The sister went out of her way to make the new nurses feel welcome and went to great lengths to help them understand some of the idiosyncrasies of the strange new world with which they would be dealing.
‘A dhobi-wallah does the washing. A punkah-wallah pulls the strap on the fans. A banyan is a shopkeeper. A dacoit is a robber. A sepoy is a soldier and a bhisti will bring you water,’ Sister Blossom explained. ‘But the most important word of all for you English nurses is char. That means tea!’
The walk from the nurses’ bashas to the hospital had taken several minutes down a gently winding, gravelled pathway. ‘Be careful when it rains because this can be very slippery,’ warned Sister Blossom, who showed them the location of various wards and made introductions left, right and centre before they all walked back up the hill to the nurses’ mess in the main building.
‘It looks impressive even now,’ said Vera, after being told the building was once the residence of the last Governor General of Bengal.
‘I love the huge veranda with those red roses climbing either side of the main entrance,’ said Madge. ‘It looks like something out of a storybook.’
Madge was doubly delighted to see that not only had the luggage caught up with them but there was also a neatly tied bundle of letters from home, including several from Mum. A bearer took Madge’s trunk and cabin case down to her basha but before she could decide whether to read Mum’s news first or unpack, exhaustion took over and she went for an hour’s nap.
There was still enough light left when she woke up to make a more thorough inspection of her quarters and Madge found there was no toilet, no electricity and no running water. But the bathrooms in the communal wash house were spotlessly clean and morning, noon or night there was always a delightful aroma of jasmine. They’re an absolute dream in comparison with some of the very smelly places we experienced on the way out, Madge thought.
Vera was in the next basha down and as the two girls went outside to meet each other Madge spotted the ‘bhisti man’, the water-carrier. ‘Assalamo aleikum,’ she said, trying to say ‘hello’ in Urdu.
‘Assalamo aleikum,’ he replied with a grin.
‘Glad to see you’re learning the language,’ said Vera, ‘but I’m not so sure about the pronunciation!’
Of all the helpers and servants Madge’s favourite was Ahmed, her bearer, who acted much like a butler or personal assistant. He made sure her basha was always clean and tidy, but most importantly, he kept the mosquito nets in first-class order. They were so high off the ground that Madge found them difficult to pull into place. Ahmed made sure she never had to worry about that problem again because he always lowered the curtains at night as well as doing the ironing and keeping the oil lamp in pristine condition.
On the first evening in her basha Madge sat down to write a letter to Mum, Doris and Doreen by the light of her oil lamp, but she soon gave up. This is no good, she thought. It’s casting eerie shadows all around the room and the smell is just ghastly! So she decided to write her letter in daylight the following day and instead tucked herself up in her lovely cool sheets. We’ll be starting work in the hospital tomorrow, so I do hope I sleep well. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep, restful sleep.
It had rained overnight and after breakfast in the main building Madge, Vera and Phyl took the greatest of care as they walked down the soggy pathway and into the hospital. An orderly guided them along a corridor to a door marked ‘Matron’ and they were greeted with open arms by Olive Ferguson.
‘Good day, girls, am I pleased to see you!’
Madge had become used to the warm welcomes, but the accent caught her off guard. She’d never met a New Zealander before, let alone worked for one. Vera committed the heinous crime of asking if she was Australian and the girls laughed at Matron Ferguson’s finger-wagging and mock outrage. Matron Ferguson was a tall and sturdy-looking woman with dark hair and piercing brown eyes, but her quick humour showed Madge that she wouldn’t be so hard to work for.
With the introductions completed Madge spent her first shift on the ‘British Other Ranks’ ward. Officers were placed in different wards, although Madge soon noted that they certainly didn’t get better or special treatment from the nurses. All patients were treated the same, regardless of rank or status.
‘Good morning, nurse,’ said a chatty doctor. ‘I understand that this is your first shift. My name is Dr Whittaker,’ he said, ‘and as you have just arrived in India can you tell me how people are bearing up at home?’
Madge was about to answer when he was called over to examine a poorly patient on the other side of the ward. As he walked away, she heard somebody whispering, ‘Nurse, please pop over here,’ in a broad Scottish accent.
‘Hello,’ she said, ‘is there a little secret?’
‘Not really,’ said the Scot, still whispering. ‘I just thought, lassie, that you should know that as well as being a doctor the laddie you were just talking to is also the Commander-in-Chief of the hospital. He’s the most important man in the whole place! And I canna find my teeth this morning . . .’
Madge was grateful for the fact that the chatty little Scot was trying to be helpful and spotted his name on the chart at the bottom of his bed. As she picked up a mug from a bedside cabinet she said, ‘Thank you so
