MRS. M. MOSTERT
HALF A CENTURY
Do you remember your first Guide uniform? Over fifty years ago in a cold climate, ours were made of a coarse navy-blue serge, worn calf-length, with thrifty deep hems, and I can still feel how the material scratched at the neck, until washing and wear eventually removed the 'hair-shirt' qualities. The cost was seven and sixpence, and as we were expected to make the uniforms ourselves, at least in part, you can imagine our struggles with box-pleated patch pockets that refused to stay flat, and the battle with ten buttonholes on the fraying material. I'm afraid my left breast pocket lid had an embarrassing upward tilt like a permanently raised eye-brow, which to my relief became less noticeable once P.L's. stripes went underneath.
Nevertheless, topped by flat navy felt hats with the prominent G.G. in front, wearing black woollen stockings, stout lace-up shoes and shiny brown guide belts with jingling attachments, we were the happiest bunch of thirteen-year-olds in the whole wide world. With what enthusiasm and determination did we proceed to plaster our arms with badges! Learning (all unaware at the time) many a salutary lesson in the process, for ours was a day and age that set academic training above all else, and we needed badly the balance that comes with perseverance in learning domestic skills and application to all types of service to the community.
Fun-packed camps figure prominently in our memories, of course. Scottish drizzle we took for granted, but that made frequent retreats to frolics in some farmer's sweet-smelling hay barn all the more enjoyable. One record sunny camp stands out above the others:- White tents on a peaceful green meadow sloping down to a crystal clear stream, fringed with adrift of bright blue forget-me-nots, and backed by feathery larch trees, - fire smoke in a straight column upwards and laughter round it to the sizzle of pancakes for a hungry horde6
How fortunate we were in the early days to have an accomplished musician as our Guide Captain! She introduced us - and incidentally our whole County - to a wealth of national and folk music, and the joys of participation and expression in annual Choral Festivals, adjudicated for four years running by no less an expert than Dr. Ralph Vaughan William: himself. The final concerts under his baton were thrilling and unforgettable experiences, and kept us singing on every possible occasion. In fact, I can hardly recall a Guide or Ranger meeting without a song on the programme.
I remember too, being fascinated by the length of the great Dr. Ralph's feet, which always appeared first through a doorway, with the rest of his towering self further behind than ordinary mortals!
After that a big leap in time and experience to Rhodesia and memories in Que Que - the all-important "discovery" of Joan Hirsch and happy recollections of Hazel (now Chinn) as a Guide and her sister Marjory, whom, with my own mall daughter, I can still see dancing around under outsize Brownie (wartime) felt hats, for all the world like animated mushrooms.
Later to Fort Victoria and the visit of Olave Lady Baden-Powell, with the inevitable questions to our gathering - "How many of you have ever been Guides?" and 'What are you doing about it now?"
After I had confessed to a hiatus in my Guide activities for various reasons, and announced a prospective visit to Europe, it will not surprise you to hear that waiting at my London address was a long list of Guide functions in progress during my short stay, and inviting me to attend at least one I chose a long week-end Commissioner's Conference in Yorkshire to which I had the honour of travelling with the World Chief Guide herself and sharing her V.I.P. treatment throughout.
Over two hundred of us were tucked into a corner of a depleting Butlin's Camp at Filey, but still shared some of the holiday-makers' amenities, including the raucous radio's ''Wakee! Wakee!" announcements about the day ahead, even when the rain was coming down in torrents - an invitation to view the Dancing in the Viennese Ballroom, and attend a variety concert. Not to be done out of our own Camp-fires, however, we repaired belatedly to our own corner and listened with varying reactions to Mary Chater's beautiful rendering of Bach on piano, rollicked with her through the story of "The Knapsack and the Knapsack Strap", and attempted to copy the correct and complicated positions of orchestral instruments prior to putting the action into song. The whole experience was hilarious, and combined with equally memorable sessions (I remember one on "How not to take an L.A. - A.G.M.!") added up to the most enjoyable and painless instruction we could possibly have wished for - that is discounting the faces we took away sore with laughter. Crowning the whole Conference, the World Chief Guide's farewell message of inspiration and encouragement, delivered in her own inimitable and impressive manner, sent us all home uplifted and refreshed and ready to pick up and reunite all the fallen threads again.
And so inevitably back to Rhodesia and an increasing momentum of 'first' events under the distinguished and tireless leadership of our beloved Helen Wynne. To mention only two, the first Residential Training at R.E.P.S. which a family full of mumps prevented her from attending at the last minute, and at which she trusted me to deputise for her without notice - a challenge and an opportunity I shall always cherish; the first All Africa Conference (in Rhodesia) at Goromonzi, wonderfully organised and staffed, and particularly memorable for emphasising the similarities amongst us races on the African Continent, to the point of paling any differences into insignificance.
Five years in South Africa taught me a great deal in a new field, with handicapped Guides, Brownies and Rangers. They like to accept that 'handicap' is short for 'handy and capable', and that is what they strive to be. Guiding often brings out the most amazing qualities of leadership, which was evidenced in the most unexpected quarter - with a company of mentally handicapped Rangers and also satisfies their desperate need to be treated as normal people.
In forming a Division out of three widely separated Districts, I once came across a curious anomaly. When visiting a Guide Company, I was greeted by an immaculate male in starched khaki adorned with a blue Guide tie! The latter, he said, he changed on Brownie days for a brown one He didn't have anybody's permission to take a Guide Company, but did so, as he was sorry for the girls when the Scouts were having such fun - but he did have permission for Brownies, and proved it by showing me his Brown Owl's Warrant, neatly framed on his classroom wall! Nobody had queried whether L. MASONDO were male or female! Female substitutes were found and trained of course, and L. MASONDO became a most capable and vigilant District Secretary, an office he regarded as increased status so everyone was happy. He also continued his interest in the Guides by cycling cheerfully and at his own request twelve miles to and fro each day whenwe had residential trainings for Guiders and contributed a valuable quota to knotting and games sessions in particular.
Another ticklish situation arose, when a quarrel amongst adults was seriously affecting a Company and Pack. A solution was found however, when the adults met and were persuaded to agree that they had failed to observe the Guide Law on thrift, not with material things, but with words used unthinkingly and so causing unnecessary discord, and waste.
Luckily, we can look back on more thrills than spills, but bless both for their value in contributing to the fulfilment and serenity that comes from being "just a Guide".
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