My Great Grand Mother, Still Kicking.

I come form a long generation of people. We all hope we can life this long but some of us have bad minds. Long live mother.

Mother Watson welcomes Christmas 102
By Nills Campbell
Thursday, December 25th 2003

Mother Watson (sitting) and her daughter

Great Grandmother Winifred Albertha Watson welcomes her 102nd Christmas at her Stanleytown, West Bank Demerara home, readily recalling the Christmases that have passed.

Quick-witted though frail, Mother Watson as she is familiarly called is one of those realistic persons who has no fear of what lies beyond her sojourn on earth. "I must tell you," she said, all the sweetness and grace, "that the time is not too far away when life here may end."

Mother Watson's firm Christian background causes her to put the emphasis on the spiritual aspect of Christmas, rather than on the commercial niceties that dominate its modern day celebration.

Evidence of her sharp memory surfaced when she responded to the first question. "I moved to Stanleytown... on the 14th September, 1921," she said, smilingly adding that she was a mere 20 years when she married and moved into the agricultural community.

She was born in Plaisance, East Coast Demerara on August 14, 1901. A kind uncle supported her and her siblings in their early schooling and her aunt-in-law recognised talent in the young lady and sought to persuade her mother to entrust her to their care. Her mother thought otherwise, but ongoing appeals by a determined but loving aunt and the sudden death of her uncle resulted in her joining her aunt in the city.

She recalled her days in school, her love for schoolwork, and the satisfaction she gained in achieving good results. Her attendance at Queenstown Moravian School had its own excitement. "In those days, you only got a job by recommendation. No matter what exams you have passed, a good recommendation counted."

It was such a recommendation that saw her moving from Demerara to Berbice where she was appointed governess to the daughter of sugar estate engineer, Mr Ramsay.

That job meant that her several skills she obtained at Moravian were passed on to her English charge, Elaine Ramsay. Her appointment to what was in those days, a prestigious position in the then British Guiana, brought its protests from some quarters, where it was felt she was not good enough for such an appointment. Mr Ramsay disagreed.

"She speaks the King's English better than me," he argued. Mother Watson explained, "In those days we did not read a book, or any serious literature without the help of a dictionary." In addition to her good command of English, a quality that is evident among her descendants in the Stanleytown community, her needlework, knitting and other skills in the area of domestic science proved to be handy. Her charge, little Miss Elaine, learnt speedily, and cherished the company of Winifred, whose maiden name was Bourne.

Even at the tender age of 17, she had vowed that should she get married, and, if blessed with a daughter, she would name her Elaine. Her prayers were answered and her marriage to Watson saw the union being blessed with a daughter, Elaine, who was followed by 12 other siblings to provide a baker's dozen in the Watson family.

Her second appointment was that of a junior teacher at the Ogle Canadian Mission School. It was during this assignment that Mr Watson saw Winifred Alberta Bourne and love was almost instantaneous. Their marriage and her removal to the West Bank exposed her to many experiences, some pleasant, some not so entertaining. She has only to click onto sections of her ever-ready brain to bring to the fore of her memory box the several incidents that highlighted her life.

Christmas time certainly has its share of memories.

This Christmas marks the 50th one since she lost her beloved husband who died of a heart attack he suffered while he was milking one of their cows. But Mother Watson is thankful for the Christmas baby who matured to be the Saviour of the world and through whom she was provided with strength and courage to take on the challenging tasks of father and mother. "I took over the responsibility with support from the bigger children; I milked the cow and provided the grass for them."

This was something she was accustomed to in some degree, since she had worked alongside her husband.

"I handled a shovel pretty well," she recalled, and smilingly told of the drains she dug, the land she tilled and the crops she cultivated. Of course she hastened to add that for farmers those were rewarding days when at times persons had to tell her that on this plot or that plot her plantains had begun to ripen. She expressed regret that today's level of dishonesty would not even allow farmers' plantains and other produce to mature enough before others sought to reap them.

Once Mother Watson started recalling life at Stanleytown, her memories flowed with a type of precision that far younger minds would find difficult to emulate. Stories of the 13 children she mothered came flooding back to her. Again, the story of her dream daughter Elaine surfaced.

At school, she said, when other children tried to encourage Elaine to engage in play she used to respond that her attendance at school was to learn and not to play. One day she compromised her convictions and joined her schoolmates in a game that proved too rough.

The weight of others on her in the rough schoolyard fun exposed the fact that she had a strained heart. Through a strange twist, internal complications saw little Elaine pass away at a tender age. Mother's Watson Christmas this year does not only bring back the fact that her beloved husband had passed away suddenly 50 years ago, but also the fact that five of the 13 children she was blessed with have passed away.

However, she, always positive, readily points to her many grandchildren as well as those children who are still alive as the many blessings she has yet to count. And that her lone surviving sister, Dr London, still resides in the United States.

She quipped, "I cannot dance," as she recalled her years of religious commitment. Christmas time of yesteryear however, provided lots of frolic and fun for her as a little girl. She recalled the old time masquerade band, the 'Mother Sally' and the 'Mad Cow', things that initially terrified little children. With time though, she recognised the cultural values involved and felt entertained whenever the masquerade band with the swinging, bouncing 'Mother Sally' passed her way.

She also still remembers that in October, her uncle would bring in a large ham, well in advance of Christmas.

For her however, Christmas and other occasions provided her with the wonderful opportunity to visit the old and the shut-ins, and to bring cheer to them. The spirit of Christmas that dominated the atmosphere in those days among family and friends is a memory that Mother Watson is not prepared to part with.

Since by her own feelings the churchyard is just one step away, it should not be difficult for readers to appreciate the eagerness with which she looked forward to Christmas 102. After today? Mother Watson might still have other milestones she would dare to achieve; after all, one of her grandfathers lived to age 105. Happy holidays, Mother Watson.