Letters from Arthur Seaforth Blackburn to his family, 1941 - Part 2

Lt Col A S Blackburn 
SX6962    2/3 MG Bn 
AIF  Abroad 
  
My darling Wody, 
My last letter to you was so taken up with 
replying to your wonderful letters that I don't seem to have  
told you much news or anything about this place for ages.  
I wish you were over here, my dear, and could see it all  
for yourself. The whole place is so intensely interesting & unusual  
from our point of view.  When I was down on the Commission of  
control & staying in a hotel I often used to sit out on the  
front verandah for a while & just watch the people going  
past.  The verandah runs along the whole length of the hotel  
& there is just a very low wall - about a foot high, between 
it and the footpath.  Along the road & footpath go every variety of 
life in these parts, old & young, rich & poor, Syrian Lebanese & French,  
clean & dirty, healthy & diseased, laughing & serious all in a steady 
unending stream.  Life in these parts, in spite of its age or perhaps because  
of its age, is very simple & primitive in many ways.  The domestic 
affairs of the family are the subject of universal discussion.  For  
example ma goes away for a visit somewhere.  The family as a  
body arrive on the main street let us say to engage a taxi.  Each of  
them are carrying some there.  One has the sewing machine, another  
mothers hat, another her handbag, another a bundle of clothes just 
tied into a bundle &an and so, all this is deposited on the footpath  
& the job of engaging a taxi then starts.  Everyone joins in the argument, 
presumedly as to the price, and the row & gesticulation is indescribable.  Soon 
a number of passersby will stop & join in.  It is no concern of theirs  
but time does not matter.  men women & children stop & join 
 

2/ 
in the fun.  Finally some agreement is reached & everyone helps to load mother & 
her precious possessions into the taxi & with a loud honk-honk, repeated all  
down the street, the taxi rushes off.  Probably banging around the outskirts of the 
crowd have been a few beggars, a man with twisted legs, a woman carrying 
a small baby, two or three children openly begging for bakshik (I don't know 
how to spell it) & certainly two or three native shoe cleaners. For a moment or two  
the crowd proceed on their orderly way but then what appears to be a  
bitter - and one would image private - quarrell between a man & a woman,  
husband & wife probably, starts.  In the middle of the street they stand & shriek  
at each other. Instantly the crowd stops & joins in the fun. There arises  
a babel of talk, shrieks & laughter.  In the middle stand the man &  
woman shrieking, shaking their fists & apparently crazy with rage.  Suddenly  
the whole row ends - over here these rows never seem to gradually  
die out - man & woman change in an instant from violent enemies to  
perfectly good friends & off they go together.  In the meantime wandering  
about amongst the guests of the hotel sitting on the verandah pass  
all the trand tradesmen, & servants etc, stopping & yarning to all &  
sundry.  There appears to be no back entrance to the kitchen & everything  
goes down through the dining room, after coming straight off the street  
& across the verandah.  A filthy looking man will stroll along with a  
huge basket of meat on his shoulder, exposed to dust heat & flies.  
Somebody speaks to him & immediately down goes his basket on  
the floor, an animated conversation takes place; perhaps a bit  
of meat is picked up in his hands & offered for inspection,  
approved & put back.  A motor car, splendidly clean & modern  
draws up.  The door is opened & inside you see piles of  
blocks of ice.  The driver carries them in one by one in his 
hands & then goes on to his next delivery. along the street passes 

3/ 
a group of younger people with tennis rackets, all looking very clean & fresh 
in their tennis clothes, & jostling them on the sidewalk will be men whose 
clothes bear the obvious signs of dirt & dust of manual labor.  They  
recognize each other & stop & yarn & off they move again. One characteristic 
of these people here which I can never get over is their utter  
cruelty to animals & to each other.  A dozen times a day one  
wants to knock a man down for his senseless cruel 
 flogging of an animal - donkey or mule & his thrashing of 
 a child.  Even the children are the same - in fact I think they  
are worse.  Every child seems to take an insane & intense  
delight in knocking about a child smaller than itself.  And  
yet these same people will go to quite a lot of pains  
to wash & decorate their donkey or mule.  It is not at  
all uncommon to see a native very carefully washing  
his donkey & then climbing all over the place to try &  
find some greenery or flowers & decorate his donkey  
with it.  Then within a few minutes the unfortunate  
beast will find itself unable to carry its load of  
wood or stone or whatever may be laden on it back, up  
some steep hill side without a rest & the same native will  
belabour it unmercifully with a stick across its ears &  
head & legs & will not allow it even one minutes  
rest.  Frequently I have seen the a poor beasts slip & fall  
over with the sheer strain of pulling a big load &  
instantly receive a heavy kick from its owner as it  
lay on the ground; & then the same man when the  
donkey struggles to its feel will notice a scratch on  
its side & instantly run & get water & bath it & pet it! 

4/ 
I have received a wonderful, long letter from you, all typed,  
this week, Wody darling & it was so beautiful to hear all  
about your doings.  I quite agree with you about the Rector.  
It is one of those awful problems of life.  I feel that a clergyman  
is beginning to lose his punch by the time he is about 50 & yet  
what else can he do except go on in the church.  There is no  
other job in life suitable for him.  What a perfect scream Mrs Shiels 
 must be - but what a delightful old lady to always bring  
nice presents with her.  I have heard so much about your visit 
with mummy up to the Joneses at Mt Lofty that I can almost  
imagine that I was there myself.  My word how I wish I was!  
My dear, how do you all manage to get on travelling always  
by tram & train.  It makes me feel so mean to think about it.  
I really think you are all wonderful to have the strength to do it  
all.  I was sorry to hear that poor Audrey has such a thin  
time.  Poor kid, it really must be hard for her.  I was also  
sorry to hear that poor old Uncle John is getting so quiet & "down",  
I must somehow or other find time to write to him.  I was very  
very interested to read your reports & thank you very much  
for copying them out for me.  Wody dear I was not a bit 
surprised to read Miss Browne's report - if it was hers - on the 
end of all your wonderful report.  I am absolutely sure  
that you can win a bursary after another years work 

5/ 
and that, little dear, is one reason - and not necessarily the  
most important one - why you must go back to school next  
year.  Everything at present is too uncertain for us to take  
any chances.  It would break mine & mummy's hearts, I think,  
if you didn't get your chance at the Varsity.   I am quite certain  
that I will come back from the war & will be there & able to 
look after you in the future.  But I do not expect to be back  
next year, my dear, & mummy will not find it easy to  
send you to the Varsity without a bursary.  Coming away to the  
war has meant a tremendous loss of income to me & we have 
to watch our step - without being too badly off. But my dear  
little girl if anything were to happen to me I unfortunately  
could not leave mummy well enough off to enable her to  
send you to the Varsity unaided or to keep you there if you  
were there already.  And so you see, dear, in your own 
interests it is necessary that you should have another year  
at school & win a bursary.  Thank goodness that is not  
the only reason why I want you to go back next year.  
Of one thing I am certain, & that is that in years to come  
you will thank us both for making you go back  
for another year!  I know it seems a bit hard now, 
but don't rush to grow up too quickly my dear. You  
can always become more & more grown up as time 

6/ 
goes on, but you can never become younger again.  Believe me,  
Wody dear, the last year or so at school, with the responsibilities  
etc. you will have next year, will be of more value to you  
in after life than two years at the Varsity.  And then when it  
comes to the Varsity itself, you will enjoy it more the older  
you are - within reason.  I know dear it sounds a bit  
horrible to you at present to think of another year at school  
when all the others are leaving, but I know that it will  
be far better for you!  What a delightful time you have 
had in your holidays.  Fancy three meals out of four  
at Quality Inn.  They ought to have given you a discount.  
Your delightful description of Errol Flinn & "The Prince & the  
Pauper" made me grin so much that I have determined to  
break my rule & go to the pictures & see it if it is ever 
revived over here.  I was interested in your comments on  
the books you read in the holidays - most of them I have  
read & enjoyed.  "The Fountain" I thought was good but  
a little prolonged.  There is a book at home which I think  
you might like but I cannot remember the exact name.  
"Red" something or someone I think it is called.  It is a  
strange book but very fascinating - it was one of the  
Book Club series.  Now my dear once & for all you must  
stop saying or suggesting that your letters are dull 
or uninteresting.  Apart from the fact that I love 

7/ 
hearing all about your doings, I like to hear all 
your comments & thoughts on your reading & school &  
all the rest of it.  Your typing seems to have come on  
amazingly.  I can hardly believe that all that letter  
was typed by you? after only a term or so's teaching.  
How quickly do you manage to type?  Surely it must  
take you a tremendous time to do a letter as long as 
that. 
Well Wody dear this letter seems to be extraordinarily  
long.  I seem to have meandered on indefinitely.  
I don't think there is any more news I can  
give you.  We are still at the sea shore enjoying  
the bathing.  I go in every morning before breakfast,  
as soon as I wake up.  The water is always  
warm - in fact it is really too warm as it   
is not as invigorating as the nice cool water  
we get when we bath in S.A. 
Goodbye for this letter, my dears.  Keep on 
writing because I do enjoy all your 
letters so much. 
With much love to you all 
Your affectionate father 
Arthur S Blackburn 
  
  
Arthur S Blackburn