White rats

[Sinclair Molloy]

1966, Canigou House, Rondebosch Boys High School, Cape Town.

The Master at the High Table used his spoon to sound the glass water jug until the persistent tinkle forced a silence on the crowded dining hall. Only when it was so quiet that everyone could hear the sound of the wind in the oak trees outside, did the Master clear his throat. "Squirrels" he said. "Squirrels are wild animals and can not be kept as pets."

"Squirrels must not be encouraged into the dining hall and should under no circumstances be fed" 

"Carry on" said the Master just as a roar of laughter erupted and focused everyone's attention on a baby grey squirrel as it scampered the length of the dining table, before leaping onto the open window ledge and then onto an oak branch.

The boy was determined to "adopt" one of the tame baby squirrels and keep it until the end of term. He would take it home as a pet for his sister, all he had to do was keep feeding it for another three weeks..................

The boy's flight home to Oranjemund on the old CDM Dakota was at 09.00 which meant he had to be at the station by 06.30. It was still dark and he had no breakfast cereal or toast to entice "his" squirrel down from the oak tree. The squirrel was still sleepy, after all it wasn't breakfast time yet. "Boy!  Get down from that tree. You will miss your train" barked the Master. "Now go!" "Goodbye and enjoy your holidays"

On the train the boy counted his money and decided to detour via the pet shop. The airport bus was already waiting and boys from Wynberg and Bishops and Paarl and girls from Rustenburg were already boarding. He ran full pelt, weighed down by the leather suitcase. Panicking inside in case he missed the airport bus, but determined that he would buy a pet for his sister.

The sign on the pet shop door said "closed" . His heart sank as he looked round wildly for somewhere else to spend his money and his stomach sank with dread that he might miss the plane home.

On the plane he told his story of disappointment and loss to a Wynberg boy,  and a few minutes later was the proud new owner of a large white rat called Hector, who took up lodgings in his armpit. The boy had no idea idea that Hector would intimidate, disgust and distress adults or that he would delight so many children. Hector snuggled inside the boy's shirt and made himself at home.

Within 12 months almost every child in Oranjemund owned at least one pet white rat. Many kept hidden from parents, but many allowed free run in beds and on dining tables and many taken everywhere, even to school. There was consternation and disapproval of course, but then there was a lot of consternation and disapproval around in the sixties and most of it went right over our heads. So it was a shock for the children of Oranjemund that hit them like a wave of grief, much akin to that inflicted on the townspeople of Hamelin by the Pied Piper. The General Manager had issued a "circular". A copy being placed in every green letterbox in the town, declaring the white mice to be a "grave public health hazard" linked with bubonic plague and the Black Death. Our parents explained that specially trained personnel would be collecting all white rats on Tuesday, and that they would be "humanely put to sleep"  and it wouldn't hurt. Many children were not convinced and some could sense the mixed emotions of their parents trying so hard to soften the blow, but not quite managing to hide their personal relief.

My own parents made it clear that the penalty for non compliance would be that Dad would be "fired" and that we would be given 24 hours to "clear out of town" . I asked Dad how they would know about Hector and then brooded on his response. "I know" he had said. Like quite a few other boys and girls I weighed up the pros and cons and decided to risk it. Hector was released into "the trees", (the windbreak along First Avenue that kept the desert out of the town) 

About a year later, we started to notice the birds of prey wheeling overhead above "the trees". Owls, hawks, buzzards, kites and more. It was strange and a little unsettling. Then one day a boy shouted. "Look at the trees!" "Look at the trees! Its snowing"  Sure enough the trees were shimmering, covered in a blanket of white. It was snowing! "Look! it's snowing, its snowing!" On closer inspection however, the shimmering whiteness transformed into something moving. Lots of things moving in the treetops. Rats, white rats, thousands and thousands of white rats! ...

[Robert Bruce]

Sinclair,

So at last another old-timer returns to the fold.

That gene I mentioned last week.......you got it alright. How the hell do you Molloy's do it? Is that stone still where it should be or has it been purloined by the Molloy's for their glorious wordsmithying uses....?!! What a nice story and you know it is a great piece 'cos one's eyes glide effortlessly over the words.

So what happened next? Did Hectors progeny invade 1st avenue dwellings? C'mon, make with the sequel Hector II

RB

[SandyB]

What a lovely story Sinclair .. I remember only too well  .. we even took our  rats / mice to the cafe sitting there  having a double thick malt with the pet perched on the shoulder  being allowed  the treat of having a share  of the double thick ... and yes they were all removed  after the circular ... there were those that escaped  or were let free , My Dad  was in the garden the one day  and observed  an escapee  now  free and but  still tame  enough not to run away , delicately washing itself  from the drip  of a garden tap  , he  did not have the heart  to  catch it and let it go on with its  grooming session , no doubt it was  surviving by feasting on  some of the veggies from the garden as well ..

[Dalene Steenkamp (Coetzee)]

I second Robert's request on a sequel ...  should we ask please ??

Might have been one of the great great great great offspring of Hector, but in 1979 a white rat, named 'Muis van der Rot' ended up in the dwelling of 63/1st ave and numerous tales are to be told about him.  A rascal under the roof of the police officer...... 

Yes, one can just compliment the 'author' on his skill  -  excellent indeed.

[Jeremy Dixon]

I stayed in Canigou between 2001 - 2003 after I left the matrics had a pet mouse, one evening a rat scalled the drain pipes looking for a bit of action with the mouse needles to say the poor guy who was asleep got the fright of his life when a fat rat was perched on his window sill