MERRY AND AUSPICIOUS 2020 DEEPAVALI/DIWALI

 

                                       

        

                                              

CELEBRATING LIGHT OVER DARKNESS BRINGS BACK MEMORIES OF OUR LIVES IN THE LITTLE VILLAGE OF OTTAWA, NORTH OF DURBAN

I had an oil bath this morning.
Celebrating Deepavali or Diwali on November 14 (2020) at a time when we are also observing the 160^th anniversary of the arrival of our indentured ancestors from India brings to mind how we used to look forward to the “Festival of Lights” in our early days in the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s and 1980s.
At that time, we used to live in the little village of Ottawa, which was situated about 25km north of Durban. The neighbouring town to the north was Verulam and to the south was the sugar mill town of Mount Edgecombe.

Ottawa was inhabited at this time mainly by Hindi and Tamil-speaking Hindus; about five Muslim families whose roots were Uttar Pradesh, Gujerat and Tamil Nadu; and Tamil-speaking Christians. Except for a few Muslim families, the residents were descendants of indentured labourers who worked in the neighbouring sugar estates of Ottawa, Blackburn and Mount Edgecombe. Most of the families were Hindi-speaking who had their roots to the state of Bihar in north India.
Our parents, mother Salatchie and father, Subramoney, and the children – four brothers and three sisters – used to occupy a wood and iron home in Munn Road, off School Road, in an area we used to refer to as Tin Town. This was our identity because all the houses in our area of the village were built only of wood and iron.

                                      

There were two other areas that we referred to as Central – where Mr Latiff and his family owned their shops; Uplands.

The third and fourth generation descendants of many of the pioneer families still live in this heritage village of ours.

Our parents were working class – my father worked as a laundryman at Lever Brothers at the Maydon Wharf in Durban and my mother, a machinist at the local Flash Clothing factory owned by Mr S S Maharaj, a former South African tennis champion.
Although our parents were barely making ends meet in order to feed and clothe their large family,  they used to ensure that for Deepavali, all the children had new clothes, there was sufficient food and eats, and fireworks for the evening.
We used to share our Deepvali eats with our neighbours in the area. I recall the names of Bainya aunty family (Gokool and Manaya’s mother);  Sookaya and Johnny family, who lived across the road; and Narain Naicker uncle family; and Jack Naidoo family.
It was a day when we used to get up very early and my mother ensured that we had an oil bath in our bathroom, which was a discarded water tank. A day earlier we used to fetch the water from the river nearby in tins that we carried on a banga.
After taking our baths, we were given our new clothes to wear and then our first Deepavali meal.

LANGUAGE OR RELIGION WAS NOT A BARRIER

Thereafter we used to visit our neighbours nearby and exchange whatever goodies we could share. I remember the whole village residents – whether Hindus, Muslims or Christians – used to participate in the celebrations like one BIG FAMILY. We never thought of ourselves as belonging to different languages or religious groupings. I recall some of the young Muslim and Christian children asking their parents to purchase new clothes for them during Deepavali/Diwali because their friends would be wearing new clothes.
We used to look forward to the evenings.  After our meals – the Tamils had meat and the Hindi-speaking neighbours had vegetables – we would start bursting fireworks. The best was the small crackers but big bangs as well. At that time no one complained about the noise from the big bangs.
This tradition of exchanging of meals and other goodies on Deepavali/Diwali continued for many decades. The culture only began to change once the younger generations used to move out of the village, after either completing their matriculations and higher studies, tied the knots or left in search of a higher material life for themselves and their parents.
Now this tradition of all people celebrating Deepavali – whether Hindus, Muslims or Christians – seems to have been lost. The neighbourliness is also no longer there, unless of course you are a resident in close-knit communities in Chatsworth, Phoenix and other areas.
Nevertheless, we must continue to inculcate in our children and grand-children that Deepavali or Diwali is a day of celebration by all humanity and not just restricted to any particular section of the community.

              BE GOOD AND DO GOOD     

We were taught that Deepavali is the celebration of Light over darkness and sharing of whatever little food or clothing we have with the less fortunate and the marginalised. We were told our culture should be: BE GOOD AND DO GOOD.
It is, therefore, our responsibility in the new material world that we  generate this Light over darkness in our daily lives.
We should never forget our roots or else our grand-children and future generations would be lost in this new materialistic world.  ends - subrygovender@gmail.com Nov 14 2020