CHAPTER 1

The Long Journey

My sleep was interrupted at 5.30 in the morning by great shouting and crying. I listened intently for a while when I realised that someone had suddenly died during the night and the relatives were just informed. To add to the disorder, the stall vendors, two streets away, were adding to the confusion with their noisy packing and braying donkeys. When the hubbub was over I was unable to get back to sleep. My thoughts turned immediately to my own uncharted future. I had finished high school and was successful with my exams. My friends and I were so pleased that on the last day of school we thought of being a bit naughty by smoking a cigarette as a way of celebration. No sooner had I placed the cigarette between my lips when a black man approached me; he was well-dressed with a waistcoat and a gentleman’s shirt. I noticed the shirt because only my dad and a few other men in town wore them. He pulled the cigarette from my lips and gave me a resounding slap across the cheek and calmly told me to go and tell my dad that Doctor Bristol smacked me. He then crushed the cigarette with his foot and walked away. He knew I would not dare tell my dad what happened. If I did I would only get a telling-off and be deprived of seeing my friends for a week. It was the second time that day I had been punished. The first was because of something I did not care to think about and because I had no control over what caused it. The second was due to teenage naughtiness.

We lived on the outskirts of town in a small community of predominantly Portuguese business men and British administrators. We were classified as Portuguese and not Europeans for the simple fact that our grandfathers came from Madeira. This was of course a political classification and did not have any adverse reaction on the Portuguese community.

In spite of this classification, we lived and socialised quite amicably with the European communities.

For the same political reason, we tended to be aloof from the villagers living less than a mile away; these were the East Indian farmers and labourers and they seemed to understand the reasons for the social divide.

In order to maintain that equilibrium, my mother kept a tight rein on my social activities and all that over protectiveness was not making my life easier. Most of my friends were from the community in which we lived, except an East Indian lad named Persotum Persaud. He was a very bright student and whenever he visited my home he was allowed to meet me in the room on the ground floor. I resented this partly because when my other friends came to visit, I was allowed the freedom of the house.

My father, on the other hand, did exactly what my mother said. I was sixteen and I visited his surgery nearly every day. My ulterior motive was to get a chance to do dental repairs for four dollars which I could keep. I would like to point out that four dollars was more than the weekly wage a labourer would earn. That was the only pocket money I ever got. It suited me fine as I was able to treat my friends each Friday at Mr Choo’s luncheon room with his Chinese delicacies.

My train of thoughts orbited in a new direction. Do I find a job until such time that I can really decide where my future lies? The possibility of working temporarily in my father’s laboratory did not fill my heart with any enthusiasm. My father was a strict disciplinarian and seemed unable to understand my urgent needs or aspirations. He was the only dentist in town and he had two technicians working in the laboratory, not very bright young men, their social life was drinking with their friends and terrifying the young ladies on their shopping trips.

My journey through my thoughts was interrupted when my dad knocked on my door and invited me to come and have bre