1971
Standing in the foyer of the nurses' residence in Bloemfontein, seventeen years old, painfully shy, rurally raised and frighteningly naive, I felt an uncomfortable mixture of excitement and anxiety whirling around in my tummy, tugging and teasing every part of it. I was lost. I had lugged my bags up and down long passages and I couldn't find room 26. An irrational panic threatened common sense. I searched for signs for room 26. Maybe it was in the left wing. That was to be my room for the year ahead.
A maze of passages branched off the long corridor and I felt quite bewildered. I sat on top of my suitcase and thought about the mouse trails in the cornfields at home. The thought made me smile; they never confused me as I skipped along them! Those thoughts comforted me.
I took a deep breath and considered how the mice knew where to go in the fields. They always found the entrance to their little burrow after running across vast expanses of land, hiding from predators flying overhead. I envied them their skills in that moment. They didn't have signs.
I stood up, tears hovering along the rims of my eyes as I dragged my heavy luggage further down the corridor telling myself to grow up, calm down and think. I stopped near the entrance to another passageway. Glancing down at my watch, I noticed it was midday. While everyone was enjoying their scrumptious Sunday lunch on this lazy afternoon in January 1971, I stood alone on the brink of my nursing career, feeling insecure, overwhelmed and homesick. Suddenly I wanted to be a mouse.
I pulled the introduction letter from my bag. I'd not misread the directions. As I stuffed them back in my bag a friendly voice came from behind me.
"Hi, are you lost?" asked the voice and I swung around, being instantly drawn to a pair of warm smiling green eyes that were looking up at me.
"Yes, I think so." I answered.
Relief tipped those tears over the edge and my bottom lip quivered, though I managed a rather pathetic smile.
"I'm looking for room 26 in the left wing," I stammered and was about to show her my introduction letter when she squealed with excitement.
"Hey, what a coincidence, I am also in room 26. Howzit? I'm Amelia van Tonder." She beamed and thrust her hand out for me to shake. I felt instantly envious of her self-confidence.
"Elizabeth Pieterse, it's nice to meet you," I said with relief, taking her warm hand in mine.
At last I wasn't alone in this maze of unmarked passages. I had to look away from her, and as I did, I noticed the room number signs high up on the wall ahead of me. They were facing away from the direction in which both Amelia and I had accessed the building.
"That's dumb," I said, pointing out the room signs. "Why don't they make them visible from both directions?" Shaking my head and wiping my cheek with the back of my hand, I added, "I thought it was just me being stupid. So, judging by the sequence of numbers on that sign, our room must be down the next passage."
"Aagh, no!" Amelia groaned. "These cases are so darned heavy." She rounded her shoulders and screwed up her face, not happy that she had to haul them along again.
I'd been struggling with the weight of mine, and I was at least five inches taller than her, plus she had more luggage than I did. Though I wanted to help her, all I could do was smile when she looked up at me. Off we went, dragging our suitcases down to the next passage where we turned into the entrance and finally located our room.
"Do you have any preference on which side you want to sleep?" Amelia asked, hauling her luggage through the door.
I'd always liked to sleep next to a window and wake to the call of birdsong, but as both our beds faced the only windows, a French door with windows on either side of it, I guessed it was irrelevant.
"No, I don't mind which bed I take."
We were both being very polite, yet it felt to me like I'd known Amelia for years.
"Perfect," she said and threw her handbag onto the bed she was closest to.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced around the room. "Not bad!"
"Much better than I expected. What a nice surprise."
Installed between two cupboards was a vanity table and mirror which served as a dressig table. The bathrooms were down the passage, but there was a wash basin in our room; apparently a luxury. Not all the rooms had a wash basin in them. We were in the newer wing. We could fill up our kettle, wash our hands and face, and clean our teeth without standing in a queue. Sharing a bathroom with anyone other than my family wasn't a comfortable thought.
Pretty floral curtains hung on either side of the French doors that opened onto communal gardens filled with wise old trees, standing tall above manicured lawns; it was a perfect place to study.
"I think I can manage living here." Amelia beamed as she unzipped one of her suitcases, then suddenly burst out laughing.
"Gee, how tall are you?"
I was very self-conscious of my height, but for the first time, I found myself laughing too, responding with unusually good humour on such a sensitive subject.
"Well, the long and the short of it is...." And we both roared with laughter. "Seriously, I'm half an inch off six-foot. Much too tall for a girl. I hate being so tall."
Amelia chuckled. "Let me tell you, it's far worse as a real shortie like me."
"We're never happy with what we have, are we? I'm tall and want to be shorter. You're short and want to be taller. You have gorgeous auburn curls, my favourite hair colour. Don't tell me you wish you were blonde!"
"Yes, of course I do. Blondes have more fun. It's a known fact."
"I don't know about that," I responded, blushing furiously. I was way too shy to comment.
"Jokes aside..." She paused, looking a little sad. "I was teased unmercifully at school. Short arse, shorty, copper nut, rooi kop were just some of the horrid names they called me. Kids can be so cruel to each other, can't they?"
I could see how deeply the teasing had affected her.
"I was also bullied at school. I was mocked constantly for being shy until I finally learnt to stand up for myself."
I looked at Amelia's lovely doll-like face and found it hard to believe she had been so ragged. She was angelically beautiful. I couldn't imagine how anyone would want to tease or insult her.
"We're like Laurel and Hardy. Completely different. I like that, don't you?" I chuckled to lighten the mood.
"Ja, me too," Amelia agreed and pulled the next heavy bag close to the wardrobe and unpacked it.
Banter between us was easy. I felt incredibly fortunate to have Amelia as my roommate for the year. It had worried me that I would have to share a room with someone I didn't like.
"I feel like we've known each other for years, don't you?"
Amelia stood up with an armful of clothes, echoing how I felt.
"I've just been thinking the same."
We went on nattering about what we had in common. It took us ages to unpack. Framed photographs of family members, best friends and special pets were the final decorative bits we added to make the room feel more like home.
Finally, Amelia plonked her childhood teddy on her pillow and looked at me.
"Don't laugh. He goes everywhere with me." She stroked its face affectionately. "I've had Harold since I was three and we're inseperable. Plus, he always brings me luck."
I felt a little tug of sadness as I thought back to my beautiful teddy whose arms and legs moved, and whom I'd adored. I would wrap Teddy's arms around my neck when I couldn't sleep after Papa died. It was the comfort I craved as a six-year-old. Mom had never been one to show much affection. She had found it hard to comfort me, for she too was grieving. Several months after Papa passed, she bought me a puppy: a fluffy crossbreed whom I fell in love with until he ripped Teddy apart. I never did get another. Mom couldn't afford it, but I eventually forgave my ever-faithful canine companion.
"What made you want to do nursing?" Amelia asked, her eyebrows raised, and a line creased between them. She had noticed my mood was pensive and she was too polite to ask what was wrong. I told her anyway.
"My father passed away when I was little. Mom bravely took over the farm, and too many of the years since, she has struggled. She couldn't afford to keep me in school this year. You know we've had drought conditions for a long time. After Papa passed, blistering hot sun and even more severe droughts persisted, lasting four long difficult years, burning the lifeblood out of my beloved Papa.
"Mom once mentioned that the stress of losing my eldest brother during the on-going drought became too much for him. A heart attack sent him to an early grave. Tough years continued for us after Papa died, but Mom managed to keep the farm running and provided for us, but now, once more, another bloody drought, which has almost bankrupted her."
There was an awkward sombre silence between us for a moment, then I continued my story.
"I've always wanted to be a nurse, though I did want to finish my schooling first, but it wasn't to be. I know Mom feels very guilty, but there is nothing she can do. Some tough Voortrekker roots are embedded in her DNA which keeps her pressing on year after year. Even though she has my brother's help, she is amazing. It's difficult to break through her tough exterior though, and for years, I've craved her affection."
"I'm so sorry." Amelia reached out and hugged me. "Shame, Elizabeth, that's such a sad story. Thanks for sharing something so difficult. So, where's your farm?"
"Near Brandfort. Hey, remember how we all learnt that crazy town's history at school?"
"Yeah, and anyone born in Brandfort is always labelled a racist." I laughed.
"So, are you one?" Amelia prompted playfully.
"No. I don't think so, nor is my mother. We understand and respect our differences. None of my family was partial to the ways of that asshole Verwoed, and I do remember wishing he'd never been born in Brandfort."
"Gee, you've had a tough time. I know how hard farming is. My dad has only survived the droughts because we irrigate and the dams are good. Otherwise, I'm sure we'd have been in the same position." Amelia's voice was filled with genuine empathy, and for the first time in my life, I felt comfortable chatting about my childhood.
Bloemfontein was, and still is, the university town of the Free State province in South Africa. For student nurses in the seventies, it was a great city to be in as young teenagers. We fluffed out our youthful feathers, and there was no shortage of lively teenagers either, many of whom were from the surrounding farming districts like Amelia and me. We were mostly wide-eyes innocents ready to take on the world enthusiastically.
It was an era of fabulous music. The fashion was colourful and outrageous. Life was fun and we revelled in it, especially those of us raised in very conservative households, like I was. It was like being released from the coop. Mega conservative parents were horrified by the way the world was going: young men with long hair and facial hair growing in chaotic abandon down the sides of their cheeks. The old folk couldn't tolerate the rebellion, but for me, coming to live in a city was an exciting and welcome change.
Living in residence was an education on its own. There were an assortment of interesting characters, but the behaviour from some girls in our wing shocked us both rigid. The city teenagers were far more advanced in the ways of the world than those of us raised on farms. Amelia and I had heard that a few of the girls had snuck a man or two into their rooms during the second week in res; we were shocked. However, we secretly enjoyed the gossip when we got sick of studying.
One afternoon, I had got back to our room earlier than Amelia and lying on my bed reading my new notes when she burst through the door excitedly.
"Hey, ready for a party?" she screeched happily. "We've been invited to join the rest of our wing at a party tonight."
We'd been together in res just over a month by then.
"Oh, okay, great. Where?"
"I don't know. Some dude's house in town. Probably one of the guys who has been snuck in here on a few occassions. We're all to meet in the foyer at 7 p.m." She winked at me. "So shall we go?"
She cocked her head head to one side while one hand rested on her hip. The other hand she flicked out to the front with a theatrical questioning gesture. I couldn't help my laughter.
"For sure." I chuckled at her theatrics. I was game for a party.
"Time to prove we are not the 'prudes' that everyone thinks we are."
Amelia screwed up her face and raised her shoulders. She knew neither of us was the type of girl who wanted to be known as sluttly or cheap, so prudish was fine for now.
Off we went, and we were not disappointed by Mr Rich Kid's selection of sixties and seventies music either. Popular songs of the day thumped out through the sound system in the garden. We did rock around the clock, drinking, laughing and eating off the barbeque until after eleven, then the music livened up and everyone gathered around the swimming pool. It was a perfect summer's evening; the air was still and warm, and by midnight the party got interestingly raunchy. Daring couples (or drunk couples) stripped off, dived into the pool and shagged each other openly. Most of the girls participating were from our wing. Apart from being stunned, I was acutely embarrassed too. I'd never seen such urgent grappling, nor had I heard such wicked laughter in an open display of raw sexual lust. Amelia and I didn't know where to look. We both felt awkward, but, like insects drawn to bright light, we couldn't help staring.
Soon it got too raunchy to go on gawping; it was time to head back to res. That was our first taste of the wilder side of life in the city and from then on we couldn't resist hooking up with the city-born teenagers. They behaved like racing pigeons and we flew from one party to the next. After our first, rather raw introduction, Amelia and I joined in. Not on the sexual whirl, but the social rush.
Studying, working and partying became too much. It was a juggling act, but somehow we got through the first year with excellent results. I went home for the Christmas break and Mom dropped the bombshell. She announced she couldn't afford to pay the residence fee for the following year; government subsidies were only available to student nurses who'd completed their high school examinations and passed.
My world and my dreams were shattered. I was devastated. With a heavy heart, I searched for employment. I finally found a job in a pharmacy as a shop assistant, and a tiny bed-sit flat quite a long walk from the nurses' residence. I wanted to be close to the res for Amelia was still there. In the new year I began a seemingly directionless life and felt the lonliness of it like an abandoned child.
