Ocean Voyage - Pat Prinsloo (best memoirs of all time .txt) 📗

Ocean Voyage


Several years ago, when we were planning a trip to my husband’s native country, South Africa, he suggested that we go over on a freighter. He had done it once before and had thoroughly enjoyed it. “It is so relaxing and you will get a lot of rest,” he told me. I had heard that a voyage on a freighter could be very beneficial to someone needing rest or time alone to study or write. It was a popular choice of travel for missionaries, for example. But we both soon found that it was not the best place for a family with two young children, one an eight-week old baby.
I had crossed the Atlantic a few years before on a big ocean liner and had experienced an exciting and turbulent voyage, as the North Atlantic can be ferocious. I loved it! While 95% of the passengers took to their beds, suffering from terrible seasickness, I somehow managed to escape that awful malady. I remained one of the few mobile passengers and managed to maneuver myself along the halls as the ship plunged repeatedly at sharp angles from one side to the other. And I didn’t miss a meal – even though I had to hold onto the tablecloth and my plate most of the time. I would return to the cabin and announce to my fellow travelers, who lay suffering, what tasty morsels I had just enjoyed, while they groaned and turned over, moaning, “Get Out!”
This trip, however, from New York to Cape Town, South Africa, promised a more tranquil, laid back experience –but not with children. Freighters are minute in comparison to ocean liners. They usually carry a maximum of only twelve passengers, as they are primarily cargo carriers.
From the moment we arrived on the dock and saw the freighter we knew things were amiss. It was obvious that this ole barge had seen its best days. For starters, the hull of the ship could have used a fresh paint job. We were shocked to see areas where the paint had peeled off in large patches, and the rudder was rusty.
Upon embarking, our fears were confirmed. Where were the spacious staterooms with room for a family of four? Instead of the beautiful layouts featured in the company’s brochure with comfortable rooms furnished with attractive beds and lounging chairs, we found ourselves facing the next three weeks in cramped quarters with bunk beds. So much for the colorful photos that had delighted us when planning our trip. The paint on the walls was also peeling and flaking in places and the bunk beds looked hard and uncomfortable. While my husband and I stood looking in dismay, Susan, our four-year-old, excitedly declared, “I get to sleep in a bunk bed!” She was obviously thrilled and quickly climbed into one. But it didn’t take her long to exclaim, “This bed sure is hard.” I knew right then that this voyage would not be an experience with fond memories.
I said to my husband, “You know, this is not what I expected. I thought you said the staterooms would be spacious and luxurious. We can hardly turn around in here.” He replied, “Yes, I think they neglected to tell me that this ship was old and not up to date, but what can I do about it now?”
The passengers in each room on freighters are usually assigned their own steward, whose sole purpose it is to cater to the needs and comforts of the room’s occupants. We discovered quickly that instead of the customary six stewards this barge had only three, which meant that many of our needs would be placed on hold. And with two small children, I knew our needs would be great.
As the ship left the harbor and our journey began, we did not face it with a great deal of enthusiasm or excitement. It was rumored by one of the stewards that this ship was so old it should have been dry-docked ten years earlier. That knowledge only contributed to our disillusion and we found it harder and harder not to dread this journey.
My disillusionment was slowly developing into uneasiness about being on this old, uncomfortable ship for three weeks with two young children.
Once on the water, we were served three meals a day in a formal dining area. For the first week or so we found the food acceptable, although a bit heavy – lots of stews and meats at least twice a day. This ship belonged to a South African company and the food served was regtig boere kos (genuine Afrikaans farmer’s food). That was fine at first because when we sailed from New York in October, the weather was cool. However, as we neared the equator and the temperature became increasingly hot, the menu did not change and I felt I could not face another plate of stew or mutton. Especially at lunch, when the heat was the most oppressive, to be served heaping plates of hot, heavy food was more than I could stomach. I longed for much lighter fare – especially salads. There were salads, but not like I was used to. Two they served routinely were beetroot salad, consisting of beets and onion and carrot salad, with grated carrots and raisins, all at room temperature. I longed for a plain, green, cool American salad.
We always took our eight-week-old son, Tom, with us to the dining room, as there were no babysitters. This did not usually present a problem because he was quiet most of the time. All the passengers were very tolerant of a baby being on board, except for one middle-aged, single woman (who, it was obvious, had no children or grandchildren). She was aloof and unfriendly to us. While most of the passengers ooed and awed over Tom, she just looked at him – and us – as if to say, “What are you all doing here?” There was an incident that occurred which was highly embarrassing for us. A couple of times while we were at breakfast, with Tom strapped in his baby chair, he decided to have his morning constitution. As if we weren’t uncomfortable enough when this happened, the woman became very indignant and looked at us with disgust when she saw his face turning red and heard his straining grunts. Her reaction made us feel even worse about a situation over which we had little control. Every morning I sat as far away from that woman as I could, with Tom on the other side of me. Of course, whenever this happened, I would grab him and make a flying exit from the dining room.
One of the more positive features of the barge was its library. It was small but it contained a variety of interesting books. This was the gathering place after dinner each evening where the passengers could just relax by reading or visiting with one another. We learned that most of the passengers were English speaking South Africans who were returning home after vacationing in England or Europe. One older woman who was taken with Tom and Susan had been visiting her daughter and her family in England for a month. Another middle-aged couple had just completed a road trip through Europe. We never learned much about the single woman. We were too busy keeping our distance from her.
The most challenging aspect of the trip was keeping up with our four-year-old daughter, Susan. It was a very lonely time for her, as she was the only child on board except her baby brother, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. We came equipped with games, books, coloring books and crayons to keep her occupied, but after several days, she began to lose interest in these. She thought it would be much more entertaining to go exploring. “I want to see all of the boat,” she said.
So while most of my time was spent taking care of our baby, my husband spent his days running after her. We could have her in our sight one minute, and the next, she would disappear. She wanted to explore the whole ship. Our biggest fear was that she might fall overboard so we insisted she wear a lifejacket nearly all the time, even though she rebelled against it. It was not a restful voyage for any of us except Tom, who found it easy to sleep well with the swaying of the boat as it rolled over the waves.
As we neared the end of our journey, we noticed that Susan had become very listless and didn’t want to eat. I said to my husband, “Have you noticed the dark circles under her eyes?” We felt so powerless to help her. She was miserable—and so were we. It was the longest three weeks of our lives.
None of us suffered from seasickness, which was a blessing. I’m sure this was because the ocean was mostly tranquil until we neared Cape Town. As we approached the rocky coastline, the sea grew more turbulent. We were all so thrilled to know we were nearing our destination that I don’t think we would have complained, had we been sick.
How thrilling it was to wake up one morning and see the gorgeous view of Table Mountain hovering over the city of Cape Town, which beckoned to us as we drew nearer and nearer. And what a relief to put our feet on solid ground again, and to realize we had survived our voyage. The only one who was not thrilled to disembark was Tom, who cried at night for a couple of weeks, not understanding why the rocking of the ship, which had lulled him to sleep every night, suddenly stopped.

Publication Date: 11-15-2009

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