Sorry - no posts for a while. Been having a spell of what Winston Churchill called his 'Black Dog.' Some good company, good music and a pinch of prozac will do wonders.

Duplicity

The flyer on the table was a copy of a dictionary page with the word Duplicity ringed. This, no doubt, was to ensure that we all got the meaning of the word. A ploy often used in movies these days so that audiences who are second-language users of English, such as Americans, understand titles such as ‘Brassed Off’. Anyway those at my table were curious about this until we were urged to buy a copy of Richard Walne’s latest CD called – yes – Duplicity.

‘I wonder why he’s called it that?’ mused the lady to my right. ‘He’s a strange dude’ said the bearded, beaded, balding and stringy haired aging hippy type opposite being unaware that he had become irony personified. ‘True Bru’ said the student at the head of table wiping the last swig of Black Label from his lips. ‘The beer or Richard?’ I pondered…….but to business!

We, and many others, were at the Jazz Centre at Howard College last night to hear Richard Walne and friends play items from that latest CD. He started with a very average Falling in Love Again - the old Marlene Dietrich number. This was followed by his compositions in 1930’s style – all somewhat muted and sentimental. Granted the material was good with great chord progressions and vintage sound from his group of violin, guitar, piano, double-bass, sax and drums. The two ladies on vocals were great in their own right and an added bonus helping Richard round out his own singing.

But the concert never really ‘took off’ with the music – good that it was – too much of a muchness. This was until the encore where the melancholia seemed to vanish and they really swung sounding something like Stefan Grappelli at the Durban City Hall 30 years ago.

Then on the way out the penny eventually dropped; I think the main man is having women problems and therefore the title of the CD and the ‘my women has done me wrong’ type songs. Never mind Richard, it happens to all full spirited types’ You’ll get over it – perhaps it will take years or maybe all it will cost is a headache for a week. But it can, and does, inspire good music.

Duplicity is possessed by many but the CD can now be bought at local outlets.

Do You remember Ralph?

In her book ‘Frankie & Stankie’ Barbara Trapido mentions ‘Ralph’.....‘who was at Daffy School’ and also in the local Berea Scouts as a cub. In fact he was much older than the rest of his pack and stood head and shoulders above them.

Ms Trapido’s book describes ‘growing-up’ on the Berea in Durban in the immediate post-war years and her experiences and mine intersect. I too remember Ralph but find his being described as ‘daffy’ somewhat insensitive. It’s also ironic because she leaves not doubt as to her opposition to the injustices and abuses of human rights in South Africa at the time but sees no harm in being dismissive about an unfortunate person such as Ralph…..but enough of that.

I first became aware of Ralph when I ran the Junior Cross-Country race at Glenwood High School in 1956. In those days it was a short road race using a route up McDonald Road, Princess Alice Avenue, Lamont Road and back down to the School via Manning Road. We were urged on by a man clad in brown shorts, long socks and wearing a sports jacket keeping pace with us on a bicycle. He was then (I think) in his forties and I soon learnt that Ralph’s mental development had been arrested by either injury or something like encephalitis. The poor chap had a ten year old brain in an adult and aging body.

Ralph had been part of the Berea Park mob and thus was a supporter of Durban High School (DHS) but if they had no sports fixture on or were not playing against Glenwood then he would be our man on the touch-line.

As mentioned earlier Ralph was a keen member of the Cubs. He was very proud of this but even more so when he eventually passed all his tests and became a Scout. He arrived at a match at Glenwood decked out in his full uniform very proudly wearing all his badges to show his enhanced status.

Poor dear harmless Ralph! You are a part of the collective memory of hundreds of DHS and Glenwood boys who remember you with fondness. Oh how your parents must have worried and suffered anguish over you.

Ralph was eventually knocked off his bicycle by a motor car in Essenwood Road and killed. He was lucky, in some way, never to leave the carefree days of childhood.

The Durban Experience

Living or lived in Durban? Studied in Durban? Holidays in Durban? Passed through Durban?

If so then this Blog is interested in your memories and experiences. Why not jot them down and e-mail them to ryall@iname.com. We would love to publish them and share them with others who have enjoyed (or not) the Durban Experience.

Got old photos, memorabilia and articles about our City? Then scan them and e-mail them!

So come on! Share those memories with us. Remember there is history in every person’s life.

Come to think of it let’s expand it to cover our entire province. Now there’s scope for you!

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The Archive of the Common People

Looking about my office I have suddenly realised that there are a number of shoeboxes on my shelves – six to be exact. I also know there are countless others about the house; on shelves, in cupboards, under beds or stacked in the garage.

None are empty. They contain a multitude of items that have been put away for safekeeping. They’re such a convenient size and the lid gives easy access for quick inspection or to retrieve some item……usually accompanied by an exclamation of ‘Found the bloody thing – I knew I had put it somewhere safe!’

Being made of cardboard shoe boxes are not the safest place to keep things. Yet they are entrusted to hold all manner of items; photographs, accounts, balls of string, memory items from our own and our children’s youth, wills, ante-nuptial contracts, grandma’s love letters, baby teeth, spare dentures, nuts and bolts, old toothbrushes, a box of gramophone needles and other things we are loathe to part with.

Many of these shoe box treasures chronicle the lives of our family members. Documents relating to a Great-Great Grandfather’s journey to Natal as a Byrne Settler 156 years ago. A Grandfather’s army discharge papers from the Royal Berkshire Regiment at the end of the Anglo-Boer war. My Father’s motorcycle driver’s licence; adorned with endorsements for speeding and then eventual suspension – the pedigree of a founder member of the West Street Willies indeed. Old baptismal certificates in ornate German script bearing testimony to our diverse background. My Mother’s old ID document with ‘Deceased/Oorlede’ stamped in red ink across the first page – how brutally final it looks.

Our history and our treasures are kept in thousands of shoe boxes in homes spread throughout the land. Oh what invaluable records must get thrown away when the next generation arrives to ‘clean up the Old People’s place’ once they have been consigned to the local ‘Shady Pines’ where space is limited and they have to be parted from their earthly possessions.

The humble shoe box found dust-covered at the bottom of the wardrobe should be treated as an archaeological treasure or time capsule. Open it with care and examine the contents with reverence for they were considered important enough to store for the future.

The shoe box is indeed the archive of the common people.