Gallery Samples Stories of our Ancestors | Page 31

The nanny was the first to notice a grey ostrich becoming a little too close for comfort. Instantly, she scampered up the nearest tree with Gordon and me hot on her heels. Poor little Tilly couldn’t quite get herself off the ground and Mrs Ostrich at the same time, took a fancy to the pretty pearl buttons down the back of her dress. One by one she was pecking them off to screams of “Help, it’s eating me! It’s eating me!” from Tilly. ‘There was another ostrich occasion which affected me as a very small child’, said Ruby. ‘It happened on the farm of course. I was five years old but being the eldest, Mom sent me up the road to get milk from the dairy farmer, a task which we performed daily. I was walking along the road on my way back, holding the milk very carefully in a jug. An ostrich followed me. I noticed his beautiful black feathers but horror of horrors, his wings were outspread and his legs were red. I already knew that this meant serious trouble. I walked as fast as legs and milk allowed but the gate was a long, long way away from me. I must NOT spill the precious milk, but I had to survive too. The ostrich was loping, nearer and nearer and I knew I’d never make it. I put the jug down in the middle of the road and scampered in panic under the fence just in time before it flared up at the fence. An ostrich in that mood is likely to have trampled me to death. ‘We were very independent; we had to be in order to survive. ‘Not only were there ostrich episodes to encounter to and from the milk collecting, but there was a stream, which in dry weather was innocuous enough, but in wet weather could become frighteningly dangerous. I had an old friend called Mr Joubert, who lived close by the river. He used to watch out for me and stand on the bank and stretch his walking stick across for me to hold on to as I found my footing across the stepping stones. I don’t know how I did that, perhaps he stretched out for the milk first? One day I looked out for him and he wasn’t there but lying beside the bank was his walking stick. My Mother told me he’d been taken to hospital but had left his walking stick for me. A few days later he died. ‘When heavy rains came the stream turned into a raging torrent. That’s how it was for me, at five years of age. The stepping stones were covered, there was no Mr Joubert to help, and the only way across was by means of a wire fence which spanned the river. In terror I clutched onto the wire and slowly waded in, the milk for once forgotten. In the middle of the stream, at its very deepest level, the wire fence sagged and my small weight was enough to precipitate the fence and me slowly downwards until I lay, under the fence in the muddy water. ‘Once again I was saved by my screams which had been heard by my Father’s brother, Uncle Edgar, a young teenager at the time as he came swishing by on his bicycle.’ The mind boggles at the expectation for a five year old! Most of Ruby’s childhood memories seem to be from those early years in Grahamstown and Riebeck East, before she was about seven years old. Here another link in the story appears as we discover that Jack’s parents, Granny Catherine and Grandpa Carl Gustav lived on the neighbouring farm in Riebeek East. Edgar, the youngest son, must have been about 14 at the time. ‘Granny and Grandpa were always happy and had lots of parties’ said Ruby. Ruby never spoke about Ida’s parents or siblings having parties, in fact nothing is said of them and they don’t feature in any stories. Her mother, Sarah Jane was dead of course but no mention is made of her father, nor of her siblings. 31