Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Bridget Wambeek - Our Aunty Bee - RIP


















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

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