earliest childhood memories

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EARLIEST CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

many
the earliest is of a first birthday, black and white, preserved in print
balloons and merriment surround a toddler, at a large dining table,
minerva’s table; large, long, heavy, old oak

children
older, black and white, in print, silly cone hats, twirling like vanilla ice-cream cones
boys; short, straight, black hair, cakes, cookies smothered in icing, marked with little
round chocolates, covered, thin multi-coloured shells, like those of swallows’ eggs

grandparents
sunday evenings, butter, toast, barley soup, and percolated coffee which keeps the
child up, scalding hot, an amusing habit of pouring into a saucer and drinking
just so

at home
no coffee, milk, we miss him in the avenue, on the corner, marching off
on the terrace, hordes of men, congregated, discussing a half on the cold terrace
on the grandstand

father
and son sit, africans, coloureds, indians on the banks of the river, they have the
best view, blue and gold scarves warmly wrapped, liesbeeck river, a railway
stand, elegant, grand, old way, old logs of wood from carriages forming foundations



arsonist
burns it down, a belief in freedom from slavery and oppression, detesting all
things colonial, a price to pay for freedom when it comes

mother
fries fish and chips, fridays, an enthusiastic clap when she turns to peel more
potatoes over a sink, they watch, careful to not let hot fish oil spill over
newspapers scattered over polished tiles, read

grandmother
shopping, fishmonger, a warm, moist parcel, the pungent vinegary smell, salt
butcher, a little further down lower main road, spoiled with a bright bus-red
penny sausage, served cold, sitting on the side of the counter

bijou
music and lyrics of a legend, women wilt under firm, warm embraces of
men, in oblivion, waltzing, laughing, and death delivers a blow to those with
love in the hearts, a radio hardly ever plays

school
on stoned buses in the morning of cold, sad affairs, mournful silence, winter
chills icily through cavities, drafts of wind are no longer a concern, it bothers
the boy, why do they do this, curious at their strength, they walk