Ganga lala

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Our mother, Ganga, was born on 12 April 1921 in Machhad Gam, Navsari, in the Gujarat state of India. Mum grew up with four brothers and five sisters. She was married at an early age to our father, Daji Lala. Dad was from another village called Kothamdi, where she went to live.

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In March 1942, Mum gave birth to a son and shortly after our dad left for New Zealand to begin to build a new life for our family. Mum remained in India working in the fields every day, while our grandmother (Dad’s mum) looked after my brother. Dad sent over the money he earned working in his uncle’s fruit shop. The money wasn’t a lot, and life was a continual struggle for Mum. 

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Seven years later, in November 1950, Mum and my brother moved to New Zealand. They travelled by boat and because she was seasick Mum mostly stayed in her cabin. They didn’t eat the food on offer as it was foreign to them and instead ate the snacks they had brought with them from India. It was a three-week journey to Sydney, after which they travelled by seaplane to New Zealand, arriving at Mechanics Bay in Auckland.

 

Mum and Dad’s first home in New Zealand was in Otahuhu, Auckland. Dad started his own business selling vegetables door to door and my brother began school in this same year. Life in New Zealand was a challenge for Mum at the beginning. She had to adjust to a completely different style of living and there was so much to learn, such as cooking on a gas stove which was run by a meter. Every time the gas ran out, she would have to get my brother to put a shilling in the meter. Having running water available all the time from a tap in the house was a real novelty as Mum was used to fetching it from the local well. We had a large copper in our wash-house which was kept filled with water and heated by burning firewood underneath it. We used the water for bathing, cooking and washing clothes. I remember the bucket baths we had very clearly, one bucket of water had to last our whole body. Mum also learned to use a washing board instead of washing clothes in the river and, later on, a wringer washing machine. Talking on a telephone was yet another new experience for Mum. 

 

The biggest adjustment of all though was staying at home and not going out to work each day. This made life quite lonely for Mum unless we went visiting friends. English was a barrier so she had to rely on the company of other Indian women for conversation.

Some customs Mum found hard to understand but she was mindful of my father’s wishes to follow them. Dad strongly believed that Sunday should be a quiet and less active day, so he didn’t mow the lawns nor did he want Mum to do any washing or cleaning which created noise. Even we children had to play quietly, as back then nearly half of New Zealand’s population were churchgoers and Dad respected that. Often Sunday was a day to visit friends and relatives. Mum had her rituals too. Each morning after she had a bath she would light a deva and pray (I never knew what she would pray for, nor did I ever ask). It was a daily ritual.

 

Many women who had migrated at that time, including Mum, found it difficult to get the essentials they were used to back in India. Saris were very hard to buy but the Indian women would not be seen wearing anything else. They had to rely on family or friends going to India for a holiday to bring saris back for them. Spices were also scarce. Cooking with spices was the only way these women knew and luckily there was one spice merchant in Auckland where they could buy their supplies. 

 

I remember Mum combining a number of different spices to make garam masala, then putting it out in the sun to crispen before grinding. She also ground her own coriander and cumin seeds. We only ever ate home-made papad (papadums) with our meals, and like many Indian women, every summer, she would invite her friends over on a hot day to make them. She would get up at the crack of dawn to have the dough ready for her friends to roll, once they arrived. Spicy nibbles, also made by Mum, and a cup of tea were shared at break time. My job was to lay the papad out on mats to dry in the sun—I found it a bit of a chore but I wasn’t allowed to go out on papad day. Mum made her own pickles too—either lime, lemon or mango—a process that took four to five weeks from marinating to cooking to putting them in jars. Making papad, pickles and grinding fresh spices was something Mum grew up with back in India so she carried on that tradition. Even today, I am doing just that, grinding my own spices and making my own pickles!

 

Settling into the New Zealand way of life was slow going for Mum but she gradually made friends with fellow housewives, many of whom had arrived in New Zealand before her. Like them, Mum took a great interest in gardening and growing Indian vegetables for our meals. Gardening soon became her passion! 

 

Every Wednesday, no matter what the weather, Mum and her best friend would walk down to the Onehunga shopping mall to buy their fish as Wednesday was fish night. She cooked the best fish in a tomato gravy, something I could never make and still can’t master like her! Fridays were for visiting other friends in the neighbourhood. Even if it was cold, Mum and her best friend would just put on their wool coats and go out. She and her friend (who lived around the corner) would alternate going to one another’s house every single day. They would have a cup of tea together and walk around and admire each other’s garden before going home. It surprised me that they never ran out of conversation or tired of each other’s company.

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Mum’s life became more hectic after Dad bought his own business, a fruit shop in Onehunga. We all lived above the shop, and by that time there were four more children, two sons and two daughters, born between 1951 and 1956. Not only did Mum have to attend to the household chores and be the primary carer of her children, she had to also work in the shop. Although Mum didn’t speak English, she managed to serve customers without any difficulty, simply by using hand gestures and facial expressions. While we used to write down the amount of each bag of fruit or vegetable sold then add up the cost, it always amazed us how Mum did the sums in her head and was always correct! The customers grew to like Mum. When it was time for us to go shopping, one of us would accompany our mother, acting as interpreter.

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Mum was very hard-working and although she was already busy with family life, she always offered help to others, especially at wedding times. Indian weddings in the day were very full-on and often took weeks of preparation. Mum knew the drill very well and so did everyone else. Families in the community often called on Mum for her advice when it came to weddings and she would just be there to run the show. Everyone knew they could rely on her to organise the different rituals and traditions. Mum never let anyone down or declined to help.

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In 1964, Dad bought a house in Onehunga, walking distance from the fruit shop. My oldest brother continued to live above the shop but the rest of us moved into the house. The five of us siblings would take turns opening the shop each morning until Mum arrived and took over so we could go to school. Mum would have afternoon tea ready for us after school, often an Indian sweet made out of semolina or vermicelli. Sometimes she made curried rolled taro leaves or curried omelettes. She wasn’t able to bake or cook European food as she couldn’t read the recipes in English. But we didn’t complain.

Family outings were something Mum looked forward to in the weekends. One event we all got excited about was the annual Indian community picnic, organised by the Indian Association. This was an opportunity for Mum to socialise with her friends and enjoy a day out. The picnic was held at Orewa Beach, north of Auckland. 

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Mum would spend all morning cooking our favourites to take to the picnic. She would make puri (a deep-fried Indian bread) and spiced fried potato filling. She also made curried vegetable fritters, spicy fried chicken and rotlis. All the families would put their picnic food out for everyone to share. I remember a huge amount of food and such a great variety—quite a feast! My brothers, my sister and I loved this annual picnic day except for one thing—we weren’t allowed to swim in the sea. Mum was very afraid for us, as we were not able swimmers.

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Every second Sunday we would go to an Indian movie, which was another chance for Mum to catch up with her friends. We loved this day, not because we were going to see a movie but for the half-time food Mum would buy us!

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In the school holidays, Mum would take us to Farmers as a treat and her best friend would also come along with her children. We had a lot of fun and especially enjoyed the bus ride. We would go to the big café on the top floor where Mum would buy us something to eat and a drink. She would have a cup of tea for herself. Mum would pour the tea into her saucer before drinking it to cool the tea down (which is what she did at home as well) and we would be so embarrassed that we would go and sit at another table.

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Mum felt very strongly about us learning to speak and understand Gujarati, so she sent us all to Indian Sunday school, but we didn’t really enjoy it. We just didn’t have any interest in it—maybe because our friends at school were all European and we only needed to know English to speak to them. However, we all attended every Sunday morning for a few hours to please our parents, more to please Mum! In actual fact we learnt more at home because we were only allowed to speak Gujarati in front of our parents. 

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Because of Mum’s strict and fussy nature, we all had to abide by her rules. She didn’t allow us to waste food nor were we allowed to speak out of turn or use bad language. We had to make our beds in the mornings and have tidy rooms. She was always tidying and cleaning things. Mum took pride in how we looked and made sure we were smartly presented for school each day and when we went out in the weekends. I still remember her plaiting my and my sister’s hair each day, using Brylcreem to keep it in place. We were only allowed to go out if we told her all the details—where we were going, who we were going with, who else was going to be there and many other questions. Most importantly, we had a curfew!

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At all times, Mum took a lot of pride in how she looked. Her hair was always plaited and rolled into a bun. And she swore by Brylcreem for her hair as well. She was meticulous about the house too. She had a habit of covering everything, such as the sofas in the sitting room, so they wouldn’t get dirty. She washed this cover regularly and had another one to replace it while it was in the wash. She covered her set of drawers in the bedroom so they wouldn’t gather dust. She even covered her bedspread so it would stay clean when she lay on it for her afternoon nap! Vacuuming the house was something my sister or myself always did, even after we married and left home. Mum was never able to work the vacuum. We used to get annoyed with her as she would follow us around so we didn’t miss anything.

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Mum and Dad owned the fruit shop for twenty-three years before retiring. When they stopped working, Mum spent much of her time in the garden. She grew mostly Indian vegetables which she raised from seedlings. She had a lot of success doing this and her friends would ask for seedlings. The garden was Mum’s pride and joy and she was continually planting, weeding and watering to keep it thriving. In fact, when we were growing up she spent more time in the garden than in the house! Gardening definitely came before cooking. 

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Mum had always been an active person and liked to keep busy. However, as the years went by she started to slow down and unfortunately was unable to maintain her garden. She was frustrated by this and it saddened her to give up her passion. She would always be looking out of the kitchen window at the garden, watching it dwindle away and become overgrown with weeds. I remember her saying, ‘Look at those weeds, I just wish I could get out there and take them out.’ She would often ask one of us to take her outside with her walking frame to the garden, although when we did this, we could see the sad look on her face.

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After Dad passed away in 2012, Mum looked after herself, cooking her own meals, doing her washing and keeping the house clean and tidy. But after suffering from a broken elbow, then a broken hip over the following couple of years, she was no longer able to manage on her own. 

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At the end of 2013 Mum was admitted to a private hospital in Auckland where we knew she would get the care she deserved and medical attention on hand if needed. She thoroughly enjoyed our visits. They certainly brightened her day.

Sadly, on Sunday, 10 January 2016, Mum passed away. 

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Mum always put her children first. She hardly did anything or bought anything for herself. She didn’t feel the need to have things, probably because that’s how she grew up in India. Mum never bought anything at full price; she always looked for specials and found it very satisfying when she got a bargain. She loved to save money!

Although Mum was not one for showing much affection, we still felt cared for and loved, probably because of the things she did for us. Even her strictness we knew was because she cared and wanted to protect us. She was always there for us. She taught us values such as respecting other people, especially our elders (uncles, aunties, friends). Whether we knew them very well or not, we had to acknowledge them nicely if we saw them or if they came to visit. She taught us to be polite, to be clean and tidy and to be obedient. 

I have learnt a lot from Mum over the years, especially the important values of life, which I have passed on to my children.

 

By Hansha Narsai