I had a strange Primary School experience. My father was
transferred around the country to gain more experience and with each promotion
came a transfer. He worked for OK Bazaars so you could name almost any place
and there was likely a branch there. I attended 5 Primary Schools. There was not
much time for friendships to develop before we were off to a new place. When we
settled in Durban, my parents felt that they had reached home and when the next
transfer came my father told them that it was unsettling for me to have to
start at a new school so often. They were adamant so he left and got another
job. And that is how we ended up in Durban.
My studies were very disjointed as there didn’t seem to be
any communication between the different provinces or even towns so I left one
place to pick up in an entirely different place in all my school subjects AND I
was always the new girl.
A few subjects enthralled me in Primary School. Arithmetic
(It was called that then), English (I was an only child, always the new girl so
reading compensated - however I loved reading) and History.
At one school we learnt South African “stories” Rachel de
Beer comes to mind. She died saving her brother’s life in a snow storm. I always
felt very sorry for her.
We learnt about ancient civilisations and I was fascinated
by Ancient Egypt, Ancient Rome and Ancient Greece. My father fed the fuel of my
imagination by buying me books of the stories of the gods and goddesses of
these places. We also learnt about the Ancient East – all these eras still fill
me with fascination.
AND THEN CAME HIGH SCHOOL...
First of all I was a pacifist (yes even in those days) so
the syllabus distressed me no end. First came WW1 then came WW2 and all the other modernish wars. Together
with this came my father’s fascination with WW2 and we had to see all movies
that revolved around it. To this day I shudder and run in the opposite
direction if a movie is about the war. The best I can do is Basil Faulty’s
episode on the war – that was hilarious – i can still picture his Hitler walk.
(the goosestep while holding his fore finger under his nose)
And now we can’t switch on a TV without being regaled with
the struggle.
I understand that we can learn from history but only if we
don’t carry on emulating and repeating mistakes. Unfortunately at the moment we
seem to be determined to make sure the wounds do not heal. We are determined to
pull the scab off the sore before it is ready to fall off. And by so doing we
make the original sore just a little bigger, a bit more inflamed and a bit
further from healing.
The mistakes are being perpetuated. No-one is prepared to
say “STOP! A new era is born.”
The flower children had at many right ideas. I will
paraphrase one slightly differently:
“Feel love, reject war”
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| Give a hand to Flower Power |
© Vera Alexander
31st July 2016
