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I have recently
heard of the passing of my very dear friend Evelyn Groman, who lived in Las Vegas. More than anything, I know that she is
in a better place enjoying a better life, but I miss her already. I met Evelyn
in Japan, when I was a missionary and she was stationed there with the American Civil Service. We were both very young, so
there are a flood of memories going through my mind of the times we had together. Probably the most unusual memory was our
visit to South Africa.
When I had to return to Durban for major surgery, she decided to travel
with me and then return to the States. At the last minute she also decided to take her car, a British Austin, assembled in
Japan with a variety of different features and fittings. Naturally all the boys would gather around it with great admiration.
There was nothing like it in South Africa.
| Joan Wakeford and Evelyn Groman |
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| Durban South Africa August 1960 |
My mother managed
to get us an apartment on the beach front, close to the hospital. Our new home was on the 2nd floor. I was quite happy until
I realized that from our kitchen window we looked directly into the quarters of the African cleaning crew and they could get
pretty noisy at night, especially after a few drinks. I decided to keep that window shut.
Then came the weekend
when there was a great hullabaloo, with shouts and screams and females running in every direction as the police cars, sirens
blaring, came into view. Evie wanted a closer look so we trotted downstairs. There were some other neighbours standing around,
so Evie asked, “What’s up?” “Oh,” the lady said, “this happens every weekend. They get
drunk and start fighting and the blood starts flowing”. Just then the police started bringing the culprits out, men
and women and piled them into the police van. Evie then asked, “Every weekend?” and the woman nodded. The next
morning Evie disappeared and then came back. “Pack your things,” she said, “We are moving up to the 7th
floor”. So that was that. I must say it was much quieter.
During my convalescence,
I discovered a huge bowl of fruit and veggies on the dining room table. “Where did these come from,” I asked.
(As if I didn’t know.) “Oh, I got these from a lady who was selling from door to door. Aren’t they beautiful
and so fresh?” And before I could stop myself, the next question was, “How did you pay for them?” She looked
at me and sheepishly said,” Well, I gave her some old clothes.” Then I discovered she had given her some
of my clothes too. I had to laugh. The poor lady probably needed them more than we did.
After my surgery
healed, I had to travel through the country speaking at the churches and on the way we decided to go to the Drakensberg Mountains
for a short vacation. Then on we went to Pretoria. I noticed a sign on the road, “To Olivier’s Hoek Pass.”
I convinced Evie that it was a short cut and the most beautiful scenery in the country.
That was the last
time I could convince Evie of anything. We started on the pass and the pot holes were so bad, Evie asked if it was a proper
road. I assured her that it was, but even I got anxious as we went from pot hole to pot hole and donga to donga. I was petrified
we were going to go over the edge into the ravine below, but I kept up a good front and encouraged her as much as I could.
After a harried
hour or two we rolled out of the pass into a service station, with a live mechanic. He took one look at the car and burst
out laughing. ”Where on earth have you come from?” he asked. And I told him we had come down the Olivier’s
Hoek Pass. Then he told us to get out of the car and have a look at our tires. All four of them had burst and were as flat
as pancakes. “That Pass has been closed for years”, he said, “I’m surprised you ever made it down.”
Fortunately he had the right kind of tires for the car and off we went, on a tarred road and as far as Evie was concerned,
we would stay on tarred roads for the rest of our lives.
I must admit
she received a few traffic tickets for minor violations, but every time she went into a police station to chat to the men
in charge, they would serve us tea and ask her about America. Then they would send her on her way with a cheery, “Have a wonderful time in Sunny South Africa”,
and never any fine to pay.
Yes, Evie and I
had some good times and some bad. There were many tears but much more laughter and I shall cherish her memory. God speed Evie-San.
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| Evelyn and Joan in Las Vegas Feb-2006 |
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