6) Bringing The Baby Home
When I was told I could come out of hospital Jonny was at work so I phoned his sister Cecilia and asked her to come and fetch me and Jonathan home. She was thrilled to do so, she just couldn’t wait to hold him and play with him. When we got home she changed his nappy for him and he wet all over her and she wasn’t in the slightest bit cross with him. Cec unfortunately was only able to have one child, Bernice, who was by this time six years old. Cec loved babies and should have had lots of them for herself.
We had been warned that our ‘vicious’ Doberman puppy, after having all our attention and being our baby would turn on Jonathan and attack him. I wonder where people get these strange ideas? When we brought Jonathan home Saint’s nose was a little out of joint, he did not know what to think of this intruder. I had never had a dog before and knew nothing of dog phycology but Jonny knew exactly what to do. I was to sit with the baby on my lap and when Saint came to investigate I was to let him. So Saint came and sniffed at the baby, he examined him from head to toe, he gave him a lick or two and he decided that he liked him. From that day on we were second in Saint’s life and Jonathan was first, he spent most of his time guarding the pram and I never had a moments concern that he would hurt the baby in any way. He loved all the children, and hated to be left out of their games. If they were in a little huddle playing cars or something he would step over them and sit on top of their toys so that they could not ignore him. Mothers would come to visit with their off spring and ask “is the dog alright” I would say “yes” and a few minutes one might hear screaming from the other end of the house. Mums would rush off to rescue their infant only to find that Saint was leaning on them and had them pinned to the wall. The more they hit him and screamed the more he seemed to like it and just leaned a little harder. He thought it was a grand game.
One day not long after we had brought him home Jonathan was having a bad day. Just the kind of day all babies have now and again when nothing will settle them. I had fed him, bathed him, checked that he was not too hot, or not too cold or that there was no nappy pin sticking in him and still he cried. I thought it would be best just to put him in his pram under the shade of a tree in the garden. After a little while Moses came in and said “Madam, the baby is crying” I said, “Yes I know Moses, thank you” A little while later Moses returned and said “Madam, the baby is crying” and again I said “Yes I know Moses, thank you” When this happened a third time I said “Yes I know Moses, he is just being naughty, I think I will smack him” Moses was shocked “Oh No, you can’t do that Madam, Jesus is watching you”
He was a good and contented baby and was putting on about 1 pound a week every time I took him to clinic to be weighed. I worked it out that at that rate he would weigh over 1100 pounds (500kgs) by the time he was 21. He started to crawl very early and was very mobile by the time he was four months but I think that this slowed down his walking. At about a year he could take a step or two but it was too slow a process for him and he would be down on all fours and off like a shot.
I remember the first time he fell off the bed. I was devastated I could not believe I had been so careless and that I had allowed my baby to get a huge bump on his forehead. Young Moms think that their babies are much more fragile than they really are but I did not know this and thought I had damaged him for life. Poor little thing, he was really in the back of the queue when they handed out the mothers. I remember that the Catholic Church had a Fete and Cecilia wanted me to attend to put Jonathan on to the baby show that they were holding. I did not want to, as I knew that my baby was the best and was not interested what any of the judges thought. He was so much brighter than all my friends’ babies and it was not only I that thought so. I remember Moses would make comments whenever my friends brought their babies to visit. He always noticed that Jonathan had more teeth or sat up straighter, or crawled sooner than any of the others. Mind you Moses also thought that everything we had was better than anything anyone else had. Our house was the best in the street and our dogs were much cleverer than the neighbours’ pets. I remember once when Saint and Mitzie were having a little scrap he lectured Saint. “Why do you fight with Mitzie, she is your sister and you must love her, she is smaller than you and you must not be a bully.”
I loved living in tropical Africa but I must admit there were things I did not like about it. I did not like fleas and ticks or putsy flies. In that warm wet climate fleas and tics were very hard to control and the dogs had to be washed and dipped regularly to keep them parasite free. I remember once when Saint had fleas he got on to the settee and transferred his vermin to our furniture. Saint was easy to sort out, just dip him in the right muttie (African word for any kind of medicine) and he was fine but the settee refused to give up its inmates. We sprayed it; we put flea powder on it and eventually fumigated the whole house to sort out the problem. Before we managed to get on top of it anyone sitting on the settee got bitten. If someone came to visit we would say, “Come in, sit down” and we would rush to sit on the settee before they could. They must have thought that we were very odd, or that we were so much in love we could not bare to sit apart but it is very embarrassing to watch your guests start to scratch and know that they are being attacked by fleas. It was a relief to get rid of them at last and be able to let people sit where every they wanted to. Ticks were also a problem they stuck their heads into the animals and sucked their blood. We had to watch out for them because if neglected they caused tick bite fever and biliary and could kill our pets. Putsy files were even worst. When wet washing was hung on the line flies laid their eggs on the warm damp cloth and so everything that had been hung outside had to be thoroughly ironed to kill off the eggs. If things were not properly ironed the eggs would hatch and the little maggot would burrow its way into the skin of whoever was wearing the garment. They really were the most disgusting thing I have ever had to put up with.
The people that lived across the road from us were called Dorothy and John Jones (usually called Buck). They had two sons, Howard and Bushie. When we moved in to that street Howard was away at high school in Southern Rhodesia. The younger boy Bushie was in primary school and still living at home he was a very talented swimmer. Buck and Dot bred Dobermans and I don’t think they were very impressed with ours but they did appreciate his gentle nature as all their dogs were highly bred and inclined to be vicious. Buck and Jonny like to play chess together and to go fishing so we became good friends with them all. Sometime Buck and Jonny would go to work together in one car. One afternoon when they came home in our car Buck was coming to our place to collect something and so Jonny just drove right up to our driveway. Saint did not like anybody except Jonny or me to open that gate but Buck knew the dog well and hopped out of the car to open the gate and Saint went for him. Luckily Buck was not hurt but he had new respect for our dog, he did have a lovely nature but he was also very protective of his people. They also had an old mongrel called Sambo, who went “Woof, woof, woof most of the night, Sambo was not popular in the neighbourhood. They had a parrot, I can’t remember his name but he talked well and did a wonderful impression of Dot calling her servant. The poor man got caught out often, thinking he was being called and it was just the parrot.
Dot once asked me if I spoke Fanigalor, a language that was a mixture of the local Bemba language, Africaans and some English, a bit like Pidgin English. I said I hadn’t and she told me that she spoke it. I later listened to her speaking it to her servant she told him to “Putie lo potatoes onie lo stoveie, boilie lo water and turnie lo heatie downie.” Fanigalor was not a proper language put it consisted or more than adding “ie” to the end of each word and saying “lo” instead of “the” but her servant who had a good command of the English language understood her fine so they were both happy.
Our first Christmas with our baby was great. We were sure that he was enjoying it all so much. We bought him loads of presents and he being only six months old much preferred the wrapping paper. I made a very special Christmas dinner and we planned that he would eat the same time as us. I put a little of the chicken, the ham, the lamb and all the lovely vegetables into a liquidizer and made a nice pulpy mess for him. We were so sure that he would be thrilled with it but he was not impressed and spat it all out.
We had been warned that our ‘vicious’ Doberman puppy, after having all our attention and being our baby would turn on Jonathan and attack him. I wonder where people get these strange ideas? When we brought Jonathan home Saint’s nose was a little out of joint, he did not know what to think of this intruder. I had never had a dog before and knew nothing of dog phycology but Jonny knew exactly what to do. I was to sit with the baby on my lap and when Saint came to investigate I was to let him. So Saint came and sniffed at the baby, he examined him from head to toe, he gave him a lick or two and he decided that he liked him. From that day on we were second in Saint’s life and Jonathan was first, he spent most of his time guarding the pram and I never had a moments concern that he would hurt the baby in any way. He loved all the children, and hated to be left out of their games. If they were in a little huddle playing cars or something he would step over them and sit on top of their toys so that they could not ignore him. Mothers would come to visit with their off spring and ask “is the dog alright” I would say “yes” and a few minutes one might hear screaming from the other end of the house. Mums would rush off to rescue their infant only to find that Saint was leaning on them and had them pinned to the wall. The more they hit him and screamed the more he seemed to like it and just leaned a little harder. He thought it was a grand game.
One day not long after we had brought him home Jonathan was having a bad day. Just the kind of day all babies have now and again when nothing will settle them. I had fed him, bathed him, checked that he was not too hot, or not too cold or that there was no nappy pin sticking in him and still he cried. I thought it would be best just to put him in his pram under the shade of a tree in the garden. After a little while Moses came in and said “Madam, the baby is crying” I said, “Yes I know Moses, thank you” A little while later Moses returned and said “Madam, the baby is crying” and again I said “Yes I know Moses, thank you” When this happened a third time I said “Yes I know Moses, he is just being naughty, I think I will smack him” Moses was shocked “Oh No, you can’t do that Madam, Jesus is watching you”
He was a good and contented baby and was putting on about 1 pound a week every time I took him to clinic to be weighed. I worked it out that at that rate he would weigh over 1100 pounds (500kgs) by the time he was 21. He started to crawl very early and was very mobile by the time he was four months but I think that this slowed down his walking. At about a year he could take a step or two but it was too slow a process for him and he would be down on all fours and off like a shot.
I remember the first time he fell off the bed. I was devastated I could not believe I had been so careless and that I had allowed my baby to get a huge bump on his forehead. Young Moms think that their babies are much more fragile than they really are but I did not know this and thought I had damaged him for life. Poor little thing, he was really in the back of the queue when they handed out the mothers. I remember that the Catholic Church had a Fete and Cecilia wanted me to attend to put Jonathan on to the baby show that they were holding. I did not want to, as I knew that my baby was the best and was not interested what any of the judges thought. He was so much brighter than all my friends’ babies and it was not only I that thought so. I remember Moses would make comments whenever my friends brought their babies to visit. He always noticed that Jonathan had more teeth or sat up straighter, or crawled sooner than any of the others. Mind you Moses also thought that everything we had was better than anything anyone else had. Our house was the best in the street and our dogs were much cleverer than the neighbours’ pets. I remember once when Saint and Mitzie were having a little scrap he lectured Saint. “Why do you fight with Mitzie, she is your sister and you must love her, she is smaller than you and you must not be a bully.”
I loved living in tropical Africa but I must admit there were things I did not like about it. I did not like fleas and ticks or putsy flies. In that warm wet climate fleas and tics were very hard to control and the dogs had to be washed and dipped regularly to keep them parasite free. I remember once when Saint had fleas he got on to the settee and transferred his vermin to our furniture. Saint was easy to sort out, just dip him in the right muttie (African word for any kind of medicine) and he was fine but the settee refused to give up its inmates. We sprayed it; we put flea powder on it and eventually fumigated the whole house to sort out the problem. Before we managed to get on top of it anyone sitting on the settee got bitten. If someone came to visit we would say, “Come in, sit down” and we would rush to sit on the settee before they could. They must have thought that we were very odd, or that we were so much in love we could not bare to sit apart but it is very embarrassing to watch your guests start to scratch and know that they are being attacked by fleas. It was a relief to get rid of them at last and be able to let people sit where every they wanted to. Ticks were also a problem they stuck their heads into the animals and sucked their blood. We had to watch out for them because if neglected they caused tick bite fever and biliary and could kill our pets. Putsy files were even worst. When wet washing was hung on the line flies laid their eggs on the warm damp cloth and so everything that had been hung outside had to be thoroughly ironed to kill off the eggs. If things were not properly ironed the eggs would hatch and the little maggot would burrow its way into the skin of whoever was wearing the garment. They really were the most disgusting thing I have ever had to put up with.
The people that lived across the road from us were called Dorothy and John Jones (usually called Buck). They had two sons, Howard and Bushie. When we moved in to that street Howard was away at high school in Southern Rhodesia. The younger boy Bushie was in primary school and still living at home he was a very talented swimmer. Buck and Dot bred Dobermans and I don’t think they were very impressed with ours but they did appreciate his gentle nature as all their dogs were highly bred and inclined to be vicious. Buck and Jonny like to play chess together and to go fishing so we became good friends with them all. Sometime Buck and Jonny would go to work together in one car. One afternoon when they came home in our car Buck was coming to our place to collect something and so Jonny just drove right up to our driveway. Saint did not like anybody except Jonny or me to open that gate but Buck knew the dog well and hopped out of the car to open the gate and Saint went for him. Luckily Buck was not hurt but he had new respect for our dog, he did have a lovely nature but he was also very protective of his people. They also had an old mongrel called Sambo, who went “Woof, woof, woof most of the night, Sambo was not popular in the neighbourhood. They had a parrot, I can’t remember his name but he talked well and did a wonderful impression of Dot calling her servant. The poor man got caught out often, thinking he was being called and it was just the parrot.
Dot once asked me if I spoke Fanigalor, a language that was a mixture of the local Bemba language, Africaans and some English, a bit like Pidgin English. I said I hadn’t and she told me that she spoke it. I later listened to her speaking it to her servant she told him to “Putie lo potatoes onie lo stoveie, boilie lo water and turnie lo heatie downie.” Fanigalor was not a proper language put it consisted or more than adding “ie” to the end of each word and saying “lo” instead of “the” but her servant who had a good command of the English language understood her fine so they were both happy.
Our first Christmas with our baby was great. We were sure that he was enjoying it all so much. We bought him loads of presents and he being only six months old much preferred the wrapping paper. I made a very special Christmas dinner and we planned that he would eat the same time as us. I put a little of the chicken, the ham, the lamb and all the lovely vegetables into a liquidizer and made a nice pulpy mess for him. We were so sure that he would be thrilled with it but he was not impressed and spat it all out.
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