Little wasp and BIG snake

A couple of stories of interest. Tim was always extremely observant, and I loved this about him. One day he came into the house, very excited, "Mom!" he said, "Come quickly and see this thing, it is amazing!" I followed him out into the yard and he pointed, "Look, Mom, isn't that interesting?" I looked down and saw a very small wasp dragging a huge hairy spider, on its back with its feet in the air. It was slow going for the wasp, but she persevered until she at last come to a hole in the ground. It laboriously dragged it right down into the hole. I found out later that this was part of the life cycle of these wasps. They sting the spider enough to put it into suspended animation, then they lay their eggs in the spiders body. When the eggs hatch into little grubs they feed on the spider's flesh until they become pupas, and then they emerge as new wasps — isn't nature amazing. What a great God we serve!

On another occasion I opened the front door (Debbie was the only child at  home) and there, on the front step was a very young cobra. "Debbie, run and call Oupa, quickly and tell him we have a snake on the front step. Go out the kitchen door." Deb tore next door and my Dad came with his .22 Rifle. When he saw the snake he said, with amusement, "Is this the BIG snake?" He turned the rifle butt down and squashed the poor thing to death. However, you need to remember that even newborn cobras are extremely venomous, so it did need to be killed. Deb was still just a little kid, so her description can be excused.

On another occasion I saw, out of the living room window, a fairly large cobra crossing the yard onto the lawn. As I watched it suddenly disappeared in the grass, and I was never able to find the hole down which it must have gone. I never saw it again.

More General News

     Paul was our family clown. He was the one to come up with funny things—both verbal and active. When he used the potty he would yell, "Mommy, come and wipe my bottom." As he got older I decided he needed to learn to do it himself, so the next time he called I said, "Paul, you're a big boy now, you must learn to wipe yourself!" He loved to sing, and would put many things to music, so next time he needed wiping he sang out, at  top of his voice, "Dare to be a Daniel, Dare to wipe yourself," and I couldn't help bursting into laughter. On another occasion, just after we had bought our very first TV (black and white) we were getting ready to eat and Dad switched off the TV, Paul protested, "Ah! Mebo (Melville) don't!" Mel had to explain to him that thanking God for our food was much more important than watching TV. I don't think Paul thought so, but he had to accept the fact.
     Ma and Oupa seemed to have a very special feeling for Paul, and they bought him his first tricycle. Paul loved it and amazed us at the speed he could he could get out of it. He would tear down the paaage and around the corner without ever scratching the wall. Oupa used to like to take long walks every day. One day Paul went missing. I looked everywhere for him. In cupboatds, under beds, out in the yard, I even went up to the well to see if he had somehow squeezed through the planks on top and fallen in, but, no Paul. I was getting desperate. He had never, ever tried to go out into the road so I didn't think to look there. Eventually I went out there and saw, way up at the end of the road, a black man escorting him home. When I remonstrated with him for going into the road he simply answered, "Well, I saw Oupa walking past and was trying catch up with him, 'cause I wanted to go with him." Well, what could I say? I told him never to do that again. Naturally Oupa did not know Paul was trying to go with him, or he would have either sent him home or waited for him. I truly got an awful fright when I could not find him! Paul was a very charming little boy—but also the naughtiest of our kids, though he was very disarming.

General Information

     I have told you about how Paul was called "rather fierce." Well, as soon as we got his formula right he was fine and was a delight, just like our other babies. Due to Ma's urging I did not breast feed you kids—something I regret today, but you did not seem to suffer too much for it. But, what I did do was hold you in my arms as you were feeding, so you all got plenty of cuddling. Ma was very wise in most things and I tended to trust her common sense. But I think she liked to do things in the easiest way—and she thought that bottle-feeding was trouble—but why she thought that baffles me.  Preparing formula surely takes much more time? Regardless, I listened to her. In other ways her instruction was wonderful. Ma was, as you know, a Rhodes Scholar, and subsequently she kept herself well-informed on many subjects. One thing she learned when my brother Carl was born and was so sick  that he was in mortal danger. She had learned about a New Zealander, Doctor Truby King, who specialized in deadly infant illnesses, and who found that children who are very allergic to the curd in milk, can be kept alive on liquid whey. He showed how whey can be produced by using rennet tablets which separate the whey from the curd, which is subsequently strained through very fine fabric, example handkerchief material, so that the curd was completely separated and disposed of. The babies were then fed the whey, and survived. This was how she kept my younger brother, Carl, alive—and he is still alive for me to tell the tale. Well, in Rhodesia,  green diarrhea was common in babies. When it first happened to one of you kids (I don't remember which one) I ran to my mother, next door. Fortunately I often made junket for the  family as a dessert, so I had rennet in the house. After being fed whey for a couple of meals their tummies would come right. It was a real life-saver and made it unnecessary  to take them to the doctor.
    More next time, probably tomorrow.

Paul

      Let's go back, briefly, to Gwelo. A few months before the tooth incident I got broody again, but nothing was happening. I consulted with my local doctor and he said, "Since you had your fallopian tubes shortened you may never fall pregnant again," so  took a philosophical note of that and quit worrying about it. Well, just a few months after the tooth incident I suddenly found I was expecting again. I was "over the moon," When I told the doctor what he had said, he just smiled and said, "Famous last words." And he confirmed that I was indeed going to have another baby. This was just about nine months before we completed our second year at Gwelo. As the time got closer I told Mel I wanted to have our baby in the Lady Rodwell Maternity Hospital, in Bulawayo, where our other two were born.
   This hospital was a separate building from the General Hospital, and the entire staff there were registered midwives. It is, or was, a wonderful place to have a baby.  As the time got closer I told Mel about my unhappiness at Gwelo, and that I didn't want to return after our baby was born. Fortunately for me, he was also feeling he had had enough of living in a dirty old house on a shoe-string. So we decided that he would finish out the year and we would move back to our own home.
     We had been back to Bulawayo to see my doctor there and confirm that he would do the honours when the time came. Mel took me back a couple of weeks before the end of his two years, and I stayed with Ma and Oupa. Before coming down to join me he told Foy we would not be back. The day before Mel was to return he woke with a red rash and went to the doctor in Gwelo, who told him he had German Measles. I called Dr. McNair, my gyny, and he said it didn't matter because my pregnancy was so far along. Since he did not feel ill Mel came on home.  Paul made his appearance right on time. weighing in at 8lbs 2oz., and yelling his head off.  This behaviour continued for some time and Doc. said, "You have a very nice baby, but he's a bit fierce!" We found that his formula was too weak so when I got home I stregthened it—end of problem!
     Another little amusing incident happened while still in Gwelo. We had planned a trip to town and told the kids to get ready, warning them, very firmly, "If you are not ready in time we shall go without you." Well, you've guessed it—they were not ready. So Mel and I got in the car and took off. I looked back to see two very forlorn little kids standing in the gateway, staring at the disappearing car. My heart softened, and Mel turned up the next street, circled the block and we picked them up, gently scolding them and telling them to be more careful next time.

Our Gwelo Experience

    I shall not spend much time on this period of our lives as it was not a very happy time for me. However, in order to keep things in sequence there are some things to point out. Foy Short, a good friend of ours, had recently returned from an extended period in the States and had been thoroughly indoctrinated by his brother-in-law to accept wholeheartedly the ultra-conservative teaching of that branch of the Lord's church. He managed to convince most of our members as well, so Queens Park Church became an "anti" congregation. Foy was very impressed with Mel's intelligence and persuaded him and Paddy Kendall-Ball to move to Gwelo for three years to study further. They moved us into an old house which had a large living room, which was to become our church hall. We and Paddy were to live in the rest of the house This actually happened just prior to Tim's entry into school, so he started there. We had let our house to a young couple while we were away.
    After we had been there a while I developed toothache and went to see a dentitst. He determined that I had an impacted wisdom tooth which would make an appearance, then go into hiding again—taking little bits of food with it which, naturally, rotted there. He said it needed to be extracted under a general anaesthetic which could only be done in Bulawayo. When he tried to arrange it he was informed that the dentist who could do it was very ill, and in fact, out of the country. I was in despair and said, "Please do it yourself under local injection!" He conferred with his partner and they agreed but, they said, "This will be extremely gruelling. You must expect that." I gave my consent, they cancelled all their appointments for the next day, and I arrived at the surgery at 11a.m.  They did deaden my jaw completely but the operation took four hours!!! When it was all over they asked,  "How do you feel?"  "I feel like crying." Then they said, "We do not know of a single man who would have been able to take such punishment!" Well, the tooth was gone but later that night as I got out of bed to go to the bathroom I found myself crawling around on the floor—but, when you got to go, you got to go, so I crawled to the bathroom. The next morning my jaw looked as if I had been in a major boxing match and when Foy came in he said, shocked, "What happened to you?"
     Another little thing happened when I was getting food ready one afternoon in the kitchen of the Gwelo house. Tim loved to watch me and was sitting on a chair beside the table. An egg fell out of my hand on to the floor and I said, "Oh! That makes me furious!" to which Tim said, "Yes, and very cross, too." And I burst out laughing. This little saying earned me some cash from Women's Weekly, a British women's magazine which published the story.

Timothy

      Timothy was a very special child, whom no-one really knew how to cope with. He was not a naughty child, but he was very definitely different. We realized very early in his life that he had exceptional intelligence, but we did not know how to cope with it. ADD was an unknown and uninvestigated problem in those days. Yet, from the beginning, when I recognized he was different I felt a very special bond with him. I knew he did not understand why he seemed to think differently from other kids, but he was never rebellious about it as a preschooler. More about that later. While our house was being built we still lived next door to Ma and Oupa (My parents). He was very normal in his motor skills and loved to climb anything he could. While he was in the very early stages of  walking, which he mastered at 11 months, he loved to climb onto the double bed, but he wasn't able to master the getting-off part, so he would just tumble off, face first. Eventually he had an almost permanent bump on his forehead—but that didn't seem to worry him at all! Of course, we gradually taught him there was a better way to alight from a bed.
      When he was old enough to start school we enrolled him at Newansford Primary School in Queens Park, a subdivision near to us. When Deb was there she had a teacher called Miss Hands. Let me describe her because she is important in this part of the story. She was a very large, dominant, middle-aged woman who had dyed her white hair blue (that was fashionable in those days). Deb liked her but that was because Deb was a very normal obedient student  Sadly she became Tim's teacher. She took an instant dislike to him because he seemed to be taking no heed to what she was saying. Her school reports about him were vitriolic (I use the word wisely); so, like a good mother I went to see her. She refused to even acknowledge that she had a problem with him, and said, every time, "No, there's nothing to worry about."And the verbal abuse to him continued on its merry way. To my mind she had no right being a teacher. But prior to her taking over his teaching his very first teacher was a younger woman, who loved him to bits. I think she saw the potential in him. Sadly, he was landed with Miss Hands.
After he moved on to another school Miss Hands left that school to become the Headmistress of a small school in Raylton—a suburb near the Railway Station, from which school our dear friend Naomi Connelly had just retired. So much for the negative stuff. We did go so far as to seek advice from Psychiatrist who carefully interviewed Tim and assured us that we had a child of exceptional intelligence, but that he had a problem which was still being investigated—he was by no means the only child with his kind of brain.
     Let me return to both children for a while. They both had to ride their bikes to school. Naomi had liked our little house so much she asked permission to have one built exactly like it. She had a plot of ground which was on the way to the kids' school. We gave her the name of the man who had built our house and the plans for it. When she moved in to it the kids would often stop by on the way home to get a drink of water. She loved it. Her brother had a farm out in the Matopo Hills, and being a very staunch Baptist he provided a camp site on his farm with simple buildings for use by church camps, and the Queens Park Congregation used it for many years. That has nothing to do with the story, but is worth mentioning.
     Now, back to Tim. Tim was very interested in what was going on around him in the veld. One day he was very late coming home from school, and being a very normal Mom, I became pretty anxious. When he arrived and I lit into him with remonstrances he looked at me and said, "But, Mom, I was watching a whole line of ants carrying bits of grass and twigs and things in a line across the road. Mom, you should have seen them, they were amazing!" Whoops! away went my anger as I looked at this observant son of mine. Things like that seemed more important to him than being home on time.

Back to Buawayo

      We had moved back to Bulawayo, but Mel had to look for work, so we moved in with my parents since they had a big double-storeyed house. Mel tried several jobs for a while -- Robel Studios, insurance selling, Addecotts (a phographic shop), but eventually, at the suggestion of Addecotts he took over the management of Associated Photographic Services, where he worked for several years. But, prior to this my parents had set a proposition before us.  Their house, "Jubel", was situated on one side of a two-and-a-half acre plot and the land beside the house was lying fallow.  They asked if we would like to build a house on that space, with the proviso that if ever one of them was left alone we would accept that patent into our home. To this we agreed, and since Mel now had a steady job with APS, the land itself was enough for the Central Africa Building Society to grant us a mortgage. My Grandpa Hadfield was a realtor and his son, my uncle, Roley worked for him. Roley planned us a very cute little two-bedroomed house which would have to suffice until we were in a better position to extend it.
     When Tim was four I realized I would have to try to swell the coffers. I decided to apply to the education department, since I had a degree (even though it was a much despised American Degree -- the British education department did not accept American Degrees), however they hired me immediately and sent me out to be interviewed by Northlea High School as a temporary teacher . I got the job as a temporary teacher, which proved not to be temorary, I could have worked there indefinitilt]y, Tim, meanwhile would go next door to "Ma", my mother, who fed him so much he became overweight. More about Tim next time.

This, That, and then TIM!

     In the back yard of our house on Namwianga Mission there was a storage barn. In it, among other things, were the mealie meal, molasses, and meat supplies for the girl's dormitory. Each day some girls from the dorm would come to the house so Mel could mete out their daily rations. These were prepared by the girls, who cooked them African-Style. I think they got their vegetables either from the veld or from another missionary. From the vegetables they made a sort of thick soup in which they could dip their meat and mealie-meal porridge. (Mealies was the African word for corn meal). As a child I would quite often go to our servants hut and share a meal with them -- it really was delicious!
     When Deb was about a year old I asked Mel if he didn't think it was time for us to make a little companion for her. He agreed and pretty soon I found I was pregnant again. It was during this time that Deb decided it was rather great fun to run away from me She would look at me, then tear out the kitchen door, through the gate, and down the side of the house, then back into the house. She loved it and I loved it too. But as our baby grew bigger and bigger in my tummy I soon found it very hard to keep up with her. One day I decided to trick her. As she started out the back door I pretended I was after her, but  turned and went out the front door and met her at the side of the house. When she saw me, she stopped and put her little hands on her knees and started to giggle and giggle. It was t-o-o-o cute. We both enjoyed the joke.
    My next-door neighbour, Edna Bell fell pregnant shortly after I did, so we would travel together each month for our monthly checkups with Dr. DeKok. Ths continued until about my 7th month. Then I told Mel I wanted to have our baby in Bulawayo, where I would be near my folks. Ma (my Mom) had found a doctor she liked, Dr. McNair, who happened to be not only a general practitioner but also a certified Gynny. She arranged for him to register me as a patient, and he delivered all three of our boys.
     When we arrived home I told Mel I did not want to go back to the mission. Our awful scare with Deb made me very wary of being so far from medical care with two small children. He agreed with me and we called Bro. Short and explained our decision. He was very understanding, so after Tim was born we went back to pack up the few possessions we still had there.  We have never regretted our decision.
     When I went into false labour, not once but a couple of times, Dr. McNair suggested that since my expected time was less than two weeks away, that he put me into the hospital and induce labour. This time it was for real, and Tim was born on the November 28th.

Our Worship Arrangements

     At the mission we always met in the Mission Church building each Sunday morning. All the students were required to attend. The singing, as in all African singing was magnificent, and the gospel was preached  to the whole  body. In the evenings the white missionaries and the students in the little white school all met at the Shewmaker's home. The Shewmakers an a little boarding school for white kids from the sorrounding farms. The kids actually lived with them, in their home. When we had the evening sservice the adults sat on the chairs while the children sat in a semicircle facing the preacher. There was one little boy there whom I specially recall. H is parents made several sea voyages (apparently on business) and left the kids, the boy and his bigger sister, at the school. The little boy had the face of a little angel, and seemed to become especially attached to Debbie, so he would always sit on the floor beside her. But after a short while she would start to cry, So I began to be very watchful. He would have his arm around behind her and after a while he would sharply pinch her little arm.  Oc course I put a very quick stop to that!!
     As soon as the service was over Deb would toddle over to the piano, which was left open all the time.
She found that if she reached up she could hit the keys --plonk, plonk, plonk. I tried to stop her but several of the grown-ups protested, "Don't stop her -- she's so cute!" So we had a totally discordant concert.

Mel's Vegetable Garden.

       Behind our little house we had a small fenced-in yard. At  the back Mel made a small vegetable garden, and further back we had a little fowl run so we were supplied with fresh eggs, plus an occasional Chicken supper. Our neighbors also had a fowl-run and a very Cocky (excuse the pun) little bantam rooster. He would sometimes fly into our fowl-run for some courting fun, and he would try to stop us from getting in spoil his fun. Getting back to the garden, Mel planted cabbages, carrots, beets, and cauliflower. When they became mature enough to eat we had tasty fresh vegetables for our meals. The plants for which he seemed to have a particular fondness were his sturdy little cabbages. One day I decided that we would have cabbage for supper, and with a sharp knife, I cut the head off the first one in line. When he came home he said, in a shocked voice, "You took one of my cabbages," to which I replied, "I thought that was what you planted them for!" "Yes, but I didn't expect you to BEHEAD it and leave the stump of the neck sticking up out of the ground.  It looks so forlorn out there in the garden." After that I would pull them up by the roots and behead them more humanely after they were already dead. That didn't seem to worry him. We can laugh about it now, and the compost heap was enriched.