Kamu Magan
20 May 1930–19 March 1999
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Our mother (Ba) was born in the village of Bodali, Mota Falia, Gujarat, India on 20 May 1930. Her parents Lalli and Mitha Hira had five children, three boys and two girls, Jeram, Unka, Kamu, Amrat and Rukhi. Ba was the only one of her siblings to immigrate to New Zealand, two went to Britain, one to America and one stayed in India.
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Our father Maganbhai Fakir (Bapuji) was from Karadi, also in Gujarat, India. He had immigrated to New Zealand in 1936, following in the footsteps of his father and two older brothers. He returned to India to marry Ba in 1947.
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After the birth of their first child, Parvati, in August 1948, Bapuji returned to New Zealand. Six months later Ba (who was just seventeen) and Parvati followed, leaving the comfort and safety of her homeland to live in a country where the language and people were foreign to them. The photo (p.99) was taken and published in the local paper at Fremantle, Australia enroute to NZ.
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Ba wondered how she would ever be able to live here, being so far away from her beloved India. The life here was very different from home. The simplest of tasks seemed difficult: making rotli with no ghee, how would it work? She improvised by using butter. Her first taste of New Zealand butter and fresh cream was so rich and smooth, and became a taste she enjoyed.
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Our mother was hardworking like most of the women of that generation who came to this totally different way of life. She was young, and mentally and physically strong. By the age of twenty-six she had five children, Parvati, Urmila, Mohan, Roshni and Savita. The last four were all born in New Zealand. Ba worked long hours in the family fruit and vegetable shop as well as bringing us up. We were always well fed, nicely dressed (sometimes we girls would have matching dresses on, which Bapuji had sewn) and the girls’ hair neatly plaited by Ba.
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Working in the fruit shop in those days was a very hard job. The vegetables were covered with soil, which had to be washed before they could be displayed. This meant that Ba’s hands were always in water and the winter months took a toll on her hands. Ba had chilblains and as the weather got colder the skin on her fingers would crack but she never complained or stopped working.
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We grew up in Ponsonby and Grey Lynn with our kakas (uncles), kakis (aunts) and cousins. Our kakis Kuver, Dahi and Ganga were our second mothers. Together they formed a sisterhood, helping each other out and they themselves had the help of a kind and generous Kiwi lady, Daphne Wyatt, as well as her husband Les and their daughter Kay. Daphne taught Ba and our kakis to knit, how to cook Western food, and helped with speaking English and generally guiding them through everyday life in this country.
Our aunt Ganga Kaki (Manila Kaka’s wife) had no children and we were treated as her own. She would make us jelly with bananas and would bring us chocolate fish every Saturday evening when they would come to visit. Parvati and Urmila remembered the time she gave them lovely smocked lemon-coloured dresses, which they cherished and loved.
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On winter mornings my mother lit the fire so the house would be nice and warm when we got up in the morning. She made us lovely home-cooked meals and delicious chivda (mixed bhuja snacks), all while running a business and raising five children. As we got older we had to help in the family business, working after school, school holidays and Saturday mornings (by law the shop was only allowed to be opened for half a day). This meant that Mum could go home a little earlier (during the week) and cook dinner with the help of her older daughters. Our Saturday afternoons consisted of doing housework, relaxing, playing sport and catching up with schoolwork.
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On Sunday mornings we would attend the Indian Sunday school, where we learned to speak, read and write Gujarati. We would return home to a great lunch cooked by Ba. In the afternoon our entire family would either go visiting other Indian families or to the Indian movies if they were screening. In those days the movies were great, good stories and lovely music, and most families would go together. Visiting and movies was what reminded them of their beloved India.
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Indian weddings were always held on a Sunday because all the businesses were closed and this gave Ba the chance to dress up in her best sari. She loved having her photo taken and giving and receiving presents. On Christmas day she would get up really early and insist on doing all the cooking. Our role was to bring the dessert, as she loved trifle. In fact she loved anything with fresh cream—such as doughnuts and apple pie. She also liked fish and chips.
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She loved cooking, and trying and exchanging new recipes. Ba would translate English recipes into Gujarati, especially banana cake, which was baked on a weekly basis from bananas that came from the shop. Once a year in the summer months Ba would get all her friends round to make papad (papadums). Our role was to keep the birds from eating the papad while they were drying in the sun.
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Ba adored music, whether Indian music from the latest Indian movies or English songs from groups like The Carpenters or Peter, Paul and Mary. Music would play in our household every Sunday. She also enjoyed reading about news from around the world.
Ba was a great shopper, especially when it came to saris, and later at the $2 shop, where she was always finding bargains for her grandchildren. All the grandchildren were always looked after by Ba and often stayed the night when their parents went out in the evenings. So the grandchildren had a great bond with Ba. She loved all her grandchildren and in return all her grandchildren adored her.
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As a family we were fortunate to travel to India in 1959 and lived there for just over a year. It was a major task for Ba and Bapuji to take us halfway across the world via ship to India. We were introduced to family, went to the local school and learnt a different way of living.
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Ba went back to India when her brother Unka was sick and again just before her mother passed away. In their later years Ba and Bapuji frequently travelled back to India to catch up with family and friends.
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As children you take all this care and love for granted but looking back as adults we can see that our mother and the women like her were the ‘superwomen’ of that generation. We have enormous admiration and respect for our mother, kakis and all the other women who came when there was nothing familiar here. They put their homesickness and loneliness aside, not knowing when they would see their families in India again. We admire their spirit, strength, sacrifice, perseverance and endurance.
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Ba was the rock and the glue in our family and when she was diagnosed with cancer in 1998 our entire family was devastated. She passed away on 19 March 1999 aged sixty-eight. She got to see all her grandchildren but missed out on meeting her five great-grandchildren, whom she would have adored.
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Our mother and kakis have all passed away but they leave this legacy of strength, courage, compassion and generosity of spirit to us all. We all have fond memories of Ba, which we will cherish forever: she was a good friend as well as a good mother. We, her children and grandchildren, can hopefully fulfill and pass on this legacy to the future generations.
By Parvati Chhiba, Urmila Patel, Roshni Keshaw
and Savita Patel (Kamuben’s daughters)