This is story #54 in the series “Where Exactly is Home?”. It’s the last story in the Rhodesian part of the author’s life. The author recommends you read them in order.
Introduction:
“Where Exactly is Home?” follows the story of my parents, my two younger brothers and me, Susan, who emigrated from war-battered Britain, in the mid-late 1950’s, to Southern Rhodesia, Africa.
The effects of this move on our family were huge, as we struggled to adapt to such a different way of life. Only after further upheaval, and more long-distance travelling, did our family eventually settle in the city of Salisbury, Rhodesia.
However, we did not know then that we would not remain there for the rest of our lives, either.
When the family first went to Africa, I, Susan, was 9 years old. My two brothers, John and Peter, were almost 7 and 4, respectively.
Nowadays, as seniors, John and Peter live in England. I live in Canada. Throughout our lives, we have both benefitted from, and suffered because of, our somewhat unusual childhood.
I, for one, still sometimes ask myself which country represents home to me.
This is a series of stories under the title “Where Exactly is Home?” – I recommend you read them in order, starting with story #1.
54. My New Life in an English Village, UK, April 1972
Having been accepted by a school in which I could teach French and having moved to the village of Emsworth in Hampshire, on the south coast of England, I felt as if all the turmoil of the past many months would melt away. I knew that beginning at a new school was nerve-wracking, as much for the teachers as it was for the students, because, like them, we teachers didn’t know what awaited us, nor whether we would cope with the workload, either.
I liked the two young women with whom I shared the semi-detached bungalow, even though once again I felt like a country bumpkin. This time it wasn’t the way they dressed or behaved. It was more their knowledge, their understanding of the ways of the world, their self-confidence, something in which I was sadly lacking. I could hardly believe that the younger of the two, a pretty, blond girl of 19, had only just left school. Now studying at Portsmouth Polytechnic to be an engineer, she was already engaged to a fellow student whom she had met there. Together, they rallied cars in different events around the countryside, with varying degrees of success. They loved to tinker with engines on the driveway, too, a fact that didn’t endear them to our landlady, who was always frightened of oil being dropped. Yes, this young woman was astute, competent, and mature beyond her years, able to look after herself and others. She was happy to run her life, buying groceries, cooking meals for herself and her beau, driving whichever car was put in front of her. Her fiancé often stayed the night. To me, she was so young! So was her beloved.
