A New Start

My family migrated from India to Trinidad in Victorian times. It is likely that they were 'indentured labourers' but there are no records. It was in the late 1950s when people were invited to go to the 'motherland' for work or training. My mother was a book-keeper in a large department store in High Street, San Fernando. She decided she wanted a change of career and applied to Henry Richard, School of Beauty, in England, to train in Hair and Beauty Culture.

She left for England during July 1958 on RSM The Hilary. She understood that this was the last voyage of this ship.

Four children aged between six and fourteen were left in the care of an elderly aunt. We were without parental guidance or protection. It was a struggle for mental and physical survival.

... For the first time in my mother's life, she experienced a degree of independence ...

Whilst my mother was doing her training, she worked in one of England's well known tea houses washing dishes. She found the cold weather very difficult to cope with. When she arrived, she stayed with a couple, which proved very inconvenient. Mother was befriended by a German lady who was also training at the same establishment. She told her about women's hostels and mother moved into one with great haste. For the first time in my mother's life, she experienced a degree of independence. She could go to a party, the cinema or for a walk without fear or having to answer to anyone. However, despite the inclement weather, she thought that England was a very safe place to bring up children. Also, higher education was free. My mother worked extra hours doing hairdressing for the ladies in the hostel. She saved her money and bought tickets for us. The tickets were sent to my great uncle who organised our passports and other documents. In Trinidad, after the age of eleven, education fees were payable by parents.

My father and various other elderly relatives came to the docks to see us off. I wondered if I would ever see them again, England seemed so far away both in terms of distance and money. The journey on the SS Colombie during August 1960 was not very pleasant. It lasted for two weeks. Some of our fellow travellers were from the French West Indies and were bound for France. I had my first taste of a cigarette; it was my last. The accommodation was pleasant; we had four beds and our own ablution facilities. We were overwhelmed by the freedom we felt. We were the envy of our friends back home, we were bound for the land of freedom and opportunity. I was 16 years old in charge of three siblings. We did not feel frightened in any way but were seasick most of the time. We were hungry all of the time as the food served was unfamiliar to us. Beef seemed to be on the menu every day; as Hindus, we were unable to partake. At least we could eat the bread and drink water.

Finally, the morning came when I stood on the deck looking at the horizon. The port was in sight; a mixture of feelings hit me. My mother - it would be good to hug her - and a sense of awe at the history of my motherland. The home of Drake, Raleigh, the Wars of the Roses, Cromwell and Dick Whittington.

We arrived at Southampton Dock. In the suitcases were pots for cooking curry, a tawa or metal griddle for cooking roti and a rolling pin. The immigration officer looked at me and asked, "Where is the kitchen sink?" My reply was, "Haven't you got any in this country?" Later on, I developed an English sense of humour.

Driving through the streets on my way to London, did I really expect the streets to be paved with gold instead of Trinidad's asphalt? I looked at the houses, so tall and stuck to one another and thought that the houses were like prisons. We lived in Brixton, in a house that was owned by a Jamaican family. We had one room to sleep and live in, we shared the bathroom and kitchen with another migrant family. My mother sold our house in Trinidad, graduated as a hairdresser and became the proprietor of two establishments.

My experience of schooling was an eye-opening experience. We had delicious school lunches, indoor toilets. Girls were allowed to play hockey, netball and to go on outings. We had parties at the end of the school term. Growing up was something to be enjoyed. I could not believe how lucky the children were in England. They received all books, writing materials and equipment free. They had music, art and cooking lessons. I frequently remind my young pupils how lucky they are in this country.

When I go to Trinidad, I enjoy meeting my relatives, eating the local cuisine, sea bathing and the sound of steel band and calypso. However, having to live behind six feet fencing, bars on the windows and doors, the eternal barking of guard dogs at night is not for me. What I truly cannot cope with is the underlying mistrust between the two largest ethnic groups.