An overview of my 1979 trip to Mauritius, courtesy of the wonderfully hospitable Biltoo family, can be found by clicking here or below:
Here is an extract from my “Remaining Journal”, which is in effect my diary entry for 12 August 1979.
Sunday 12th of August 1979
Stayed at Marraz’s last night, went to Garçon’s in morning for lunch and went on to the races with Shan (sports editor of Le Mauricien) who took us (Anil and I) into the press box. We didn’t do very well at the races, but anyway, we went back to Marraz’s for dinner and the night.
I was wondering how I got such a good spot for this photo
Shan Ip Ting Wah was still hanging around the Mauritius Turf Club as recently as 2016 (interview in French/Creole):
One thing I do recall very clearly was a difference of opinion between Marraz and Garçon in the matter of introducing me and Anil to the “joys” of horse racing. Garçon was a real fan of the racing, as evidenced by much of his letter to me a couple of months later:
Marraz was not keen on racing…or at least not keen to initiate a couple of 16/17 year old lads into the scene. I recall Marraz being pleased when he learned that we had not done well that day and that he issued a stark warning about gambling.
In my case, the Marraz line of argument won. I had been a little uneasy about gambling on both of our visits to the racecourse in Mauritius and never really got the bug for it. But I can see it as a fun day out and we have several times organised days at the races for our staff – e.g. this one:
I kept detailed notes of my 1979 trip to Mauritius, but unfortunately, my notes for 10 and 11 August are lost to all time. My mother decided to throw away a heap of my juvenilia memorabilia, which inadvertently included some of my Mauritius diary pages, as I wrote up my 10 August notes…
…for the BBYO National magazine on my return. I stored those diary pages with my article notes rather than my diaries.
Anyway, by a process of elimination and a trawl through the photographs, I have concluded that the following day, 11 August 1979, must have been the postponed birthday party for Manjula Biltoo, the older of Garçon and Janee’s children. Perhaps her 5th birthday? The party was held at Garçon and Janee’s lovely Rose Hill villa – coincidentally fewer than two miles, no more than 30 minutes walk, from the Beau Bassin site where the extraordinary “Mauritian Shekel” story described in the link above had unfolded in the 1940s.
…as well as enjoying their Rose Hill home as our base for much of our other time in Mauritius.
As there is no reference to Manjula’s birthday party anywhere else in the diary…but there is a clear batch of photos from towards the end of my stay (but not right at the end), I’m pretty sure that 11 August must have been the day of that party…
…thus I have pulled together a photo wall from that party.
I have had a go at labelling up the names, but am hoping for some help from the Biltoo community (e.g. Vanisha, Manjula’s younger sister) in filling gaps and improving spellings.
Manjula with Anil BiltooManjula, Garçon, Vanisha and Anil Biltoo with assembled familyBhavesh Biltoo (Marraz &Anandani’s son)Janee, Vanisha, Manjula and Garçon Biltoo front row. Cousins (I think from Janee’s family) back row.On the left I think Mim Gooly?Baby Gooly?, Shahil Soniassy, Mim Gooly?, Anil Biltoo & Nanda SoniassyAnil G9ooly with Nanda SoniassyMe with Nanda Soniassy. The image of my head from this photo became the “Ged Ladd” avatar several decades later.
I have used several of these pictures to illustrate other write-ups from other days, but I can tell from the photo numbering that those above are from that super party.
I can also report from memory, although not from diary notes, that the party was a very jolly affair, with much of the extended family present and a good time had by children, young adults and more senior folk alike.
Unfortunately, my notes from the interview I conducted on 10 August and my copy of the piece I published in the BBYO National magazine about it seem to be lost for all time, as a result of my mum throwing out rather a lot of my juvenilia without asking my permission. I am still cross about it.
However, as the strangest quirk of fortune would have it, my friend John Random, on seeing my “Jew Hunt In Port Louis” piece, was reminded of a book he once saw at a Mauritian community fair, The Mauritian Shekel. I explain the “aha” moments in this piece, from August 2019.
Now that I have read that book and been able to do some further digging on-line, I am in a position to recreate to some extent the extraordinary interview I had with Isia (aka Isaac) Birger in Port Louis on 10 August 1979.
I recall going to a sizeable office building and being shown into a large office within. In those days, I was unaccustomed to “big businessmen” and the super-sized rooms, desks and chairs that affirmed their status as such.
Mr Birger was very welcoming and interested in my mission, once I explained that I was a newly-appointed editor of a Jewish youth magazine keen to find an interesting angle on my travels.
He then told me the extraordinary story that was subsequently (decades later, at the very end of the 20th century) written up in the book The Mauritian Shekel.
In short, Mr Birger was, at the start of the second world war, probably the only Jew in Mauritius. In 1940, many Jews were trying to flee Nazi-occupied Europe. One group of 1600 refugees, who managed to escape by boat to Mandatory Palestine, were, uniquely, deported from there as illegal immigrants and taken to Mauritius for detention throughout the war. Beau Bassin prison was converted into a refugee camp/detention centre. This unique Jewish community resided there for the rest of the war, after which most went to Mandatory Palestine and some returned to Europe.
Mr Birger, in his capacity as the only known Jewish resident on Mauritius at that time, acted as an intermediary for this involuntary community. He told me several of the fascinating stories covered in the book.
It transpires that, even more latterly than the 1999/2000 book, in 2007, a South African film maker, Kevin Harris (no relation), made a film about the story, see below:
Meanwhile, back in 1979, this story was an absolute coup for me. It made a most unusual piece in the BBYO national magazine and the story also became a centrepiece of a programme I took to many groups around the country in my capacity as a visiting speaker from the National Executive.
I wish I still had my original notes and I’d love to uncover a copy of the article I wrote up at the time – someone might still have a copy of that magazine gathering dust in their attic, so the article might yet emerge.
Still, the process of re-finding the story and pulling the evidence together from limited sources has been a fascinating and stimulating one.
An overview of my 1979 trip to Mauritius, courtesy of the wonderfully hospitable Biltoo family, can be found by clicking here or below:
Here is an extract from my tenth letter, which is in effect my diary entry for 9 August 1979:
Today (Anil’s birthday) we were supposed to walk up one of the Mauritian mountains with Shahil, but we didn’t go of course (Anil being ill).
This afternoon I went on a Jew hunt alone to Port Louis but was unsuccessful. The name and address I’ve been given is of (I found out today) a very important man, so I’m returning there tomorrow (as he was out today). I have my doubts as to whether he’ll want to see me. If he has rejected Judaism (which seems possible) he won’t be at all interested in helping me. He may be a very helpful person, however.
I had better explain at this juncture why on earth I went Jew hunting in Port Louis. A few days before I set off for Mauritius, I had been co-opted onto the BBYO National Executive as the National Magazine Editor, so I was very keen to come up with at least one story with a Jewish angle while I was on my travels. This sole lead (did I pick it up from the Delaître family? – seems likely) actually proved extremely fruitful in the end, but my mother threw out my magazine copies and I have a dreadful feeling I stored my hand-written notes with my copy of the final printed magazine. If so, I am probably, to use the vernacular, in shtuk – that fascinating interview might be lost in the mists of time.
This evening we went to Marraz’s for dinner and although he says otherwise I think Anil’s condition is worsening. It was at Marraz’s I got your letter. What a coincidence meeting Arriss’s friend!!
You haven’t much to tell me about life in Streatham, life in Ilford, Woodford, Pinner and [somewhere else] is also still the same. I’m getting lots of letters. It’s good because from tonight onwards it won’t be worth writing, so it’s no more writing, just reading (which you know I prefer!!!). As for discussions on Judaism, it isn’t (I don’t think) quite as you gathered. On hearing that I’m Jewish most people want to know what it is.
Talking about religion, I forgot to mention that yesterday was Rakhi. I was daubed with flour, sprinkled with flowers, and given wrist bands to wear!! (The bad part oif the ceremony is having to give money to the givers!!).
This is your last letter, so make the most of it, and from now on I will keep my diary on notepaper for you to read (I suppose) tomorrow or the next day (from the time you read this).
See you very soon, love Ian
Me and Nanda, Shahil’s sister. The “me” bit of this picture became Ged Ladd’s avatar.
An overview of my 1979 trip to Mauritius, courtesy of the wonderfully hospitable Biltoo family, can be found by clicking here or below:
Here is an extract from my tenth letter, which is in effect my diary entry for 8 August 1979:
We returned to Garçon’s early, and went on another photogenic trip north, this time along the coast. It was a long trip, which helped Anil not one bit.
That afternoon and evening Anil slept and in the evening Bill, Garçon and Janee went to the pictures (French) and I stayed in alone.
Of course, one of the occasional electrical cuts had to happen that evening, and I didn’t know where the candles were. So I stumbled (literally) to the rear house (I’ll explain that better on my return) where they gave me some candles, and Sanjay (Janee’s nephew) came in to keep me company.
(Change of pen please maestro […my writing was getting faint…] – that’s better!!!)
He’s only 11, and speaks no English, so two hours of conversation with him in French was my first real attempt to get my rusty cogs in motion. He says my accent is good and that I speak very well!!! I’m not so sure.
I’m fairly sure Sanjay is the little fella front between Anil and Dutt. Vanisha on Anil and Dutt’s shoulders.
…I had a memory flash that Fran had written to me while I was in Mauritius.
I was very good about keeping the correspondence I received while there (in contrast with most other hand-written correspondence I received over the years), so I was able easily to find the following letter.
I think it is an utterly charming letter and I think Fran thought so too…
…at least, she did grant me permission to upload it to Ogblog, which is a good sign…
…and she still seems to be talking to me.
Gosh I recall those Airmail letters. A fixed amount of space which seemed like a massive space to fill, until one got going and then ran out of space – pretty much always.
Please note how very legible Fran’s handwriting is compared with mine. Who’d have thought back then and/or from the written evidence that Fran would end up making her living as a medic (dentist), while I would end up making much of my living from writing.
An overview of my 1979 trip to Mauritius, courtesy of the wonderfully hospitable Biltoo family, can be found by clicking here or below:
Here is an extract from my tenth letter, which is in effect my diary entry for 7 August 1979:
As you may tell from the date my diary is a little behind again, and it was only the receiving of two letters from you today that reminded me. I think that the last time I wrote was the morning of the seventh or the evening of the six it doesn’t really matter.
You are my greatest fan; three letters and not one complaint about my handwriting. It is atrocious I admit.
Anyway the morning of the seventh Anil and I went shopping in Rose Hill about thrice, in short bursts. Anil (as usual) has almost completely finished ploughing through his money, and his only hope is that he wins at the races on Sunday!! Last Sunday, Garçon, who is in the know, made a few hundred pounds, so Anil’s got the bug! If it’s one of Garçon’s bad weeks, he’s [Anil’s] had it!!!
In the afternoon we went to Shahil’s for tea and dinner, and then a snap decision to stay the night, which was good fun, but a late night.
Shahil Trying To Look CoolAnil, Shahil & Me. Not a great photograph. I have just spotted the two-finger signal from Shahil above Anil’s head, 40 years later.Dutt (Bill), Anil, Shahil, Nanda, Shahil & Nanda’s parents and their two younger siblings(I think I’m calling all of this but corrections welcomed): Left to Right: Baby, Shahil, Min, Anil, Nanda
Anil decided to have one of his respiratory attacks (not quite asthma but nearly) that (of course, seeing as he was separated from his tablets) meant he spent the whole night wheezing. He is still ill, I’m afraid to say and was very irritable today, as he was confined to barracks on his birthday, but that’s another story..
An overview of my 1979 trip to Mauritius, courtesy of the wonderfully hospitable Biltoo family, can be found by clicking here or below:
Here is an extract from my ninth letter, which is in effect my diary entry for 6 August 1979:
Yesterday we went shopping in the morning and in the afternoon we went to Pamplemousses [Botanical] Garden for a long look around and a routing of my film stock. It’s beautiful there, as you will see.
Here is a link to the 8mm film I took in Mauritius – much of it in those Botanical Gardens:
On the way back we stopped off at one of these real Mauritian grotty cafés for tea (cross fingers for the tummy, folks). Actually my time ain’t been too bad but the past couple of days it’s been a bit on the blink.
Anyway, this is probably the second last letter you get before I get back. By the time you read this, I should be back in three or four days, so you should be getting letters right up until my glorious return. And don’t bother dusting the place anymore because I AM GOING TO BE BACK WITH A VENGEANCE, so run for it while you can.
Hope all is well, see you very soon, Ian the good boy (it doesn’t fit in rhyme)
