The Opinion Pieces are an eclectic bunch on current affairs & history often with a human interest aspect. The Movie/DVDs reviews are mainly on documentaries with a smattering of movie reviews.
Just over a century ago, the name Bunton was well known in Port Elizabeth as John’s father and grandfather in their day were both owners of the Grand Hotel in Belmont Terrace. When John’s father, Henry, changed careers in 1927 and went farming in the Selbourne district near Kirkwood, the name Bunton would never again resonate with the residents of Port Elizabeth.
John would attest to serve in the artillery. Later his younger brother, Peter, would join him in the same unit. It was during the opening stages of the battle of El Alamein on the 13th July 1942 that John would be mortally wounded, and Peter, who served in the same unit, would see his brother for the last time as he was stretchered away never to be seen again by him.
Henry Arthur Bunton was the son of Walter Bunton and Marie Louise Pfeiffer. Their son, Henry Arthur Bunton, was born in July 1883 making him only 17 years old when the Anglo Boer War erupted in October 1899 yet at the age of 19 he joined Gorringe’s Flying Column. This force was raised by Lt Col G F Gorringe in 1901 and served in Cape Colony against numerous Boer Commandos.
In 1916 Henry would again participate in a war but this time it would be during WW1 fighting not in the trenches in France but would serve in the South African Heavy Artillery Regiment.
Main picture: Henry aka Harry Bunton with his wife Grace on honeymoon
Over the past 159 years, the Herald has occupied a number of premises and has been owned by a number of shareholders. This blog attempts to record these events
Main picture: C1864. Building built 1862 by J. Paterson, later used by Herald, then Cleghorns. Burnt down in 1896.jpg
Hammelberg was a Dutch lawyer who emigrated to South Africa in 1851 and lived here until 1871 taking a leading part in the affairs of the Orange Free State. This blog covers the 10 days during December 1861 when he visited Port Elizabeth.
Recollections of the town by visitors especially in its early days, provides an indelible record of how they viewed the town but more importantly, how it operated. Some of the descriptors relate to the residents’ industriousness and the consequential hustle and bustle whereas others refer to the stark bareness of the hill especially prior to the planting of trees.
These recollections of John Campbell, a surveyor, and passenger aboard the Eastern Province who visited the town from the 25th February 1862 to the 17th March 1862, adds a fresh layer of depth to the understanding of this bustling town.
Having unexpectantly and unwanted achieved old age, dating is not a pursuit that features greatly in my life. I prefer more leisurely diversions such as the subject of this blog – dating the oldest photograph (not something that I ever thought I would aspire to). I am also an armchair historian of popular topics and do not submerge myself in the dusty bowels of archives. My tools are limited to my inquisitive mind and interpretive skills and reviewing easily accessible books not to mention leaning on my older brother, Dean, for backup as younger siblings tend to do.
[Disclaimer: I must make absolutely clear that it is with no sense of superiority do I dismiss some of the dates given by Redgrave, Lorimer and Harradine. It is rather a case that I stand on the shoulders of giants, particularly in the case of the latter. Also in the days that their books were written, they did not have sophisticated word processors and the ability to print drafts at their desks or perform computer searches.]
What triggered this blog was rereading my brother’s blog (ref 1) on the earliest photograph and photographers. In it he presents an early morning photograph looking over Market Square and down Main Street, probably referred to as High Street in those days, and he states that it is the oldest photograph (below) and taken in c1858.
For me Willows is a special place as it has all my holiday memories wrapped up in it. The only holiday that the McCleland family took was to spend the Easter holiday at Willows. My brain is crammed full with happy almost long forgotten recollections which include activities such as catching mullets in the pool and building huge dams around the water from the spring running through the shower. Amongst my pack of memories there is only one negative experience. This happened one hot weekend when my canoe capsized and I was trapped in it, fortunately only momentarily.
Main picture: Willows in the 1950s
But what memories does one accumulate of Willows if one’s experience is that of a young black girl Monica Vellem in the 1990s when her mother was a cleaner at Willows and her father a gardener? How does someone as young as this, process the fact that she may discretely watch other children enjoying themselves splashing in the water, fishing in the rock pools and building sand castles while she is not permitted to partake of the same activities? What reasons or justifications were advanced by her mother? If any?
But what is most probably etched in the forefront of her mind is being called racist names by despicable white children. These recollections must surely despoil her otherwise joyous memories of Willows.
Monica’s verbatim story Although this history of Willows dates back way before I was even born, I enjoyed reading it. [Monica is referring to my blog on Willows] For me, Willows Resort is the place [where] my parents gave their all to. My mother cleaned the houses and my dad took care of the lawn and trees. [From the time when] I was a baby until my mid 20’s when the government [municipality] sold Willows, my parents only got to go home two weekends in a month. Me and my siblings basically had to grow up with absent parents. They worked hard so we could have a home, have clothes on our backs, go to school and eat. I can write this comment on here now because of my illiterate parents who gave their all in any job they were blessed to get.
The Willows in the 1960s
Willows for me, was the place I was fortunate enough to go to in my school holidays. I remember waking up early mornings with my nephews just so we could enjoy the trampoline before the white people occupied it and call us racist names basically treating us worse than they treat animals.
The Willows at low tide
Those experiences were not my favourite, but we knew enough hardship to not let any of that hate occupy our hearts. I very much enjoyed just sitting on the rocks nearest to the sea and just watching the waves, listening to God and having conversations with Him there always calmed me in a very deep way. I loved it and I recently went to the Kenton on Sea beach. Walking on that beach made me realise how much I miss Willows Resort.
I dream of taking my mom there, for her to enjoy a holiday because she worked st of her life in a resort but she has never ever gone on holiday. My dad passed [away]and these days more than ever I pray to be able to take my mom on holiday in Willows Resort before she too passes. She is elderly now and it is my honour to take care of her. She has never had it easy but I thank God for giving me parents that taught me to fear the Lord above all else and to worship only Him. Willows probably saved me from a lot of things I would have been influenced by in the townships during school holidays, so I choose to be grateful for the good stuff.
Upfront I must make a disclaimer – personally I am slightly to the left of centre if such a thing as a linear left-right continuum adequately describes one’s worldview. In the US political system, I get where the Republicans (not the Maggots and their ilk) are coming from and understand where the Democrats are trying to get to and don’t want to really take sides in a country I’m not part of. So, this SMAC is not about politics, but just about one man – Trump.
Why should you or I care about it? Like it or not, America is the dominant force in the world and perhaps it should change to something more equitable. But what we don’t need is chaos in geopolitics and that’s just what Trump represents because Trump is not worried about what’s good or right for mankind, but what’s good for Trump. Unfortunately, it is also well known from his previous presidency that listening to briefings from his cabinet, particularly the all-important security briefings, are not his strong suit. In fact, the only briefings he listens to are those broadcast by Fox News – his personal vanity mirror.
This is SMAC’s look at the man as the critical US presidential election approaches. It’s time to be afraid, very afraid.
