21. Not Forever, After All

This is story #21 in the series “Where Exactly is Home?”. The author recommends you read them in order.

Introduction:

“Where Exactly is Home?” follows the story of my parents, my two younger brothers and me, Susan, who emigrated from war-battered Britain, in the mid-late 1950’s, to Southern Rhodesia, Africa.

The effects of this move on our family were huge, as we struggled to adapt to such a different way of life. Only after further upheaval, and more long-distance travelling, did our family eventually settle in the city of Salisbury, Rhodesia.

However, we did not know then that we would not remain there for the rest of our lives, either.

When the family first went to Africa, I, Susan, was 9 years old. My two brothers, John and Peter, were almost 7 and 4, respectively.

Nowadays, as seniors, John and Peter live in England. I live in Canada. Throughout our lives, we have both benefitted from, and suffered because of, our somewhat unusual childhood.

I, for one, still sometimes ask myself which country represents home to me.

This is a series of stories under the title “Where Exactly is Home?” – I recommend you read them in order, starting with story #1.

21. Not Forever, After All

“Where were we going to live, now that we are back in England again?”, I wondered. I had no idea at all, but I didn’t really worry about it, either. It wasn’t up to my brothers and I to ask such questions of our parents. We knew that they would sort it all out and inform us of their decision on a need-to-know basis.

I soon discovered that we would be staying with friends of my mother’s younger brother, though I didn’t understand why, especially since their house was small and they had no children of their own. Many decades later my mother told me why. Apparently, these people were indebted to my parents who had lent them money, some of the proceeds from the sale of our place, to buy a house. Taking us in was their way of repaying the debt. We must have lived rent-free. We children didn’t know that we would be living here for only a couple of months, though. When the debt was paid, our family would move elsewhere. I daresay my parents realized that it was not going to be easy finding affordable rented accommodation for five of us in those post-war years in London.

So, I vividly recall our family of five living in the upper rooms of this small, terraced house in London. The couple who owned the house rented out some of their rooms to help make ends meet. Very sadly, the wife, tall and slim, with dark hair in a bun at the back of her head, had just been diagnosed with severe rheumatoid arthritis. I had never heard of such an illness. She was in her early thirties but was unable to work since she could hardly move at times. I was shocked to see how badly her fingers were swollen and gnarled, as were her feet. However, she claimed that becoming a vegetarian had reduced some of her pain and swelling, although not enough to allow her to live a normal life.