This is story #46 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.
46. Learning to Drive in Southern Africa
I was 23 or so when I took my first driving test. My parents, my brother Peter, and I were living in a suburb on the outskirts of Salisbury, Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), though I was not at home for most of the year since I was living and teaching in Marandellas, miles away.
I was annoyed with myself for not having taken my driving test earlier than this. After all, most youngsters couldn’t wait till they were 16 and could drive. My brother John, two years younger than me, had passed his test years ago. He was now living in England, where he must have had to pass another driving test, but I didn’t think about that.
However, I remember very clearly the day of John’s Rhodesian driving test. It was mid-week, and my brother at just 16, was desperate to get his license before Saturday, so that he could take his new girlfriend to a school dance. He did not want his parents driving them there, and then, worse still, collecting them at the end of the evening. He wanted to take his girlfriend home again, of course. After all, he could hardly kiss her goodnight with my father sitting in the driver’s seat, watching John’s every move.
The story of John’s driving test became part of family lore.
