Childhood memories -The summer holidays – By Charmaine Candappa
As a child I would always look forward to spending a part of my summer holidays at the home of my aunt, my mom’s sister. My childhood was a happy one, since I got to play with my neighbor and friend Rai. I needed Rai more than she needed me. Rai had many toys and dolls of to play. She also had a bicycle to ride around the compound. I would look over the wall that separated our homes as Rai rode her bike from her garage to her front gate. We too had bikes, but they belonged to my brother Joe. He would not let me ride, as it was his pride and joy. He polished it, oiled its wheels and brakes. My childhood despite not having much toys, books, and a bicycle to ride was a happy one.
I looked forward to going to my aunt’s home to spend time to play with my three cousins. My aunt and her family lived far away from the city of Colombo. The place was not noisy except for the road traffic that passed from time to time. Yet I enjoyed the rustic rural sounds of that place with its cottage like homes with trellis decorative wood panels and open verandas. At the age of ten it seemed to be the happiest time of my life to be away from my older siblings, my sister and my four brothers. In the back of my aunt’s home was a large garden with fruit trees. There were guava, promegranate, orange and coconut.. The coconut and banana trees in their backyard was a great assert. My uncle would pull off the husks from the coconut with a thick and sharp iron bar anchored to the ground outside. There were jackfruit and a breadfruit trees that had plenty of ripened fruit. I would observe the neighboring homes that had no concreate walls separating them, unlike in the city of Colombo. There was only rusted barbed wire fences demarcating the properties. In the early hours of the morning I hear sounds of carts drawn by bulls, pass by my aunt’s home. ”Taka taka, jaka maka”. The sound of the carts would remind me that I was far away from my home in the city. When my aunt wakes up in the mornings, she would throw open the wooden windows of the house, sending a signal to the rest of the household that a new day had dawned. The cool breeze and the early morning light would break through the rooms. We would hear bird calls as we go to the well outside to wash ourselves for the day. I would watch the soft vermillion tint of the morning sky gradually turning into pink. The majestic glory of the Sun rising slowly and gracefully. After a simple breakfast my cousins and I would play in a small open veranda outside. The shrubs bordering the neighboring homes were plenty with dragon flies. We watched with fascination the swishing of dragon fly wings like the propeller of a helicopter. Butterflies fluttered as the strong smell of the lantanas wafted in the air. We would proceed to the other side of the garden to witness lively hens and cock birds pecking the earth, foraging for worms and tit bits of food that have been thrown outside. My cousins and I would play hopscotch, run sack races up and down a quiet pathway. We would scream with laughter every time one of us fell to the ground with our sacks. My boy cousin would follow with curiosity at the big ants called “dimiyas”, as they went on their never ending trek along the trees surrounding the well. Another string of ants would follow in another direction, holding bits of leaves over their heads like umbrellas. The ones travelling from the opposite direction stopped an instantly greet one another. This was absolutely fascinating to watch, they were like people travelling on the road. There was the resident garden lizard with a bloated pink head would suddenly appear poised high on the barbed wire fence. Seeing or hearing us it would flee, little realizing how scared we were of it. From the bedroom windows, there was a pomegranate tree with its hard red fruit. We would try to reach its branches laden with fruit. We were never successful, but happy that we tried in vain. I watched my aunt work in the kitchen. She never hurried about anything, in fact there was nobody who was in any great hurry for anything. My aunt’s home was quiet. The only sound I heard was the scrapping of coconut, for the preparation of the midday meal. My holiday was coming to an end. It was time for me to go back. My friend Rai would be waiting to ask me so many questions as she would never leave her parents and her big brother, to spend time anywhere. She was a happy contented child, with the freedom to play with all her toys, and to express her thoughts and feelings. Rai’s mom and dad took her out every weekend to the Galle Face Green, a popular place in the sixties. I would join them infrequently, when my mom would give me her consent to join Rai. Even though I am a much older woman now, there will always be the child in me. I can still dream of magical places, be amused by something that I had mistakenly done and my friends remember. I can still join my husband and laugh at the silly indulgences of childhood. I am enchanted by the beauty of the sky and the rainbow after a shower. There is a child within me, and a much older woman, living in perfect harmony within myself.
More Read
Charmaine Candappa.
