6 September 2012
When I was younger...I must have been about 10 or 11, a teacher of mine who I later referred to as "lady Hitler" gave my class the task of compiling a family tree.
Like a few of my classmates, I did not have much to write. I came up with the usual,
Grandmother Mother Father - (Satan)
Etc, etc.
It did'nt really bother me back then. I was more preoccupied with Courtney Carpenter and her ability to blow hubba bubba bubbles the size of my head.
Inevitably, I later started to question my ancestry. I did'nt have much leads. Besides my mother, I had no one else to answer my questions. And she later told me stories of her side of the family.
My nan, who I knew slightly. She was a strange woman, she said the most ridiculously funny things. She swore a lot, and her hands felt like crumpled paper smoothed out.
And I knew of aunties, uncles, and cousins and other strange relatives on my mothers side.
I was satisfied with the slight knowledge I had gained.
Then I saw a bunch of advertisements on TV for websites like ancestry.com.
I thought I'd give it a go. The thing with genealogy is, it can be particularly difficult and frustrating when you are an ethnic minority searching for records of relatives who mostly come from an island with a population of just over a million people.
So no luck. I typed my surname in to google and came up with a bunch of hits from people who shared my last name. Some of them we're French, Chinese, American. I doubt these strangers could help me.
So I put the whole thing out of my mind. Until I saw yet another ancestry advert recently.
So today, I thought I'd take a stab in the dark and just ask my mother "what did you know about my father's parents".
And to my surprise...she shared a story I've either never heard or never listened to.
And this is what I learned.
My fathers mother was Madagascan. She must have moved to the island of Mauritius after she married her Mauritian husband.
Years ago, when my mother was just a child and people would still travel by boat...I doubt mauritius even had commercial planes back then.
Anywho...
Way back when...my paternal grandmother, grandfather and one of her sons got on a boat heading for England where she was to meet another son who was living in London (my father).
The boat left Mauritius and went across the Madagascan shores. And guess what?
Just as it did...she died.
Ironic huh? Born in Madagascar...Died just outside Madagascar.
But the weirdest thing is... They buried her at sea. Right there in the ocean.
The boat carried on it's way to England. And it pulled in to a port with it's flag only halfway raised.
My father stood waiting. And as his brother emerged head down, he asked.
"mama cote" (where's mum?).
And that's all she wrote.
It's probably the only story of my paternal grandmother I'll ever hear. But I guess I'm glad that it was weird enough for me to not forget...this time.
Ancestry • Opuss № I