by Jeremy Oddy
Now known as Hudson House, this incongruous building that came into being in 1957 was to be the residence for the new juniors. The matric boarders were rather annoyed that they, the seniors, who had survived through the hierarchy system, were not offered accommodation in this brand spanking new House. They referred to it as ‘The Claridges’ (with reference to a very posh upmarket hotel that had popped up on the Durban beachfront).
The writer arrived in 1958 and was placed in a six-bed dormitory upstairs, second from the end on the right, facing the swimming pool. (The pool today is obscured by Elliott House.)
I remember Etienne Bruyns, Trevor Braithwaite, Colin Marsh, “Van” van Rooyen, and I think Ron Stone, were my roommates.
It was a fair distance from our dorm to the correct position, in alphabetical order for roll call held in the boys’ common room downstairs. A designated lad was appointed bell-ringer. All were to be in place on time, in silence, at the commencement of the evening roll call. The bell-ringer would extend the ringing of the hand bell to give the possible late-comers a few extra seconds to find their place in line. Late-comers were caned two strokes by the master-on-duty after the meal.
The Head of House was Mr Chesney-Jones, and the boarder masters were Mr Daryl Hackland and Mr Keith Olivier.
Shepstone House was not a hotel; it was strictly run, perpetuating rules and order that had evolved over many years at College; work hard, play hard and abide by the rules. Then there were rules that had not yet been tabulated.
The ground floor of the House was separated in the middle by a raised section for the masters’ use as a dining area and a working area when on duty while boys did their homework. Facing College Road, the room on the left was the boys’ common room and on the right the dining room.
The dining room was fairly quiet on this particular evening – it always was when Mr Olivier was on duty. He rang a small bell signalling the end of supper and we all stood for the closing grace. An audible grunt burst forth, which somewhat attracted Mr Olivier’s attention. He was naturally quite interested in this new addition to the tradition of absolute silence before grace.
‘’Who was that?’’ he enquired calmly and firmly.
Everyone started looking about for the GRUNTER, but all in my vicinity were staring at me with disbelief that I had dare burst out on Mr Olivier’s duty.
I put up my hand.
‘’Oddy, if you ever do that again, I will cane you 6 of the best.”
Now bear in mind these residents are fairly fresh out of primary school. What sort or trouble could a youngster of 13-14 get into at a dining room table to deserve 6 strokes? This must be a very serious offence I had committed. My whole dormitory concurred.
Boys were often seen lined up outside the masters’ little common room waiting to be caned for a variety of offences, like breaching House rules, talking in prep, passing notes, copying homework, untidy lockers, food or sweets found in dormitory lockers, fooling about after lights out.
A new very serious infringement was “grunting while stretching at the end of a meal, disrupting the deliverance of the grace at the conclusion of suppertime”!
About two weeks slipped by uneventfully. We were all gathered in the dining room once more, the little bell sounded. Mr Olivier stood to deliver the grace and simultaneously Oddy burst out a grunt as he was wont to do.
‘’What did I say to you if you ever did that again? Go and wait outside the office.’’
Well, that was an invitation to a ‘happening’.
Alone, a lone figure stood numb, scared stiff near the door as he prayed he would not have to enter. A sizeable crowd of well-wishers and future historian gathered in the vicinity of the office and outside the building near to the open office windows to witness this momentous event. A thought filtered into my whirling brain. Well, I guessed, I would be a hero, being the first and youngest boy to be caned 6 in the new Shepstone House.
Hell, I was only about five foot two inches and my posterior was about the size of a dinner plate!
First I saw Mr Olivier’s head ascending the steps followed by his stocky well-built frame, while his rubber-soled shoes squeaked as they clutched at the polished floor. There were many boys present, but not a sound from them.
‘’Come in.’’
The door clicked closed and I was invited to take up the well-known hair-pin position. Suddenly there was a heavy, dull smack on a chair. This was repeated five times.
‘’Hell, he is warming up!’’
‘’Get up and don’t do that again.’’ He smiled and opened the door.
Well, the lads needed the show to build to a climax. All made their way to the bathroom, and as was the custom a basin was filled with cool running water for the injured to deposit his rear. I made my way with some exaggerated facial expressions.
Once Oddy entered the bathroom, he exposed to the gathering his unmarked lily-white bum.
I don’t think a day goes by when I rise from a meal that I don’t recall my memories of Mr Keith Olivier, and think of his humanity, his magnificent service before and during his tenure as Headmaster from 1978-85. His forethought, planning, expansion in many spheres that he initiated be it in the field of academics, sport or cultural activities he was remarkable.
Maritzburg College was a great school, but he made it even better.
Written by J Oddy (a proud product of Maritzburg College and Durban High School).