This is story #25 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.
27. Cleaning Was Acceptable, but Decorating Was a Different Story!
Fish and chips for dinner on Friday was our usual routine though not for religious reasons. It was an out and out bribe, or perhaps I should say a reward for all five of us in our family. It was a break from daily meal preparation for my mother and a perfect way for our parents to reward us children for the numerous household tasks that needed to be completed at the end of each week. We did not employ African servants as did just about all Whites.
In 1961 we were living in a three-bedroomed flat on the second floor in a small two-storey block in the centre of Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia. The flat was more spacious than our previous place. This new location had a large balcony, two bedrooms (my brothers had to share, though sometimes John slept on the balcony), a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a separate toilet. My parents had their own bedroom, no longer being required to unfold every night a sofa-bed in the living room and putting it away again the next morning. It was probably cheaper to rent this place since it was not in such a pleasant area of town. I could still walk to school from there and my mother could walk to work. John, however, had to bike to school. I am not sure of how Peter went back and forth to his school. Perhaps my father drove him there in the morning before he went to work and collected him again at 1pm or so when school finished. Perhaps Peter had a ride with the parents of a friend who lived close by. There were certainly no school buses.
