1929: New Motherhood in Ooty

In 1929, expat Gladys sent this sweet note on motherhood from Ooty, South India to her mother in Walla Walla, Washington.

Baby in a teddy bear suit.
Photo by Brytny.com on Unsplash

Today, I (Laurie) in 2020 had the delight of Skyping with my daughter and grand-babies. In this modern age of motherhood and grandmotherhood, I can see them instantly. I can even capture video or screenshots of them while we video-chat! My oldest granddaughter, 2 1/2 years old, is so accustomed to this she is mystified when we have a regular phone call. “Grandmama? Grandmama? I can’t see you!”

But nearly a century ago, news from Gladys to her mother about her babies took ages to arrive. Letters and photos traveled via very long, slow steamships from India to America.

She and her husband Ken, a forestry expert from Seattle, were living at Ootacamund Hill Station among British officers (and occasional royalty) during the British Raj era.

Gladys, who loved to write, used sweet prose to describe her newborn:

Braemar, Ootacamund Hill Station

7 May, 1929

Dear Mother and Dad,

I’ve just tucked Pamela, now seven weeks old, in her little bed. She is a fascinating little miss. The last I saw, she had both little hands flying back and forth and she was agoo-ing for all she was worth. Not a whimper when I left and the light went off. Her little bed is alongside ours so I know what she is doing. 

She is getting so plump — little dimples in her elbows and back and one below her little mouth at one corner. The other day, three children came to see her and she cooed and “talked” to them in the cunningest way I’ve ever seen. Babies seem to speak to other children in a language we do not understand.

Pamela as yet refuses to let us know what color her hair is, and whether it is to be straight or curly. Her first hair was brown and decidedly straight. Now her little head is covered with a fine down that at times looks yellow and at other times brown with auburn lights.

She has very keen eyes. When she awakens they just shine and she reminds me of a little bird. Her mouth is an adorable rosebud and she is just finding her tongue and loves making gurgling noises, and then looks so surprised and delighted. She is now placing the direction from which sounds come, like approaching footsteps. Most gratifying of all, she knows me.

The monsoon has come early. We have heavy rain every afternoon and evening. Tonight it simply pelted down. There was some hail in it. 

There are beautiful walks out from Braemar. Now the rain has settled the dust, it is nicer than ever. Sunday home mail brought by the last ship was a tremendous success: I got 11 letters. I scarcely know where to begin answering them.

I am knitting a pull-on teddy bear suit for baby for travel. Pamela sends a kiss to each of her grandparents, and says tell you she will be coming home to you soon for home leave. I also send love and much of it.

Your daughter, Gladys

From Laurie: Isn’t it funny that teddy bear outfits are still considered cute on babies? My own grand-babies have a few sweater hoods with bear ears!

One Less Crocodile

This 1926 jungle story is from the diary of Gladys Gose Pearce, a Seattle woman who lived with spouse Ken in India during the British Raj era.

Photo by Robert Zunikoff

October, 1926

Kerala, SW India

Dear Diary,

Not long after we arrived, while on our honeymoon, Ken and I were told that in a nearby temple pool was a mugger crocodile the villagers hoped we would shoot.

Early one morning we were led to the pool, where we hid in the high bank above.

There was no sign of the crocodile at that quiet scene; indeed it was hard to believe one existed. A man came to bathe and pray. He waded out into water waist deep, and when he finished his ceremonies he cupped some water in his hand to drink. Then women came to wash their clothing. They pounded their wet garments on a flat stone, dipped them repeatedly in the pool then spread their clean garments on bushes to dry. Others came to bathe their children.

As the sun grew higher in the sky, our shade diminished and our own clothes grew sticky with perspiration. The ants found us – black ants, red ones, little and big, crawling toward us and biting us if we failed to detect their advance.

At last our vigil was rewarded. A long snout and two bulging eyes rose slowly to the surface. Ken motioned me to shoot. I shook my head. He took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The waters of the pool were threshed to a froth, and then as they subsided we saw they were stained red with the blood of the mugger.

To read more fun stories, click HERE or the Jungle Diaries tab!

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ALSO, feel free to comment with any questions or thoughts these posts provoke, and I’ll try to respond. I’d love to hear your thoughts! Let me know what country you are from, and if you also have a blog.

Laurie

[Excerpt from Tigers, White Gloves and Cradles, coming soon. Copyright 2020, Laurie Winslow Sargent]

This post is from a collection of diary entrees and letters written in the 1920s by Gladys Gose Pearce, an American expat. Her husband J. Kenneth Pearce (Ken), a logging engineer from Seattle WA, worked in British Raj India for ten years. After a jungle honeymoon touring elephant lumber camps, the couple lived in Ooty, Madras, and the Andaman Islands.