LUKY:
WHEN A NEARBY TOWNSHIP CAME INTO BEING MANY YEARS AGO, I became very much interested in its growth and development.
A friend, Medical Mission Sister Francisca, did a great job with the children of the the township, and she sometimes invited us along. I helped her to find a secondhand caravan, the children's first clubhouse, and introduced her to Guide leaders.
Sister Francisca started her own Girl Guides in the township and some of her girls got the highest awards.
Picture taker
One Sunday Sister Francisca took my husband along to photograph the first holy Communion of her children. He had his own photograph developing room at the time.
Travelling along the muddy road, he was surprised to her Sister Francisca say: "Excuse me, please, I have to stop to ring the church bell."
Craning his neck to see the tower, in vain, he waited.
Sister stopped the car, opened the boot, took out a bell and started shaking it con gusto.
"That should fetch them", she grinned as she got back into the car.
Taste of ink
She and I started a little newspaper for the children, called Kinderkaskenades. It had a devoted readership.
We had a madly exciting adventure story, which ended every month on a disastrous note.
I, the author, was as worried about new developments as my readers, but all ended well with the good guy walking off into the sunset with the beautiful heroine, a very chastened bad guy making resolutions for the future. I don't kill off my anti-heroes, I convert them.
Folded
We had a letter column and a monthly competition, for which the children made drawings. My daughter illustrated the paper and we both had lots of fun.
Then my husband became ill, and alas, Kinderkaskenades died.
One of the children who wrote me poignant letters was a boy called David Smith. The children addressed me as Tant Saartjie, such was my title as editor.
Good home
David belonged to a religious family and was well looked after. I remember him specially because he was a really gifted artist. He used to draw marvellous pictures with his letters. He won one of my competitions, and could by rights have won them all.
In the end he wrote that he was going to boarding school. From Sister Francisca I heard that he passed his matric exams and got a good job. He was still studying when she left the township for Belgium.
Out of the blue
One day I was working in the office when some people came in to see my boss.
"Please tell him the Smith family has arrived," they said, mentioning the name of the township.
I was delighted, never having met David in the flesh.
"Which one of you is David?" I asked before ringing my boss.
A very personable young man in his twenties stepped forward in some surprise.
"Tell me David, do you still draw so beautifully?" What bafflement!
Amid smiles all round I made myself known.
Long-lost aunt
I didn't see David for some years. Then one day I had to call on him on business. He didn't recognise me.
"I'm your Tant Saartjie", I said. That was worth a smile!
He showed me the site of the Catholic Church which was finally being built, a tribute to Sister Francisca's efforts, and spoke of her with great love.
When we said goodbye he told me that he was studying for his BA through the University of South Africa.
I was a Unisa dropout myself at the time, so I felt worried about his continuing.
But as luck would have it that same day I received a letter from a Coffee Break reader:
"When in 1975 I saw that you had enrolled with Unisa, that was it. If Luky can cope with all her busy days, so can I. So I write a heartfelt thank you for your inspiration to a working housewife who took the plunge, graduating in April with a BA. I'm sorry that you did not go on, but you kept me going, and when I look back, it was a time of excitement and enjoyment."
I had often wondered what my previous attempts at joining the intelligentsia had achieved. I felt that everything one does is for a purpose. Now I knew.
Many years later I was once more to join the ranks of University students; and remembered my previous attempt with nostalgia...
Please put my friend David Smith on your prayer list, and all students that they may persevere with their studies.
Catherine Nicolette:
I had the great fun and inestimable privilege of growing up in Welkom near the convent of the Medical Missionaries of Mary Sisters. They were gracious, educated and caring women of God whom I loved dearly. Being so far from my own aunts at the time, these Sisters who daily took an interest in the Whittle childrens' lives were - to all intents and purposes - members of my extended family.
If I had worries or need of guidance and didn't want to trouble my extremely hard working parents, I would turn to them. A chat with a cup of hot chocolate and thick white doorstep slice of bread with fresh country butter liberally covered with muisjes and I would be as light as air, all anxiety gone.
Young volunteer
From time to time Sr Francisca used to take me to the township. I used to go out to give a hand with whatever she needed doing. Though I think she did most of the doing as well as making me feel I was her right hand volunteer. Oh, how I loved Sr Francisca!
I smiled when I read about Dad's experience. The first time I went out as volunteer with Sister, the same thing happened with me. Only Sister let me ring the heavy brass bell. I was still short in stature, so was somewhat bent over by the smooth wooden weight of the bell handle. I gloried in the clanging sound which called all to worship. I really felt part of things.
Confirmation
Sr Thabitha, another of the beloved Medical Mission Sisters, was my sponsor at Confirmation. I was proud and thrilled to have her as my sponsor.
Before we went in to the church, she gravely looked at me, and said, 'I could talk to you forever, Nicolette. But I won't. I'll tell you only one thing. Don't go through with this ceremony if you don't intend to carry on going to Church after you leave school. Otherwise, tell me and we will both go home now.'
I didn't need to think long; in fact, I didn't need to think at all. I laughed cheerily, drew her arm through mine and said, 'Let's go on in. I have every intention of carrying on going to Church.'
She looked closely at me for a few moments, and then went in with me.
She was right; Confirmation was a serious step. And especially after her words, I never took the sacrament lightly.
Every now and again one of my regular dreams is of the Medical Mission Sisters. In fact, a few nights ago I dreamt I was in a Church. I knelt praying in one of a row of pews. In front of me a number of women sat praying, their beautifully held heads as familiar to me as my own. Then as I greeted each Sister delightedly by name, their heads turned around towards me. Those luminous smiles broke forth again after so many years; my dear surrogate aunts -and overwhelming gladness filled my heart.
I have never forgotten their goodness to me.
Farewell Mass
Last year Mom and I were invited to a Farewell Mass for one of the dedicated Priests in the Parish who had laboured in the harvest locally since I was a tiny girl. We drove through beautifully paved streets lined with gracious trees, and stopped in front of a beautiful Church. The bell was ringing to worship, and as I went in there was something familiar about the whole scene . . . a sense of deja vu, as it were.
As I sat in the congregation, suddenly it struck me. The last time I had been in this area, I was a teenager ringing a bell at the end of a muddy road along which a donkey cart was trundling along.
The Church office was the trunk of Sister Francisca's car, and we had waited for the children to assemble for catechism under a large thorn tree. Veld with howling wind and some spattered raindrops had stretched on either side.
Now I sat in a splendid Church, with exquisitely worked tapestries on the walls and soft sunshine wavering splashes of colour through the windows. The liturgical music beat steadily to the cadence of voices, and rows of parishioners attested to the vibrancy of worship and happiness in the place.
And I sat remembering long ago . . .
Blessings, Sister Francisca and Sisters, and the Priests of South Africa.
You planted the seeds, and we reap the joy.
Medical Missionaries of Mary
http://mmmworldwide.org/
Spirit of God
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_EYMoTyVWYI
Music of Sr Miriam Therese Winter, MMM
http://www.hymnary.org/person/Winter_Miriam
With thanks to mmmworldwide.org
Some names have been changed
Image by Catherine Nicolette
