2008. Apartheid, 1987, Fraser's Sentinel Peak, Drakensberg

<1987. Zulu Mask, Durban.

After two and a half years at safe Kleinzee, I got a teaching job during a State-of-Terror at QwaQwa - Whiter than White. QwaQwa (population 200 000 mainly Sotho) was a small homeland (apartheid cheap-labour dump for excess labour) tucked away on the Drakensberg escarpment, some distance from white Vrystaat dorpe: Kestell, Bethlehem (mom's birthplace) and Harrismith. QwaQwa provided jobs for some Afrikaner bureaucrats, token Engelse, myself included, and many Sotho bureaucrats.

Some enterprising Sotho ran their own businesses. Some Taiwanese, Afrikaner and English businessmen used cheap Sotho labour in their Border Industries. Most Sotho lived in horrible township houses or shanties with rocks on roofs, stopping Berg winds blowing off corrugated iron roofs. QwaQwa shopping centre had formal shops. An informal market, amongst mini-bus taxis, enabled poor Sotho to haggle over fresh produce, hobbled goats and chickens. While rare lammergeyers soared nearby Maluti mountains.

We lived in a brick-and-tile, three-bedroom medical house in a chicken-wire fenced compound, guarded by Sotho sentinels, who rode Basutho ponies to work. Our mongrel dogs Lucky and Strike barked hysterically at thousands of Sotho wandering past our gate during the day. Leah didn't feel safe in our apartheid-quarantined compound, especially while I taught at Sentinel Primary, two kays away.

My standard five Sotho pupils were the results of Verwoerd's Bantu Education, which trained blacks for menial jobs, nothing more. Nice kids. But deprived of decent education. Their maths was three standards behind white pupils I'd taught.

Sentinel staff was a mix of Sotho, Zulu, Afrikaans native speakers, mainly Afrikaner women. One was the wife of a Dutch Reformed predikant who preached at the Mission across the valley from Sentinel. Her son was the only white enrolled at Sentinel. I was Sentinel's only male teacher, only white male "English" teacher on the QwaQwa payroll, controlled by Pretoria.

The dogmatic headmistress's spoken and written English was bad. Her sinecure job had been created by QwaQwa Development Corporation.

QwaQwa had many Sotho medium schools. There was one Afrikaans medium white primary school on Die Bult (The Hill) where most whites lived.

English businesses shied off QwaQwa, as there wasn't an English medium school for their kids. Sentinel "English" school was therefore created by QwaQwa Development Corporation to teach Sotho kids in the English medium. It hoped to attract English businessmen's kids and funding for QwaQwa businesses, thus creating more jobs.

Apartheid fantasy.

I checked class registers, checked toilet paper in long drop lavs, and developed boils.

Fraser's unemployment insurance ran out, and he became a poor white. His fair weather friends withered. He survived by stealing avocado pears and bananas from neighbours' trees. He rented his house, and lived in the khaya. He squabbled with his male tenant over a phone bill, and stomped his phone. The tenant's lawyer posted Fraser threatening letters, accusing Fraser of assaulting the tenant.

Fraser asked his tenant to leave, then put his house on the market.

Fraser and I climbed Sentinel Peak chain-ladder up to Drakensberg plateau.

Dusk: Fraser strolled off. I called "FRASER!..." for hours, before he wraithed from the gloom. We camped below Mont-Aux-Sources.

Dawn: We admired hazy Natal views over Amphitheatre abyss. I slurped water from Tugela stream at the top of Tugela Falls. Fraser crawled down a grassy bank, closer to the falls. If he slipped, he'd've fallen 850 metres.

"FRASER!" I called. Fraser babooned back.

Was Fraser suicidal? He'd developed an erratic index-finger -thumb-roll. He'd withdrawn from booze-buddies.

Later Jason opined to me: "Fraser's mentally ill. He's irrational; of unsound mind. He lights candles in his dark house, as the power's cut off. He doesn't bath. Fraser jogs to Rocket Hut beach every morning, then swims beyonds breakers. No shark nets there."

"Fraser's just low. He lost his job," I said. "You know Fraser keeps fit." I was also annoyed that Fraser had sold mom's old oak, diningroom suite to Jason and his fat wife, who lived in a converted garage at Jason's mom's Broadway home. Like Fraser had looked after mom, Jason also looked after his mom. Like my deafness denial, I denied Fraser's schizophrenia. I soon became expert on Fraser's mental hassles.

< 1987. Zulu Beadwork, Durban.


Playing Pig Dog, I confronted Fraser: "Your house is in an uproar! Why're all these Zulu workmen roaming about, demolishing walls, scraping windows and floors, making a helluva mess?"

"I need to fix up my house, and sell it to make bucks to restart my life in Jo'burg." Fraser cackled hysterically, like I'd never heard him laugh before.

I was pissed off: I couldn't help Fraser pay off his small mortgage to Standard Bank; nor kick Zulu labourers' arses, who were wrecking Fraser's (mom's) home; nor find the deceitful Durban North estate agent / builder who was buying Fraser's home, knowing that Fraser was unemployed, destitute, desperate, and mentally ill.

Copyright Mark JS Esslemont.

2008. Apartheid Durban & Kleinzee, 1978-86, Black Mark Trekking 1978 - 1986

< 1978. Esslemonts & Mackintoshes, Mark Esslemont's wedding, Saint Martins, Chelsea Drive, Durban North.


01.07.78. Mom and Fraser attended my wedding at St. Martins, Chelsea Drive, Durban North. Leah and I honeymooned in Malawi and bought ebony carvings. Fraser wasn't interested in marriage, while jolling with fishing and booze-buddies, including Jason.

< 1978. Ebony family, Blantyre, Malawi.


From 1978, Leah taught at Tomlinson's Pre-primary, Northdene, for three years. I taught general-science and biology at co-ed Hillcrest High, my happiest teaching years, as I had my own laboratory. I coached rugby and cricket, and produced short plays. I directed Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest. I refused to coach cadets. Black Mark.

<1980. Fraser, Valmai, Mark Esslemont, 294 Freemantle Road, Hillary, Durban. "From his reason fall'n"


1981. While Fraser continued working in Standard Bank, boozing during weekends, and caring for mom in her retirement, Leah and I trekked overseas. We laboured in London, train-trekked Scotland (twice), toured Ireland, and Eurailed Europe.

1982. We worked at Grofit kibbutz, (which started my deafness), trekked Israel, then returned to SA. Despite my British passport, we didn't want to emigrate to Britain.

Durban: Over the next two years, Leah worked in 6 different schools. I taught at Glenwood HS, leading the general-science department and teaching mainly biology up to matric. I coached cricket, began a wildlife society, produced short plays, and inaugurated drama classes to all form three boys in the squash courts. The bullying headmaster and I didn't get on, as I didn't coach cadets nor rugby. Black Marks.

After staying with Leah's folks, we used our reimbursed pensions, which Leah and I'd saved while we were overseas, to buy a Montclair three-bedroom duplex, near Montclair Pick 'n Pay. Natal Education Department subsidized my mortgage payments.

During the early 80s, unrest increased. Durban oil refinery was attacked. Durban Esplanade was car-bombed, near Leah's John Ross House infant school. Townships became ungovernable. Necklacing murders increased. White businesses and transport were boycotted. Many South Africans died.

Mom found out she had cancer. Zulu nurse-aide, Edna Rasmini live in mom's khaya, and nursed mom during the last months of mom's life. Doctors' chemotherapy toxins proved useless. Mom died in Addington Hospital.

Before dying, mom had organized her own memorial service in St. Martins. Mom was cremated, then her ashes were put in a marble covered niche in a wall near Stellawood Cemetery main gate, far from family graves, according to her wishes.

Fraser's and my inheritance: Fraser kept mom's 22 Chelsea Drive home, continuing living there, partying and sporting with booze -buddies. To divide our inheritance equally, Fraser obtained a mini-mortgage from Standard Bank, on mom's house. In hindsight, Barclays Bank executor's mortgage advice was stupid, as it made money for Standard Bank, but eventually hurt Fraser and me.

We disposed of mom's chattels. I inherited mom's money, enabling Leah and me to buy a three-bedroom house at 21 Heron Way, Yellowwood Park, which we rented out. Over the next five years, tenants gave us a nice income.

We never lived in our Durban, 21 Heron Way mortgaged home.

<1983. Mark Esslemont's standard 6 (y8) class, Durban.


Jealous of Fraser's inheritance, raging drunk Jason broomstick- stabbed holes in Fraser's lounge ceiling. Jason supervised Zulu brickworkers at Coronation brickworks: "I keep a loaded, double- barrel, pump-action shotgun in my office," sneered Jason, "in case kaffirs riot." Jason had been a state president's guard during his national service.

Once, Jason chain-locked Fraser's garage gate, making Fraser late for work. Black Mark.

As Leah and I were dissatisfied with our Durban jobs, we obtained primary school teaching jobs about 1400 kays westwards at De Beers Kleinzee diamond mine, on strandveld Diamond Coast, as far from sweltering Durban as possible.

Kleinzee population: 4000. Kleinzee: Built on the south bank of Buffels wadi. Grootmis dorp sprawled on Buffels wadi north bank. Kleinzee Main Street separated white and coloured housing areas. The shopping centre was used by everyone.

We lived in a three-bedroom, concrete-block house at 4 Fifth Street. We had Afrikaner, Namaqualander and resident skunk neighbours. Our Afrikaans improved.

Kleinzee fauna included wild ostriches, jackals, bat-eared foxes, hares, brown hyenas, steenbokke, southern hemisphere's biggest fur seal colony, seagulls, blacksmith plovers, secretary birds, chanting goshawks...

When rains came Namaqualand daisies bloomed...

Black Mark: After a year's teaching, and squabbling with my Afrikaner paedophile boss, who later fled to Ceres, I transferred to Kleinzee personnel department. As personnel officer, I wrote job descriptions. Sometimes I acted in my boss's manpower officer job, administering personnel records for hundreds of black migrant-workers, who bussed in periodically from Transkei Sterkspruit district, 1000 kays away, on regular work contracts. Black migrant-workers lived in Dreyerspan hostel, deep in the mine area, behind barbed wire fences. Black migrant-workers' families stayed in their homelands.

Indian, coloured and white employees' families lived in Kleinzee. Some coloured employees' families lived in Kommagas, Steinkopf and other coloured dorpe. During our Kleinzee stay, unrest increased, States-of-Terror were declared, and many South Africans died.

Using our Durban duplex sale profit, we bought two land plots at Pringle Bay, extremity of False Bay, about 100 kays from Cape Town. Pringle Bay was undeveloped, inhabited by dassies and leopards near looming Hottentots Holland Hangklip, covered in fynbos, proteas and leucadendrons.

Our son Jake was born in Kleinzee Hospital in the white ward. Few white babies were born in Kleinzee. More coloured babies were born in the coloured ward.

< 1986. Mark & Jake Esslemont, Strike & Lucky, 4 Fifth Street, Kleinzee, SA. Sons of darkness and light.


Standard Bank accused Fraser and an Indian of theft. Black Marks.

The Indian was the thief. Fraser was acquitted, but Standard Bank later retrenched Fraser. SA was in recession. Fraser couldn't find another job. Standard Bank closed Fraser's bank accounts, but kept his last will and testament, while threatening to sell his 22 Chelsea Drive home to reclaim his mortgage. Thanks for a decade's loyal service from Fraser.

Financially I couldn't help Fraser, as Leah no longer worked. I was still paying off our Durban, 21 Heron Way mortgage. And the Tax Man harassed me for provisional tax. Black Mark.

Copyright Mark JS Esslemont.

2008. Durban Apartheid Indians, 1960s - 1970s

1930s. Zulu Kraal, Drummond, Natal, SA.


Dutchmen and shloopy English, with racist fantasies, promulgated the evolution of black homelands (Homelands Citizenship Act 1970), forcing millions of blacks to lose their SA citizenship. When not working in separate white areas, blacks were forced to go "home," existing in impoverished homelands, although millions had lived in white areas and "black spots" and "grey areas" for years. About three and a half million people were force-moved during apartheid.

Fraser and I voted Progressive Party and persuaded mom to do likewise. She'd voted United Party, and later on her mother Rosa's Afrikaner upbringing had caused her to vote Nat. Fraser and I put her right. We were conscripted by non-conscript Broederbonders, and objected to our lives being fucked up by racists. Short of living in black townships, becoming saints, or choosing exile, emigration, or gaol, Fraser and I continued our young men pursuits: work, girls, sports, and avoiding call-ups and army promotions.

Due to the Group Areas Act, our Indian servant Rosie was force-moved twice. We witnessed the destruction of the Durban North Indian community, where houses and shanties were razed. Just ruins and an Indian temple remained on Umgeni north bank. Later, upmarket white houses, schools, a church and shops were built on old Durban North Indian land. There was little protest from Durban North whites about destruction of the Indian community. There was little protest from Durban North Methodist, nor Saint Martins Anglican pulpits.

Rosie's May Street slum was razed. She and other Indians had lived on valuable CBD land, opposite where the new Durban Station was later built. Supermarkets and other businesses were built on Indian land. May Street area near Greyville Racecourse was left vacant. Years later, after influx control was abolished, impoverished Zulus squatted on Rosie's old land, in scrap plastic, cardboard, wooden, corrugated iron shanties. Other Indians continued living in the Grey Street area throughout apartheid.

Eileen Warmington, one of moms' spinster friends, was headmistress of Indian pupils at Dartnell Crescent School, Curries Fountain, for many years during apartheid. While growing up, Fraser and I scoffed many meals at Eileen's and her twin sister Elva Warmington's Sydenham Road home. In later years, my father-in-law Alexander (Alec) Mackintosh taught electrical trade theory to Indian students at ML Sultan Technical College, and one of my varsity friends taught PT to Indian students at ML Sultan.

Rosie lived with her extended family at Gum Tree Road squatter camp, Jacobs, on Durban's south side. When Rosie became old and stiff, finding Indian bussing too hard, she slept in our enclosed back porch for years. Mom broke the law, as Indians and whites weren't allowed to live together during apartheid. Mom joked, "Work keeps Rosie alive darlings."

During weekends, I drove Rosie to her shanty family. Rosie's nephew Jimmy and his three wives were hospitable, despite poverty. I ate many curries under their hot, iron roof. We attended Shorty Naidoo's wedding at Gum Tree Road squatter camp. Rosie had raised grandson Shorty at her May Street slum.

When Gum Tree Road shanties were razed, Rosie moved further south with her extended family to Chatsworth location. Fraser and I witnessed three Indian communities obliterated by apartheid. Many Durban communities were destroyed by apartheid.

After Rosie died, her family buried her in a pauper's grave in Chatsworth Cemetery. Mom helped pay funeral costs. We were the only whites at Rosie's funeral.

After teaching each day, mom had arrived home exhausted, and lay abed all afternoon. She emerged from her bedroom for Rosie's warmed up suppers. Fraser gobbled suppers, then skedaddled. I stared at mom's depressed, rigid face during many silent suppers.

Sometimes mom reminisced about her shenanigans at her Wesleyan HS, Grahamstown and Natal University, Maritzburg, where she'd read her BA. When she read her MA after teaching at Melmoth, Zululand and Wentworth, Durban, she stayed with her folks at The Hove, Durban beachfront, before marrying dad at the end of WW2.







1974. Zulu Kraal near Cathedral Peak, Drakensberg, SA.




Copyright Mark JS Esslemont.

2008. Oberammergau Passion Play, 1980

Oberammergau Passion Play seen on 23.06.80 by Valmai Esslemont:

My son Fraser and I went on a 23 day tour of Europe, highlight Oberammergau, in a party led by Rev. John Clarke, Methodist minister of Randfontein. There were 27 in the party, and as half of us had been led through Palestine, Istanbul, Europe and UK by Rev. Clarke in 1978, Fraser and I felt we were among Christian friends.

We visited France, Spain, Switzerland, Italy, Greece, Austria, Germany, including Dachau concentration camp. We found Innsbruck celebrating its 800th birthday: crowded streets, bands playing, and singing and dancing in the open. Varsity students wore mediaeval costumes and there was turning of pigs on spits, and feasting: much beer and wors was consumed.

Our bus couldn't get near our hotel, so we had to carry our luggage. A walking-stick I'd bought in Athens flea-market was useful throughout the trip. As I was 70 years old (two other party-members were older than me) I needed a stick to get in and out of buses. From Innsbruck, we went to Oberammergau in Bavaria.

Four of our members couldn't be accommodated in Oberammeregau, where we were billeted with private families. Rev. Clarke asked for volunteers to stay in Garmisch and Ettal. Fraser volunteered to stay at Ettal, and a woman volunteered to stay with Rev. Clarke and his family at Garmisch. Six of us were billeted with the Lang family, mine host Robert Lang, grandson of Anton Lang, who'd played Christus in the Passion Play three times running. I remember hearing about Anton Lang as a child, when I grew up in a Westleyan parsonage.

My companion and I shared an attic, where we bumped our heads on the ceiling every time we approached our beds. My companion brewed cups of tea any time, day or night, as she had an electric kettle.

The Lang home was the only place where we got good food on the whole trip - boiled eggs, ham, cheese, jam, etc., a change from coffee and rolls continental breakfasts. Lunches and dinners were also good, but I couldn't stomach rabbit, so was brought schnitzel. Robert Lang did the waiting, but was so hard-pressed two of us helped him, while his wife and daughters did the cooking.

It was raining the day we viewed the Passion Play. Robert Lang advised us to take rugs, as it was freezing in the hall seating 6000 people. Our seats were near the back of the hall, so we couldn't see the actors' facial expressions. Many of the audience-members had opera glasses, which I recommend. I'd bought an English translation of the play, which was spoken in German, but the story was so well known from Christ's entry to Jerusalem to the Ascension, the translation wasn't necessary, except to study afterwards. Despite rain, the 50 strong chorus and crowd scenes continued on the open air-stage.

The tableaux from the Old Testament, paralleling events in the New Testament, and the rest of the acting was performed on a covered inner-stage. I wept when the actor performed Christ's agony of mind in the Gethsemane scene. The play lasted all day, with lunch interval. In Durban, I'd seen David Horner's smaller Passion Plays, which compared favourably with the Oberammergau passion.

We explored beautiful Oberammergau village - hot springs, climbing, summer snow on the mountains, a cable-car station. Woodcarving being a speciality of the district, I bought a carving of the Last Supper, plus two carved wooden angels. People thronged from all over the world. I thought I'd talked to every nationality on the trip, but was astonished to see Tibetan lamas eating hard boiled eggs in an Italian restaurant.

Rev. Clarke stayed calm in trying circumstances. Most of our party got flu, except Fraser, another member and me. Rev. Clarke's wife was ill and barely survived the trip. One lady lost her passport and travellers cheques, and another lady lost her suitcase. Rev. Clarke helped find them. Rev. Clarke gave thanks to Almighty God for His love and protection.

Fraser and I had nine flights altogether, and back in SA we found tighter security.

The 1984 Passion Play will celebrate the 350th anniversary of the vow taken by Oberammergau villagers to perform the passion of Jesus, if God would stem the Black Plague. No further deaths were recorded after the vow was taken.

Copyright Mark JS Esslemont.

2008. Apartheid, 1970s, Fraser's Conscription, Banking and Travels

< 1971. Fraser Esslemont acting in 'Saint Joan,' Northlands BH, Durban North (Bird & Leeney).


1973. At Holy Cross Mission Hospital, Transkei, Fraser worked as a volunteer orderly with poor Xhosa patients.

1974. Conscripted Citizen Force Fraser trained as a cook at Voortrekkerhoogte Services School, Pretoria, quickly achieving corporal rank. SADF then sent Fraser to Walvis Bay for nine months in the Namib Desert, where he learnt boozing.

1975. Back in Durban, Fraser battled to find work. No employer wanted a white ex-troopie with standard nine certificate. Fraser door-knocked for weeks, finally finding a bank clerk job at Broadway Standard Bank. For the next decade, Fraser worked at various Standard Bank branches. Fraser had girl friends, but preferred boozing, karate, sail-surfing, water-skiing, and fishing with old school mates, led by Jason. Amstels, Lion Lagers , Castle Lagers, cane-and-Coke kept the boykies together.

Fraser's work life was interrupted when SADF called him up for South West African border camps. After promotion to cook sergeant, Fraser handed back his stripes, tired of rising early and retiring late. He stayed an infantry troopie until SADF finished with him. He brought home Bushmen bows, arrows, quivers, and Ovambo carvings.

< 1972. Fraser Esslemont, Northlands BH Cadet Drill Squad (Bird & Leeney).


Fraser never met any terrorists or communists during his 1970s camps at Grootfontein and Rundu. But he swam the crocodile infested Cunene River. SADF wasted over two years of Fraser's life. Like the rest of our conscript-generation, he was mind-fucked by SADF.

< 1975. Ovambo carving, Rundu, South West Africa ~ Angola border.


While clerking at Standard Bank, Fraser lived with mom at 22 Chelsea Drive, Durban North. I completed my BA Honours degree, declined an Edgewood College of Education drama lecturer post, then taught biology and general-science for a year at Northlands BH, where I coached rugby, cricket, cadets, and did makeup for the school play. The sweaty headmaster expected me to teach sciences without a laboratory.

I sung in Cantabile Choir, where I met slim, blue-eyed, brown-haired Leah. We sung with Cantabile throughout the 1970s. While I lived in Durban North, Leah lived with her folks at 294 Freemantle Road, Hillary. Every night for three years, I visited Leah before we got engaged.

1970s: The Rhodesian Bush War raged. Terrorists were supplied with Soviet arms. ANC slept. 1976. Soweto school pupils rioted, resenting Afrikaans tuition. Hundreds of blacks died in townships. ANC woke up, processing exiled rioters.

Fraser and I dodged army call-ups, by going overseas, and in my case reading an honours degree. Call-ups were inexorable. Missed camps had to be completed later. Our conscript escapes were exile, prison, medical exemption, or rarely - religious convictions. Conscientious objectors were gaoled for 6 years, or labelled "deviant" and sent to psychiatric Ward 22 at Voortrekkerhoogte. (T. Bell, DB Ntsebeza, Unfinished Business, Verso, London, 2003). There were no black, coloured, or Indian troopies during our call-ups. Later on, volunteer white women and non-whites joined SADF, as there weren't enough white, male troopies to fight SA Bush Wars.

Call-ups continued during prime ministers BJ Vorster's, PW Botha's and FW De Klerk's regimes, throughout 60s, 70s, 80s, early 90s. The longest military regime was PW Botha's, 1969-1989 inclusive, when he was defence minister, prime minister, president. A generation of white boys was brutalized by SADF, securocrats and Broederbonders. Much was asked of our generation, and I found overseas youths my age effete, especially anti-apartheid protesters. They didn't have to make big moral choices like Fraser and me: kill or be killed.

I evaded promotions and stupid troopies, some of whom were my college, varsity, or teaching colleagues. I did Commando basic and an NCO's course at Kimberley. The rest of my service was either in Durban, or various KwaZulu-Natal bush camps. There were no terrorist attacks in SA during Fraser's and my 1970s call-ups.

Portuguese colonists pulled out of Mozambique and Angola, civil war shattering both countries. Some SA conscripts fought terrorists, Cubans and Soviets in Angola. And were killed by land-mines or border contacts. Some conscripts did navy, airforce, or police service, instead of army.

SADF trained teacher cadet officers at Oudtshoorn military base. During my teaching career in Natal, QwaQwa and Cape, cadet masters and SADF soldiers strutted and fretted round state white high schools. SADF touted cadet military tatoos, cadet bands, drill squads, bisleys, cadet camps, annual cadet parades. Durban high schools I taught in during the 70s and early 80s did extra-curricular cadets, after school. During the late 80s and early 90s, Selborne College, East London, where I taught, did cadets during school times.

Eastern Cape "Border" ghosts of eight Kaffir wars, during the 1800s, haunted whitey descendants of old British Kaffraria colony, living in good pasturage above Fish, Chalumna, Kieskamma, Buffalo, and Kei bushy river valleys, where many a Boer, British soldier, and Xhosa tribesman, Bushman, Khoikhoi, Mfengu, and Coloureds were killed in cattle and guerilla wars.

During mad apartheid, Xhosa were dumped in Transkei and Ciskei homelands. KwaZulu homeland, accommodating millions of Zulus, in squalor, was scattered in infertile patches, overlooked by verdant white farmland, where Zulu, British and Boer ghosts haunted. During apartheid, there were other separate homelands and self-governing states as well, only recognized by mad Broederbonders, SA politicians and racists, and ignored by the rest of the world.

< 1978. Aunty Jean & Valmai Esslemont, Garden Route, Cape, SA.


During the 70s, I trekked overseas five times. I paid for my trips. Fraser trekked overseas three times. Mom paid for his trips. In England, we met dad's family, Birmingham Esslemonts, who weren't too interested in us.

1975. Mom was diagnosed with liver cancer, while she had a hysterectomy. Fraser and I didn't tell her, as we felt shock and anxiety would quickly kill her. Mom's GP jollied her along, while she went into and out of remission over the next seven years. We bluffed mom that her various swellings were cysts, which surgeons excised. I suspected that years of stabilizing melleril tablets, which mom's psychiatrist had prescribed for mom's depression, had caused mom's cancer.

< 1978. Valmai Esslemont, Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem, Israel.


As mom had cancer, Fraser and I encouraged her to travel, after she retired from Durban North Primary. I accompanied mom on a Greece trip. Fraser accompanied mom on a Middle East tour, then a European tour. Although mom had just nine years' retirement, they were mostly happy years. As a single parent, she'd worked hard and earned her happiness.








Copyright Mark JS Esslemont.

2007. Apartheid, late 1950s - early 1970s, Fraser's Durban North Schooling

1958. Elandspruit, New Hanover. Back: Neil Wolhuter & Paul Esslemont. Front: Fraser, Mark, Valmai Esslemont.


Here follows brother Fraser's donkey-wagon song-sheet, with my choruses: While Fraser and I were boys we trekked through Pietermaritzburg many times. Mom had spent four happy varsity years there. Her nephew Dr. John Cosnett lived there, and he devoted his life to doctoring Zulus at Edendale. His son also became a doctor, doctoring Fraser's meningitis in Maritzburg, then emigrating to Ireland. We trekked through Maritzburg whenever we visited aunt Dorothy in Bloemfontein, and whenever we visited the Wolhuters near New Hanover.

Whenever mom invited her lady friends to tea at 22 Chelsea Drive, Durban North, she often compared Fraser with me: "You know Mark got four A certificates at the Speech and Drama festival? Fraser got two... Sugar cubes?"

"Thanks dear," clucked mom's spinster friend.

"You know Mark got three silver cups at the Durban North swimming gala? Fraser got one... Milk?"

"No thanks dear," clucked spinster. Fraser and I resented mom's comparisons. As I got older, I bollocked mom about it. Mom just chuckled. Fraser struggled through early schooling, copying and catching up with me. Although I was two years older than Fraser, he was three years behind me at school. When he started Sunningdale Drive Infants School, he battled, as he could hardly speak. Mom taught him to read - many tears - then got him to repeat class one at Our Lady of Fatima Convent, Northway. Fraser didn't stay long there, and went to Mrs. Jones's Halcyon Days class one, Chelsea Drive, to get him right.

1958. Fraser Esslemont, Sunningdale Drive Infant School, Durban North.


At Fraser's first Durban North Primary day, big boys mocked Fraser's spiky, brown fringe: "Daily News! Daily News!..." called bullies, apeing street-corner Indian newspaper boys. I couldn't stop their bullying. Fraser just grinned while boys chanted, "Daily News!..."

Years afterwards, mocking boys still called Fraser, "Daily News!"

While Fraser and I drifted through primary school, mom had a series of tenants in our Chelsea Drive home. While mom taught at local schools she had nervous breakdowns, and joked about madness: "Neurotics have their feet on the ground and their heads in the sky darlings. Psychotics have their feet off the ground and their heads in the sky darlings."

Mom disliked her fat Jewish boss at Red Hill Primary and called him, "that swine..." Mom befriended Jehovahs Witnesses, who put the fear of hell into mom. One, an artist, made brother Paul's death mask after Paul's cycle accident. Mom taught for many years at Northlands GH, where her old MA varsity friend and bridesmaid Netta Manning was headmistress. Before retiring, mom taught at Durban North Primary, next door to our home.

1959. Fraser Esslemont, Durban.


1967. Durban North. When Fraser joined me at Northlands BH, I was already in standard nine. I excelled as a body-surfer, rugby player, cadet-band bugler, warrant officer, jogger and stage actor.

Due to hard rote-swotting, Fraser came first in his standard six class, getting into A stream standard seven. His standard seven class, bad bunch, mocked teachers, stuffed around, and had competitions to see who could be caned most by headmaster RC.

Fraser and I sang in the Durban North Methodist choir. We joined Trafalgar Sea Scouts, playing wide-games in Old Mill Way bushy valley, and camping at Mr. Russel's Rosetta farm. To aunt Dorothy's chagrin, mom deserted the Methodist church. Mom, Fraser and I were confirmed at Saint Martins Anglican church, down Chelsea Drive. Fraser and I donned cassocks and surplices and sang in the choir.

During Easters, we holidayed at Elandspruit, New Hanover, where Fraser and I learnt to drive. We continued our Somerset East treks, visiting tannie Beattie and tannnie Winnie. Beattie's death preceded Winnie's by some years: both were buried in the dorp cemetery in their Hendrikz family plot.

We regularly trekked to Bloemfontein, visiting aunt Dorothy. After her hubby died, Dorothy sold her cottages, retired to an East London old-age-home, and died.

Fraser found girls during fantasies at Broadway Rex Cinema. He was in Northlands BH cadet drill squad. He played rugby, acted in school plays, became Student Christian Association chairman, and failed standard nine. A Stream academic subjects were too hard.

1972. Fraser Esslemont, Northlands BH, Durban North.


"To pass matric," said headmaster RC, "you must drop to O Stream."

"No way!" said Fraser. "I want to do A Stream matric." Fraser repeated A Stream standard nine. The iniquity about A and O Streams was that white boys had to do all subjects either O Stream or A Stream. Fraser was loath to do O Stream as it was considered dumb. Apartheid Aryanism didn't want whiteys doing kaffir work.

During his 1972 matric, eighteen year old Fraser did Comrades Marathon with me, from Durban to Maritzburg - over 80 kays away. Fraser beat me. But failed matric.

By then, I was teaching at Virginia Primary near home. During my four Virginia years, I was general-science specialist, taught general subjects to standards four and five, coached soccer and cricket, produced plays, and was house-master for galas and athletics.

I was a reluctant Commando conscript, doing army camps during holidays against swart gevaar.

I read my part-time BA at Natal University for whites. One evening, Fraser switched on our lounge radiogram, while I swotted for varsity exams. I ended up on the carpet throttling Fraser, while he banged my head on the floor. As we both did Kudokwai karate, we were capable of killing each other. We never fought again.


Copyright Mark JS Esslemont.

2007. Post Apartheid: George Goussard Dispatch December 2007

December 2007. George Goussard's dispatch: "Our Xmas is good. We're holidaying at Langebaan at a private swimming pool / beach resort. The big ANC meeting in Pietersburg (now renamed Polokwane) in Northern Transvaal (now renamed Limpopo Province), to choose a new ANC leader, who would become the new SA president, is an African, faction-forming scenario.

President Mbeki refuses to stand down, as only he can 'save' SA. He can't be SA president for a third term. He's extremely unpopular with the plebs and their reps, the SA Communist Party, COSATU (trade unions), the ANC youth league (very radical), and the ANC women's league (plain silly). He wants to be elected ANC leader, then have a puppet president ruling SA who he can dictate to. He nominated our female minister of foreign affairs, Zuma's ex wife, as vice president. (She of the, 'sigh... we might... sigh... possibly... sigh... have a problem... in... sigh... Zimbabwe.')

In the other corner for president we have Zuma (who only achieved grade 5 at school, and whose theme song is, 'bring me my machine gun,') who has to appear in court for R4 million fraud / bribery.

At the meeting our police chief is prominent. (He goes to court next week for having mafia connections). At the meeting is Yengeni, ex ANC chief whip in parliament. After being gaoled for fraud, he was released on parole. Two weeks ago he was arrested in Goodwood for drunken driving. Our new minister of health (alcoholic and kleptomaniac) gives new meaning to 'incompetent.'

SA's probably in a bigger crisis than in 1994. Millions are watching this crisis for different reasons: For those who stayed in SA, it'll show they were stupid staying. I get emails from ex South Africans ('have you noticed in the newspaper the last horrific murder / crime?') who secretly hope SA will go down the drain, as justification, I presume, for their emigration sacrifices. We'll see what the future brings: more good life, or renaming SA, 'Titanic?'"

Zuma was elected leader of the ANC, defeating Mbeki.

Copyright Mark JS Esslemont.