THE FOREIGN MISSION CHILD 1927-2020

Ruth Ylvisaker

It is at least three years now since a friend from Norway, asked me to write down how I felt about being a child of a missionary. Johanne Fritjof Ylvisaker (JFY) and Sevella Lalena Hill (and later Jean Merwin Kerfoot), spent all their professional lives serving the Norwegian Lutheran Missions, and later the Norwegian American Missions, in Madagascar and the Republic of South Africa. Their three children, Heloise, John and Ruth grew up in Africa, as their parent's work developed.

This question, from someone who lives in Oyer, Norway today, was particularly interesting. Well known early Lutheran missionaries, in Natal, South Africa were Bishops Nils and Hans Astrup. Both were from Oyer, and both now have stature in the history of the development of Kwa Zulu, South Africa. Two sisters of Hans Astrup, Caroline ( my Godmother) and Heninga Astrup ( brother John's Godmother) also served the Zulus in South Africa.

What has taken me so long to answer that question? There is the short uncomplicated answer to that question, and then there is the long complex answer! Herein lies the long answer!

Surprisingly, I realize now that even just three years ago ( I was ninety!) I was still experiencing my history in retrospect, as I did as a school child. That made the story all ABOUT ME. Three years ago, when thinking of what to say, I was loyal enough to my parents so that I did not feel right articulating those very real feelings of anger over the perceived injustices experienced growing up. At ninety, I was some reluctant to be personal and also frank, not wanting to in anyway minimize my parent's role as parent or missionary.

Back then, the obvious complaints of mission children centered around separation anxiety, rules, rules, rules, lack of resources for fun and games, more serious issues of bullying and abuse, isolation for the shy, cultural differences ( as Americans), student cliques, lack of support during difficult school issues, too little vacation time at home, and for some children, the parents themselves fell short.

“Ideals untinted by reality” seems likely to be the preferred scenario of a missionary child living away from home. Or any child?

I have no harrowing stories to tell. Only the story of a difficult and different way to grow up. My friend gave me the opportunity to ponder 'the plight of the mission child' and be angry again, in retrospect. It is not like my siblings and I had not spent years whining about this! Today, at ninety three, after giving the past serious thought, with plans to put it on paper, and more importantly, having watched five children make THEIR way through life as adults, I have a new perspective. Life is never for sissies!

Children might be a joy to have, but they are not the center of the universe, except from their own perspective.

Today's Reality:

I do not keep diaries but I do keep family photo albums that show the lives of my children, now all adults, in context. All are still making their way through adult life. Each enjoyed high school graduation parties to celebrate their achievements. We all looked so happy and had high hopes for the new graduate. Then it was college graduation and a career. Again we were happy and had high hopes for the new 'professional' and visions of an unblemished future.

Back Then:

I am assuming this was the same for my father when he graduated from Luther College with the intention of going to Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN to become a missionary. He was the eldest of five, his grandmother and grandfather had been invited to Minnesota from Norway, for the express purpose of building Lutheran Churches and congregations in Minnesota. I can imagine the pleasure my Dad's choices must have given his parents and his immigrant grandmother. This was most likely especially so, since Grandfather Nils Ylvisaker had died young, with Church Work undone. JFY had chosen to 'carry on the work of the Church'. My Dad was young and surely enthusiastic.The future of a life's work on the established mission field in Madagascar must have been both exciting and challenging, even daring.

In 1914, two years into the Seminary, World War 1 broke out in Europe. JFY's future plans were interrupted. As an unexpected soldier, there was a stint in France where fortunately he was not a victim of the Spanish Flu nor of German bullets. However, he was 'wounded'. As many young soldiers are, by a 'Dear John' letter, from his “sweetheart” Jean Merwin, telling him that the girl he had hoped to become engaged to when he graduated from the 'Seminary was now going to marry someone else. A bubble was burst. Jean was a Methodist JFY had met in Decorah IA, while at Luther College. He had introduced her to his family as the girl he wanted with him on the mission field. However, the parents felt that his partner needed to be part of the Lutheran family. They did not encourage the union. Jean was aware of this, and when Johanne made the mistake of going off to war, without asking 'for her hand in marriage', Jean's future was unclear. With no promise of a solid future in hand with a proposal of marriage, Jean accepted and married someone else. JFY's hopes for the future had irrevocably changed.

Today's Reality:

My five children graduated from college in their chosen fields and became gainfully employed. More photos documented our family excitement. Eventually spouses were found. Pictures were taken of the new family member, engagement parties, weddings and happy couples. My children, now married, looked ahead to promising futures. The unexpected came with the divorce of their own parents, vastly changing family life 'at home' as they had known it. It was a most difficult and sometimes unpleasant time for everyone. Family expectations could no longer be taken for granted. Photos of the parents were no longer of the two. The familiar home was sold, their parents relocated and norms changed.

Back Then:

JFY found a soul mate in Sevella Hill, who was not only a good Lutheran but from a Norwegian immigrant family living in Minneapolis. They married in a Lutheran Church of course, and were excited about serving the heathen of Madagascar, together. First they needed to spend a year, 1921, in Paris, at the Sorbonne, learning Malagasy and French. Within that year, Sevella was diagnosed with tuberculosis, the scourge of the 1920's. Her illness was held at bay, they arrived in Madagascar, and began mission work. The birth of two children exacerbated Sevella's TB to such an extent that they were forced to made plans to return to the USA. The future changed again, to an unknown.

Today's Reality:

My children were now couples, and having babies. More excitement, more happy photos with visions and hopes for the future. The 'great recession' forced some unemployment, much belt tightening and stress. In three cases, divorce ended what had proved to be not such happy unions. More changes were required. A few teens had a hard time maturing. Some children now had single parents. The future took a turn to the unknown. The family did less celebrating. The pictures in the album were of more mature young people coping with issues of debt, divorce and difficult children.

Back Then:

JfY and Sevella, with two babies, had to wait for a cargo ship from Madagascar, for passage as far as Durban, South Africa. While waiting in Durban for an unspecified time, for passage to the US, the Mission Board put them up in the currently vacant and well established Entumeni Mission Station. JFY was to oversea the ongoing school, hospital and church work. Sevella's health improved in the higher altitude, and the couple was invited to stay on as missionaries to the Zulus. The future had again changed dramatically in just six years. A new language to learn and new teams with whom to work. In 1927 there was also a new leadership structure to work with, as the Norwegian and US Lutheran mission initiatives started to work together. The Ylvisakers by then had two more babies to care for!

Today's Reality:

Three divorces and remarriage meant new spouses, new children and new backgrounds were folded into the world of the siblings. These new families were now looking ahead to college expenses and trying to build retirement resources. Children chose majors, graduations were celebrated. Lots of happy pictures again! Parents helped their children move away. These children now have high hopes for their new independent lives. The family album shows my kids, now mature men and women, working towards the future with the sadness of losing a special sister, with new marriages, career fulfillments and disappointments, financial losses and gains, and new found hobbies folded into the character of each adult. These children of mine, some now becoming 'seniors', will head into life, winding down careers and planning for retirement. Pictures of happy celebrations with adult children, and my grandchildren, show up in my photo albums, picturing youthful hope and vision for the future.

Do they have “ideals untinted with reality”? I hope so!

Back Then:

In 1929, after four years as missionaries to the Zulus in South Africa, Sevella died of tuberculosis. Johanne became a single parent, and returned to Minnesota, with his children. Children stayed with willing relatives. Heloise with the Nils Ylvisakers in St. Paul MN, John with Ylvisaker grandparents in Zumbrota, MN, and Ruth with maternal Grandmother Hill in Minneapolis, as well as with the Paul Ylvisakers. Rebecca, the second daughter, died in Rochester, MN of a brain tumor, at age six.

As fate would have it, college sweatheart Jean Merwin's husband had drowned. Jean, now a registered nurse, and John, reunited. In 1931 Jean and John Ylvisaker, with Heloise, John and Ruth, headed back to South Africa, to develop a new mission station called Luwamba. Much excitement and anticipation. Again! The mission home needed to be built, so the family 'boarded' for a year, five miles from the new mission sight, in the home of the owner of a lonely “outpost”, Ntambanana, our Post Office address. We were twenty miles from the village of Empangeni. There was great anticipation as the mission developed a school, a congregation, and a dispensary for the sick. In addition, corn and sweet potato fields were planted. Many prayers were made for rain with the neighboring Chief. In the meanwhile the depression came along. Salaries were cut by 30%.

The Luwamba Mission was a new model, well suited to JFY as a son of a successful Minnesota farmer. Norwegian Missions and the US Lutheran Missions in 1927, now required the missionary to integrate more closely, with the indigenous people. Up until now, missionaries from Norway had been scholarly types. Now the missionary was to work with locals to oversee a farm to feed the hungry and also spread the gospel. The closest village was 20 miles away, the closest neighbor, a sugar cane farmer, was 3 miles away. At Luwamba, there was no telephone, electricity, or running water and wood for the kitchen stove stove was hard to come by. The children were sent by train, to a Norwegian Mission's boarding house in Durban, developed for the Norwegian Missionary children, where they attended public schools. Schools closed twice a year for the holidays, in December for Christmas, and in July for the winter month.

Today's Reality:

Now my family is to the point of taking retirement seriously. Some of life's unexpected turns have been handled, because they are healthy, competent and determined people. But also, because modern life and work has made the required process of loss, living and developing a family life, financially and technologically easier. As I write, the grandchildren seem to have their feet on the ground and will forge ahead, even if the future is not what was expected. Couples find their way, the children follow, and the future for both, is always iffy and seldom easy. We now know the fear of pandemics.

Back Then:

1946 Found the Ylvisakers back in Minnesota, because Jean Y had serious heart problems. Children Heloise and John had remained in America with relatives after JFY's furlough in 1938, to finish high school and attend college. Only Ruth returned to South Africa with her parents. By 1945, on what was eight hundred baron and dry acres, the Ylvisakers left Luwamba with a home for a family, a Lutheran church, newly built after years of planning, and a congregation of Zulus.

There was an elementary school for children who boarded at the mission. A two room hospital developed because of the work of Jean Y. Fields of corn and sweet potatoes were planted, giving work to those who needed money to buy food and pay the annual taxes extracted by the government for 'every head'. There were cows for milk, cream and butter, and horses for transportation if needed. Zulu children learned to read and how to work in a European kitchen! The Board of Missions now also supported a full time mission nurse Millicent Haugebak, of Story City Iowa. to Luwamba, for hospital and dispensary work. There was eventually a windmill that supported a radio, used for war news only, and one light bulb at a time. A much welcome well supplied water when the water tanks went dry.

Luwamba represented the hopes and dreams of a family and church, commitment to the Gospel. Jean, as the nurse died at 59, JFY as the pastor, at 63, years before a retirement. In their professional careers, a mother and child had died, children had been separated from the parents and each other. Back in the USA mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters died. Only timely cablegrams notified the JFY's of these losses. The news that daughter Heloise and son John were in the United State Army, came by cablegram after the fact. Throughout it all, it was 24/7 work and pray, work and pray, at the Luwamba Mission Station.

WITH A FEW STROKES OF A POLITICAL PEN, THE PHYSICAL EVIDENCE OF THE LUWAMBA MISSION STATION BECAME HISTORY.

WE HOPE THE SPIRITUAL WORK CONTINUES.

Today's Reality:

The family photo albums show the good times enjoyed by my parents and my children over my 93 years. I am made proud by their achievements, despite very real difficulties, disappointments and losses. Covid-19 may change everything. What will unravel? What will be required? Seasoned parents will do what they must. My album will have many new pictures of happy times and future changes.

“Stay safer at home” has given me the real time to spend on the above! I look back and realize the anger mission children feel is not so unlike what all today's teens may feel about their parents, when viewed out of the parents' context. Family scenarios differ. Some of the challenges may be more difficult, some more unexpected, or more unusual. But life goes on.

I wish I could tell my parents how much I admire their spirit and dedication after each loss, disappointment, re-assignment, career change, and experience of joy and excitement.

I would share with them my new understanding of how our youth, our cultures, our heritage and our own stories play a role in the choices we make and the things we say and do, no matter our age.'

The short version comes later!

MISSION BOARDING HOUSE

24 Seaforth Avenue, Off Ridge Road, Durban, South Africa RUTH YLVISAKER (JFY)

1934-1945

When I turned seven, my parents thought I was old enough to leave Luwamba Mission Station and join my brother John and sister Heloise in Durban, South Africa, to attend school. At that time, the Norwegian Missions had arranged a 'hostel' for children in the city, where Norwegian mission children could live while attending the well established public schools in Durban for white children.

“The Boarding School” as we called it, was a very large, three story 'colonial home' sitting on one of Durban's highest hills. To the East we had views of Durban Bay and the Indian Ocean. To the West, in the valley at a distance, was a large settlement of East Indian homes and shops. The house had a yard which took up much of the hilltop. To the delight of the kids who lived there, there was an avacado tree and when the fruit was ripe, we were free to pick it and enjoy. There was also a lemon tree. The girls would pick lemons on weekends and use the juice to bleach their hair in the African sun.

The 'hostel' housed around twenty children. All were from Norwegian Mission families, but for Heloise, John and Ruth Ylvisaker. Mrs. Tvedt, the widow of a Norwegian missionary, was the long suffering matron. Students were divided into the Big Boys, the Little Boys ( John Y), the Big Girls

( Heloise Y) and the Little Girls, that included me, the youngest, at age seven. I remember sleeping in a room with four other missionary children, Nana and Krissy Kjelve, Agnes Aadnesgard and Gerd Folesoe. Each of them had an Eider Down quilt from Norway, for their single, iron bed. According to the Norwegians, the Eider Down feather quilts served no matter the temperature. ( I finally now have my own 'throw' and it is true!)

Public Schools in South Africa followed a British system of education. Class 1 and 2 were the first years, with Standard 1-10 the remaining. Because I was only seven, I was enrolled in Class 2 at the Toll Gate School which must have been for the younger students. My parents thought me too smart for Class 1. They were wrong!

No one else at the hostel attended with me. I remember the raised platforms in each classroom, that held the teacher's desk. I also remember the bamboo cane in the corner, for corporal punishment. I was not a brilliant success at Toll Gate. I remember the teacher pulling down a window shade in front of the blackboard, and asking individual students to read the words written there. If you failed, you had to sit on the platform, facing the class. It was mortifying of course. At the end of this first day of school, I was met by the 'kitchen boy', from the hostel, who took me on the 'tram' ( streetcar) back to the boarding house. He of course could not sit with me, because he was a black man.

A much happier experience at Toll Gate School was the celebration on the grounds, of the Coronation of King George the Sixth of England. All the children were involved in games and given cakes and their own souvenir mugs. You can find these mugs today in antique stores. Mine is long gone, because I am careless. Brother John's is still in fine shape, and in Dolly's hands. The next year I attended Berea Road School which was within walking distance of the boarding house. There I saw for the first time a young black maintenance worker going to the dumpster to retrieve a half finished sandwich discarded by a white student. I have never forgotten that incident, nor has it dimmed in my memory. Another indelible memory is of my walk home with friend Sheila, who was very graphic and emphatic when telling me all about how parents made babies. It was news to me!

Once a week we were scheduled for a bath in the bathroom tub, to be shared with one other girl. We then received our weekly ration of clean towels. There was no running hot water, so the 'kitchen boy' would carry up a four gallon 'gogoke' of hot water to take the chill off. ( I have no idea of the correct spelling of this Zulu label for an empty 4 gallon kerosine can, commonly used as a 'measure'). We ducked our heads to wash our hair, before getting into the tub! In that day the bathroom 'water closet' was operated with a pull chain.

The “American” was definitely the 'outsiders' among the Little Girls. Those Norwegians were very clique-y!!To begin with, before I learned the language, and even after due to their naivete, my room mates would speak in Norwegian about me, in my presence. My accent was a problem and my clothes too. My mother had made us girls shorts for the warm weather. We were told that when women began to wear pants, dooms day was coming! ( In Norwegian, of course). Also, our American relatives would send lovely yardage for dresses that my mother would make. In Durban, however, there was serious discrimination between whites of the British stock, whites of the Afrikaans stock, the Black African ( the natives) and the East Indians ( the coolies). One hallmark of a 'coolie' was bright colors. We called them 'coolie' colors. For me, it was difficult to wear some of the dresses made from those thoughtful gifts. I never said this to my mother. I probably sensed that this was wrong. We wore uniforms to school, so I am speaking of the 'out of uniform times'.

I did make one very close Norwegian friend in Emily N. We would hide in the attic of this big house, for 'girl talk'. I remember asking if she could come home with me for the holiday. I was turned down. When I went back to school, Emily was gone. My mother shared with me the fact that her father had been dismissed by the Norwegian Missions, because of impregnating a black woman. In South Africa that was a crime. It was never mentioned again in my presence. I was too embarrassed to ask any questions. I never heard from or about Emily again.

My good friends later, were all made through the public schools. Their families were very important in rounding out my social side of life away from home. There was Pauline van Noort, who had no sister and loved to have me for the weekend. Lucky me! Her father was a manager at the Netherlands Bank in Durban. He was also the amateur artist who painted my portrait of a Zulu bank guard. It was their gift to us as we left South Africa in 1945. Both Pauline's mother and father were musicians with the Durban Symphony Orchestra and were very generous about including me in events. We met again in Johannesburg when I visited SA in 1988.

Hilda Schwarzberg, also a close friend, lived across the street from Berea Road School. She lived with two older brothers because her parents had died. Hilda had her dressmaker sew me a gown for the only school dance I ever attended. That dress was made from lovely fabric I had received in a Christmas box from Grandma Y and Aunt Anna. Dancing was not approved by the Norwegians or my parents at that time, but I begged sufficiently. My mother mailed me a lovely bracelet to wear for the occasion! Hilda's cousin Aubrey, now in Australia, taught me to dance for the occasion! Not so many years ago Hilda visited Milwaukee and met my children. We have remained friends all these years. She now lives in Australia.

Another friend, Jean McClean, had huge brown eyes which got her in trouble because they revealed the contempt she felt and could not hide, for some persons of authority. After high school she went to live in Southern Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. Inga Schwartz, still in Durban, was the beauty of the bunch, and VERY smart, I have lost touch with both.

The Norwegian closest to my age, Gerd Foleso, was also very smart. Age threw us together, but that did not make her my good friend! I have since learned that Gerd married into the family of archaeologist Donald Johanson, the 1974 founder of 'Lucy', with Tom Gray. Among the 'Little Girls” it seemed to me that the Norwegian students had families visiting frequently, while mine were never there! Of course, there were many Norwegian parents to visit many families. That fact escaped me then, of course. Also, parents seemed always to send THEIR children food packages with fried chicken and other goodies! We would arrange an after hours 'midnight feasts' by flashlight, and enjoy the food as well as 'breaking rules'. Of course, my mother being a nurse, would NEVER have put a cooked chicken in the South African mail! I do not remember anyone getting sick from the midnight feasts. Maybe those packages were always hand delivered by travelers?

Meals were served at the bell, in a huge dining room with two long tables. We each had assigned seats, and our own 'cloth envelopes' holding a napkin, that was washed once a week. We were to speak Norwegian only, at the table, where food was served by the 'kitchen boy'. ( Usually a grown Zulu man, dressed in white top and shorts, with red trim.) Heloise hated onions and would not eat hers. The matron told her to remain at the table after dinner, until those onions were gone. The dining room windows were eight feet tall, low to the ground, and had no screens. Only shutters. Heloise climbed out the window, instead. I don't remember what happened after that! I do remember hating beet salad and the Sunday jello. The jello was very stiff, always red and very slippery, served floating in cream. I did look forward to the Sunday treat, however. At 3PM every Sunday, the bell would ring, and assorted fresh pastries were placed on the table on the veranda. There was a mad rush down the stairs by all, to get the pastry of their choice!

No one was 'excused' during meal time. The youngest boy who was just seven, needed to go to the bathroom, but was told 'no'. I remember our chairs had cane seats, and the poor kid could not wait. We all were aware of his mortification.

Saturday was the day we were to write letters home. There was yet another room for this task. I do also remember playing parlor games in the same room. Most outside activities required some money, at least bus fare. Money was always an issue for me. If you needed any thing, you had to speak to Mrs.Tvedt, the matron, and explain yourself.. I HATED not having an allowance, but never spoke or wrote of it to my parents. I just got mad on the inside. I do not remember ever being denied the change I was requesting, but I HATED the asking.

Of course all Lutherans are confirmed, so we attended Saturday School for instruction in Norwegian. When we were considered ready for confirmation, there was a celebration to honor 'homelands'. All the Norwegian parents and students would come ready to dance, dressed in the costume of their region. Parents talked of 'home'. It is a fact now that the families from Norway that I knew all retired in South Africa.

On confirmation day, the boys, and the girls dressed in long white “confirmation dresses', were required to stand in the front of the church facing the congregation. Pastor Froiland then asked us to recite a particular section of Luther's Small Catechism. Each one of us prayed for the Lords Prayer to be our question. I cannot remember anyone being humiliated, thank goodness. On that day, I do remember that my parents left for the Mission before the festivities were over. They put me in the hands of the Folesoes, parent's of Gerd, the smart one near my age! Who of course was not my 'friend'. Gerd had no worries about her ability to answer her question! The Luwamba Mission needed JFY on the big day of my confirmation. I was very resentful. However, as I write, I have the very fond memory of dressing up in my long 'confirmation dress' on Christmas Eve back on the Mission Station, with my parents, where they invited me to celebrate with a glass of wine. I felt 'grown up'.

We were all required to attend the only Lutheran Church in Durban, the Norwegian Lutheran Seaman's Mission down by the wharf. This church was there expressly for the Norwegian whalers who plied their trade in the Indian Ocean out of the Durban Bay. Once a quarter there was no Sunday service. Pastor's day off? We were then instructed by Mrs. Tvedt to attend the Anglican Church that was on the campus of the Durban Boys High School, which brother John attended with the other Mission boys.

All the women sat to the right in that church and the men to the left. Of course, since this campus was not far from Durban's Mitchell Park we often skipped church and played in the park instead. Invariably, the matron would ask us about the lesson for the day. We were prepared as a group with our fabrication. At that time we did not know that each Sunday had prescribed texts. A lesson our parents had failed to teach us!

Going to the ocean beach was a favorite weekend activity. Also, to the movies at the Durban Playhouse, where movies were called “Bioscopes”. The memory I have that is still sharp today, is of the 'shorts' that were shown at the 'Bio'. It was war time. There was absolutely no censorship of the war time horrors that the news real would show. Once, years later, as a parent, I was hospitalized for pneumonia and in my delirium, I saw those same war atrocities of the news reals, in technicolor! That is the truth!

One of the fortunate “Little Girls” had access to tabloids about the movie stars of the day. We were all intrigued by Hollywood. Each of the four girls that I lived with, had a movie stars name. My movie star persona was Jean Harlow, one of Hollywood's first 'pin-up girls'. Unfortunately Jean Harlow died unexpectedly in 1937 at age 26. We honored her by having a funeral where we all paraded, in single file, around the house, looking sad and tearful. My next choice of names was Jeanette MacDonald. I could not sing, so am not sure why I chose her. I did revel in Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddie movies for years to come.

Everyone loved to go to the roof top of our building, which was flat, covered with metal, and surrounded by a lacy two foot high cast iron fence. One accessed the rooftop by going through the full size attic, where clothes were hung when it rained. The roof top was a great place for girls to tan..

Boys on the other hand were troublesome. Once, John and his friends climbed over the iron fence and circled the flat roof using the gutters. The neighbors where horrified and called the matron to report them! ( This must have been a very well constructed house or boys did not weigh so much!).

The Big boys and Big girls (Heloise) were known to go on the second floor open porch, after 'hours' and after dark. They would climb down the pillars, and invade a cemetery in the neighborhood, for a test of their fearlessness. The Little girls and the Little boys looked ahead to the time when they too were brave enough and also capable of climbing in and out of the building for this traditional experience.

In South Africa, Guy Fauke's Day in November was as big a deal as the 4^th of July in the USA. We were allowed a limited number of fire crackers to set off in what we used as a cricket field on the front lawn. One year a British neighbor invited some of us next door to 'do' the fireworks with him. This was of course against the rules. I remember getting too close to a blast and having ringing in my ears for three days, which I confessed to no one, for fear of punishment of some sort..

By the time I was at Durban Girl's High School, Heloise and John were living in Zumbrota, MN, with Grandma Y and Ruth and Reeve Cornwall. While WW2 raged in Europe, Durban was blacked out at night. Some of us, who were older at the hostel, were recruited as volunteer 'fire wardens'. We walked the surrounding neighborhood and reported on windows that were not properly blackened. We thought ourselves very important. Walking around downtown after school was also a frequent and popular activity. During the war many American service men passed through Durban. We remarked, always, on how many wore glasses and how pale they were in comparison to young South Africans! Our purpose for walking the streets down town after school was not to see service men. The students at the girls schools went to see the boys from the all boys schools. The boys did the same, to see the girls! Sometimes we actually got lucky and met someone!

In the early 30's Mahatma Gandhi visited South Africa to advocate for better labor laws for the Indian community. I remember looking down to the valley and seeing and hearing the Indian community celebrate Gandhi's visit. Being young and ignorant, we were not especially moved by the particulars of the visit. In high school history classes I learned that the Zulu help available for the sugar cane fields that surrounded the Luwamba Mission, was unreliable.

We learned that the Zulu's always retained some personal independence. They put their own and family needs and wishes ahead of Mission priorities and the sugar cane employer's needs. If any family member had anything at all to grieve or celebrate, the Zulu worker walked home. The British were familiar with the East Indian as a worker. Their solution to sugar cane needs was to import East Indians for the labor market. Those workers, unlike the Zulus, were fortunate to have a strong advocate over the years in their Indian homeland. This served them well, especially in education. Schools for the Indian children were supported by money from abroad as well as the locals. The Indian immigrants stayed and raised their families as South Africans, with education!

The East Indians ( the brown South Africans) had dwellings within the city limits. The Black South Africans who worked in our hostel, lived at the will of their employer in a one room dormitory at the rear of the main house. To live in town, the black South Africans had to have an employer and a 'pass'. The 'Brown South African' on the other hand could own a house and a business in the city even in the 1930's.

But one of the many inequities of colonial rule.

I'm signing off on June 3, 2020.

In the USA we are in the midst of a global pandemic, Covid-19. To add to that, riots are raging in major cities across the US due to gross social justice and economic inequities. Life with Norwegian Mission children in the beautiful city of Durban, but away from home, seems pretty soft compared to the disadvantages of so many American citizens today.

ZUMBROTA 1938-1940

by Ruth Ylvisaker

1938 Durban, South Africa, aboard the SS Windhoek, and a week in Germany

Johanne returns to his family in Minnesota, after seven years in South Africa:

The John ( Johanne) Fritjof Ylvisaker family spent a seven year term, 1931-1938, developing a new mission station for the American/Norwegian Lutheran Church in Zululand, South Africa on 800 barren, dry acres. With great anticipation in 1938, John, Jean Merwin Kerfoot and children Heloise, John Olney and Andree Sevella Ruth made plans to spend their furlough 'at home' in Minnesota, USA.

Returning missionaries could choose to have the Mission Board arrange their passage home (always by ship during those years) or take a credit and make the arrangements themselves. We chose the later, and my parents spent many nights over seven years, dreaming about how to make the most of the trip 'home'.

Money was very tight. The Minneapolis Mission Board had found it necessary to cut salaries during the depression by 30's. In addition, South Africa remained on the Gold Standard so the exchange rate for American dollars suffered, plus 3 children had to be sent to boarding school in Durban!

Suddenly, a light at the end of the tunnel. A German steamship company in cooperation with Hitler's wish to demonstrate German pre-eminence in Europe, offered passengers that sailed from Durban S.Africa to Hamburg Germany, on the SS Windkoek, a very healthy rebate on the cost of passage per person. At the end of the journey the rebate, in the form of German Marks, was to be spent in Germany. We had five tickets!!

Adolf Hitler was at the height of his power. We were well informed by our European friends of the dangers we might encounter traveling in Germany. Europe was resisting yet another war. However, the promise of German Marks to spend over a week, visiting the Continent, was too tempting to resist. In March that year, Heloise age 15, John age 13, and Ruth age 11, dropped out of school in Durban, and sailed with their parents, Jean and John Ylvisaker, for Hamburg, Germany, aboard the SS Windhoek. We made one stop, the Canary Islands. There we were entertained from ship-side, by the young pearl divers, now 'moonlighting' and diving for silver coins instead.

On arrival, my dad admonished us in the strictest terms NOT to talk about Hitler, in our hotel rooms while in Germany. Friends had warned us that guest rooms were often bugged. The three of us children decided Hitler's code name while we were in Germany, was to be "Dingaan", named for a notorious African Zulu chief.

The city was indeed lovely. Radios were everywhere. While we were in the hotel dining room one noon, Hitler came on the air. At once, all guests, but us, stood, to Heil Hitler for the duration of his speech. We were very ill at ease sitting at our table. From our hotel windows we saw the everyday workers during their lunch break, go to the roof tops of office buildings, and participate in military training. At night, EVERY night, we observed the German Youth, as they paraded on the streets, in military fashion, carrying lighted torches. We saw banners hanging on buildings announcing the intended annexation of Austria, March 12, 1938. Everywhere, we saw enthusiasm for the New Germany.

While in Hamburg, I remember shopping for cloths for my mother and my brother. Johnny was decked out in stylish 'plus fours' and sox to match, which I learned later in life, he hated! My mother did better, buying a coat that made her feel stylish! After shopping we visited a lovely park and a coffee shop where all enjoyed what my dad said was 'real' hot chocolate!

To leave Hamburg we hired a taxi to take us to the port city of Bremen. We travelled by way of the Autobahn, the pride of German transportation. Gas was SO cheap, the taxi was a bargain. Once on the highway, there was not a curve in the road for the entire trip between the major cities. The German people in Bremen, did much as they did in Hamburg, to celebrate Germany and honor Hitler. After two days in Bremen we boarded the American SS President Cleveland and sailed for South Hampton, England, with a sense of relief and of foreboding.

I don't remember getting off the ship while docked in South Hampton. My guess is that my parents were so happy to be on 'American soil' that they were more than content to stay put. My mother pointed out to us kids that Samual Insull was on board, traveling incognito. Samual Insull was notorious for the collapse of the USA utilities empire he controlled before the depression, and was accused, but never convicted, of absconding with millions of dollars tied to shares of his investors. Mother Jean was pleased to speak to him because he shared with her that he thought her children were well behaved!! I remember his 'shades'! By July 19, 1938, he had died in Paris.

In seven days time, we landed in NYC. On that day, mince pie was on the ship's menu. My dad was THRILLED! Just as he was about to enjoy this treat, he was called to baggage by 'customs' for something not nearly so important as a reunion with mince pie! We had been given a large tin box full of English biscuits (cookies) to take to America. Officials were insisting we pay 'duty' before disembarking with said bisquets. My dad refused, and gave the bisquets to the customs officials, to enjoy!

In NYC we boarded the train and headed for the Twin Cities in Minnesota. I remember being awed by the width of the Mississippi River. In St. Paul, the Nils Ylvisakers met the train and took us to their home. There was Uncle Nils, (whom my dad called his favorite brother!) Aunt Ida, and cousins Mary, Sylvia, Donald, Betty and Shirley. (I remember Mary as tall and beautiful!) That night I slept on the enclosed porch, with Betty and Shirley. The family introduced Heloise, John and me, to peanut butter out of blue Shirley Temple souvenir drinking glasses. When we first arrived, I know we spent a Friday there, because the daughters took us to our very first football game at Marshall High. There we were introduced to cheerleading and cheerleaders. I was scandalized and embarrassed for them! Some time later, when we had a car, I recall driving with my Dad to Uncle Nils' Skelly Gas Station. I believe gas was then 4 or 5 gallons per dollar!

With Mission Board help we found housing in a fourplex on Fremont Street, in Minneapolis, just a couple blocks off of Lake of the Isles. Again, when school began, life took a turn. Heloise was moved to high school in Zumbrota, because the family thought Grandma Y needed someone there with her. John was enrolled at West High School and I at Douglas Elementary School, both in Minneapolis.

At Douglas, we had desks with ink wells and 40 students in the 5^th grade! My cursive writing was straight up and down, whereas everyone else slanted theirs to the right!

Reasonably settled and having purchased a car, we took trips to Zumbrota to visit Grandma Ylvisaker. The rule was to pack a lunch and eat on the Cannon River in the city park before arriving at Grandma's. There was a park trail we would often walk. It was there that I realized my subconscious did not have to watch for snakes as in Africa!

Grandma Y looked like a grandmother of her era. That is, small and grandmotherly, white hair in a bun, wire rimmed glasses and always an apron. I do not remember her smiling! There were always molasses and sugar cookies in the cooky jars. Those cookies were large round disks and delicious. To please Johanne we often had meatballs for dinner, something I never remember eating in South Africa. Truly, for years I never wanted to eat meatballs because they gave me a headache! I was a mother myself before I realized I had a headache when eating meatballs because I was so afraid of doing or saying something I should not when at Grandma's. My father's threats re good behavior, probably did Grandma Y a disservice!

One sunny day Uncle Herman who married adopted daughter Sunniva, the youngest of my Dads siblings, came to Grandma's house from Wanamingo. He was carrying two pails filled with blood. He had butchered and the blood was for krub. I never ate Grandma's krub, after seeing the buckets of fresh blood. However, my relatives through marriage also loved krub and I became a convert. One weekend, there was a gathering of kin, and several cousins at the house. While sitting around Grandma Y's kitchen table, cousins introduced me to Monopoly. Unfortunately, I cannot remember which relatives were gathered there that day. Most likely the Nils Ylvisaker cousins, who are known yet today to love board games.

Zumbrota trips were interspersed with JFY's African Mission speaking calendar in Midwest churches. Laundry day had to fit into that schedule. When it did, we piled the laundry into the car and came to Grandma Y's. Bless her soul, she let us take over the basement and use her Maytag wringer washing machine. It was a lesson! Wash, wring, rinse, wring, blueing rinse, wring, take to the cloths line outside and pray for a sunny day! In South Africa the Zulu 'girl' did laundry behind the house, using a washboard, bar soup, tubs of water and muscle.

Uncle Herman did endear himself to us kids. We loved being in Zumbrota on Saturdays when the stores were open in the evening, and the high school band played spirited music on a stage in the middle of Main Street. This was the farm family's time off. All who could, would be in town, walking the streets, visiting with neighbors and relatives, in English and in Norwegian. Uncle Herman was always there, and always good for a big ice cream cone for us kids!

The Erstad General Store was on Zumbrota's main street, sort of across the street from the Farmer's Bank. That is my first memory of Ruth Erstad, Dads double cousin, Tante Sigrid's daughter. Dry goods were a big item in the store. Ruth sat me at the table on one visit, and braided my hair into two pigtails, together with the most beautiful blue ribbon! When I count moments in my life, I remember Ruth and the beautiful blue ribbons. Ruth's husband, the engaging Reeve Cornwall, was in charge of the Goodhue County National Guard, and had come to Zumbrota from the East. Talk among Ruth's siblings suggested that she had never had an interest in the marriageable men of Goodhue County!

In 1938 Tante Sigrid Erstad was matriarch of the Ylvisaker Erstad union. The 'home' farm was a few miles from Zumbrota. I was lucky enough to spend a couple weeks there the summer of 1939. My parents were driving to California to visit my Aunt Aruara Hill Duke, and visiting friends of old along the way. How I was invited to the farm, is a mystery. Where were Heloise and John? I remember Tante Sigrid as old of course, and always in black??? Can that be so? In my memory, she does not stand out. I think she must not have been 'actively engaged' around the house by then. I had an upstairs bedroom overlooking the front yard. Most likely one of the rooms for girls, when the Ylvisaker and Erstad families united and had many boys and girls to house in separate parts of the house.

It was a splendid two weeks during strawberry picking time. The household was kept going by the very competent 'Alice' a 'hired girl' whose last name I do not remember! There were two hired men who lived there, to help 'Uncle' Einar, Sigrid's unmarried son. These men were up and gone before I was down in the morning, fed by the competent Alice. At 9AM the task was to make 'lunch' and take it to the fields for the men, who took a break and devoured Alice's food. Noon was the main meal for the day. We all sat around the dining room table, each in our assigned place, Einar at the head, and Sigrid at the foot. We enjoyed a big meat and potatoes dinner. Again, thanks to Alice, at 3PM, after dinner was cleaned up and put away without aid of a dishwasher, Alice had again made a 'lunch' which we took out to the men working the farm. It was all so interesting to me and a happy time too.

As evening approached, the fields were usually abandoned and the men came in to clean up for supper. Suppers were my favorite! It was strawberry time, and Alice made a baking powder biscuit, the size of a big turkey platter. On top of that were mounds of delicious sweet strawberries, piled high with real farmer whipped cream. As I remember, that was it for the evening, along with coffee made with an egg!

I do remember that I was into reading pre-teen novels at that time, and often I had to be found, when it was time to go to the field and pick berries. There must have been more helpers than I remember, on the farm. Who milked to get the whipping cream? Somebody looked after of the horses. How about all those fresh vegetables? Alice's time off was Friday eve. I remember begging her to take me with, on her date for the evening. Luckily she turned a deaf ear!

Olaf and Mabel Erstad had a farm between 'Uncle' Einar's place and Zumbrota. The house was a small square red brick home. I was lucky enough to be there once when it was threshing time. Many farmers came together, to get the job done using the threshing machine for the day. Of course I was part of the large 'women's group' that prepared food for the men. Mabel's house was rather small. I remember every square inch full of necessary preparations for the noon meal. Mabel herself, was a pretty, cheerful, and jolly hostess. In the family, she was famous for her creamed onions! Daughter Sharon was there too, helping. She must have been around four or five years old, with lovely long curly locks.

The United Lutheran Church of Zumbrota, sitting vacant in 1938, was the church where my dad, JFY, was ordained ,in the 1920's, for the Mission Field. When this church merged with a second Norwegian Lutheran church in Zumbrota, the congregation voted to give and ship the pulpit, the alter, and the large oil painting of Christ, to the Luwamba Mission Station in Zululand, South Africa. The original mission church from the early 30's served both as a church and a school house. The new church, built in the 1940's to house this generous gift from the people of Zumbrota, was a culmination of vision, planning, and hope at Luwamba for the future of the Mission. Each of the cement blocks that built the new church was individually formed, with Zulu hands, and dried by the African sun. The new church was an inspiration for all.

Fast Forward, the year 2000

In 2000 I was in South Africa with Marguerite Ylvisaker, my cousin, and daughter of Paul and Bergitte Ylvisaker. We visited Luwanba and found the church building abandoned, but why?

In 1948 the Afrikaner Dutch political party won the elections in South Africa. Legislated policies of separation began to play out. 'Homelands' became 'reserves' for the black South Africans, dividing the country up between black and white South Africans. A system of self contained 'home' government, black's only education, taught in tribal languages, within separate 'homeland' reserves, was the new norm. Permits to live elsewhere had to be procured from white employers.

The community center for the people who had been congregants at Luwamba, was built inland in the to Byela area. Here, happily, Marguerite and I saw the alter and the altar cloth from United Lutheran in Zumbrota' at the new Byela 'community' building. On Sundays the building became a church.

John Olney, a Zumbrota educator and my brother, was invited, that fall, to the grand opening celebration of this new center. John's church in Zumbrota, gave a significant gift in honor of the past, as did the Ylvisaker family. (When John was a child, his Zulu name was 'inyoni' meaning 'bird' because he was so slight in size! He was still 'inyoni' (sp?) among the families that remembered him.)

John, Marguerite and I, when we visited, were treated to warm hospitality and many stories of the past in true Zulu fashion.

The European farmers and business people were required to leave their sugar cane farms and businesses if they were in a 'homeland' region. The American Norwegian Missionaries went home. Lutheran churches and seminaries were put in the hands of the African pastors and teachers who had been students of American Lutheran schools and seminaries but without the church's financial and structural support. The new Lutheran Church in South Africa became an indigenous church. The black Africans now own their churches in all respects, and will grow according to their needs, commitment and hopes.

Like Zumbrota farmers, the Zumbrota Lutherans sent their own as seed for the new African Lutheran Church.