Depression love at Nazareth House

Press, 1 December 1987, Page 35

Depression love at Nazareth House

By HELEN SMITHYMAN, who lived in Nazareth House, Sydenham, while her mother, who had moved to Christchurch from the West Coast, was getting settled in the city with her other children and could not care properly for her eldest child. The old building of Nazareth House, now replaced by modern facilities on the same property, is due for demolition some time next year.

In November, 1929, Wall Street collapsed and so did my world. I found myself, a skinny eight-year-old, in Nazareth House, and remained there for the next three years. The House must have functioned almost to capacity during those Depression years. There were the aged and inflrm, school children, babies and nuns. A great many mouths to feed. I don't remember ever being hungry. I Sept in a dormitory containing 60 beds. There was another of the same size on the floor below. Beds were white with white bedcovers, the floor highly polished, and the only colour came from velvet-framed holy pictures tied by ribbon to each bed-head. The refectory had long, oilcloth covered tables. Breakfast was bread-and-mllk or porridge followed by great trays of crusts spread with dripping. Burnt crusts were highly prized because of their extra crunchiness and flavour. Dinner was generally stew with vegetables and potatoes, and pudding made from cakes collected from tearooms and hotels by the “begging nuns” (our term.) These were mashed together and moistened and generally palatable. When cakes were in short supply, bread was added to make bulk, resulting in a less sweet and correspondingly less popular pudding. Sometimes on Sundays we had butter instead of dripping, and on rare occasions — an egg. About twice a year, on a Saturday morning, every child was given a dose of salts. Inevitably this resulted in queues for the toilets, though “toilet” was not a word we used. Somewhere In the House's history someone had introduced the word "cabinet" We plebians called It the “cabney” — "Please, Sister, may I go to the cabney?” Each week-day morning at nine we stood at our desks and P”Venl, Creator Spiritus” and I the Holy Spirit Would aid

our learning. We chanted the multiplication tables and could expect a sharp rap over the knuckles for errors in writing or arithmetic. Naturally, religious practice was to the fore. The pretty chapel saw all, who were mobile, attending Mass. Sundays and Holy Days featured sung Masses, and special Feast Days were observed by processions during which we recited the rosary and litanies. We followed two-by-two behind the priest who carried aloft a crucifix. At Intervals in our number were beautifully em-

broidered banners of Christ and the Virgin Mary carried by senior girls. Midnight Mass at Christmas was memorable. Before bed-time each girl was Issued with white dress and small veil which were folded neatly over the foot of her bed. Somehow we slept until 11 p.m. when we were roused by a bell. This break in routine was unbearably exciting. Mass and Christmas carols were followed by hot cocoa at about 1 a.m. Next morning we handed in our Christmas dress and veil. One year a welfare organisa-

tion gave each girl a shilling, and one girl caused a sensation by swallowing hers. Three times a week and on Sundays we went for walks. The week-day walks were shorter, covering the Sydenham area, past St Helen’s Maternity Hospital where new mothers watched us from balcony windows. Sometimes we walked past Aulsebrook’s factory, drooling over the delicious smells of hot biscuits and confectionery. On Sundays we walked to the Botanic Gardens or down Colombo Street towards the hills.

One very hot day the Colombo Street walk proved exhausting. We reached Fisher Avenue where Father (later Monsignor) Kennedy happened along. Seeing our distress he gave the Sisters enough money for the tram, so we returned to Brougham Street in style. It was the first tram ride for most of us. The work of cleaning and the internal functioning of the House was distributed amongst the able-bodied. This included the children. Rosters appeared regularly and girls were appointed to kitchen, laundry, nursery and scullery and sewing room. A squad of cleaning girls spread over the corridors with buckets and scrubbing brushes, working their way along . the great lengths. Appointment to the nursery was' most prized. We all loved working with the babies. The nursery was on the third floor near the tower. I managed to gain entry (against orders) and poked about inquisitively in the tower and discovered boxes of spectacles and false teeth, testifying to the number of aged folk tended during their last days. Nursing of the aged was done by the Sisters. We bathed three times a week. There were three baths in each bathroom. A girl stood at the end of each bath holding a bathsheet, eyes averted. We dropped our clothes, stepped in, quickly soaped and rinsed. The bathsheet was held and we stepped into it, drying and dressing inside the sheet Modesty was very much the thing. Keeping heads clean was a constant chore. We were clean, but sometimes new admissions weren’t and lice and nits appeared. We stood in rows, towels over shoulders, each

using a fine-tooth comb on the head of the one in front. We made partings in her hair and searched for cooties or nits, crushing them between thumbnails as they were found. When desperate measure werq called for, heads were washed in kerosene. Long hair was de rigueur. Week-days saw plaits of varying thickness and richness, but on Sundays we wore our hair loose. To beautify ourselves, on Saturdays we plaited the hair in numerous tight plaits which gave us billows of frizzy hair for the Sabbath. Those lucky enough to own ribbons had these tied atop the frizz in enormous butterfly bows. The first Sunday of the month was visitors day. After mid-day dinner we sat in classrooms and read, mostly lives of the saints, graphically illustrated, particularly martyrdoms. From two o’clock onwards children were called. “So and so, your people are here.” Visits were conducted in the playroom where we all sat on lockers along the walls. The Sunday after Easter, Low Sunday, was the day for family outings. Children could be picked up in the morning and returned by evening. Inevitably there was bullying. Big girls bullied smaller. Ears were "boxed” with considerable force, and one soon became adept at dodging known bullies. There was much kindness, too. Because I was a poor sleeper I was given a glass of hot milk nightly. And I loved forever the Sister who tried to make me less lonely by saying “Your mother is a wonderful woman.” I not only had a mother, but a wonderful one! I’m grateful to the Sisters for many things. For a thorough grounding in the three Rs, for a firm moral code which has served me well throughout life, and simply for being there when my world disintegrated, with their devotion to the needy and their demonstration of the finest principles of Christian charity.