Our Years at SABS

It has been some time since my last post, so here goes for the "SABS experience," which will likely take up several new posts. While we were still going to the Hillside Church of Christ Al Horne came to hold a gospel meeting there. We were planning a vacation to Durban and the Hornes invited us to call by their home in Benoni on our way back to spend a few days with them before returning to Bulawayo. This we did and while we were visiting them Al asked Mel to consider coming to SABS as a student. We decided that we would like to do that and as soon as we returned we started to make plans to do so. Deb had already left to attend college in the States. War with the black Africans was on the go and Tim was of the age that he was called up for compulsory army service. Mel tried his best to get him exempt so he could also attend, but the Rhodesian authorities were adamant and we had to leave without him. It almost broke my heart, but we went ahead and arrived in Benoni and were invited to live in the Hardin's house as they were on a visit to USA. This was just to be until one of the houses on the SABS property was vacant.

When we moved to the SABS property we moved into the smaller of the two available houses. The other house was used to house the six teenaged boys who were placed in the care of another couple.

About two weeks later, after classes were over, I looked out the kitchen window and was startled to see the faculty wives stopping in our yard.  This indicated a serious problem and I was, to put it  mildly, alarmed. When they were all seated I set about getting tea ready for them, and while they were drinking it they told us why they were there. They were worried because the boys were very unhappy with the care they were receiving from the family who were put in charge of them. It had reached the pitch that the faculty felt it necessary to make a change and asked if we would consider taking on the job. We agreed and subsequently we moved , lock, stock and barrel, into the large house.

When I first walked into the house I saw the stove  I thought, "Oh, good, a black enameled stove!" But, on closer inspection I saw, to my horror, that it was a white stove which had not been cleaned in ages!! So, job number one – get that stove back to its original beauty, which literally took hours of hard labor – but, at last we had a nice clean white stove!  Now, I had  a house full of hungry mouths to feed. Thus started my period of being a surrogate Mom to these boys, and  our own two sons. Unfortunately, they seemed to think I was going to be doing ALL their washing and ironing – an impossible task for one woman, so we had a little talk and the boys all agreed to see to their own ironing.

While we lived there we acquired a kitten from one of the married couples. It decided that the place to do its business was behind the radio, and I found a perfect cure for that.  She was bothered with fleas and I often had to apply flea powder, which she HATED, and she protested bitterly – so I stood the container in the the cat's chosen corner – end of problem.

Steve's painful bike experience and Elias's knowing what to do.

 While we were living in Fairspire Court our boys, Paul and Steve, befriended another young fellow, about Paul's age. This boy offered to give a bike ride to Steve. On the back of our bikes there was often a carrier on which one could fasten his school satchel or case. It made quite a nice carrier for a passenger too. Well, suddenly we heard a real horrified scream from Steve. I and Elias ran to the window and we saw Steve sitting in the pavement with a lot of blood streaming from his foot. Without a second's hesitation Elias said, "Call the Master (Mel), " as he tore downstairs and picked Steve up holding the deep cut on Steve's foot closed. He rushed upstairs and went directly to the bathroom where he filled  the handbasin  with water, all the time holding the wound closed. Mel rushed home and we tore up to the hospital where they cleansed his foot and sewed it up with several stitches (I think it was seven) and the doctor said that it had missed the tendon by a hair's breadth, which would have meant the loss to movement to his foot. What had happened was that Steve's foot was caught in the spokes of the boy's bike.  When we left Bulawayo to go to Southern Africa Bible School we had to tell Elias that we couldn't take him with us, but I gave him a wonderful reference and he, very soon, was hired to a responsible job with the Municipality. I tell you all this to illustrate what a treasure we found when we hired Elias. When we got home from the hospital Elias was still there, even though it was long passed his knock-off time!! What a Gentleman!!

More about Our Hillside Membership

  When we moved our membership to the Hillside Church of Christ we first moved into a small condo but after a couple of months we moved next door into a very nice apartment in Fairspire  Court. Deb had been getting ready to fly to the USA in order to attend Harding University in Searcy Arkansas. Her interest was aroused by Bro. Shewmaker who was an alumnus, and highly regarded the institution.  The time came for her to leave we all drove out to the Bulawayo Airport. When the call came for the passengers to board we watched her leave the terminal to get on the plane. We were all standing on the verandah upstairs watching them. She did not turn around once — I think she was trying not to cry, just as we were. We waited there until the plane took off with our beloved daughter going away with very little chance of seeing her again for several years — actually it was about 11 years!! But more about that a little later.

 We had a very real black gentleman working for us, cooking our meals and keeping our home clean. This was because I was spending so much time teaching. He was a youngish married man and was really more suited, mentally, to be holding a white man's job, but, sadly the colour bar was still in place at this time. His name was Elias. We tried to convert him but he was a very staunch member in the Dutch Reformed Church. I asked our black preacher to speak to him, but he was unsuccessful also. Anyway Elias loved  our children, and they loved him. While our kids were small I made all their clothes and I had an old Jones Treadle Machine. When I bought myself an electric machine I asked Elias if he would like my old and he was beside himself with joy, so I started giving him pieces of material and he proudly showed me the dresses he made for his little girl. You would have thought he had had sewing lessons, but, no, he worked it out for himself. One day Norman Flynn, a friend who worked for a clothing factory, gave me a fair-sized piece of suiting fabric which I gave to Elias. A few days later he came to work and said, "Madam, do you remember this material you gave me?" He had taken a pair of his worn-out pants apart and used the pieces as a pattern and made himself a perfect pair of trousers, even with the fly made correctly, and he was proudly wearing them to work. I was astonished. More later.

"Intelligent Chatter" and Eye Glasses

When Steve was two years old he was not yet speaking, but only, very intelligently, baby chattering. This highly amused Reg Kidwell, our very good friend, who would hold him up in his arms and Steve would start pointing at things, especially on the ceiling, and would chatter endlessly. Well, a short time later I noticed that Steve seemed to be squinting and I took him to the doctor who confidently stated, "No, I don't think so, his flat baby nose makes it appear so." Not long after that Steve was sickening for something and was running a raised temperature and I noticed that his left eye was moving significantly slower than his right eye — so back to the doctor we went. This time the doc agreed with me and sent us immediately to the eye specialist who had rooms in the same medical block.

He told us that there was a worrying difference and set up some exercises for his eyes, and after treating him for several weeks he prescribed glasses for the little guy. We took the scrip to the same person who always made our glasses. When the glasses were ready we took Steve to have them fitted. The practitioner sat him on the counter and put the glasses on him. Steve sat there, as good as gold, but his little eyes filled with tears, and very soon there were little pools lying in the bottom of the specs.  I took the glasses off and cleaned them and put them back on, talking soothingly to him as I did so. And this time he accepted them. Only once did he pull them off in a temper — I don't know why, but from then on he never tried to see without them. A whole new world had opened up to him — and almost immediately he began to speak fluently (for a two year old). Prior to our discovery of his eye problem he would bring picture books to his Daddy to show him all the interesting things in them. We found out later that young children who are extremely interested in picture books often have an eye problem.

I also remember a time when Paul had a birthday party out in the back yard, and we sat Steve in his high-chair. We put his goodies in his plate and he had the time of his life mixing them all together into one sticky mess, which he proceeded to eat with great enjoyment — much to the amusement of Paul's young guests.

The House-selling saga

Our house had been on the market for several weeks. Many came to look, but there were no takers except for one man who decided that our unused acre at the rear of the house would be very useful for a vegetable garden. Sadly, his wife did not want to live there. But, he came again and told us how much he wanted it, but that his wife was the stumbling block. Well, after the call from my friend, and after I had wept out my heart to the Lord, I suddenly thought of old Brother Will Short, a missionary working with the Hillside Church of Christ, in the community at the  other end of town, and I felt impelled to talk to him for advice. Well, after pouring my heart out to this wonderful and understanding old friend he said, "Lois, Mother (that is what he called his wife) and I have seen the struggle you have been going through, but we didn't want to interfere without being asked. Let me make a suggestion, why don't you leave Queens Park for a while and come and worship with us. When you look at them from a distance you may get things into better perspective and then you can make a final decision."

I thanked him for his patience with me, then called Mel. I gave him the whole story and after thinking for a moment he said. "That is what we are going to do." Now, hold it, the next part took my breath away, about three hours after that call to Mel , my uncle, who was our estate agent, called me to tell me the house was sold — to the man who wanted the vegetable garden. The Lord surely does move in mysterious ways. We never regretted our decision.

Our Surprise Package

When I was in my late 38th year I was fairly certain my childbearing days were over, and so when I began to suspect I was pregnant again I said to Mel, "Honey, I think we are going to have an addition to the family!"  He in his wonderful ability for understatement calmly said, "Oh dear, what are we going to call it?"  I was delighted with the idea and after a couple of weeks it was time to have it confirmed by the doctor. Dr. Mc Nair's reaction, sadly, was the opposite of Mel's. "What?" he said aghast, "that is not a good idea at your age!" (I was at the age when babies with Down's Syndrome may be born). I was aware  of the danger but I really was not afraid and I retorted, very strongly, "Well, I am going to have this baby and there is NOTHING you can do about it!" He did not protest but said, "Well I am going to make very sure you have no more. I will deliver  him by C-section." I agreed and since my due date was a few days after Deb's 13th birthday we would schedule his birth for the 24th of January, Deb's birthday. And that is what happened. All this occurred a short time after Ma had moved in with us and it took place three years before our fostering experience.

Our fostering experience

I mentioned, recently, the children next door on the south of our property. Without going into details, which are not pleasant, I will say this: we fostered the two children for seven months, meanwhile their mother had remarried and now had a stable marriage. Things came to a head with the children and we knew we needed to give our entire attention to our own children when Deb, who was now working said, "Mom, I know the kids need you so let me move to the YWCA." This was after the little girl had found Deb's five years of artwork and defaced every one of her pieces. This was just the culminating event, I had just the night before been told by Mel that we would take them back to the Welfare people the very next day because he saw the devastating effect she was having on me. Fortunately when we took them back they told us that we were going to lose them soon because their mother wanted them back. However, my feelings of guilt about what we had to do kept bugging me for weeks after. As a result I eventually called Sister Shewmaker, a missionary who was working with her husband in the Hillside Church of Christ. I poured out my heart to her, and when I had finished she said, very sweetly, "Lois, you did the right thing. Remember this, God gave you your children; you voluntarily took on the responsibility of those other children of your own free will."  Thank you Sister Shewmaker!!

It was while we had the children that my mother decided, strictly on her own, to use the settlement of Dad's will to move into one of the old-age communities, Coronation Cottages, and live independently. This freed up her flatlet for our use.