Schools

Some old photographs found their way to my inbox….

On 23rd December, 1959 my mother brought me to this building, the Couvent Des Oiseaux, where she turned me over to the group of French nuns who ran it.

My father’s 18-month contract with UNESCO in Saigon ended on December 31st and on January 1st, 1960 he was to be in Ubon, Thailand, where he took up a new, 2-year contract.

As there were no schools available for me at the new location, it was decided I should go to boarding school in Dalat. It was run by the same group of nuns who taught at the school I attended in Saigon, so there would be some continuity and it seemed a sensible solution.

Dalat is a short flight from Saigon but my mother never flew if she could avoid it, so late on Wednesday, 22nd December, we boarded a train that would take us overnight into the highlands of South Vietnam.

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We had been there some months earlier for a short visit that had not gone particularly well. Arriving, after a long drive, at the house we’d been offered, we found it already occupied. There was room enough for us to share, but it was awkward, to say the least and my father was ill-disposed to be agreeable as he found the highland air far too cold. As I recall, mosquitoes were an additional problem.

Indeed, during the months I spent there, mosquitoes were a great pest, frequently penetrating the net beneath which I slept. In the morning I found specks of blood where I had swatted them. They carried dengue fever and I was quite ill twice. Though I was never given a diagnosis, I recall having the most appalling headache.

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On the occasion of that first visit, Dad drove us up in the Austin which he derisively named “Flamer” because it was always a flaming nuisance from the day he took possession of it in Hong Kong. His main problem, which certainly merited complaint, was that he had great difficulty shifting gears.

The Austin being a British car, it had a right-hand steering wheel which was not a big help, although I don’t recall father fussing a great deal about that.

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At the time of purchase, we had not yet taken up residence in Saigon.

When we did, we discovered that the Austin’s colour scheme was identical to the local taxis, not that I remember anyone ever trying to hail us! As my school was completely the other side of town, I went there every day in one of those Renault taxis.

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In Phnom Penh I’d travelled to school in a cyclo-pousse which was much more fun, especially during the monsoons when I’d arrive home soaking wet. The protective cover was not adequate to tropical downpours but it was warm, so I found getting drenched amusing!

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The train journey up to Dalat was not unpleasant. We had a carriage that converted into bunks which were comfortable enough and the train was quite clean, but noise made sleep elusive. The repetitive clack of the wheels was fine, but when we got into the mountains it was slow going as the train shunted and screeched back and forth to get up steep inclines.

Arriving early next morning we delivered my suitcase to the school, although I stayed with my mother until her return journey to Saigon

later that day. The only thing I recall about the hours we spent together was being fed rabbit for lunch, the first and only time I have ever eaten it.

Late in the afternoon, we went back to the school and I said goodbye to Mum. It was my first experience with boarding school and I don’t remember being particularly bothered. My brother was at boarding school in England, now it was my turn to not make a fuss. I hoped my parents would see that I too could be brave. Maybe I regarded it as a bit of an adventure.

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Next day was Christmas Eve and most of the students had gone home on holiday. I got to know the few who remained as we played games and one of the nuns began to call me Sourire (Smiley), although that did not last long!

Just before midnight, we were ushered into the chapel. I had never been to Midnight Mass before but having attended the convent in Saigon, I had some familiarity with the Catholic religion and I found the service – uplifting, I suppose. It’s hard, all these years on, to find quite the word for what I felt. The chapel itself was nice and I liked the singing of hymns. Those months were the closest I came to embracing Christianity.

After the service, we were taken to the refectory and given a light snack as we’d had to fast in case anyone took communion. Then we returned to our beds for a few hours.

In the morning, Christmas Day, I expected to be given a present. Mum had briefed me, in case I did not receive it, to ask, which was just as well since it had been unwrapped and placed in a cupboard with all my other things. I still have that soft tiger, though its luminescent eyes have not shone in the dark for many decades.

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A few days later, the other girls returned and we settled into classwork. At break time we sometimes played rounders which I enjoyed. The school was surrounded by pine woods and it was very pleasant. Once, we were taken up into the hills to a Montagnard village. It was interesting to meet ethnic Vietnamese who were quite different.

As I got to know my classmates, I was told that the school was haunted. Even the nuns believed it. It was thought to be the ghost of a nun. One night someone saw it down by the woods. So they said. I never did find out whether they truly believed it, or if they had made the story up for the new girl. It wasn’t the sort of thing that frightened me. Not unless I actually saw a ghost, in which case perhaps I would have fainted.

Initially, my greatest challenge was food. While I wasn’t exactly fussy, I had never been forced to eat anything I didn’t care for. Here, you remained seated until you consumed what was put in front of you, all of it. Boiled rice and vegetables were fine. It was those other, indescribable things I had a problem with and it was not just me. If you were lucky, you sat near a window through which you could conveniently eject the contents of your dish to the delight of resident dogs, cats and chicken.

Blood sausage and brains were a great challenge but it was some sort of vegetable that actually defeated me. It was like trying to swallow knotted twine that had been boiled in acid.

Still, it was better than the food I was served at my next boarding school!

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Soon, the unappetising food was the least of my concerns. I never got to the bottom of it, but one of the girls took a dislike to me and told some sort of story that turned everyone against me. For the rest of that school year I was ostracised.

My toy tiger was confiscated. I had kept it on my bed, but suddenly I was told that to do so was against the rules. Eventually it was returned to me, so perhaps the nuns intervened. If they did, it was the only time. Maybe they were not aware that I was being shunned, as they kept themselves very much apart from the girls.

At home with my parents during the summer holiday, I tried to talk to my mother about this experience, but she did not want to hear about it. I dreaded returning to weeks of silence and surly looks, but when the time came, I walked into class where lessons were already in progress and was amazed to receive a friendly greeting. What had happened to make such a difference? I shall never know, but the damage was done.

It took many decades for me to realise how deeply that unfortunate experience affected me, perhaps because I felt shamed by it and did not speak much about it even to my therapists. Childhood experiences mould us into who we become and so much of what happens to us when we are young and impressionable is not ideal.

Parenting may be the hardest of all jobs and the most important. It is why I chose never to have a child, for I could not accept such a heavy responsibility.

It is also why I endeavour to forgive certain kinds of bad behaviour. You just never know what may lie behind it.

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By the end of 1960 the situation in South Vietnam was becoming dangerous and my parents were advised not to send me back after Christmas, so other arrangements had to be made.

We spent the Christmas and New Year holidays in Penang, Malaysia after which we went back to Thailand and two weeks later I was collected in Bangkok and driven to my new boarding school in Kep, Cambodia.

It was called Mater Dei. Mother of God.

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