Hartley Neita, ContributorHaving failed last year in my advocacy for a Grandfather's Day, I am now seeking support for a Father's Week. I am doing so because the celebration of Mother's Day is far greater than the feeble tributes given to we men on our day. I believe if the period to pay tribute to us is extended to a week, we will get the praise and thanks we deserve.
Fathers have different names. Some are called Daddy, others Papa, Dad and Dads, Pops and Dada.
Mine was Dada. He was the Headmaster of an Elementary School in mid-Clarendon. His name was Glanville Seymour Neita, but like all male teachers in that area of the island he was formally known by his initials, G.S. So, too, was Burchell Whiteman's father. He was E.J. There was also U.T. Wolfe and Olive Lewin's Dad, R.J.M. Both Percival Broderick Sr. and Edwin Allen were known as P.W. and E.L. before they became politicians. Omar Davies has always wondered why there was this penchant for initials among these teachers; maybe when he returns to the cloister of academia some long time years ahead, he might do some research on this subject.
names
Like everybody in their villages, the wives of these men called their husbands Teacher. I never heard my mother call my father Glanville, or "Glans", or any pet name based on his Christian name. The first time I heard her personalize my father was when he died. She called me at 3.00 a.m.
"He is gone," she said. Softly.
My father did not enjoy the pleasure of a Father's Day. In fact, there was no celebration of Mother's Day in his time. This is a phenomenon of the past forty years or less. Nevertheless we did and still praise and give tribute to our fathers, even silently.
He taught me that life was abundant, even without money. His salary was meagre. Teachers of today would never have stayed with the schoolroom and given their all to their students for the pay he received. So he sought ways which did not take away from his teaching time, to supplement his income. He became, for example, the correspondent in the district for The Daily Gleaner, and the other newspapers, Jamaica Standard, Jamaica Times and Public Opinion. Weddings, funerals, cricket matches, motor vehicle accidents and floods told the story of the district to the world.
extra classes
He bought a baby, portable typewriter which had a 'Teach Yourself To Type' booklet, which I subsequently learnt from. He grew vegetables in wooden boxes in our backyard and exchanged lettuce heads and cabbage with neighbours.
He also reared chickens so that we always had an egg at breakfast, and a weekly cake, in addition to those neighbours who came and bought. He held early morning extra classes for school children old enough to take the First, Second and Third Year Examinations, three exams which were as hard as the Junior Cambridge Examina-tions taken by children in Secon-dary Schools at the time. He charged one shilling per week per child for these classes.
Giving back
But he gave back more to the community than he earned. He kept bank accounts in the Government Savings Bank operated by the village Post Office for many residents. He wrote their wills, and he even wrote letters from women in the village to their spouses who went to the USA as Farm Workers.
He was the voluntary Secretary of the 4-H Club, the J.A.S. Branch, the Literary and Social Club, and the Cricket Club. Because of the Literary Club and Social Club we children heard poetry read in person by poet Una Marson, songs by tenor Granville Campbell and Blanche Savage Taylor, the Frats Quintet, talks by J.A.G. Smith Snr., Eddie Burke and D.T.M. Girvan, and debates between men like George Bowen and Frank Hill. We children were allowed to sit at the back of the schoolroom where these events took place, and listen and learn.
He was also a lay preacher and he played the organ for family sing-a-longs at our home. He also substituted on one or two occasions for the village organist, Gifford "Skipper" Lawson, at the Congregational Church.
priorities
He believed in saving and he set priorities for himself. He rode a bicycle until he almost retired so that he could purchase his own house before he bought a car. I lived at the family home during the first two years of my working life. He insisted that I give my mother one-third of my earnings and give him another third which he placed in a savings account in my name.
I discovered I could not draw money from this account when I went behind his back to do so to buy a motorcycle.
"No way," he said. "You won't have enough left in the account to pay for your burial when you have an accident." He then drew enough to buy a bicycle, and I rode with him the four miles to and from Four Paths to May Pen to the movie theatre to watch cowboy movies on Friday nights.
We spoke, while riding, about George Headley, Ken Weekes, and other great West Indies cricketers. It was eight miles of bonding.
