My first year in South Africa - 17th February 1952 Continued

17th February 1952 Continued
The Bretters have a huge black Chrysler which has armchair comfort apparently.  (The Chrysler had once belonged to Hyman Balfour Liebman who had been involved in the ‘Bubbles Schroeder’ Murder in 1949. I have discovered more details about this - see next blog.)

I haven’t travelled in many cars and few people I know back in England own one although John did have a red Singer le Mans for a short while and his father had a company car.

The streets of Johannesburg are filled with mostly big American cars and the Chrysler is quite a modest affair compared to some I saw. I sat in the back with Mrs B (Walter, calls her Tinca) while John sat in the front with Walter.
Cigarettes were passed around freely and as I scrabbled through my bag looking for matches or lighter Mrs B nudged my arm and held out a strange looking stubby metal object. I didn’t know what she wanted me to do and just stared at it. Impatiently she gestured towards my face with it and I could feel heat coming from it. I pulled my head back sharply thinking she was going to burn my cheek  with it. ‘Go on’ she said ‘light your cigarette’. I felt very foolish because I’ve never seen a car lighter before.
Walter works as a designer for a kitchen equipment manufacturing company, Bothners. His parents were Hungarian. His mother was Jewish and his father Catholic and they agreed the daughters would be raised as Jewesses and the boys as Catholics. What a very amicable arrangement. They  left Hungary to lived in Germany and then had to leave Germany in the 30’s. He seems a very nice, kind man.
They live in a 1 bedroom flat in Yeovil near the Observatory. On arrival there a bottle of champagne was opened. Why all the fuss, I thought to myself. On reflection this all sounds a little mean because I suppose she was just trying to make me welcome but I hate being fussed over.

I was then introduced to Mrs B’s two pekingnese, Taho and her son Taika both of which sniffed, sneezed and snorted all over me and then made friends. Loved Taika who is black and white. 

We had lunch there and then Walter drove us to our flat. It is a one bedroom flat at 90 Jules Street, Jeppestown which is on the other side of Johannesburg and in  a poor but not the worst area of Johannesburg.

Our flat was the one on the right, stoep with the bedroom window to the left of it.

Shortly after we arrived here Mrs B handed me a large pale green vase and managed to ensure that it was dropped in passing it to me. I was horrified thinking it would be broken and was amazed when it bounced on the floor, it being made of rubber. Mrs B thought this was hilarious and laughed hysterically.
I suppose I shouldn’t sound so ungrateful because she had provided us with two folding chairs and a card table, a single iron bed and mattress, and a blow up mattress for John to sleep on until we could buy another bed. Fortunately the bedroom had a large built in cupboard for our clothes. In addition she has supplied a few pieces of china, cutlery and cooking pots.

Our few bits of furniture were crated before we left England and have travelled with us in the hold. It continues on to Durban where it will be off loaded and then loaded onto the train for Johannesburg.

Later still:

The flat is in a block of eight flats, ours being on the ground floor. At the front is a stoep (veranda) which overlooks the main road. The floors in all the rooms are parquet except the bathroom and kitchen which are concrete which have been polished.

We could not have afforded a flat this size in London. Our rent includes cleaning services. Two ‘boys’ are employed to sweep and buff up the floors daily, clean the bath and clear the rubbish bins. Polish is put down once a week (black polish in the kitchen and bathroom) and they clean the windows once a month. No polishing equipment is supplied apart from polish, dusters and brushes so they have to get down on their hands and knees to do the job. Consequently they sweat a lot and because the washing facilities for them are inadequate they often smell. They are allowed to take Sunday off after emptying the rubbish bin.

They are supplied with thick cotton tops trimmed with red or blue edging at the neck, and shorts which came down to the knees. They goe barefooted because the pay is so poor they cannot afford shoes. They are expected to work hard, are inadequately fed, frequently criticised for poor work, and yet  are always smiling and cheerful.
They each have a room on the roof which provides few comforts. They are not allowed to have wives or girl friends staying with them and when they go out have to carry a pass book which gave the details of their employment to prove they had permission to work in the city. 
Those who are married take turns to arrange for one to stay behind each weekend  whilst the others leave early to travel out to the location where their family live which can be many miles away. This is the only opportunity they had to see their families.

After the freedom I’d had in London (where I didn't feel threatened) I find living in SA very restrictive. I have been instructed that it isn’t safe to go out at night and I feel nervous of black people even during the day after the stories I had been told. Also feel nervous that I am going to be left alone in the flat all day while John is at work.

John and I walked over to the corner shop across the road, owned and run by Max a Greek, and stocked up with a few more groceries.

18 February

John left early for work this morning to start meet his new boss in Johannesburg. The job pays £25 a week. When we applied to emigrate to South Africa he had a letter from Bothners promising him work on arrival. As it happened another, better position, that of repairing bakers ovens, has been found for him by Walter.
The day for me has not only been tedious for much of the time but  I feel abandoned and alone. I don’t have the nerve to go out to see what the neighbourhood has to offer.
I thought the arrival of the caretaker of the flats (Dolly) and her daughter in law (Madge) would brighten things when they called to introduce themselves and see how I was settling in. However it seemed Dolly’s true purpose was to tell me of being careful. White women do not go out after dark because it isn’t safe. I mustn’t leave anything of value lying about the flat when the ‘kaffirs’ were cleaning because they would steal it..
She uses the word ‘kaffir’ frequently and told me I had to learn how to treat ‘kaffirs’ something, she said, English speaking people did not do because they were too soft hearted and couldn’t see the ‘kaffirs’ weren’t to be trusted.
It’s very worrying as I have never lived, so far as I know, in an area where there was a danger of being burgled or where I felt under threat from others. Doors and windows must be locked before going to bed or going out because the ‘kaffirs’ would climb through any open window to steal.  They took small children with them to pass through open fanlight windows who then opened the outer doors.
Many houses and flats here have decorative wrought iron bars on the windows and I thought they were just an architectural feature. Now I know why these bars are on so many windows. I  thought they were attractive when I saw them at the flat at Yeovil but now I learn this is burglar proofing.
The block we are in doesn’t have any and our flat is on the ground floor which is an additional hazard apparently because the windows are easily reached by climbing over the stoep wall. Anything left on the stoep will be stolen as will clothes left out overnight on the line in the back yard.
Burglars, I am told, sometimes brought long poles with a hook on one end with them which they could hook out anything of value through a small window. Before leaving Dolly told me of a recent event which frightened the life out of me. Last week a woman and her husband woke and knew someone else was in the house. The lights were not working and the husband put the children into the bed with their mother and went to investigate. She heard shouts and screams and then silence followed by strange, frightening sounds which appeared to be coming along the corridor. The door of the bedroom opened and she heard someone enter the room. Too terrified to move she listened to strange noises coming from beside the bed and when day dawned saw the body of her husband lying beside the bed. His throat cut and minus hands and feet which had been hacked off with a machete. He had bled to death. Soon after that salutary tale they left me. I have no idea if this story is true or not but it has terrified me.
Every black person has now become a threat. Looking out of the window I see them walking along the street and I cannot imagine I will ever have  the courage to go over to the shop on my own. Feeling very homesick. Given the chance I would return home tomorrow.

Mrs B says I must have a maid and John agrees! This is the last thing I want. There is nothing to do in the flat - we have virtually no furniture. Pay for maid is about £2 a week which seems very little when I think of the work they are expected to do. All the washing and ironing, dusting, polishing, shop for us, prepare meals, wait at table, wash up, baby sit and if I want will do the shopping as well.