Walkerville Collegiate Institute - Blue and White Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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BLUE AND WHITE blacks who yell excitedly at us and about us, while we understand not a word. Ah! There are the shops—only fifteen yards away. Such tiny, crowded shops! Of course they are open for us, though it is the dead of night. We have explored some half dozen of them, but they are all the same, boasting little more than silks of various kinds, cigarette cases and ivory. We have passed dozens of seeming¬ ly homeless men, asleep on doorways and on porches or with their native beds stretched right across the footpath. Most of them have tired, careworn faces and all are dressed in rags of in¬ conceivable filth. The streets literally reek with vileness. Even the jetty seems a safer place than this. The streets are lit with blue mercury lamps, turning them into paths of pale, imitation moonlight. Weird and ghostly as they are, these lamps seem to fit into the atmosphere of silver and shadow and—silence. Here is the jetty at last, we have to content ourselves with a small swaying rowboat, yet how welcome it is. Now we have started to move, and the natives are chanting a low monotonous melody. The song is of an interminable length and though in a foreign language, we can understand the spirit of it. Some verses excite them av.d they row fur¬ iously, rising from their benches; but always they sink back to the sad, dull chant. We have glided up to our floating home again and are being helped out by a white officer! Strange that this mass of lights and activity is so comforting. The night is almost gone, and I am back at my silent vigil, watching the crew as they bargain for silk and ivory; but even this must end for it is six o’¬ clock, the ship gives a loud impatient whistle and we move away. Far away in the distance the sun is rising on the desolation of Aden. Her streets are once again deserted, as if some mighty army had descended on the unwary town, scattering or carrying off poor, worthless ones asleep on the door- the inhabitants, and leaving only the steps. So ends this strange Arabian night. “Tales From The Tuner” By Phyllis Wright, 13A My piano tuner was here yesterday and told me of being called to tune a grand piano for some woman. As he opened the top he found in it a lot of fine white powder. He asked her what it was. She told him that she knew resin was good for violin strings, so she bought a cake of it which she frequent¬ ly rubbed on the piano strings. Another woman showed him rust on the piano strings where they are wound around the pins. He said he could and should remove it; but she thought his price too high. A month later she sent for him again. He examined the piano and found she had soaked all the pegs with oil which, of course, went down in¬ to the wood and completely ruined the piano. She had indeed saved the ten dol¬ lars which he would have charged to have the piano properly cleaned. Still another woman telephoned him to re¬ proach him for his poor workmanship. He went out to find two keys stuck to¬ gether. As he was taking out the act¬ ion, he enjoyed the tirade in ff which the woman kept up. He lifted out the offend¬ ing member and out dropped a five cent piece—at which time mother stopped her harangue and little Johnnie, aged seven years, left the room very sudden¬ ly. Jtt fHrttumam W.C.I. wishes to express its deep regret at the untimely death of ANDY FORSYTH a popular former student who was killed in an automobile accident while training in Canada’s army. Page Twenty one ■

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BLUE AND WHITE water streets. It is very picturesque, and it is quite a wonderful sight to see the ladies doing their shopping at the market place, coming and going in their gondolas. A church built in 1789 has an Italian mosaic floor laid in designs and each year the tides rise and flood the floors of all the buildings, but this floor¬ ing is still intact, but as you walk on it, it is like a washboard. There are thousands of pigeons in Venice and they are so tame they sit on your hands and eat corn which is sold by the old women to the tourists. Venice is a great glass manufacturing centre, and it is very interesting to see them blowing glass and making glass flowers. Next we went to Rome, which is a very beautiful city. Almost all of the buildings are of white marble, and since Mussolini has been in power great im¬ provements have been made. He has built a wonderful school for boys, called the Mussolini Forum. They teach every¬ thing, including music, and it only costs $80.00 a year (in our money) to attend. If a person cannot afford to pay, he is admitted just the same. They have a firing range nearly a quarter of a mile long, built in a semi-circle, and each morning every boy from six to sixteen is compelled to practice shooting for an hour. We then went to Naples, and a beau¬ tiful sight with the blue waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea and Mount Vesuvius looming up four thousand feet into the sky met our eyes. The tram runs up the mountain and at the summit you get off and descend into the crater. A guide assists you to walk across the lava which is very hard and slippery, and has wide cracks with the smoke curling through. As you reach the centre of the crater the sulphur nearly chokes you, and you can hear the seething of the molten lava which sends up a con¬ tinual roll of smoke. The parks are very beautiful with their palm trees and white marble stat¬ ues arranged in groups around fountains and flowers. We regretted having to leave such a heavenly spot, but the Rex was sailing for New York, so we came to the end of our journey; but still we have our happy memories. On Board S.S. Ormonde Aden, Arabia, June 15, 1938 By Louise Amerding Everything is still. The boat is glid¬ ing along silently, swiftly, like a livng, half-waking thing. The night breeze is warm, yet half mild and free, blowing in my face. Just below me two large awnings have been put up, reminding me of Saladin’s tents, crouched like sleeping birds on the desert sand. At the very front of the boat the crew are sit¬ ting, amidst a veritable forest of tall white funnels with their huge gaping mouths. Near them a sentinel is pacing back and forth, his white suit a vivid contrast with the blackness. The shadows have dispersed a little, and a large distant hulk has become a rocky island, its outlines sharp against a blue-grey sky. It is very high in one part, and then it narrows down into somewhat of a cavern out of which a light is shining; then a smaller piece rises against the sky. Beyond the island there is a nest of lights, like a Scotch farmhouse on a winter night. It is almost one o’clock and the boat has almost ceased to move. A speedboat is coming towards us, but apart from the sound of that, the only sound is an occasional laugh or a scrap of convers¬ ation to break the spel . . . .ADEN. Phantom ships lie all around us, their tiny lights piercing the darkness. One of these, manned by black men, has just come alongside to take some of us to land. It is a queer little boat, like a cov¬ ered wagon, bobbng up and down, wait¬ ing to receive the favoured eight who are to go ashore first. The journey lasts only five minutes, and then we are helped ashore by dirty bla us, Ah yar the dea hal san var ly anc str Mo fac coi ree thi me of gh fit sh coi ro’ ha ar TI an ca ve io al ch he a of be cr bi cl w ri st sc Page Twenty

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BLUE AND WHITE On Coming To Canada By Betty Ramsay, XI-F It was in the middle of July, 1940 that a telegram arrived at my home informing me that a boat to Canada would be sailing the following Wednesday. I was at school at the time, but on arriving home my little cousin who was to travel with me, excitedly told me the news. This is what I had been waiting for! It was the end of about six weeks of activity and suspense. Now that the time had come, did I want to leave my home and friends? I don’t think I shall ever be able to answer that quest¬ ion. My mind was in a whirl, so that I had no time to analyze my feelings and for this I was truly thankful. The rest of the week flew by. It was mostly spent in saying ‘Goodbye” to friends and relations, and in last minute packing. Naturally the day and time of sailing and the name of the boat were known to us, but we had strict instruct¬ ions to tell no one. I am afraid that I experienced an unholy joy at being able to tell my head mistress that I was not allowed to answer her question, when she asked me which boat I was sailing on! The day of sailing came at last, and my mother, my cousin, my friend and I went down to the Liverpool landing stage to embark. After much pushing and jostling, we got on board, found our berths, and said Goodbye to my mother. We left the landing stage that night but it was not until 10.30 on Sunday evening that we set sail for Canada. I will never forget my last glimpse of Liv¬ erpool. It was not yet dark and as we sailed down the Mersey, we could see Birkenhead and Liverpool clearly. The Liver birds, on the Liver Building, stood out against the sky. As I looked then they seemed to be bravely defying any German raiders to destroy them; they seemed to symbolize the feeling of the English people. Although Liverpool has been bombed since we left. I still pict¬ ure the Liver birds and the people of Liverpool daring their enemies to do their worst for they can take it. The next day, we left land behind us, and after that saw nothing but grey sea and skv . The passage was smooth, entirely without any excitement and we quite forgot about the possibilities of submarines. The route which we took was much to the north of the usual North Atlantic crossing, and so the voy¬ age took several days longer. We were beginning to long to set our feet on dry land again, when to our great disgust a thick fog enveloped us. It was like being wrapped in a white blanket. The sea was as smooth as glass, and the fog horn sounded like a ghostly whisper from another world. For a day and a night we scarcely moved, and we hoped to see a green field. We were moving slowly along in the af¬ ternoon when the fog began to lift. Never will I forget the sight which was unfolded before my eyes. I could imag¬ ine how Cartier and his crew must have felt when they saw the same land hun¬ dreds of years before. A new world! It was that to them, and it was that to me! I did not know’ what Canada was going to be like. What did I expect of it? I think everyone going to a new land ex¬ periences the same feelings as I did, as I stood on the deck and looked at Can¬ ada. I expected Canada to have all the good points of the Old World, and all that I had wished for in a New World. Yes, I expected to find my Utopia in that new country on the horizon. You may ask, was I disappointed I did not find my Utopia, but I did find a country where I could be happy! If I had found my Utopia I doubt if I would have been happy. All that I can say about the greatest adventure of my life is that I intend to make the best use of my privilege. It has been seen fit that I should be allow¬ ed to continue my life in a peaceful country; I intend to return to England, carrying with me what I have learned here, to help build a better world. I shall not be able to do a great deal, but what I can I will, so that no more child¬ ren will have to leave their homes to travel over 3,000 miles, or to have to live in constant terror of bombing. Together with all the other English girls and boys, I am glad to be here, and thank everyone for being so kind to us. I could not feel any more at home here than I do. page Twenty-two