Tonight I made a black bean soup for dinner - and as I rinsed out the empty cans to put them in the recycling bin, I squeezed the top of the cans closed as I always do. My mother always did it and so I do it. My mother had a reason to do it - mine is just a habit gleaned from my childhood.
When we first lived in Mosquito Valley, there were very few houses around us. Right beside us there was an empty field where the Nagdee family later built their house - much later. I don't remember why, but my mother would fling cans over the fence into the empty field. We called them tins in South Africa. Maybe it was before we had garbage pick up? It was definitely before we had roads!! There were no roads in Mosquito Valley in 1970, but it didn't really matter since we had no car either.
This would have been about 44 years ago - so the details get a little fuzzy. There must have been farmland close by, because sheep and cows would be milling around wherever there was a spot of grass, grazing. I have a vague recollection of the livestock being led away, back across the veld at the end of the day.
One day my mother looked out across the field to see what all the bleating was about. She saw a little lamb limping along, and was dismayed to see his foot caught in a can. I'm not even sure if I remember seeing this, or if I only remember the story from having heard it. She went to the rescue of the little lamb, or bokkie as we would have called him. The bokkie ran off to his mother, who stood glowering at my mother. Forever more, my mother sheepishly squeezed cans closed before tossing them across the fence. The habit never died - even when garbage collection did eventually begin.
Tonight I realised that I still do that. I probably don't need to do so when recycling, but I guess old habits die hard. Or are childhood rituals so ingrained that we continue to practise them, rarely giving thought to where they originate.
When we first lived in Mosquito Valley, there were very few houses around us. Right beside us there was an empty field where the Nagdee family later built their house - much later. I don't remember why, but my mother would fling cans over the fence into the empty field. We called them tins in South Africa. Maybe it was before we had garbage pick up? It was definitely before we had roads!! There were no roads in Mosquito Valley in 1970, but it didn't really matter since we had no car either.
 |
| Pre road construction in Mosquito Valley |
One day my mother looked out across the field to see what all the bleating was about. She saw a little lamb limping along, and was dismayed to see his foot caught in a can. I'm not even sure if I remember seeing this, or if I only remember the story from having heard it. She went to the rescue of the little lamb, or bokkie as we would have called him. The bokkie ran off to his mother, who stood glowering at my mother. Forever more, my mother sheepishly squeezed cans closed before tossing them across the fence. The habit never died - even when garbage collection did eventually begin.
Tonight I realised that I still do that. I probably don't need to do so when recycling, but I guess old habits die hard. Or are childhood rituals so ingrained that we continue to practise them, rarely giving thought to where they originate.
Comments
Post a Comment