More Mom Memories

Mom says sadly that she was reading Rex Harrison’s biography when her maculae gave in. So she never got to finish it.

She laughs about his song in My Fair Lady, Never Let a Woman in Your Life – ‘AND,’ she says, ‘He was married four times!’  I can tell you didn’t finish that book, Mom. I looked up his Wikipedia entry. It was actually SIX times.

Me the Driver – Mom tells of a time I got behind the wheel of Marie Bain’s car and my big mate and younger sidekick – Marie’s grandson or grandnephew – Gareth Taylor, sitting in the back, leapt into the front seat crying, I Don’t Wanna Die! Mom and Sylvia had a good laugh at his dramatics and sense of humour. I was too young to drive then but was always mad keen; I’d sit for hours in all our various cars – Annie’s beige 1949 Chevy Fleetline, our beige Morris Isis and light blue VW Beetle, our faded dark blue kombis, Annie’s green and white Opel Rekord – going thru the gears operating the clutch and gearshift. I can almost ‘see’ Marie’s car but can’t quite remember what it was. I imagine this probably happened outside Herano Hof in Stuart Street, where Smollie and Marie lived then.

Smollie walked with a stoop and had stiff legs. I remember him getting into the passenger seat was quite a performance. The seat had to be well back so he could swing his straight legs in.

First Piano – an Otto Bach? – Mom bought her first piano from Marie for 100 pounds. Paid for it from the money Annie paid her to do the Caltex garage books. Central Service Station in Warden Street. Corner of Southey Street. Opposite Barclays Bank, Freddies Grocers and the Town Hall. Diagonally opposite the Deborah Retief Gardens – the village square. Next door to the VC Cafe in Southey St, next door to the Portuguese Grocers in Warden Street. Annie’s complex consisted of her Caltex filling station, the Flamingo Cafe, the Platberg Bottle Store and the workshop behind her office off the forecourt. In years gone by it was known as Caskie’s Corner – her mom-in-law, Granny Bland was a Caskie.

Older sister Barbara has just (2025) renovated a wooden cupboard which was Annie’s mechanic At Truscott’s tool cupboard for Volkswagen tools only! It was painted Caltex green (as were many things around us – even the horse trough).

Scotty her English teacher – Miss Helen Scott – recommended they read Absolom! Absolom! by Wm Faulkner “so of course we didn’t,” she says ruefully. Rebel Mary.

Then a few years later, she found another Faulkner book, The Sound and the Fury, in the library at the Boksburg & Benoni hospital, and on night duty she and her nurse took turns reading it to each other.

Firecrackers – I asked if she’d heard fireworks last night – New Year’s Eve. Yes, even she couldn’t sleep! That reminded her: In Harrismith as schoolgirls ca.1945, Mom and Sylvia bought sparklers and wheels. She thinks for New Year or Guy Fawkes. They put them in a shoebox. They were planning to set them off at Granny Bland’s back gate. There were a few visitors who gathered there.

Suddenly they all went off at once – the whole box! Sepp de Beer had decided to light the lot!

A Concert for the Troops! – At their grandad’s Royal Hotel, Mom and Sylvia decided to give a concert to ‘raise money for the troops.’ They charged a penny each to watch. Mom played the piano, Sylvia danced and they both sang. She thinks they raised enough money to maybe get some troops as far as Kenya. ‘Maybe a shilling’!

I said, That may have made the difference to win the war. That cracked her up.

The English Visitor – A regular annual guest at the Hotel was a Mr Lewis from England. He came for two months every year to escape the harsh English winter. His room was upstairs looking towards the railway station. While he was there, all kids were banned from going up the beautiful wooden staircase. And – There was to be be dead silence from 2 to 4pm every afternoon! Mr Lewis was having his nap! One day he stormed out onto the pavement in his pyjamas and berated a local lady who had been talking to her friend across the road at Kathy Bain Reynolds’ garage! How dare she converse in seSotho while he was out from England!

The Garage across from the Royal – which can be seen in the photos of Oupa Bain’s funeral procession was owned by Jack Reynolds, a handsome man, say Mom. He was married to Kathy Bain, and when he died early – after having bad lung problems and going blind – Kathy took over the running of the garage, just as Annie had when Frank died. So two intrepid Bain ladies ran garages in Harrismith.

Dances in the Harrismith Town Hall – There was no alcohol you know. People would go across the gardens to the Central Hotel for a drink. Oh, I asked, Would they carry their drinks back across the gardens to the dance?

No, they’d bring them in their stomachs.

The dentist’s (Dr __) mechanic and his wife were wonderful dancers. But after a few trips they – Would dance even better?  I suggested, dancing being one of the reasons I drink.

NO!  Their dancing got worse and worse, says Mom.

Swinburne, the Lost Valley and Nesshurst

First we went to Swinburne, to Jenny (Mapp) and Steve Cleverley’s Hound and Hare on the right bank of the Wilge River, across the old 1884 sandstone toll bridge where we had launched a canoe journey many years before; There we watched a bunch of large blokes with odd-shaped balls shove each other around, playing ‘If someone gives you the ball, give it to the other blokes.’ Lovely to see Jenny’s smile again – I hadn’t seen her for ages.

We were almost outnumbered by the Welsh contingent there (that being Steve himself, being noisy), but we managed to see him off and send his team to play for bronze against that tongue-pulling outfit that play a bit of rugby in black outfits.

More importantly – and fittingly for our Hysterically-Minded gang – the result sets up a 2019 re-enactment of the Anglo-Boer War. Let’s hope the Poms play fair this time.

– Hound and Hare pub in Swinburne – good grub, cold beer –

After a lovely lunch of roasted hound or hare and a vegetable, we fell in line under the orders of Field Marshall Lello RSVP, and listened to our knowledgeable local guide, historian, author, local farmer and schoolmate of mine in a previous century, Leon Strachan in the hall kindly made available to us by Steve the Welsh rarebit. Leon told us the true story of the pioneer de Heer family, led by patriarch Pieter de Heer.

– Peering down into the valley while ‘Pete the Gentleman’ watches us – Tintwa mountain on the horizon –

Then we drove to the farm Keerom on the edge of the Lost Valley on the Drakensberg escarpment; the border of the Free State and KwaZulu Natal. The story Leon told was of a family that lived a good, self-supported, independent life, sent their kids to school, used local services such as post office, shops and lawyers; sold their goods in the towns of Swinburne and Harrismith; married locally (and NOT incestuously!).

Just like many normal families, some of their children and grandchildren spread all over (one great-grandson becoming a neurosurgeon) and some remained – the farm is still owned by their descendants. People who didn’t understand them, nor know them, nor bother to get to know them, wrote inaccurate stories about them which must have caused the family a lot of heartache over many decades.

What a spectacular valley. It had burnt recently, but already flowers were popping up in the grassland.

Heather and Elize spotted a Solifuge scurrying about. They must have disturbed him, as Sun Spiders often hide by day and hunt by night.

– Lost Valley Sun Spider – or Solifuge – inset: wikipedia pic of a related species –

Next we drove off to Nesshurst, Leon’s farm where he and Elsa grow cattle and msobo, to look at his etchings. Well, his fossils. Not Elsa. He has 150 million year old Lystrosaurus fossils on his farm and some in his museum, along with a Cape Cart he bought when he was in matric back in 1971! He has restored it beautifully. A catalogue of his ‘stuff’ would take pages, but I saw farm implements, military paraphenalia, miniature trains, hand-made red combines made by his childhood Zulu playmate; riems and the stones that brei and stretch them; yob-yob-ting cream separators; a Harrismith Mountain Race badge; photos of old British and Boer generals and leaders; a spectacular photo of Platberg and the concentration camp where women and children were sent to die by the invading British forces; War Crimes; a lovely collage made by Biebie de Vos of Harrismith Town Square, old prominent buildings and older prominent citizens, including my great-granpa, ‘Oupa’ Stewart Bain, owner of the Royal Hotel and mayor of the town; Also a Spilsbury and a Putterill. And Harrismith se Hoer School eerstespan rugby jerseys that Leon had earned and worn. I never did earn one of those . . never wore the white shorts. All Harrismith teams wore the canary orange jersey and black shorts except the main senior First Team. White shorts for them!

– Nesshurst collage –

We then repaired to The Green Lantern roadside inn in the village of Van Reenen for drinks and a lovely dinner. I had a delicious mutton curry which actually had some heat; I didn’t have to call for extra chillies – maybe as Van Reenen is in KZN, not in the Vrystaat.

Tomorrow we would head off west to climb Platberg the easy way: 4X4 vehicles driving up Flat Rock Pass (or Donkey Pass) which has twin concrete strips for traction up the pass – one of the highest motorcar driveable passes above sea level in Southern Africa, amIright?

~~~oo0oo~~~

Leon grows cattle and msobo – and he also writes books! Nine so far. Four on the mense of Harrismith; Spiced with scandal and revelations, also history; One on the Harrismith Commando; One on the Anglo-Boer War concentrating on the area around Harrismith; one on his rooinek Grandad who was a Son of England; and more.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Why Swinburne? After Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837 – 1909), the English poet? He was alcoholic and wrote about many taboo topics, such as lesbianism, cannibalism, sado-masochism and anti-theism. He liked to be flogged and hated travel. So probably not him.

Some other Swinburne? I must ask Leon Strachan . .

Ah! I knew he’d know . .

Gold was ‘discovered’ in Matabeleland! Bullshitters bullshitted and people got excited! Such was the excitement around the discovery and hope in the new goldfield’s prospects that new companies were floated in London to take advantage of the rush. The most prominent of these companies was the London & Limpopo Mining Company, formed in late 1868. Such was the serious intent of the company that it sent its principal manager, Sir John Swinburne, with a team of experts and miners and a fleet of mining machinery, to Tati to establish the first large-scale gold mining operation in Southern Africa. The party arrived at Tati in April 1869, erected Southern Africa’s first mechanically operated appliance to crush gold-bearing ores and started work at once.

Ah! But BEFORE Swinburne arrived in Matabeleland, he had an adventure on the way. Leon describes it in his book BLAFBOOM. I paraphrase:

Sir John Swinburne landed at Port Natal in 1868 and hurried ashore. He bought five wagons and six teams of trained oxen, unloaded his mining equipment off the ship, loaded it onto his wagons and set off post-haste, heading of course, for Harrismith, where everything happens.

Unfortunately for him and his hurry, it was a wet year, making the going difficult. His destination was Tati, on the present Botswana / Zimbabwe border, and as everyone knows, the route is London-Durban-Harrismith-Potchefstroom-Tati. He had concessions from King Lobengula of Matabeleland which would prove worthless, but he didn’t know that as he encouraged his oxen to move their arses. It went fairly well through Natal to the Drakensberg and even up van Reenens Pass, past Moorddraai mountain, but the marshy ground at Bosch Hoek farm trapped him. All his wagons sank to the axles.

After a week of trying – and, I imagine, some foul language – he was still stuck and his oxen were buggered. Disheartened, he swapped the wagons and oxen for a farm! The farm Albertina on a drift across the Wilge River became his property. He then hired a transport rider to take all his goods to Potch for him. He himself couldn’t wait. He hopped onto the post cart and off he went, ahead, things to do! He would never return to Albertina.

Years later the farm was sold by a local agent. In 1892 the Natal railroad reached the drift. A station and a bridge across the river were built. The station was named Albertina. About a decade later a station on the Riversdale to Mossel Bay line down in the Cape Colony was also named Albertina and chaos ensued. Parcels and letters and Valentines cards for one Albertina were sent to the other and hearts were broken (I’m guessing here). People sued each other and fist fights broke out (I’m guessing here).

Something had to be done. The Railway high-ups rose to the occasion, re-naming the Free State station, even though it was actually the first Albertina. They decided they’d name it after a prominent previous owner of the farm it was situated on: Sir John Swinburne (1831-1914), the 7th Baronet of Capheaton. Quite an adventurer, he was also Sheriff of Northumberland, scourge of Ralph Hood, cousin of Robin who was chased by the Sheriff of Nottingham (I’m inventing here). He served in the Burmese War of 1852, in China and in the Baltic in 1854. In 1885 he was elected Labour MP for Lichfield, Staffordshire.

At the turn of the century the farm was bought by Abraham Sparks, father of the Texan tie Abe we knew. This started a long association with Swinburne village by the Sparks family which lasts to this day. Watching rugby in the Hound and Hare with us and cheering on the Bokke was Christopher Sparks, great-great-great grandson of the first Abraham. I think three greats, maybe two?

So, if you need some history, just ask me. I’ll ask Leon.

~~oo0oo~~