GRANDMA – BOUND FOR BRAZIL

GRANDMA
BOUND FOR BRAZIL
C 1990 JoJo

Grandma was Dorothy Claxton Talbot-Fiddler – a tall, slim lady with soft brown eyes, a long graceful neck and abundant light brown hair she wore piled up on top of her head as was the fashion in those days. From her photographs, I get an overall impression of a vulnerable, delicate and almost fragile person. She and her sisters, Daisy, Marjory and Edith, were so beautiful that they were known in English society as “The Four Graces.” She came from a well-to-do, aristocratic family, (related to the Lord Henry Talbot, Earl of Shewsbury – her cousin). Her father was a well-known architect and civil engineer, responsible for designing and building a great many bridges throughout England and Scotland.

Although their original plan had been to sail to Brazil together, SAMS (South American Missionary Society) decided Grandpa should first go on a lecture circuit in the United States, in order to raise money for the Mission. Grandma had to sail to Brazil on her own, on the “S.S. Camoens.” I can only imagine what a terrifying prospect it must have been for her to face a long sea voyage on a small cargo boat without Grandpa by her side. Going to an unknown country whose language and customs she didn’t know, located thousands of miles from her comfortable, upper class English family must’ve been daunting to say the least. I have recently come into possession of letters she wrote to her family, which enabled me to learn a great deal about her.

She gave lengthy descriptions of her voyage and fellow passengers, which numbered just five people. In the early stages of her sea voyage, the ship’s Doctor made “unwelcome advances” to her, which only appeared to mildly shock her. She obviously never imagined for an instant that he was genuinely attracted by her beauty and charm, attributing it instead to an overindulgence of alcoholic beverages on his part. She mentions the drinking, smoking and card playing that went on and while she disapproved, it was in a gentle and kindly manner. As her letters progressed, it becomes increasingly evident that everyone on board grew to love her dearly.

She talks about being unwell for a week and how very kind everyone was to her, constantly popping in to her cabin, laden with food and good wishes for a speedy recovery. As the ship neared the Equator, she found the extreme heat oppressive and had difficulty sleeping at night. The ship’s Captain had a cot set up for her on deck where it was cooler, and another male passenger made a point of bringing her up an iced lemonade every evening before he retired.

She drew great comfort from a Brazilian fellow passenger, because like herself, he was a devout Christian. He gave her Portuguese lessons and told her a great deal about the Country, its customs and ways of life. Curiously, she never gives him a name, always referring to him in her letters as the “The Brazilian Gentleman.”

Eventually she arrived in the port of Santos, Sao Paulo, where she stayed with a married missionary couple, until such time as Grandpa could join her, which was several months later.

At that time, she didn’t appear to have any money of her own. In one letter home, she mentions that a Brazilian family offered her a job as nanny to their children, because they were anxious to have them learn English. She would also be required to do “light household duties,” – a degrading position for a gently reared lady of her class. She states rather wistfully that it would be nice to have money of her own and not to be a financial burden to her hosts. Subsequent letters indicate that her family took strong exception to these plans and made it their business to send her funds on a regular basis. She acknowledges receipt of these sums of money and expresses profuse gratitude to her parents for their “kindness and generosity.”

Eventually Grandpa joined her and together they made their way to Goiania, capital of the state of Goias, where they set up their first mission together. A year later my mother was born.

Grandma talks about the ordeal she went through during the long and terribly painful birth. “I never dreamed of such suffering,” she wrote. There was no doctor in attendance, just a woman who happened to be in Goiania visiting her son who was serving time in a local prison.” Grandpa had gone to the prison that morning to conduct services and brought this woman back home with him. Grandma wrote:

“We talked together and I told her my present difficulties – I had no servant, knew of no mid-wife I could trust in, or care to have about me and in a few days expected my confinement. She was so nice, and said perhaps it was for this God had sent her.”

Next morning, Grandma went into labour. For some extraordinary reason, Grandpa thought nothing of leaving her alone in the house for hours, having taken this woman and another person some considerable distance to the nearest river in order to baptize them.

There were serious complications.

“The birth was a very hard one, being a dry birth – the little one came into the world wrong end first, doubled around, the woman said – and then one shoulder before the other. I suffered the pains constantly for 12 hours, not being able to walk about at all. Then I had to suffer griping pains afterwards for 32 hours, as the afterbirth did not come away till then – on the evening of the following day.

“We had much advice from the woman and from a doctor next door to take castor oil to help it on – but believing God works by natural means in a perfectly natural way and not by medicines, we put our trust in Him. You can imagine as a night passed and all the next day with periodical pains every 15 minutes or so, the nurse was very troubled and we had to pray constantly for faith and patience that God would deliver me.
“Late that day the Christian woman down the street came in and suggested the simple means of sitting over steaming water – so seeing no harm in that I did it, and not long after it (the afterbirth) came away.”

On reading the above, I felt overwhelmed by Grandma’s unbelievable courage and fortitude. I was also appalled that Grandpa didn’t make adequate provision for her first confinement. Indeed, his attitude seems to have been extremely cavalier and lackadaisical.

In nine and a half years, Grandma had six children: my mother Eva and her five brothers: Charles, Fred, Phillip, David and George. When George was 10 months old, she succumbed to tuberculosis and died.

Hers was a hard life. Grandpa was constantly away, sometimes for months at a time. It seems he only came home long enough to get her pregnant, then he was off on another mission up the Amazon, to convert the Indians.

When she realized she was dying, she set about making provision for her children by bringing out a nanny from England, a young girl named Florence. She also invited a fellow missionary, Miss Augusta Smythe to come and be governess to her children because she wanted them to be instructed and brought up in the English tradition.

As her illness worsened, she agonized over “being a burden to dear Fred,” telling her family how anguished she felt over the fact he had to do everything for her.

At the end, she tried very hard to spare her family in England the anguish of knowing that her death was near.

“I know dear Fred wrote to you recently about my illness. I don’t know what he wrote and I greatly fear that his account was exaggerated because last month I was going through a particularly bad time. However, I am much improved now, so you must not worry on my account.”

My mother was away in boarding school, hundreds of miles away in Recife for the duration of Grandma’s terminal illness. She had no idea her mother was going to die, and was brought home just before her passing. Timidly she entered the sick room and approached the bed. Grandma, pale and emaciated reached out her hand and stroked Mother’s hair. “Oh my daughter, my beautiful little girl” she murmured. These were the last words Mother heard because she was quickly ushered out of the room. A few hours later, Grandpa stiffly informed her that her mother had died. A child just nine and a half years of age, Mum was offered no comfort, no consolation and so her shock and terrible grief at losing her beloved Mother was unresolved and remained with her for the rest of her life. Every time she talked to me about Grandma, Mum’s eyes would well up with tears.

Through her letters I’ve grown to know my wonderful Grandmother; I admire and love her dearly. She was a remarkable woman – kind, gentle and unselfish, utterly devoted to Grandpa and her “little brood.” How I wish she could’ve been a part of my life.