Sister Natalie was my teacher in grade one at the Springs convent. Sister Loosina taught grade two next door. Each of these nuns had a trade-mark punishment. As I have mentioned before, sister Loosina’s was to lock the child in a dark store-room for period. Sister Natalie had the dreaded brush, which was a large wooden clothes brush. She would whack the bottom of the hapless victim with the handle of this brush. This was a terrible punishment, only meted out to those who really misbehaved. Apart from being a bit of a smart-arse, I was a reasonably well behaved child, so I thought I was unlikely to get the brush at any time. How wrong I was…
This sad story began when I learned to read. Our first book was called Janet and John, the first page of which had a picture of a boy, a girl and a dog. On it was written, “Look John look. I see a dog”. The second page read “Look Janet look I see a dog”. As you can see, it was not exactly riveting stuff, which centred around a boy, a girl and a dog looking at each other. Naturally, I was keen to get onto the next book, which I hoped would have a better story-line and a more well-developed plot.
Anyway, I digress. For our first night’s homework, sister Natalie told us to read the first page. Now, Sangoma, my brother, who was in grade 2, had shown me his reading books, so I had an idea of how to read. I went home and read the first page to my mother. I then broke a cardinal rule – I turned the page, hoping that the story would get more interesting. I continued until a reached the last page. My mother was very impressed (as most mothers are), and told me I was a clever little chap.
I went to school the next day in very high spirits. When sister Natalie called me up to show how my reading went, I proudly told her that I had read the whole book, and would like to go onto the next one. Instead of getting the praise and accolades, which I thought I deserved, I was subjected to a nun’s fury. Sister Natalie was livid. She told me that I had no right to go past the first page, and I ought to be severely punished for it. I was absolutely stunned. I thought the world had come to an end. Shamefully, I made my way back to my desk. I could feel the warm. salty tears running down my cheeks.
At the end of the lesson, sister Natalie called me to her desk. I went over somewhat apprehensively. She opened a drawer and took out a pencil, which she gave to me. She told that, while I was still naughty for disobeying her instructions, she realised that I meant well, so the pencil was a reward. I think it must have come from some reject stock, because she told me it was for home use only, and I was not to bring it back to school. I was so overjoyed to get this recognition, that I did not heed that warning – with serious consequences.
I returned to school the next day with my new pencil – all nicely sharpened. Sister Natalie gave us a writing exercise to do, which I tackled enthusiastically. I got as far as the first line, when the pencil point snapped. It had a very soft lead. Undeterred, I soldiered in with the exercise. All of a sudden a large nun-shaped shadow appeared over my desk. “Are you using that pencil I gave you yesterday?” yelled this truly frightening voice. “Didn’t I tell you not to?”. I was dumbstruck. I could only look at this veiled monster that was screaming at me. This angry red face literally bulged out of the wimple. Then it attacked. I was dragged, with the exercise book, out of the classroom. I was paralysed with fear. To my horror, I realised that I was being taken to sister Loosina’s classroom. Did this mean the dark room? I don’t know how I avoided wetting myself. Sister Natalie flung open the door and dragged me in. I desperately grabbed at anything I could. I remember pulling the holy water font off the wall and being doused with the contents. I was dragged through this classroom of grade 2 children, including my brother, Sangoma, until i stood before sister Loosina who was glowering at me from her desk. For the moment, I had an irreverent thought. I felt I was Jesus being dragged in front of Pontius Pilate. The nuns’ desks were on a raised platform, so she looked down at me menacingly.
Sister Loosina inspected my exercise book and listened to evidence from sister Natalie. She looked at me and, then my blood turned to ice when she pronounced the sentence. “He deserves the brush” she said. She could not have sentenced me to a worse fate. The brush was reserved for only the worst offenders, and I was going to get it.
By this stage, I was deeply in shock, and unable to walk, so both nuns picked me up and carried me from the classroom to the place of execution – a bedroom in the boarding house. They then told me to lie face down on the bed, which I refused to do. A major struggle ensued, but I was no match for those strong nuns. In a brief moment of lucidness, I realised that I was not going to win, so I tried negotiating. I told them I would lie still if they were only to give me one smack. They both agreed, and I rolled over to receive my fate. Whack, whack , whack, whack went the brush on my bottom. It really hurt a lot.
I sat up and looked at them in shock. They had lied to me. They had hit me more than once and had breached the contract. I totally lost it. My fear changed to anger, and I screamed every obscenity I knew at them. Sister Loosina beat a hasty retreat, leaving poor sister Natalie trying to control this totally feral enraged human being. I screamed at the top of my voice. I questioned sister Natalie’s parents’ marital status, and her general performance as a human being. I condemned all nuns to the fires of hell.
All of a sudden, sister Natalie grabbed me and carried me into the laundry. She unbuttoned my shirt and started to fan me with a towl, but that made me scream even louder. She then filled a bucket with water and dumped it over my head. That shut me up. We both looked at each other. She was as shocked as I was. I could see her pulse pounding in her neck. Then, she gently patted me dry with a towl. I began to sob. She carefully picked me up and carried me to a bed, where I went to sleep.
All I remember of the rest of that day was sitting at the bus stop waiting for my bus home. Sister Manus, the bus monitor, was holding my hand and making soothing noises.
Many years later, after I had finished school, I asked sister Natalie if she remembered the incident. She said there was no way she could forget it because it was the most frightening time of her teaching carreer. She threw the water over me in desperation, because she had no idea what else to do. It was a traumatic experience for both of us.
Thankfully, that was the only time I got the brush during my time at the convent.
