An Hoad to our Home

Burrawang Court -  Our fourty acre Forest Home.
We know a place where Eagles fly, where Bowerbirds; Kuckaburras; Blue Wrens et al, come and go.
A place to see the dawn lighting up the tall gum's, on the western  hill and a river passing slowly by.
We know a home, so quietly at peace, at the sounding of the hour.
A place to read a book or write to a friend with pen and paper and in summer stroll down to the river and swim in its clear fresh water.
We know a place, where we hope, new people will enjoy as much as we, with our fond memories of family gatherings, of such joy. Now to move nearer to where they are, far from our forest home.
We know a place -----------

Malcolm Mason - Shallow  Crossing State Forest, NSW Australia.

Aggie Darling – A story of Separation and Lost Love

Aggie Darling – A story of Separation and  Lost Love.

It was one of those balmy Autumn late afternoons in the year of 1899, in the barracks of the Indian  Regiment, near Peshawa, north west of India. Sitting at a writing desk, was a rarely, immotionaly depleted man, dressed in the uniform of an officer of the Frontier Infantry Battalion.He was a fine figure of a  Punjabi man – Proud to be a Soldier; Officer and a Gentleman, serving the Raj of Queen Victoria, in the Northern Frontier area of India.

Orders had been received that day, that the regiment had three days to prepare to leave for the Tribal regions, that would take them through the Swat Valley and then North by North west. He knew then,that he may once again, not return to his one love of recent past. Once again the Indian soldiers  would be the frontline men and take the first salvos, from the hostile Tribemens – Accurate and deadly as always. The British would follow up and hopefully reduce the casualties and over come any further opposition.

Little did this brave soldier know, that the in the not too distant future, the Punjab and others parts of West India, would become a soveriegn state  -  Pakistan. A Country independant of Great Brittian, a Muslim Country, brought about by violence of a different kind for different reasons. One thing would never change of course, would be the unrest in the Tribal regions of this volatile area.

With these thoughts, his mind turned to his beloved Aggie and how they met and fell hopelessly in love. You see Aggie, was an English Missionary and  got to like India so much , that she dressed, traditionaly in a Sari. She mixed easily with the Indian ladies she met and we  must say, rather misguidedly, tried to convert them to Christianity- a few maybe. But nothing detered her love of India and one man in particular.

In his room at battelion Headquarters, it was now becoming early evening and his batman had lit the lantern and prepared his uniform for the dinner. Satwant, for that was his name  and the man  Aggie called Sattie, a nickname as was the tradition in the Street family. As he approached his desk, prepared with writng paper and  pen near the lantern, his mind turned to the day, his one love Aggie had left for Bombay and the ship that would take her away for ever, to England and her family.

With a heavy heart, he sat down to write a letter to Aggie Street -  Missionary English lady in a Sari.

Aggie Darling.

Was it only three days we had together?. In the Swat valley. -  Oh how we enjoyed, watching the Gypsies coming down from the mountains, for the Winter and the better climes of the valleys here and to the south. We listened to the sounds of the animal bells and the mischievous children running around – do you remember the ladies in fine garments of Blue Green and Gold, walking with their men alongside of the Mules and  Horses, loaded  with all their Worldy goods.

Did we not, sit together, in the Rose Garden of that Government Rest House at the head of the Valley. Oh how we enjoyed the fragrant scent of those lovely flowers and in the distance to the North, the snow capped mountains, soon to be completely covered and inaccessible.

Our nights were as one together and so I am slowly dieing, at the thought that  I will never see  you again. Never to see your face, or hear your breathing in gentle repose.

It is dark now and I must call Abdul and instruct him to get this letter to the Post  Office in Peshawa and bypass the military system, that would forbid my letter to you. I know with your Gods help  my words will be carried safely on its long journey to England and to you in Brownhills.

Dearest, dearest Aggie Darling, Fair thee well, for your journey through life and your Ministry.

Your devoted friend and first love.

Santwant (Sattie)

Nearly a year later as our gallant soldier lay in a hospital bed in Rawalpindi central barracks, recovering from injuries suffered in the Tribals regions his batmen Abdul came by, all smiles and in his hand was a letter , showing Queen Victoria's image. He knew then with great happiness, that some how, a letter from Aggie had managed to get past the military system of the day, that would not have allowed such correspondence. It was the  first and last letter he would receive from her.

He opened it slowly ----    and yes it was from his beloved Aggie and it read.

Dearest Sattie.

Your letter was received with much joy and excitement, that you were able to get the letter to me. What a good servant Abdul must be to get it mailed and I know he also arranged with the staff of the 'Rest house' in the Swat Valley to display absolute disgression at our presence. No doubt they would have lost their employment, if the news of our stay ever leaked out.

I must at once tell you, that on arrival in England, I found 'I was with child' and I am delighted to tell you, that you and I have a baby girl. I named her Gertrude and now I call her Gerttie,isn't that sweet. She is adorable and some how has your strong features with my softness of expression , mind you she does make a noise at times.

I had my confinement at my Aunties on the Beecham Estate in Somerset. She was born early one morning to the sounds of milking cow bell's, passing the thatched cottage ---- It could have been the Valley, where she was concieved.

My sister Ginnie, now Mrs Birch, who had married into the well kown coal mining family in    Staffordshire and Somerset, came for a while and  took Gerttie back with her as her own and give her all the love that we, I know would have given her.

                                            

Dearest Sattie. I, as you will, I am certain, make a life for ourselves,without her. People here are going to America, so maybe, I will make my way there someday. I know in my heart, that we will always be in each others thoughts. Gertrude our Gerttie, is our secret and with Gods blessing, she will grow into a beautiful soul and marry a gentleman like you.

Yes, my first love , you were and I hope for you,all happiness with some lady ,somewhere.

With everlasting Love

Agnes (Aggie)

And so our fearless soldier wept, for the first time in his life, at the thought of the life he could not have.

                                                           FIN

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Malcolm E Mason   The grandson who visited the Swat valley in the 1960's and sensed  a connection with the area, which is now part of Pakistan. It never left him. Then in 1996 an extra ordinary event happened , which led to the story “Lady in a Sari”.

Nothing further is known of  Satwant. The Birch family in Brownhills, in later years could not trace  Aggie, although they believe she went to either Canada or America . Gertrude (Gerttie) died sometime agoe and she had two children Malcolm, the writer of this story, which  is based on facts as we believe them and a daughter Joyce who died in August  2014. Other members of the  Birch family, went to Australia and coal mines of Lithgow and Wollongong, in New South Wales, where graves can be traced. in The Bulli cemetary.

1800's Military Plaque 

Valley Rose Garden

Himalayan Foot Hills