A chapter in my life 🇿🇦

When I lived in South Africa and our children were still very young, we moved to a town in the Transvaal, about eighty miles from Johannesburg. My husband had started working for a large chemical company. We bought a lovely house and the children soon made friends at their new school. My husband used his previous scouting experience and took on the role of Scout Master. He was held in high esteem by both scouts and their grateful parents. I became known as the ‘Scout Master’s wife’. This was not ideal as I’d always been rather proud of my own identity! However, we soon became part of the local community which helped with the settling in process..

The first thing anyone noticed when arriving within a few miles of the town was the truly awful smell. Apparently it was a mixture of many different types of chemical processes, all, we were assured, completely innocuous! I was always convinced that it was a health hazard! When it rained and the wind blew in the ‘wrong’ direction, this hideous stench seeped into everything, hair, clothes, curtains, even our bedding! After a while, thankfully, we hardly noticed it. Our olfactory senses had became inured to the pong!

There was a very mixed society in this ‘new’ town.We were a varied bunch, hailing from all corners of the globe. The majority were South Africans but there were Brits, Dutch, Polish, Germans and even Mexicans and Egyptians, all cohabiting well together. I made some very good friends in the two and a half years we lived there.

But there was a darker side to this cosmopolitan community. A father shot his wife and two children and then turned the gun on himself. A mother gassed herself and her children in their car because she couldn’t live without her husband who had recently died. These children were in the same class as ours and this really affected them. Depression was common amongst both teenagers and adults. There were a number of suicides or attempted suicides. Looking back, sadly, there was little if any support and we just had to learn to ‘get on with it’!

One day a child found a charred finger in the playground. Many theories abounded, one of which was witch craft. This was quite a common practice amongst the indigenous people and accepted as part of their culture. My cleaning lady used to have her bed raised on bricks to protect her from the ‘Tokoloshe’.

The Zulu and Xhosa nation believed in this dwarf-like evil spirit. There were many descriptions of him, none pleasant. The common theme was that he was short, either a humanoid or a primate creature and very dangerous. Apparently he had a big head, large, bulging eyes and a small torso. Much like Gollum in ‘Lord of the Rings’. And he’d cause havoc wherever he went! He could become invisible by drinking water or swallowing a stone. If you had upset or annoyed someone they could call upon the Tokoloshe to wreak havoc on family and friends.

Another part of African culture that I discovered, was their belief in traditional healers or ‘Sangomas’. They are highly respected prophets and still form the backbone of many Bantu tribes. They connect to ancestors who give them healing powers. They work themselves up into a trance by dancing, drumming and chanting to allow the ancestor to take possession of their body. This offers the patient direct access to their family member. They get advice on health and well being and even marital or other family matters. Sangomas are often called on to neutralise the malevolent forces of witchcraft and to protect and exorcise the evil Tokoloshe.

My daughter befriended a lovely little girl who was in her class at school. Her mother invited me for morning tea. I was met with a very different kind of smell! Her sitting and dining room was filled with little bowls of drying flowers and herbs. She explained that she made healing potions as she was a ‘White Witch’ and had been able to help so many people. She was passionate about her ‘calling’ and I never felt threatened or uncomfortable in her company. I just found her ‘odd’.

So, after two and a half years I learnt how to play golf, ice cakes, did a writing course and lived the life of a lady of leisure. But it was time for my husband to move on. We went back to Johannesburg and a completely different lifestyle. I’ve never regretted taking that time out but I was ready to get back into the rat race and my old job again.

I learnt a lot about different cultures but realised that we are all very similar. We aspire to the same goals and aspirations. I felt lucky that I had been given this wonderful opportunity to meet such a diverse number of people and left the little town with mixed emotions. I never did return but my time spent there was not wasted and has not been forgotten! 👠