Saluting parents, teachers who taught me morals, values

MANY of my letters to the press and even in my book make great reference to my parents and my teachers, especially at primary level.

Parents, especially my dad, as formally semi-literate as he was, taught me basic hygiene and often watched over me to make certain that I was definitely washing my hands thoroughly after visiting the toilet, touching the dirt bin, and definitely before touching any food.

He pursued this until it became ingrained in me and my brothers.

Alcohol and cigarettes were downright taboo – and not for any religious reasons. Dad never used religious dogma to teach us any moral lesson.

Charity and honesty were to be practised for their own abstract reward, not to go to any heavenly abode.

My mother, in turn, completely illiterate, taught me some Memon (my home dialect), Urdu, Hindi and even Marathi, swear words and funny limericks, proverbs and even some idiomatic expressions bordering on the vulgar.

But she made certain that I was always safe from any form of danger, keeping a very close eye on me.

The third vital component, besides my experience from my elder brother, were my primary school teachers, many of whom went the extra mile to teach us not just academic stuff but also real-life skills.

Mr Chetty travelled all the way from Tongaat to teach us in Standard 3 at Anjuman Islam school in Leopold Street.

He always reserved the last five minutes of the last lesson for some introspection.

“Think of the poor people who don’t have the things that you have. No parents, no food, no shelter, no school … and pray for them. Do the best with what you have!”

I therefore consider myself to be the luckiest child born …

EBRAHIM ESSA | Durban