Wicker baskets

Wicker baskets

Two large wicker baskets stood on either side of the homely fireplace in our old house.  One held the split logs used to keep the fire stoked, while the other was piled high with cobs.  To the uninitiated, this was the backbone of the mealie after the threshing process had removed all the mealie pips, and a source of fuel used widely by those unfortunate not to have electricity. All the time while I was growing up on the farm, we used candles and paraffin lamps.  I can remember one Christmas holiday reading 14 books, half of them at night, by the light of a candle placed on my pillow.  I hate to think what might have happened had I fallen asleep before blowing it out!

Winters in the Free State were always freezing!  Far colder than in many other parts of the country, so sitting in front of a blazing fire in the evening, was very cozy.  

My sisters and I discovered that we could break off bits of the wicker basket and by holding them against a glowing ember, get quite a reasonable subsititute cigarette.  This then became a nightly ritual, so after bathing and having supper, we would all settle down next to the crackling, sizzling fire, and smoke our little bits of wicker basket.

My parents didn't seem to mind at all, and so this tradition was kept up for a number of years, even after we had moved to our new house at the top of the ridge and overlooking the dam next to the cowshed.

It was a great comfort to me to have this routine and sameness in my life, and was definitely a place where my sisters and I really bonded in quite a profound way.