs were sprinkled on it.
Continuing our journey, we wound our way through thick forests where the sun could
hardly be seen and outspanned at half a dozen unknown villages. The driver knew them well enough for he had a girl at each of them and so he was artful enough to arrange that we call at these at midnight. We learnt afterwards that this was the cause of our delay. Peter and I lost all sense of direction. The sun seemed to rise in the west and set in the east. Now and then we were terrified by the howl of hyenas.
Travelling at night someone had to carry the thick bark of a tree with glowing embers on it. Hyenas are treacherous creatures and would creep up from behind. One day we came to a river which was said to be infested with crocodiles. As donkeys are averse to wading through water, we decided to drive them through as fast as possible; but when we were in midstream they would not budge. One began to urinate and after the manner of donkeys they all did the same. We were told now we were quite safe, the urine would ward off the crocodiles.
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On the fifth day we arrived at Tshakalisa’s. He knew us from his frequent visits to the Reeses and soon made us feel at home.
Our stay with Tshakalisha.
Our diet here consisted mainly of amasi
(curdled milk). The gourd or calabash
served many purposes. It could be used
as a cup for drinking water, as a beer mug, or for scooping water into another vessel to be carried home. The one used for amasi is called ighula (pr[onounced] ee-goo-lah). This is wide in the middle and has a neck tapering towards the top. The top is cut off leaving a mouth anything up to two inches wide. At the bottom on one side a small hole is drilled as an outlet for the whey. Fresh milk is poured into the ighula; the top is closed with a wooden carved stopper or a mealie cob. The whey outlet is plugged with a portion of a layer from the ‘sore eye’ (Buphone) bulb. It is twisted and pushed into the outlet.
The milk is allowed to stand for a day or two when the ‘ighula’ is placed over another vessel, the top and outlet are opened allowing the whey to drain into it. The whey may be drunk for a mild laxative or it may be poured into a milking pail. The milk from the cow is directed into the pail containing the whey. The immediate result is junket. The amasi was used as a relish with ‘isitshwala’ (sadza) or mixed with
umcaba. This is sorghum partially boiled and bruised on a grind stone. We had plenty of meat. Either boiled, roasted over the coals or pot roasted. We were given beer in small mugs and told this was food which we must not refuse.
Tshakalisa.
Prince Tshakalisa was very moderate himself and when he invited people to a beer drink he timed them. Before sunset he announced, ‘It is now time to go home.’ Anyone dilly dallying got a taste of his sjambok. He was a tall erect figure with a straight nose, large eye balls with tight lids and a lady’s voice. He was a superb horseman and crack shot. One day he and Mr. Rees
were sitting and chatting on the stoep. Mr. Rees saw a francolin in the grass beyond the yard. He handed his shotgun to the prince who said, ‘You will not eat that bird.’ He fired and all that was left was mince meat mixed with sand and feathers.
The Africans described him as one whose bullet never hits the ground. He traded in ivory and skins. Tshakalisa believed in God but he was soaked in the traditions of his ancestors. Often when he went out hunting, he left his attendants at some spot and went off alone to visit his father’s [Lobengula’s] grave, the exact location of which was a dead secret in those days.
He was outraged if a child killed a harmless creature. One day we told
him there was a snake in the cattle kraal. We described it and he said that was an ‘ihole’ (one of low caste) and he didn’t bother to go and see it. He had a very temper when provoked. I remember one day seeing him chase his wife, children, servants, chickens and dogs out of the village with a sjambok.
I soon became a favourite and helped him
count money when he had payments to make. The money was kept in a two pound Mazawattee tea tin and consisted of gold sovereigns and half sovereigns. I helped him build a stable for his horse. I noted that he was muscular. He stripped to the waist when doing heavy work.
He did minor repairs to his waggons and used a three-foot rule intelligently although he could not read it.
Now and then I was allowed to go out with
the herd boys. Then I learnt a good deal about their bush craft, their amusements and beliefs. Peter more often went out helping with ploughing and herding. I ran an evening school round a log fire. This was often interrupted by some traditional observance. One evening I slapped a girl who annoyed me by her silly giggling. The next day someone told me she was the old man’s mistress. Had it been reported to him it would have been the worse for her.
We wore shorts and had no shoes. Our feet itched and swelled. This was caused by a sharp edged poisonous grass. The poisonous part was the hairs along the edges of the blades of grass. We also had several attacks of malaria fever for which we had to depend on being smoked with herbs and drinking doubtful looking concoctions.
Our return journey after four months was uneventful except once when we were trapped between two rivers and had to make the best of mouldy mealie meal and a chicken full of stringy worms.
Back to Tiger Kloof.
It was January 1915 and I had to return to Tiger Kloof. I boarded the train at Insiza.
This was supposed to arrive in Bulawayo at 7 p.m., but when we were in the vicinity of Lochard Siding a passenger coach jumped the rails and sank in the mud. All passengers were ordered out and there we stood ankle deep in mud while the engine driver and crew using special jacks toiled to get the coach back on the line. I dare not mention the guard’s language!! We arrived in Bulawayo at 8 a.m. the next morning.
I arrived at Tiger Kloof on a Sunday night and went to bed with a severe attack of
malaria fever. I was bed ridden for six months. To make my condition worse my feet were swollen and the soles were a mass of festering sores. Those were the days of hot poultices. Bits of brown unsifted Boer meal bread were soaked in boiling water, squeezed and bound on my feet. It was very unpleasant but effective. Doses of castor oil and tablets of quinine were not pleasant either. The doctor said I could not be moved, so I could not return to Inyati or go to hospital seven miles away [in Vryburg].
The boarding master was very kind to me. School food was too heavy for my condition and he often brought me something light from his own house. Every morning after prayers the Principal (Rev. A. J. Haile) and staff stood around my bed [to pray?]. I was told [later] that at one point I had gone into a coma. When I got back to attending classes, the headmaster insisted that I go to his house
during interval for an egg ?ip, warm milk and sometimes custard or rice pudding.
In spite of losing six months [of lessons], I came out top of the class in Standard
IV at the end of the year. [In] 1916 in Standard V I was top of the class again. It was done by sheer hard work. [In] 1917 I spent at Inyati working to pay for the previous two years. I was awarded a Mission bursary for the years 1918–21 after signing a contract to teach in any school where I would be placed. It was a foregone conclusion that I would be placed at Inyati.
[In] 1918 the Rev. Bowen Rees had retired and he, Mrs. Rees, daughter and youngest
son were at Tiger Kloof. World War I was on and owing to the hazards of a sea voyage he was not allowed to sail with his family. Fortunately the Bible Tutor at Tiger Kloof was on leave and Mr. Rees was asked tofill in for him.
Towards the end of the year, within about three weeks to examinations I was down
with scarlet fever and [was] placed in quarantine for seven weeks. Mr. Rees regularly peeped in at my window and brought me reading matter and other goodies. The post master and school accountant sent his son and daughter with magazines, cake and fruit.
This was risky especially at the most infectious stage when I was shedding skin.
It looked as though I would lose out on my Standard VI examination, but a serious
scourge was rapidly moving northwards from the Cape—Spanish In?uenza. The
examinations were postponed. Two weeks after I was out of quarantine the ?u struck
Tiger Kloof. On a Friday that week, a pupil whose bed was next to mine fell off his bed and died. During this period we had to sleep out in the open and had regular salt
and water gargles. I was fortunate in not contracting the ?u as I was still weak after
the scarlet fever. I and a few others had to serve soup to the sick and by evening I was worn out. Each morning when we heard blasting [the rock to make graves] we knew someone had died. If I remember correctly we lost six pupils.
I came out top in Standard VI. From Std. V we had white teachers. As the Bible Tutor’s house was out of bounds, I had to get permission from the Rev. Tom Brown
who was acting principal while Rev. A. J. Haile was on furlough. Rev. Tom Brown for reasons only known to himself hated me. On my return from visiting the Reeses, I had to report to him and often he denied that he had given me permission [to visit them]. He went as far as suggesting that my bursary should be cancelled and I be expelled. Fortunately I had the rest of the staff on my side. If I were asked what the highlight of my life was and still is, it is
‘Loved by so many people that I don’t know my enemies.’
In 1919 I began my teacher training, [and] the Reeses left for home in England
(Wales). Before he left Mr. Rees got a teacher who was the school organist to give me lessons. He was not a professional player. It was easy for him to get me started because I could already read music. I went to his cottage on two afternoons a week. He had a folding organ like the one that was presented to me by Mrs. Rees and a lady’s Guild
she presided over in Wales.
What are now called Teacher Trainees were Pupil Teachers then. My results were:-
-1919 P.T. I (Junior) First grade pass—3rd in the Cape.
-1920 P.T. II (Junior) First grade pass—10th in the Cape.
-1921 P.T. III (Junior) First grade pass—4th in the Cape.
I was top of my group all through.
The P.T. III Junior Certificate qualified us to teach from Sub. Std A to Std IV. This
somehow did not work in practice because whilst we had lectures on the theory and practice of teaching we continued with our academic subjects. We did our teaching practice in the elementary school. We were encouraged to take up optional subjects. I did a four year course of woodwork and then Branch I Teacher’s Woodwork (practical).
Unfortunately I could not afford the necessary text books for Branch II which involved theory. In music I got certificates for Junior Elementary and Senior Tonic Sol-fa, and also three grades for Staff Notation. The teachers examinations took place during the first week of the school holidays while the rest of the pupils had gone.
To reduce my luggage I asked a pupil who was from Inyati to take my parcel
containing valuable books and my music certificates. Somehow he lost these on the
way. Rather than ask for duplicates I decided to study for the S.T.M.C. (School Teacher’s Music Certificate of the Tonic Sol-fa College, London.
A teacher and a fellow student
each had the necessary text book. By borrowing from one or the other and making notes, I managed to study. The entry fees for the exam were half a guinea for the practical section and half a guides for the theory. I didn’t have the money.
While on holiday at Inyati I approached the missionary in charge who happened to
be the Rev. W. G. Brown and asked him if I could be advanced the sum of one guinea
to take up the music examination and I would repay that when I came back to teach. He said he didn’t see that there was any scope for this. He wouldn’t have been allowed to do this for me out of mission funds.
I mentioned this to an African teacher who was a friend of mine. I put up my name,
prayed and hoped. The examination was to be on a Monday. On the previous Saturday I received a letter containing £2 from the African teacher. I was successful in obtaining the S.T.M.C. Certificate and when I returned to Inyati I was choir master for ten years.
At the end of 1921, fourteen of us completed our Teachers Course. The principal in his valedictory speech among other things he said, gave us a motto, ‘Teach much, learn much’. I found this true throughout my teaching career.
Before the school closed for the holidays in 1921, a friend introduced me to a Miss Emily Malgas who had just completed a domestic science course. Her character appealed to me. Her father was white and mother Xhosa. What I didn’t know was that she was brought up as a Xhosa and therefore bound by Xhosa traditions. Her sister who was married to a Xhosa died, and according to custom Emily had to take her place.
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PART 4.
Appointed to Inyati Mission.
I started teaching at Inyati Mission in 1922. The Rev. John Whiteside was the principal and the senior teacher was a Xhosa, Mr. Solomon Makeba who got his P.T. III Junior Certificate in 1908. There was a move to introduce manual training and agriculture in African Schools. The idea was initiated by an ex N.C. (now D.C.) and two government training schools were opened, one at Tsholotsho [now Tjolotjo] (Matabeleland) and the other at Domboshawa (Mashonaland). The education offered was to have an
African bias and so much emphasis was placed on manual training that instructors were paid higher salaries than the scholastic teachers.
During my last year in training the N.C. Mr Keigwin mentioned [i.e. the ex N.C.
above], visited Tiger Kloof and when told I would be teaching in Rhodesia asked me
when I would teach my pupils to work with their hands. I indicated that one using his
hands has to use his brain as well and that African languages were inadequate to interpret even the simplest of technical terms; because of this I believed that grounding in English was necessary and that the academic and practical were complementary.
The Rev. J. Whiteside did his best but admitted he was not qualified to run the school at Inyati as required and I think it was in 1924 that the Rev. W. G. Brown who was a builder in England before he trained as a missionary, took over. Mr. Makeba resigned and I was asked to take over as Senior Teacher although I functioned as a Head Master. There were no non-white headmasters in those days. On the industrial side pupils were taught building, carpentry and agriculture and later a tannery and leather work department was added. Mr. Brown taught the pupils to make and burn bricks. He discovered good deposits of limestone on the mission farm and had this processed. Surplus lime was sold to some mines in the district.
Mr. Brown had the tremendous task of making the school self-supporting. A vegetable garden was planned. A reservoir was built in the hill side and water was led from this to the orchard and vegetable garden. Surplus vegetables were sold to the mines, the N.C. and staff, including the police. Now and then some bricks were sold to build up school funds. It cost more per pupil than the fees they paid.
My task at this point was complicated. First I had to take stock of available staff.
Then I had to divide the roll into two sections so that while one was out on industrial work the other was doing academic work. Until more teachers and instructors were employed, it was sometimes necessary to combine classes under one teacher or instructor. I drew up a large master time table in consultation with the principal who was building instructor as well as overall supervisor. From this each teacher drew up a time table which concerned him. All round it was an exacting job.
Mr. Brown was industrious and so energetic that he could not tolerate dawdling on the part of anybody. To get around supervising he rode a bicycle. Unfortunately the relation between white and non-white in those days was, ‘Do as you are told. Don’t argue.’ In fact you dare not even make a suggestion. We lost several teachers who could not take this. It was clear though from the quality of his instruction and the high standard of work produced that Mr. Brown was not in the least prejudiced. From his observations in the Shangani Reserve (now TTL.), he had suggested such training to the L.M.S. District Committee to improve the African’s standard of living.
My cottage was within easy reach of the dormitories. This facilitated my control
over the boys and made me easily available for consultation. During winter the boys had fire places outside. Periodically I went round and spent a few minutes chatting with one group or another. I was thus able to note any hot heads. I had the confidence of the
majority of the boys. If the conversation in a group seemed to suggest trouble brewing I joined them and discussed the matter with them and even if their complaint happened to be a legitimate pin-prick I would ask them to consider whether their complaint was of more value than what they came to school for. The matter was amicably settled.
As the staff increased and the roll grew the problem of control became more difficult. There was no department for African education but the inspectors of European schools were always willing to pay us courtesy visits and assess our work and advise. When a director and an inspector were appointed and the department designated the Native Development Department was inaugurated, [and] the powers that were decided that there should now be a European Head Master.
In 1929 I went on a visit to Bulawayo by a bus owned by an Indian friend who
carried passengers to the Lonely Mine and back. There were no bridges over the rivers along this route. On my return it rained and when we reached the Umguza it was full and [so] we spent the night there; [and] the next morning it was still impossible to cross, so I decided to walk. I crossed on a narrow suspension bridge and did the same when I got to the Bembesi River. When I reached the Turk Mine the spruit there was over?owing. I was already wet as a storm had caught me along the way, so I waded through clothed and carrying my knapsack. On my way to Inyati Mission I found the Ngwigwisi River full.
Fortunately an Indian friend who was a gardener lived close by. He kindly put me up for the night. The food was loaded with chillies and [so] I ate very little. The next morning I was able to wade across.
At that time mails were carried by Zeederberg’s mule coach between the Bulawayo [Post Office] and the Lonely Mine. Inyati Mission collected the mail from the Post Office at the N.C.’s . . . Prior to this mails were carried by an African, Singondo, from Insiza past the mission to the N.C.’s. As he went past the Mission he blew his bugle and did this when approaching his destination. During World War I Singondo was recruited and
served as bat-man to an N. C. . . . They were posted to what was German East Africa where both were captured. When they returned after the war Singondo told me he was absolutely fed up with white people. He said that he had been promised land after the war and all he received was a military overcoat and a bugle. I believe anti-white feeling started growing from that point.
The day after I arrived at the Mission I heard that Zeederberg’s mule coach had
been washed away at the Turk Mine spruit. I think the driver must have stupidly tried to cross the current at right angles; because wading through I went with the current but gradually edged towards the opposite bank.
I became ill and Mr. Brown suspected appendicitis. The District Surgeon was not
available so the Lonely Mine Doctor was called and he confirmed this. I was taken to the Memorial Hospital in Bulawayo. I underwent an operation which was considered a major one in those days. I was kept in hospital for a month. What I found very uncomfortable was a binder with overlapping straps. This was in 1929. Meeting Miss Ella Clark, marriage and back to Inyati.
One day while I was still in hospital a Mrs. Williams whom I knew from Inyati paid
me a visit bringing a new found friend Miss Ella Clark with her. We were introduced, looked at each other and knew that we had found each other. On January 14th 1930 we were married in the Church of Christ in Bulawayo. Mr F. L. Hadfield, a New Zealander, estate agent and self supporting missionary officiated.
Ella and her sister Rhoda whose father died during World War I were brought up by Mr. John Sheriff, a New Zealander, stone-mason and self supporting missionary. He ran a mission and school at Forest Vale in Bulawayo. Several Coloured children attended the Forest Vale Mission School. There was no Coloured school at that time. When Mr. Sheriff was in Cape Town, Ella and Rhoda were taken over by an American missionary Mr. W. N. Short in what was then Northern Rhodesia.
From there the Sheriffs took them to Huyuyu Mission in Mashonaland. They returned to Bulawayo and that went into service. Rhoda looked after the children of a family in . . . Suburbs and Ella looked after the children of a Jewish Rabbi. When we were married Mr. Brown allotted us three rooms in the old mission house where the Reeses had lived. It was destroyed the Matabele rebellion and was rebuilt afterwards. Our house was out of bounds as far as the boys school was concerned.
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Move to Tsholotsho.
Mr. Brown resigned and was approached by the Director of Native Development and asked if he would take up the post of principal at the Tjolotjo Government School. He accepted this. He asked me if I would go with him to take charge of the academic side. I saw this as a stepping stone to an appointment in a Coloured School and I accepted. I left Inyati in June 1933 and worked . . . [at Tjolotjo] for four and a half years.
On June 16th 1936 we had another daughter, Joan; after a short time she had a virulent form of [gap in original]. No treatment was effective and her health degenerated gradually. We were in Bulawayo when she had diphtheria and on the evening of August 20th 1938 she passed away.
Move to McKeurtan School, Bulawayo.
On September 14th 1937 I took up my post as assistant teacher at what was then ‘Bulawayo Coloured School’ now McKeurtan School. At that time there were
prejudices among Coloured people themselves. The Cape Coloured tended to look down upon the Rhodesian Coloured who had a black parent on one side. My appointment here was not welcome to the Head Master and a number of other Cape Coloured folk. Not only did I have an African mother but to make matters worse I had been trained in what they termed a . . . [now unacceptable term for African] school. So as far as these people were concerned it was a foregone conclusion that I would prove a failure. The Head Master told me there had been a lot of correspondence and discussion over my
appointment and he didn’t know if I would cope with the high standard of the school.
I believe he must have in?uenced the Inspector of schools with whom I was supposed to have an interview. I went to his office and he was not in, so I stood around and waited. When he came he just glanced at me and walked into his office.
I took over a class from a teacher who was on transfer. I was given no clue as to the composition of this class but discovered later it was a composite class comprising of some pupils from standard IV and V who were lagging behind in the classes from which they were drawn. This was a new challenge for me in that these were young boys and girls. At Inyati Mission I had been dealing mostly with adolescents. This was the last term of the year. I was given no advice whatever and to set about assessing these pupils I had to do [it] myself. The previous teacher’s schemes and records of work looked quite impressive, but when I questioned the class to discover how much had gone [got?] across I was terribly disappointed.
Reference books that were listed in
the records of work were non-existent. I was told that for any misdemeanours I was to send the children to the office and [on] no account was I to punish them myself. When I sent some to the office they returned all smiles. I discovered later that all that happened was that I was discussed.
The Director of Education had thoroughly inspected my efforts at Inyati Mission and
felt that I deserved an opportunity to serve in a Coloured School. I had to prove myself but this was deliberately made difficult. Our H[ead] M[aster] did not know that I had had any contact with the Director of Education. At the end of the term I had an adverse report. My work was described as dull and lifeless. No advice as to how to improve my work was given. [At] the end of the first term [of] 1938 it was alleged that there was
still no improvement. From the second term [of] 1938 there was a new inspector of schools who saw through what was going on. He looked over my work and gave me valuable advice. During this term one of the lady teachers asked me if I could make her a little model cottage for the three bears. When this was completed the H[ead] M[aster] congratulated me. He began to realise that given a chance I had something to contribute.
At the end of the term I got a slightly encouraging report. At the end of the third term I had a letter of appointment to the regular staff. Soon after this one child did something silly and I punished him. The H[ead] M[aster] came rushing into my classroom and said, ‘Didn’t I order you to send children to my office when they did something wrong? ‘ I replied, ‘Yes Sir, but if I send children to your office for every petty offence, it is a sign on weakness in my part and I am not taking any more of this.’ From then on we respected each other.
The Education department organized a number of Vacation Courses for teachers.
These proved very useful not only as refresher courses but we were also made aware of new trends in education. There was a variety of Educational aids on display. We made some of these during the course. We also learnt new methods of presentation. At first courses for Coloured and Asian teachers were held separately from those for European teachers, but later we had combined courses. The latter were on a strictly no
fraternisation basis. The atmosphere was queer.
On December 5th 1939 our third daughter, Adele was born. In 1941 under a new
Headmaster I was called upon to take a class of educationally retarded pupils. They were drawn from all the classes in the school and the result was that I had an imposing group of 46. All the teachers were evidently keen to get rid of their laggards. I had not had any special training for this type of class but I did have patience. I first set out to make individual assessments of the three R’s and kept records. I regarded the pupil as my best text book on psychology. I recorded the history of each child as this would in certain cases pin-point the cause of the child’s retardation. They were at a disadvantage in a normal class in that they could not keep up with the other
children. Now they would work individually and later some would merge into groups
working at the same level.
The daughter of a New Zealand missionary gave me a folder
in which she had filed copies of the New Zealand Teachers’ Journal. These were very useful as a good deal of research into the disabilities of children had been carried out in that country. It also contained useful diagnostic tests and remedial exercises. When the inspector came he asked me for my schemes of work. I told him I had none. He asked why and I told him I was still busy finding out what there was to build upon, and showed him my records of individual assessments. He was pleased.
The results of the tests indicated that (a) several children had serious gaps in their
knowledge, (b) had no idea of basics, (c) could not grasp anything presented to them in an abstract form, (d) some were very slow, (e) started school late in life and because of their age could not be placed in K[inder]G[arten] classes, and (f) two or three were apparently ineducable.
I had to make and collect my own aids: measuring bars—a variety of containers for teaching capacity—clock faces; I made a scale and obtained weights from an Indian friend. I drew up sets of individual work cards. This took a lot of time but it paid off. I made a cage for Nature Study. We reared caterpillars in this and observed the changes taking place. We also kept praying mantises and observed how they had laid and covered
their eggs, and how they caught their prey. It was a case of having a tray of green grass to feed the grasshoppers and grasshoppers to feed the mantises.
I collected magazines and cut out suitable pictures. These were used for oral or
written English. The children also made up their own scrap books. As teachers when
writing out school reports very often we don’t realise that we condemn ourselves. A teacher writes ‘James—no imagination.’ Ask if anything has been done to stimulate that child’s imagination and you draw a blank. The more advanced pupils also had individual study reading cards based on a
Geography or other text book. After a term 12 out of the 46 were back in their normal classes. I did this work for 34 years and acted as Headmaster on three occasions. Cooped up in an office I felt like a caged bear.
On March 20th 1948 our third daughter, Annette was born. In 1960 I retired and was away from teaching for six months after which I was offered a temporary
appointment to start a special class at Founders High School. I spent two terms there, felt out of place and resigned. I was posted back to McKeurtan School and employed a term at a time until 1974 when I felt that after 52 years of teaching, I had had enough and so retired finally.
‘Teach much, learn much.’ How true this is. After 52 years I still cannot claim to have all the answers, and in all that period I have never had all the facilities and equipment I should have had.
The End.
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