Here is an extract from my sixth letter, which is in effect my diary entry for 26 July 1979:
I’m a couple of days behind now, as you’ll realise when I explain what happened. Today we went south, visiting all sorts of interesting places there. Again Garçon couldn’t come so again we took picnic lunch and chauffeur. the thing was, the next door neighbour passed away in the early hours so we had to return early for the levayah [funeral]. Like Jews, Hindus insist on burial [sic] very quickly, usually within 24 hours. Anyway, we went to Chamarel again and also Baie du Cap by the sea where we took lunch. Then came home for the funeral (or rather, watched it from the house) and then (it was evening by then) got ready for dinner. Lynford Smith [Anglican Priest from Vacoas] came for dinner, which made for quite a pleasurable evening.
Chamarel – probably. I didn’t label photos much back then.
I’m sure my reference to “burial” is an error; the funeral will have been a cremation. But my point about rapidity was accurate.
I seemed to have got ever so used to being chauffeured around ever so quickly, once we got to Garçon and Janee’s place.
Here is an extract from my fourth letter, which is in effect my diary entry for 21 July 1979:
I wrote that first paragraph this morning (1st thing) and now I’m speaking this evening (last thing).
We went out this morning. We went to Lynford’s first and then to the post office and to the shops. Then we had lunch. This afternoon we went for a ride with Jan down to the south coast (Gris-Gris) – where we will be staying (week three I think). On our return we got ready to go out this evening.
Gris-Gris
We went to a wedding ceremony and feast (the ceremony of the night before the wedding). The feast we ate with our fingers off coconut leaf plates. It was a superb experience to see this and we will be going to another wedding next week, and they will let me take photographs there. In the late evening Anil and I went for a walk and we saw a lorry full of workers from the sugar cane fields making carnival, which was great fun.
In the event, we never did get to the wedding ceremony where photographs were to be allowed. Perhaps the neighbour’s untimely death and funeral put paid to that idea.
But I do have two strong anecdotal memories for events during the wedding ceremony we did attend on this day.
I was really struggling with the business of eating with my fingers. There is a particular technique to it (I’m better at it now) but at that time it was all new to cack-handed me. An old lady shrieked out a few words in Mauritian Creole and everyone within earshot burst out laughing. Anil told me afterwards that the old biddy had basically said, “does no-one have a spoon for that unfortunate English boy?”.
Secondly, I recall trying cannabis for the first time at that wedding. I had been forewarned about this opportunity and in fact tried smoking cigarettes (or little cigarillo things) with Anil on the beach two or three days before the wedding (and subsequently) by way of preparation. It seems that Mauritius had relatively tolerant laws with regard to marijuana in those days, such that, as I understood it, although it was illegal to buy, sell or smoke the drug on the street, it was legal to grow it for certain legitimate purposes, one of which was for use in wedding ceremonies. Lots of people were having a toke at the wedding. I recall asking Dat if it really was legal to be doing what we were doing, to which he replied, “I think so, but why don’t you ask that fellow over there with the big spiff? He’s the Chief of Police”.
For some reason, I omitted these smoking and cannabis-related details from the letters to my folks.
I’ll just put you in the picture a little as the general side of life here. The poverty we see around us is quite perturbing, although I find myself acting very much like the better off native people here; trying not to see the poverty. It is very easy to look at this island “through rose coloured spectacles”. In many ways, however, it is quite accurate to call it a Paradise Island. The sheer beauty Flic-en-Flac, Gris-Gris, Chamarel et cetera quite takes your breath away.
The feature that surprises me a little about the island is how very clean it is. It is quite compatible with the continent and even England these days.
One thing that surprises me is: (1) how few Jews there are, and (2) how little the educated Mauritians I’m staying with know about Judaism; their knowledge was minimal, very unflattering and wrong, and we’ve had many interesting discussions on religion with which I’ve open their eyes, I hope.
Anyway see you at four-and-a-bit weeks, please write, love Ian
Here is an extract from my fourth letter, which is in effect my diary entry for 20 July 1979:
Dear folks,
Here’s news of yesterday. In the morning we went to Lynford Smiths. At first he was out, so we waited for him. The maid (who doesn’t speak English) answered the phone and called me to take a message. I found out during the course of the conversation that I was speaking to Trevor Huddleston (the Bish O’Maurish).
Actually Trevor Huddleston was the Archbishop of the Indian Ocean, but what did I know of Archbishops back then?
More important than the mundane conversation I had with that great anti-apartheid campaigner that day, was the more general political awakening I had, while I was in Mauritius for those five weeks, to the evils of such racism. More on that anon.
Anyway, then we went to Flic-en-Flac (the seaside) where we swam. Marraz and I snorkelled and we had lunch. Then we came home and got ready for dinner; we were going to Jan’s, so we dressed smartly. We had a wonderful discussion and meal there.
I wrote letters to mum and dad which doubled as my diary/travelogue. Here is a scan and then transcription of the second of them, which relates to 17 July 1979.
Dear folks,
As you may have realised from the drift at the end of letter one, I had the inspiration to save writing time. You want to know what I’m doing all the time and I want to keep a diary. Thus I am sending you my diary as I go along which is why I wanted to keep the letters for me when I come back. Please send me news from home about once a week or fortnight or I will feel forgotten.
This morning we first went to Lynford Smith’s house (the priest from England) who drove us to Rose Hill to Garçon’s house…
There we had a workers lunch in the market, a full lunch for a big 10p (a little less). We then visited Jan Sooknah a cousin of Bill’s. who immediately insisted we go to his house for tea and was very pleased to see us. He is a lawyer. All lawyers here are very rich. He lives in the district which is the Mauritian equivalent of Beverly Hills or Hampstead Garden Suburb!!!
They want us to stay there for a while: we may do later. Then we came home for supper where we had octopus; the food is superb!!
We went for a walk after supper and befriended the sons of the owner of the café (very convenient) and some of their friends. Marraz Biltoo is very popular around here and knowing him means instant acceptance and friendship.
Sugar cane grows like grass in Mauritius, you just tear it off the trees. It has the fascinating property that the fibres (if you carry on chewing rather than spit them out) clean your teeth and are good for the gums.
Good gums with all that sugar cane, Anil?
We are having the time of our lives here, the weather is good And improving. It is so different from England you wouldn’t believe it.
I won’t write a whole letter every day; soon the news will become less no doubt, so I will dig sections of letters, but I will be writing each day, you could say.
I wrote letters to mum and dad which doubled as my diary/travelogue. Here is a scan followed by a transcript of the first of them, which relates to 16 July 1979.
For those who struggle to read my beautiful manuscript, here is a dictated transcription:
Dear Ma and pa,
Well here I am, in Mauritius. It’s 7:15 AM and the sun will soon be making its presence felt. We are right at the tail end of the wintry weather (that means cold nights), but wrapped up in a blanket I was quite warm enough, so the assurance that I won’t need the blanket for much longer is quite irrelevant. Mindyou, I’d have slept like a log through anything after getting about half an hours sleep on the plane.
The flight was most enjoyable. At Heathrow we met a Biltoo, Arriss, who travelled with us and being in aviation he knows the ropes. Bahrain, our first stop (at 1:45 GMT 3:45 Bahrain time) was smelly, with workers sleeping around on the airport floors etc.
Seychelles wouldn’t let us off, as it was raining when we stopped there, but the weather in Mauritius was lovely.
We arrived at 11:15 GMT, 2:15 Mauritius time and were met by Marraz (whose home I am in now) Garçon (with chauffeur to take all our bags) and Narrain (whose wife is one of Bill’s sisters). Of course they brought their families with them, (except Narrain as there was no room to 6 kids). First of all we drove to Garçon’s house.
The first thing that struck me on the journey was the extreme poverty. People living in rusty shacks etc. The second thing was the wonderful smell of the island, this mainly caused by sugar cane.
Garçon’s house at Rose Hill is like a mansion. We may stay there for a while. We quickly moved on to Narrain’s house – that was when we met Tiffin (Bill’s sister) and the six children. Then we went to Marraz’s house. Marraz has pull here, so the words Marraz Biltoo got us straight through customs etc. at the airport.
That evening we were visited by the Anglican priest from Catford [Lynford Smith] who I recognise and who recognises me. He says you can’t possibly see Mauritius unless you live with Mauritian people for some time, like I’m doing.
Anyway I’ll be in touch soon, lots of love Ian.
PS Please keep my letters as I’m too busy to write everything down for you and keep a diary
I refer to Anil’s dad as “Bill” in these letters, but I remember him as Dat (or Dutt) and I am pretty sure everyone in Mauritius called him Dat. Perhaps Bill was his nickname or simplified name in England.
This photo, taken later in the holiday, shows the people named in that first letter and some more. Left to right: Anil, Marraz, Anandani (in front of Marraz), Dat (Bill), Narrain (sitting in front of Dat), Garçon, Janee, Tiffin.
