Saturday, May 9, 2020
My first memory of Uncle Solomon was when he brought his family to the Christmas party at the Better Hope Manse. He had grown up in the Sukhdeo household, which he and aunty Pearly, his sister, had joined when they were babies. His father, the brother of my grandmother Iris, had died at the age of 21. My great-grandmother went and “collected” the two children as their mother was working in the rice fields. Eventually there were 14 children in the Sukhdeo household, five of them adopted by my grand parents.
Uncle Solomon, used to come with aunty Olive and his children Flo, Alex, Johnny and Joshua to attend the Christmas get-togethers at my grandparents’ house. In these social gatherings he was addressed in a variety of ways, he was called “Bro Saul’, the people with whom he grew up, “King Sol” by his in-laws and behind his back was referred to as “Grundy”, the character from a children’s poem.
In the spacious yard around the house, the boys would be playing softball cricket in the yard. Many times, Uncle Solomon would join us, keeping wicket, close up to the stumps, catching the ball and effortlessly flicking off the bails. I always wondered if he played cricket at a high level.
As most of the children in the Sukhdeo household, Uncle Solomon played his part in the church building activities with a varied intensity. At one time, he was the president of the young people society, Sunday school teacher and the person in charge of the carol singing. In the weeks before Christmas, the carol singing group would meet at dusk, at the church and go off singing carols at the gates of the church members home. Sometimes we were invited in the home for drinks and snacks. One such occasion, it was discovered that Uncle Solomon wore his tee-shirt inside out.
On those Carol Singing outings many things were done under the cover of darkness, like trying out a cigarette borrowed from one of the big boys but Uncle Solomon was on the watch out for the commission of these sins. Ernest Mohan, already a working adult, was banned for smoking a cigarette. At the church camp fire, one person was admonished for looking at a female in a “certain way”.
I used to visit Uncle Solomon when he lived at Better Hope Housing Scheme. It was obvious how much he struggled to support a large family on a single salary. But he was unfailingly hospitable whenever we visited him. He would call on Aunty Olive to bring some tea and cakes, thanking us for dropping by and tell us to come again.
He was a staunch PPP and he suffered because of his political views. He was stagnated in his profession, and for a long time he remained a woodworking teacher at Cummings Lodge Secondary School. Some times you saw him in the morning, making the long trek from Better Hope, along the footpath at the side of the disused railway lines, to Cummings Lodge. A short taxi ride to Cummings Lodge was a luxury he could not afford. When the PPP regained power, after 20 years, they tried to make amends by appointing him to a government post. The offer was too late, he was already retired, his children migrated to Canada and he followed; it was not easy in Canada, there were many struggles and major illnesses in the family but they rallied together.
Last December, his children hosted a Christmas party for him. That night, as I sat by his side, he spoke about many things, but I could sense the feeling of peace and happiness.
We will miss Uncle Solomon and he will always live in our memory. My condolences to the entire family, for your loss.
