EULOGY MARGARET BAIN Dignified Cremations, Nasinu Thursday 3 October 2019

Transcription

1 EULOGY MARGARET BAIN Dignified Cremations, Nasinu Thursday 3 October 2019 I have the honour today to say a few words about Margaret, my mother, on behalf of the family. But before I begin, may I take this opportunity to thank you all for your kind attendance at this final farewell and celebration of her life. Early years My mother was born in Suva on 10 September 1929 at the family home in Robertson Road, Suva. She was the third child and second daughter of Matilda and Felix Emberson. Her parents were both born in Tonga, her father in Vava u, and her mother in Ha apai; both of mixed Tongan and European ancestry Tongan and Danish on her mother s side, and Tongan, Tahitian, Rotuman and English on her father s side. She was known to her eight siblings as Betty. To her Tongan extended family, she was Fonu, short for Anga aefonu, the name of her Tongan maternal grandmother. Ma grew up in Suva, born into a Catholic family, and educated at St Joseph s Primary School. She excelled academically, but must have shown early signs of willfulness because she had to contend with nicknames like Black Betty and Black sausage, and, from time to time, the indignity of having her head shaved by her mother, forcing her to wear a woollen cap to school to hide her bald head. Presumably all this was intended to cut her down to size. My mother s formal school education came to an abrupt halt at the end of primary. Betty is so clever her mother was told by a close family friend. So she doesn t need to go to school. She can help the family. So the opportunity to go to secondary school and university, which my mother would have dearly loved, was replaced by running errands in town and paying the bills. This childhood deprivation probably

2 ! 2 helps to explain what was to become a life long obsession with higher education, and a dedication to the pursuit of excellence for her brothers and sisters, her children, and her grandchildren. During World War II, at just 13 years of age, my mother was sent to Auckland to undertake a one-year commercial shorthand and typing course at what was curiously known as Brains Commercial College. She was to be away from Fiji and her family for two long years. She showed great pluck, and thought nothing of living alone at the YWCA. It did not seem to bother her that none of the other girls doing the course, all of whom were around 18 years old, extended a hand of friendship. She relished her Friday night outings alone when she would take herself to the cinema, and then to a café where she treated herself to a meal. I never tired of asking her about this experience, and found it quite extraordinary when she insisted that she was never lonely or afraid. No, she would say emphatically, It was the happiest time in my life. Ma s rare intelligence and ability became evident at the end of the year when the course concluded. I don t recall her ever telling me her marks or place in class, but she must have done exceptionally well because she was asked by the College to stay on another year with free board in exchange for tutoring the next intake of students. She was just 14 years of age. On return to Fiji, now aged 15, my mother began work in the civil service, first as a verbatim court reporter in the Supreme Court, and later as a verbatim Hansard reporter in the Legislative Council. Thanks to her experience in Auckland, she had mastered the craft of shorthand with an impressive dictation speed of 200 words a minute. By the age of 19, she had become eligible for long service leave and had saved up enough money to take a Greyhound bus around the United States. In New York, she took herself to the Metropolitan Opera. This experience made a lasting impression, and opera became an enduring passion, which she was ever keen to share with her children and grandchildren. Her love of classical music deepened over the

3 ! 3 years, ably nurtured by my father. When we lived in England, it became an annual ritual for her to take the train to London every Easter to hear a performance of Bach s St Matthew Passion. Marriage, family, and working life Margaret married my father Kenneth Bain, a New Zealander of Scottish descent and a Presbyterian, in Their marriage was controversial in the context of colonial Fiji because it defied the colour bar as well as other social and religious norms of the time, including the embargo on Catholics marrying non-catholics. As my father dealt with threats of an early end to his career in the colonial service, my mother accepted her fate of leaving the church and pressed on regardless. She was no doubt fortified by the support of her family, particularly her father who insisted on giving her away in the Presbyterian Church, ignoring the threatened sanction from his own church. And there were other special people like Lady Freeston, wife of the Governor, who took great delight in announcing her engagement to an incredulous gathering one evening at the GPH. My mother s early working life in the civil service went hand in hand with raising three children I was born in Tonga in 1955, and my brother Ashley and sister Vivian were born in Fiji in 1959 and 1964 respectively. She occupied various positions in Tonga, Fiji and the UK. She was private secretary to Governor Sir Derek Jakeway in Fiji in the mid-1960s; and received a diplomatic appointment in the Fiji High Commission in London at Independence in Community work and fundraising campaigns were a constant in her life in all three countries as well as the British Virgin Islands (BVI) where my parents moved in the mid-1980s. Women were given the vote in Fiji in 1963, and in 1966, at the age of just 37, my mother contested the general elections on an Alliance Party ticket, standing on a platform of social justice. She was the first woman of mixed race to stand in a general election in Fiji and she performed admirably in the Suva General constituency

4 ! 4 against seasoned male politicians. She lost by a mere 25 votes. I could never understand why she didn t ask for a recount! Character and accomplishments Ma had a love of the English language and was an elegant writer. She was meticulous about sentence construction, with an editor s eagle eye, and she had a formidable vocabulary. Ever a perfectionist, she set the highest standards for herself, as well as others, and could be hypercritical. In the use of language, she would never fail to correct the misuse of a word, or a mispronunciation; or to give you a synonym to replace a word you had used more than once. Of my mother s many wonderful qualities, a number stand out: her humanity and sense of justice and fairness; her love of family; and her dedication to community. She was tenacious and determined, and she had an unshakeable sense of purpose, delighting in mentoring young people, particularly if she spotted talent or a need. She had a clear vision for her siblings, and later her children and grandchildren. When her brother Felix told her he wanted to become a doctor, she sold her car a Hillman Minx - to put him through two years of pre-med school in New Zealand. Recognising her sister Felicia s talent for the piano, she made it her business to find her a piano teacher. As dux of Felix College in Suva, her brother Oscar was gifted a bike by his delighted parents. He traded this in for a deck passage on the Matua and ran away to Tonga. My mother went into combat mode when she learnt of what had happened. Oscar was dragged back from Tonga and she researched schools in New Zealand. He was then dispatched to St Bedes College in Christchurch, knick-named Belson s Prisoner of War Camp by its students because the discipline was so severe. It was here that the foundations for her brother s lifelong career in dentistry were laid.

5 ! 5 I became aware of my mother s concern for social justice early on in my life. At boarding school in Auckland in 1968, when I was 13, she insisted I participate in an oratory contest. I pleaded with her to let me off the hook, but to no avail. A week or so later, winging its way to Auckland by air letter, came the title of my first speech - Protest. Here, she said, this is how you should begin. Protest is the legitimate expression of youth, the poor, and the disaffected! I remember nothing of the speech that I eventually wrote, but I have never forgotten these opening words. In the early 1950s, while my mother was working in the British Consulate in Tonga just before I was born, she became aware of what my father describes as the apparent frustrations of young extrovert Tongans who appeared on the steps of the Consulate with petitions to the United Nations and the Secretary of State for the Colonies. They were dismissed as haua, the Tongan term for lay abouts - unemployed youth who had been in and out of prison. My mother invited them to use a small building next to our house at Fongoloa. It wasn t long before they began to compose and perform satirical plays. Queen Salote was apparently charmed when she heard about this, and invited Fonu s boys, as she called them, to perform their mock court at the Palace during an annual concert. My mother was disdainful of mediocrity, and what she called wasting time if you were just chilling. She found Vivian s teenage predilection for going out with friends infuriating, especially when this coincided with an opera she wanted her to watch. She was a driven woman so when she was on a mission, she was unstoppable, and her perfectionism meant that she tireless in her pursuit for the best possible outcome. Not surprisingly, she could come across as pushy. But this was never about personal ambition or self-promotion. And the results spoke for themselves in the academic and professional accomplishments of her siblings; in the opportunities she gave her children and grandchildren; in the art exhibitions and shows she organized with flair; and in the funds she raised for the community.

6 ! 6 Seona Smiles recalls a mega YWCA project that she worked on with Ma in the late 1960s. To me, your mother was heroic, for many reasons, but I most remember her for her leadership in persuading us we could take on a positively frightening debt to build the YWCA Building. Sarah de Bruce recalls the many happy times working together for Fiji High Commission and Fiji Club functions in London. Margaret was my role model with her stamina and drive, always thinking of ways to raise money for charity; we gladly joined in as it was so fulfilling. Vivian is most proud of our mother for the work she did in Sevenoaks to raise awareness about mental health and schizophrenia. In early 1987, my mother returned to Fiji to organize a retrospective exhibition of paintings by Mary Edwell-Burke, a celebrated Australian artist and long time friend. It was a herculean effort, which involved bringing into Fiji nearly 100 of Mary s paintings from abroad, including Raymond Burr s collection from North America and Princess Pilolevu s portrait from Tonga. Veni worked alongside my mother and is still in awe of how much she accomplished, most notably that she managed to persuade sponsors like Qantas, Air Pacific, and the Australian High Commission to cover all the costs of mounting the exhibition including the airfreighting, the insurance, the unpacking and so on. This same indomitable spirit emerged in the face of any kind of challenge, large or small. Siale remembers her determination to get him to a basketball game during a visit to his grandparents in BVI as a teenager. My father had insisted that their small car could not make it up a particularly steep hill to get there. Ma would hear nothing of it, so she set off with Siale. As my father had predicted, the car conked out half way up the hill, so it was a long and rather nerve-wracking roll back down. Not to be defeated, my mother then hurried off to find someone to drive her grandson up the hill. She remained at the bottom of the hill to take him back after the game. Illness

7 ! 7 My mother returned to live with us in Suva following a small stroke in Following a heart attack and fall in 2017, she became effectively bed-ridden. The loss of mobility and independence frustrated her, and as Parkinson s Disease steadily ravaged her body, and dementia took root, the quality of her life deteriorated and she became increasingly withdrawn and disinclined to socialize. But she enjoyed the adventure of an occasional drive to the West, celebratory family occasions with her grandchildren, and almost to the end, she maintained her great appetite, ever indulged by the culinary skills and loving care of Marama, and the love of grandchildren and Veni who produced a continuous flow of movies, photos and books. Without doubt, the highlight of each day was a morning visit from her great-granddaughter Mahina, with whom she developed a special connection. During the last year of her life, my mother s perfectionist idiosyncrasies became more pronounced. Whether it was Vivian s experimentation with hair colour, her grandchildren s tattoos, or what I was wearing, you were never in any doubt that she was NOT impressed. Marama remembers admiring Vivian s bright pink hair one day at breakfast. Vivian s delight was short lived. Stop it Marama. It looks ridiculous! my mother retorted. Fonu had the courage to take her on. But grandma, it s the person underneath the hair that matters, isn t it? My mother raised her eyebrows and closed her eyes dismissively. That s rubbish she said. As her health declined, I sometimes felt the need to cheer her up, particularly on the many Friday and Saturday nights we spent at home together. As her beloved Rod Stewart album played yet again, I would make an effort to entertain her. My favourite was to pick up one of her hats, and walking stick, and improvise a routine to The sunny side of the street What do you think Ma? I would ask, doing my best to solicit a compliment at the end of a very amateur performance. In a flat, humourless tone she would shoot back with a line from a favourite Noel Coward play: Don t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs Worthington!

8 ! 8 Closer to the end, my mother had increasing difficulty speaking. I don t know dear was her typical response to my questions, but more often she could only manage a whisper. A week or so before she died, however, I showed her a little video Siale and Louisa had sent of two-year old Tahi, her great grandson. Working on an ABC puzzle, he carefully fitted each letter into its correct place. But when he got to the end, he discovered that the letter z was missing. He found the piece and popped into its place. But clearly this little chip off the old block was not satisfied: Let s do it again, he announced. Ma had not spoken a word in two days, so I was taken aback to hear her call out to Tahi: What an excellent idea! A perfectionist to the end! Concluding As we mourn my mother s passing today, we also celebrate her life and all the marvelous qualities she had. I will forever be proud of what she accomplished in her life, and profoundly grateful for all she did for me, the family at large, and the many people whose lives she touched and enhanced. She was truly an inspiration! Your suffering is over Ma. Rest in peace. We love you!