Childhood Memories of Tarkastad

In My Grandmother’s House

William’s Story – Childhood Memories of Tarkastad

By William Button

What an ordeal to have to take an afternoon nap!  Cousin Piet eyed the open bedroom window and out we went, our target the mulberry tree – easily assailable but in full view of the kitchen window.

Needless to say getting down unscathed was rare, when the pain of the kweperlat” (quince tree branch) disciplinary action subsided, we ventured out again; this time farther afield to race our twig boats along the municipal water furrows that served to keep household vegetable gardens watered.  When our boats ventured off into a neighbourhood veggie patch we savoured the sweetness of their carrots and a peach or two wandered into our pockets. Only to be discovered by Ouma who was ready to warm our tails once again.

Another memory is of our Oom Japie’s skill of getting his pocket knife blade sharpened by only using a round stone and water to such a lethal sharpness, which he promptly used to for a pedicure and a manicure.  We were fascinated by all of this!  I will let you in on a secret, one that I have kept for seventy five years – he used that self-same knife to peel and chop vegetables into mouth sized morsels for our everyday consumption.

In order to keep us out of mischief our parents organised “street cricket” matches, cousins, second cousins and some uncles all joined in the fun, those wide open streets become our pitch and battle ground.  One year we managed to organise two teams of family and extended family members to play a friendly “five day” test match on the town’s sports field.  After the match we consumed huge amounts  watermelon and other delicious summer fruits followed by a swim in the municipal baths to spruce up and cool off.

The blazing sun caused excessive sun burn and more often than not I suffered sunstroke, this meant a few days bed rest and Oupa’s nasty homemade aloe tablets. 

Ouma had this really strange quirk in that she always wanted her grandchildren to share her really big double bed with her.  She had a dreadful snuffing habit coupled with the smell of camphor cream that she insisted we rub on our chests.  Another nightmarish experience because the lavatory was outside the house, we all had to make use of chamber pots.  The combined smell of camphor cream, snuff and other odours was enough to give us nightmares for a lifetime. 

Speaking of nightmares, Oupa had a vivid imagination and certainly liked to shock us with some of his stories.  Gail has banned one of them from being retold on this blog.  However, I can share the story of Oupa’s childhood pet monkey that used to climb onto the kitchen table and entertain the family, such as it was, with his antics.  One day some joker set off a fire cracker upon which the terrified monkey jumping around in circles covering the walls, windows, curtains and screaming kids with his faeces.  (Gail begrudgingly allowed this story to be repeated)!  Oupa never related what the punishment for this offense was, however we could never believe that our beloved, kindest and dearest Oupa could be relate such a story!

Some of my fondest memories are of swinging on the big farm gate at the entrance to the property and I can still hear the squeaking, screeching sound it made as it swung back and forth as well as feel a light gentle breeze on my face.

We loved watching a herd of cattle being driven home from one end of the town to their barn and camp on the other side of the dorp, a group of women would invariably follow the herd to collect the dung which would in turn be used as fuel or a kind of a screed for floors.  Milking therefore held the promise of warm milk, initially a strange taste sensation, soon to be considered a highlight of our day.

We learned to make wire cars, empty shoe polish tins being the wheels, a long steering shaft and steering wheel made for some entertaining and magic filled moments as we “drove” up and down the streets of Tarkastad.  A group of little boys black and white having so much fun emulating the sound of Lorries, tractors or even racing cars.    Our days seemed to full of new adventures and so much fun.

I have enjoyed sharing this time of reminiscing with you, o remembering a bygone era some seventy years ago, when time seemed to stretch on forever, life was simple and unhurried and we were free to roam the streets of Tarkastad, just being children.

Thank you for listening to my story

 If you would like to share your story, I encourage you to share them with Gail and she will publish them on this forum.  I believe that is important to remember our past, future and present.

 I am so pleased that Gail invited and encouraged me to share my story as I have had a wonderful time remembering my childhood.