Moving Moments Chapter 2 - South Africa Early Days

Moving Moments 

Chapter 2 – Rooting around the Relatives

Edith with baby Daphne

James with baby
brother Doug

To a greater or lesser extent we are all influenced by our ancestral roots. Both my Mom (born: Daphne Ada King) and my Dad (Douglas Wedderburn Cornish) had predecessors going back a long way to the 1820 Settlers in South Africa and also had English and Scottish roots.

Doug, as my Dad was known, was born on December 19^th, 1909, in Springs, South Africa, six years after the Boer War ended in South Africa and five years ahead of the First World War or Great War as it was described in those days. His father was John Cornish who was born in Scotland in 1871.

Doug’s mother was Mabel (Tickey) King who had ancestry going back to the 1820 Settlers. They had arrived after the Napoleonic Wars to settle an area in the Eastern Cape and provide a bulwark against the Xhosa tribe who were given to regular cattle raids against their white settler neighbors. We surmise that John came to South Africa after the Boer War when presumably opportunities were opening up. John was a bit of an entrepreneur and owned a dairy at one point in Springs called the Cornish Dairy and the road leading up to it is still called Cornish Road to this day.

Springs was 40 kms east of Johannesburg and was part of a long string of gold mines stretching along the length of the Witwatersrand Ridge which stretched east and west of Johannesburg. The Witwatersrand Ridge is where the gold reef made it’s way to the surface and was discovered in Johannesburg in 1886. The Witwatersand Basin holds the world's largest known gold reserves and has produced over 1.5 billion ounces (over 40,000 metric tons), which represents about 50% of all the gold ever mined on earth.

Doug was one of four brothers James, Doug, Maurice and Ernest. The boy’s world was changed forever in 1923 when their Dad, John who had got into financial trouble, went up into the mine dumps and shot himself. My Dad was fourteen years old and his childhood officially ended at that stage as he was forced to work on the farm to help make ends meet. The boy’s Mom, Tickey, decided to stay on the farm which she ran the farm and taught piano lessons, including teaching my Dad to play, so much so that he was able to earn some income playing at gigs on the weekend.

Surviving Brothers and Wives
Maurice/Mary, Ernest/Bertha, Doug/Daphne
Back Row: Maurice, Ernest, Tickey, Bertha, Doug
Front Row: Daphne, Rosemary, Neville, Mary

There are some apocryphal stories told of the four boys growing up. My favorite was that of James who had a very bad temper and of course the three younger boys loved to tease him. James had been left in charge of the younger three and was serving spaghetti to them. He was being teased mercilessly and was in a raging fury. His dishing up consisted of “one for Doug and one for the wall” at which point he hurled a spoonful of spaghetti against the dining room wall and so on down the line of brothers. I remember my Dad and Maurice and Ernest recounting this story with great glee, not for a minute having any sympathy for the tormented James. Sadly James died early on in life. He had been pursuing a lady who had spurned his advances and there is some uncertainty as to whether he committed suicide or died after an electrical accident at work. Unfortunately our family records can’t verify which of these intriguing options is the true one.

In 1926 at around age 16 or 17 Doug signed up as an apprentice fitter and turner, which was good work in those days when mining was booming. He qualified in 1931 at the height of the Depression. Each week he would ride his bicycle to Johannesburg and back, calling in at the various mines looking for work. From 1931 to 1939 when he married my Mom he worked at a variety of mines with evocative sounding names such as Sub Nigel, Swaartwater, Vlakfontein and Rietfontein Cons. During this time he also joined the Transvaal Scottish Regiment as a bagpipe player where he became a sergeant major.

Daph ready to
rock 'n roll

Daph, as my Mom was known, was born in Boksburg on April 26^th, 1917. She was seven and a half years younger than my Dad, but fate had them earmarked for each other. As it turns out they didn’t have to look to far to find each other. Read on. 

Daph’s father was Cyril King from a long line of 1820 Settlers. He was married to Ethel (nee Hunt) King whose parents had come to South Africa from Britain. Cyril was a farmer, an excellent tennis player and was the South African 440 yard champion at one point and it’s speculated he might have held the record at that time. Cyril and Ethel had two children, Daphne and then her younger brother Alan. 

Unfortunately Cyril had a wandering eye which settled on his housekeeper, a lady with last name Joubert. When Ethel found out about this she was devastated, wrote a farewell letter to Daphne and Alan and then shot herself. Cyril, apparently undaunted, then married the housekeeper Joubert, leaving 13 year old Daphne and Alan in her care. This cannot have been an easy thing for two impressionable youngsters. Daphne was shipped off to a boarding school for girls in Pretoria, leaving Alan in the hands of the happy couple. Cyril wrote a letter to Daphne complaining that Alan was proving difficult and in good South African tradition he was shipped off to a boarding school in Potchefstroom.

I haven’t mentioned that Cyril had a sister named Mabel King. Her nickname was Tickey. Is this ringing any bells? That’s right Cyril, Daphne’s dad and Tickey, Doug’s mom, were siblings, making Daphne and Doug first cousins. It seems that when all of this tragedy struck, Doug, 21 became quite protective of Daphne who was a tender 13 years old at the time. My Mom told me that at that time my Dad had said that when she got older he was going to marry her. She obviously had her share of admirers as evidenced by this rather charming letter from a distant admirer when she was 15. 

The family eventually decided that the relationship with Doug wasn’t healthy and it needed to end, so at that point Daphne was sent off to live with relatives in England in 1933.

Daphne in her prime.
Isn't she gorgeous?

Mom, was very happy in Britain. She found a place where she was loved and made some lifelong friends. She finished school, did a beauty therapy and a secretarial course. She also met a young man who she fell for in a big way and it is likely would have married him except at that point the fates intervened in the form of her Dad dying in 1938 necessitating her return to South Africa for the funeral.

Doug and Daph,
the happy couple

The rest is history. She and my Dad re-connected, and they were married a year later on April 15^th, 1939. The boyfriend in England was forgotten, which is a good thing because if he hadn’t been I wouldn’t be telling this tale. 

Doug, Neville, Daphne

On January 27^th, 1941 my brother Neville was born. My Mom had a difficult delivery and my Dad was notified he might have to choose between her or the baby. I wonder if my Mom was ever consulted on that decision? My goodness, times have changed! Thankfully both Mom and Nev survived. Doug was called up to war at the end of 1941, leaving my Mom pregnant with Rosemary who was born on May 25^th, 1942. 

Rosemary,, a sweet smile
but a tough cookie indeed!

My Dad had been shipped with the Transvaal Scottish Regiment to Palestine, Syria and Lebanon where his engineering unit built a tunnel which still stands today. He really excelled himself at letter writing to my Mom and demonstrated a meticulous streak by numbering each one consecutively, making it up to at least letter number 66. He must have burnt himself out with this effort as in all my years away from home at boarding school and university I received the grand total of one letter from my Dad. In fairness to him, the letter writing and keeping the family connected role fell to my Mom.

Doug returned from the war at the end of 1943 to meet 18 month old Rosemary for the first time.  Mom had been living with Dad’s mom Tickey. In 1945 Doug and family moved to Rietfontein Cons mine as an engineer. It was here that they bought “Daisy Bell” a dairy cow. Neville claims that after imbibing all of the cream, butter and milk coming off of Daisy Bell, he has suffered from an overweight problem ever since. It was here that we first meet Ronald. Ronald was a trainee house-helper from Nyasaland (modern day Malawi). One of his jobs was to milk Daisy Bell. Neville remembers Ronald taking him to the circus where they watched a performing black pig. Neville also remembers my Dad shaving off all of his hair because Nev kept snipping at it with scissors. My Dad was an “ all or nothing ” kind of a guy and I guess Nev snipped his hair once too often for my Dad’s liking. Neville also remembers the toilet was an outside one, commonly called a “longdrop”. He also remembers falling out of the car one day when my Dad jammed on the brakes too hard. I guess he was quite streamlined having no hair and all. Anyway he survived, as kids did in those days and all’s well that ends well.

Doug, Rosemary,
Neville and Daphne
hanging loose at the beach

 In 1947 Dad was transferred to South Roodepoort mine as Mine Engineer which I gather was quite a good job. His company car was a bicycle. He wore clips on his legs to prevent the bike chain from snagging his trousers. He used to come home for lunch every day, after which he would lie down for a power nap with a newspaper over his head. I must note that this has become an important family tradition, which I now emulate and I’m training my grandchildren to do the same, with some success. I’ve discovered that a hat, book or pillow all do much the same job of blocking out  the light.

Rob and grandson James learning
the art of the power nap

On May 14^th, 1950 Alan was born. For some reason which seems unfathomable these days, it was necessary to send Neville, aged 8, to a Catholic boarding school at Marist Brothers in Johannesburg so that he would not be present while Alan was born at home. Neville happened to find out he had a brother when he bumped into one of the school Brothers who cheerfully announced “Cornish, you have a brother”. No muss no fuss. I wonder at what stage Nev found out the baby’s name? For some obscure reason it seemed fine for Rosemary to stay at home for the birth of the baby. Actually in fairness to my Mom and Dad, the mindset of the day was that boarding school was a good place for a young man to form a strong character and learn how to be a man. It seems to have worked in Nev’s case because he’s definitely a man who goes at life with great vim and vigor.

The happy family re-united
in school holidays

Rob, cute and 
cuddly then too!

On March 22^nd 1952 I was born in South Roodepoort. Neville, still banished at boarding school, has no recollection of this news ever being communicated to him. He probably just discovered an extra addition to the family when he got home for his next school holiday.

Rose’s distinguishing act in South Roodepoort was to run away from the convent where she wasn’t enjoying the nuns. One day, at age 6 she just decided that she was no longer going to the convent where the nuns weren't to her liking, so she took herself off to the next school along and went to school with a friend who took her to her classroom. The teacher was a bit puzzled as to the new addition and eventually after an “orange alert” going out from the convent, the police and parents managed to figure out what had happened. Needless to say, Mom and Dad moved her to another school. Nev says she is the youngest person ever to be expelled from her school. She was in grade 1. As her photo indicates she has a sweet smile, but there is a tough cookie underlying that sweet exterior!

Ronald had moved with Mom and Dad to South Roodepoort. It was here that July (Dhluwayo) first makes an appearance in our family story where he joined the family enterprise as a “gardener”. July was to be a member of our extended family until his death in the 1990s. July was sixteen or seventeen and was fresh from the Rhodesian bush, off to the big city in South Africa to make it big. At that stage Ronald was probably working in the house and July started off at the bottom weeding and trimming. He would work his way up and into the hearts of our family over time.

Rob, Mom, Poetsie, Neville,
Rosemary and Alan

Over the years my Mom primarily had three “servants” working for her, not all at the same time. They were Ronald, July and Fred. Ronald and Fred hailed from Nyasaland (current day Malawi) and July from Southern Rhodesia (current day Zimbabwe). They were part of the migrant labor phenomenon in Southern Africa, whereby mainly men would come from a variety of countries to find work on the mines in industry or in the homes of white folks. It was common for them to work for periods of time, saving money and sending it home to their wives and families. All of them came to my Mom fresh out of the bush as it were and needed to be trained from scratch. Ronald and July ultimately both worked in the house, cooking, cleaning and doing laundry. Fred was relatively uneducated and remained a “gardener”. The relationship between master and servant was quite paternalistic but worked for all parties as each party derived benefit. In many households the longstanding servants became de facto members of the extended family, with the employer assuming an informal responsibility to help with schooling for the servant’s children, clothing, health issues and so on. In my Mom’s case, long after Ronald, July and Fred ceased to be employed by her, she and they maintained a lifelong correspondence. The relationship had grown way beyond master and servant to one of mutual caring and affection.

Dad sporting his
Indiana Jones look

Dad with "some" of his
shooting awards

My Dad had developed an interest in long range target shooting whilst in the Transvaal Scottish. In 1952 he made the South African team and represented the country at Bisley in England. Bisley is the mecca of all serious target shooters. In South Africa someone who represented their country in a sport was known as a Springbok. In a country as sports crazy as South Africa this was a big deal. To this day I’m immensely proud of my Dad’s shooting achievements. Over time he represented South Africa, the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland and Zambia where he captained the team He was also an accomplished pianist, playing mainly by ear and was often called on to play at parties and club socials.

South Roodepoort was not a happy job for my Dad. He spoke of having lots of fights with the Mine Manager. Post war Southern Africa was booming. The copper mines in Northern Rhodesian were the largest producers of copper at the time. Mom and Dad obviously turned their sights north and began to consider what the future might hold for them up in that part of the world. Little did they know, they were about to launch us into probably the most memorable twenty years of our lives. 

Moving Moments Chapter 1 - Setting the Stage

Moving Moments

Chapter 1 – Setting the Stage

Having recently retired, and being two thirds way through my first century, I realize I definitely have more to remember now than I have to look forward to. I often catch myself remembering odd snippets of my life in years gone by and I will have a quiet chuckle or reminisce at something good that Cher and I have enjoyed together. In moments like these I find myself marveling at the colorful tapestry God has woven into my life to date.

So, recognizing that I’m losing valuable brain cells every year and seizing the opportunity of more time on my hands. I have decided to Carpe the Diem and capture snapshots of my life and later my combined life with Cher. One day no doubt the children and perhaps the grandchildren will dig out this memoir and will marvel, as I do, at how life used to be back in the good old days.

When listening to a story, context is of course very important. It explains the unexplainable, makes understandable the indecipherable and helps one to realize that the world has indeed changed and continues to change at a remarkable rate.

South Africa 1940

So what did my world look like in my early formative years? I grew up in Southern Africa at a time when the Great British Empire still ruled supreme over vast areas of the world. I used to love poring over world maps as a young boy and noting how much of the world   map was colored pink or red, indicating British rule or sphere of influence. About twenty five percent of the world’s area was under the sway of the Empire on which the sun would never set. I would read stories of far flung places, explorers and valiant knights of the realm who had gone out and claimed the spoils for God, King or Queen and Country. I was filled with a great pride at being part of something so special.

                                                                                        
Southern Africa fell under two colonial powers at the time – the British and the Portuguese. The Portuguese were overseeing huge tracts of land: Angola to the west and Mozambique to the east. They had ruled these vast swathes of virgin Africa for close on 500 years. Firmly established at the foot of Africa was South Africa. It was originally settled in the mid-1600s by the Dutch as a replenishing point for their ships on the way out to their empire in Indonesia.

Since arriving in the Cape, over 150 years or so, the Dutch settlers had spread east and north and, depending on what was happening in Europe, they would from time to time be overseen by Dutch, French or British masters. Ultimately by the 1830s they spread north, declaring their own independent republics and shook off their British masters.

As the fabulous mineral wealth of Southern Africa became apparent, the British became more prominently involved, eventually claiming all of South Africa as a British possession. The Anglo Boer war from 1899 to 1902 gave the Dutch Settlers (Afrikaaners) a shot at real independence, but the British won that war and the rest is history so to speak.

One of the great characters that South Africa produced coming out of the diamond mines in Kimberley and the gold mines near Johannesburg was Cecil Rhodes. A great Empire loyalist, he acquired massive wealth through his mining endeavors and became the Governor of the Cape Province. He was determined to use his wealth and influence to grow the empire and began to push British influence north beyond South Africa’s borders. His ultimate intention was to paint the map of Africa pink from Cape Town to Cairo. This would be symbolized by a north south railway line linking the two cities. Lord Kitchener was building a railway south from Egypt to bring Sudan under control and Cecil Rhodes was pushing north from South Africa ever expanding northwards. This effort finally ground to a halt in 1922 a mere five hundred miles apart.

Colonial Africa - 1940

Cecil Rhodes in his drive north from South Africa, gained a concession from the paramount chief of the Matabele nation, Lobengula. The concession granted mining rights, but it wasn’t long before settlers arrived in 1890 and began to claim much of the land for farming. Matabele power was broken in the 1890s and the country of Rhodesia, now known as Zimbabwe, was born. This was followed by Northern Rhodesia, now known as Zambia, and was to be where Cheryl and I grew up and spent our formative years.

Under the British development of the two Rhodesia’s moved forward at a good clip. Mining and farming became the foundation stones of two thriving little colonies. Over the next fifty years or so, roads, schools, hospitals, airports and other infrastructure were all being built at a furious pace. Life in the colonies was good for the settlers and it could be argued that it was better for the indigenous folk who now began to enjoy the benefits of schooling, hospitals, work opportunities and all that civilization could offer.

The colonial mindset was definitely that British rule was good for everyone. Such things as voting rights for all and other such high minded ideals did not even enter the thinking. Clearly development was a “good thing” and there were no qualms about being colonial oppressors or any other such unhappy thoughts.

After the World Wars, nationalism began to take root amongst indigenous folk throughout the British Empire. Indigenous troops were fighting for Britain in their wars and returning home wondering why they couldn’t enjoy the same rights and privileges as their fellow white soldiers who they had fought and died alongside. After the Second World War, this groundswell became a tidal wave. Britain along with France and Portugal began to realize that they couldn’t sustain their hold on power for ever and began to loosen their grip. Starting with India in 1947 the Great British Empire began to unwind.

Map of Africa by Independence Date

By the 1960s it was pretty much game over for the colonists in Africa as Britain began to relinquish control back to duly elected governments. Northern Rhodesia became an independent Zambia in 1964.  Rhodesia, under a white controlled government, initially resisted this wave, claiming that blacks “would not rule in a thousand years” and made their UDI (unilateral declaration of independence) from Britain in 1965. The Portuguese waged their own war against African nationalist freedom fighters and eventually in 1975 gave up and walked away, virtually overnight, leaving Angola and Mozambique to find their own way. Rhodesia, shunned by the world, lasted fifteen years on their own and eventually capitulated to “one man one vote,  “becoming modern day Zimbabwe in 1980.

That left South Africa as the last bastion of white rule in Southern Africa. With the wars against Rhodesia and Portugal over by 1980 the heat was turned up on South Africa through international sanctions. The excesses of apartheid did not help their cause and ultimately by 1990 Nelson Mandela was released from jail and negotiations began towards the goal of majority rule, which was achieved in 1994. This ended the colonial era in Southern Africa.

It was in this context that Cheryl and I spent our growing up and early adult years. We started off in an idyllic world of privilege and comfort surrounded by an exhilarating feeling of great things being done as Northern Rhodesia developed and grew. Southern Africa was strong and growing. We knew that British/colonial rule was a good thing that was happening in our country. As time went on, and indigenous Africans began to demand their place in the sun, our colonial presuppositions were challenged and we began a long process of having to face up to the demands of a changing world.

As black majority rule progressed across Southern Africa, there were many breakdowns of infrastructure and we had to get used to the fact that black rule, whilst fairer on paper, was not necessarily moving the country forward in a straight line. The schooling system previously enjoyed by whites collapsed quickly in Zambia, forcing parents to send their children to boarding school in neighboring Rhodesia or South Africa. As jobs, previously only open to whites were Zambianised, the conversation for families was often along the lines of “when will we leave”? This began a steady flow of ex Northern Rhodesians heading south to live in Rhodesia or South Africa where the good colonial life was as yet undisturbed. This process was repeated when Rhodesia became Zimbabwe in 1980 and we see a comparable phenomenon now happening in South Africa as white families decide to pursue their futures, outside of Africa, where their “whiteness” is not a disadvantage.

As this brief synopsis indicates, the history of Southern Africa in the last 60 – 70 years has been a challenging time to live through if you started off as a card carrying son of the Empire. White colonialists have had to live through a painful process of letting go of their privileged and protected status, generally forsaking it for much less efficient and friendly governments. Oppressive white minority power has been replaced by and large by corrupt black politicians, another minority, who are more concerned with lining their own pockets than caring for the welfare of their electorates. Development for the common people under their watch has been spotty to put it generously.

Cheryl’s and my families have naturally been part of the process and much of our personal histories are a natural outcome of what has been going on in the background. Why did we both have to do our schooling away from home? Why was it necessary to do our university studies in South Africa and not our home country of Zambia and so on? Why did I never have to be part of the military conscription in South Africa which was supporting the system of apartheid, so much abhorred around the world? Why did we leave our parents and siblings in South Africa to live in Canada, half a world away? All of these life changing events were governed by the historical forces which in a multitude of ways have shaped the story of our lives.

On one level this sounds like we were at the mercy of a variety of societal tectonic shifts at work in the background. Whilst this is true, to an extent, nevertheless we see the hand of God at work in our personal lives. Never were we alone. Never did God’s eyes stray from His watch over us. We have experienced the guiding and caring hand of our Father in heaven, such that when we find ourselves now residing happily in Canada, half a world away, with our families growing around us, it does not feel as though we arrived here by mistake. God is good and He is faithful. We have learnt that and are learning it still.

I hope you will chuckle and laugh and ache a bit at times in your own right as you share the adventure of our lives with us. May God bless you as you do.

Rob Cornish