Christmas 2011 - Fawzia in London, with Aunty Bee and Yvonne
I am writing this in
Sri Lanka, from the village of Boralessa. There couldn’t have been a better
location to pen these thoughts because Aunty Bee was born in this area and grew
up here in the loving company of her parents, and five sisters and three
brothers. She had sweet memories of this village and never tired of reminiscing
her childhood.
My earliest memories
of Aunty go back to 1957, when the Wambeeks lived in Negombo only a few minutes’
walk from our home. Because my dad Teddy and Aunty Bee were close, children
from our families were in and out of each other’s homes, playing and sharing
meals. We also schooled together at Ave Maria Convent. I remember Aunty Bee as
slim and willowy, always dressed in sari. Times were difficult but we bore them
cheerfully.
Aunty Bee was fond of
my mother Fernie. Because she spoke no English, it wasn’t easy for my mother to
mingle with my dad’s siblings. But Aunty Bee took my mother into her heart, and
they became good friends and confidants. My mother, being a trained midwife,
delivered at least a couple of Wambeek cousins. Aunty Bee reciprocated with her
presence at my sister Beaula’s birth.
I saw Aunty’s generous heart when she
visited Sri Lanka in 1969, her first return trip since emigrating to England. She
and I spent a month going around mainly by bus and train, visiting friends and
relatives. During these trips, I discovered a whole swathe of relatives from my
grandmother’s family, simple folk who wore sarongs and spoke only in Sinhalese.
Aunty’s affection for these simple folk, her intimate
knowledge of their families, their delight at her visit and embrace of her, was
for me a revealing experience.
Aunty Bee cared for
her poor relatives. And they included Fawzia, Roy and me. When we began life,
struggling with meager salaries in small, rented homes, we had no visits from
foreign relatives. Except from aunty. She came for long chats, to share meals,
and to stay a night. At a time of tight import restrictions in Sri Lanka, every
item of new clothing that Roy wore at that time came from aunty. She sent boxes
of used clothes from her brood, and they were the clothes that Fawzia, Roy and
I wore. Fawzia remembered these kindnesses and paid repeated visits to aunty at
South Harrow, when she could have holidayed at more exotic locations. Fawzia’s
last Christmas, two years ago, was spent at South Harrow, cooking aunty’s
favorite Sri Lankan dishes and reminiscing endlessly.
And there was much to
reminisce. The “elephant watching expedition” in the jungles of Sri Lanka’s
deep south is legendary. Aunty Bee, my mother, and a friend, having gone
elephant watching in the evening, were trapped on a shaky platform high up a
tree along with their husbands. Heavily pregnant, all three women endured severe
discomfort from dusk till dawn while an aggressive herd of elephants loitered
nearby.
Another story involves
the Wambeek and Chelvaratnam children. Aunty Amy, Mrs. Chelvaratnam, also had a
large family. One morning, Aunty Bee was taking the two broods on an outing, by
bus. Little children traveled free but they took up precious seats. As the children
trooped into the bus, one by one, the bewildered bus conductor asked “Ma’am,
are they all yours?” “Yes”, aunty replied with a winsome smile, happily paying her
single adult fare while the children filled half the bus.
Aunty’s extended
family spread all over the world. During chats, as she reeled off their names,
I could barely keep up with the relationships. Aunty never missed a birthday. Sometimes,
the arrival of her greeting card, addressed for years in Uncle Ed’s beautiful
script, was the first reminder that a member of the household was having a
birthday. Her Christmas cards also arrived, without fail, year after year.
Aunty’s popularity can
be seen by the large number of her god children. Remarkably, she was godmother
to my cousin Marie, her son Charles, and her grandson Shane. She was my beloved
godmother, too.
Over the past 30
years, I have visited 16 Valentine Road dozens of times. We shared Sri Lankan
meals. Opened photo albums and reminisced. I spent a precious two weeks with
aunty in January. When I left, she was cheerful as always, but I knew it was
the final goodbye. She parting has left a vast void in my heart, a void that’s
impossible to fill.
If I could sum up
Aunty in two words, they would be: “She cared”.
May she rest in
peace.
George
Braine
