MANI BAVA

 

My grandmother, Maniben, was born in the early 1900s in the village of Singod in Gujarat to Mavjibhai and Jiwiben Parag. Maniben had seven siblings (five sisters and two brothers). Her childhood was spent working hard in the family home and gardens. She did not have the opportunity to attend school. 

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Around 1927 Dhanabhai Bava, who had earlier migrated from India to New Zealand and had been earning a living from market gardening in Pukekohe, returned to India in search of a bride. He married Maniben and soon, their first son, Ghelabhai, was born, probably in 1928. Not much later, Dhanabhai returned to work in New Zealand; the plan was to save enough money so his new family could follow him. 

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Sadly, in 1935, Ghelabhai suddenly died. Maniben was left to cope with the heartbreak of losing a child alone, without her husband. The following year, in July 1936, Maniben (with four other Indian women) left India by boat and made their way on the Wanganella to New Zealand shores. 

 

Pukekohe, South Auckland, New Zealand
—Birth of the Bava Clan

Maniben was finally reunited with her husband and went to live at his property in Wellington Street, Pukekohe. In the 1930s there were only a handful of other Indian men in Pukekohe, all unmarried, and so Maniben was the first married Gujarati lady to live there. In June 1937 Maniben gave birth to a daughter, Shantiben (Margaret) Bava, who was the first Gujarati girl to be born in Pukekohe and possibly the first in the Auckland area. Maniben became affectionately known as Jee, to her children, everyone who knew her and later her grandchildren. No one is sure why she was called Jee, this is simply what everyone called her.

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An interesting fact lies behind the English middle name. Priests in India had to be consulted so a newborn could be appropriately named from the Indian astrological calendar and this would take time so the matron (Ms Blair) of Burwood Hospital named the baby Margaret (after the name of an employee of the hospital). This naming process was used for almost all of their children: September 1938 Nanabhai (John); December 1939 Kamalaben (Jean); February 1941 Jivanbhai (Ronald); April 1942 Premilaben (Pamela); September 1943 Nandiben (Janet); December 1944 Ravjibhai; August 1947 Naranbhai (Colin) and January 1952 Govindbhai (Ross). 

 

Return to India 1948

In 1948 the entire Bava clan went to India to visit family. When they decided to return to New Zealand they faced difficulty with the Mumbai customs so Dhanabhai decided to come back on his own and told Maniben to stay on in the village of Singod with the children until they were cleared by customs. Maniben was faced with the challenge of trying to look after and feed her family with very little financial or other support. The older children would go cotton picking and made dry leaf plates for weddings which could be sold in the local markets—anything to bring in an income to feed and clothe everyone. The house they lived in was similar to a mud hut; it was very tiny and sleeping arrangements were tight. They also had to share this home with another family. Tragically during this time Ravjibhai fell ill and died. This was devastating for Maniben, who was on her own once again coping with the grief of losing another child while having to support her other children.

 

Family Life in Pukekohe, 1950 Onwards 

Two years later, in 1950, Maniben, with the seven children, finally left India to return to Pukekohe. Dhanabhai was now living in Nelson Street. Their first home in New Zealand was just a tin shack. It had old sacks covering the windows for curtains and candles were used for light in the evenings with an open fire for warmth. Like most Indian homes in Pukekohe in those days it was very basic and had a long drop as a toilet. By 1952 the family shifted to Tuakau Road where they leased property and their final son Govindbhai was born. 

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Daily life in Pukekohe started with a 5 am wake-up call for Maniben, stoking up the coal range to boil water, which was rainwater collected in a tank. Bread was toasted on the coal range for breakfast, and served along with hot tea. The older children would make bread and butter sandwiches for school lunches.
The household chores were shared among the siblings and they consisted of sweeping the floors by broom, as vacuum cleaners were expensive and the household did not have one, then mopping, scrubbing and polishing the floor by hand with an old cloth. An old non-electric iron had to be heated on the coal range and an old blanket or sheet on the floor was used as an ironing board. Working in the market gardens was mandatory as was selling vegetables door
to door. 

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Clothes had to be scrubbed on a wooden washboard and then hand-washed in an old copper. Again, the water had to be boiled for the laundry. Darning and sewing clothes for her children, who all wore hand-me-downs, was another skill Jee was very good at. Jee always made sure all her children were clean and tidy. She also had a knack for using home remedies such as putting lemon juice in their hair to keep nits away, a lemon, honey and whisky mix for colds and tying horse hair to a wart so it would fall off.

Only very basic spices and Indian food supplies were available in New Zealand during this time; rice, moong beans and lentils bought from the travelling Chinese man were the staple diet. There was no rotli (chapatti) flour available so they ate bread. Eggs were freshly laid by chickens at home and as for dinner, meat or chicken were a rare treat. Adding vegetables to curried meat was one of the innovative ways Jee made a meal go further. Mealtimes were important to her and she ensured her family enjoyed this part of the day, all together.

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Jee’s Personality

Jee’s personality has been described as gentle, kind, shy, honest and humble, a lady who accepted all cultures and races. She would send curried moong beans to the local Maori families and would visit a local Chinese family—even though they could not communicate well, they laughed and shared food, finding a common human bond of friendship. Whether it was welcoming newly immigrated Indian brides and helping them settle into the way of life in this new country or visiting the ill, elderly or newborn, Jee always made time to be a generous host and offer whatever hospitality she could. Occasionally she would socialise with other Indian women, enjoying dressing up a little and taking a break from the everyday business of raising a busy family. Social events would have included weddings or simply just visiting each other’s homes and sharing a meal. 

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Jee was also well known for piercing the ears of little girls, an Indian tradition. She would use a needle and castor oil and would often have little jellybeans on hand for any tears.

Jee never imposed her Hindu beliefs on her children and in fact encouraged them to attend Sunday School. She was not able to fully observe Hindu religious occasions because there were no Indian deities, temples, priests, or goods like incense sticks. However, she always followed her traditions in a quiet manner, for instance, covering her head with her sari when people visited—this was a sign of respect as a married Indian woman. 

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Jee never complained about life, or showed her true emotions in front of her children, even after she received news of the death of each of her parents in India. Taking the very delayed telegram she would go quietly into her room and grieve, then just get on with life. Jee saw to her children first and would not buy herself new clothing or jewellery, always putting her family’s needs ahead of her own.

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My earliest memory of Jee is a photo that my mother keeps in her wooden display cabinet of special memories. Sadly Jee had passed away before I got the chance to grow up with her in my life, as it was for many of her grandchildren. In this photo Jee is dressed in a sari, which is draped in Gujarati-style, and is holding a black handbag. There is perhaps a glint of a smile but more so I see a humble woman who I now realise had lived a life that was weathered with so much hardship. Yet there she is as graceful as ever without even the slightest thought of feeling sorry for herself. 

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When I was a young girl, my mother always told me that Jee was so very patient and overflowing with kindness, and I have often wished I could have felt that love. I have since discovered so much more by chatting with my mama (Mum’s brother) and masis (Mum’s sisters) about Jee. The lady in that photo was a pillar of strength to her children, a hardworking wife and a friend to those in need. I think my Jee must have made lemonade from life’s lemons, that even if she had felt like giving up she just knew that was never an option. Her family relied on her and she took her role seriously and she gave it 110 per cent. I don’t imagine she took the time to think about herself, or even thought she was doing anything of significance. Her life was about survival, feeding and clothing, working on the farm and being a good Indian wife. Jee was beyond her time, embracing change, all cultures and challenges, and her timeless love remains in the threads that tie her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to a truly beautiful soul. 

 

Jee’s Legacy

Jee is remembered for her kindness, her quiet inner strength and her ability to seamlessly accommodate all of her children’s individual needs. The morals of honesty and of being a genuine, selfless human being, helping anyone she could will hopefully live through her children, grandchildren and now many great-grandchildren. As a humbled granddaughter I think that our family tries to live up to this legacy of huge wealth Jee has left us. 

 

By Sudha Bhana, proud granddaughter of Maniben

 

Special thanks to Kamalaben Nana, Premilaben Soma, Nandiben Bhana and Naranbhai Bava for your wealth of contributions and granddaughter Nayna Bhana for facts from the Bava family history from Jacqueline Leckie’s book, “Indian Settlers”