Newsletter for alumni of The Abbey School, Mt. St. Benedict, Trinidad and Tobago, W.I.
Caracas, 26 November 2011 No.525
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Dear Friends,
What can I say??
He must have had an enviable childhood, back there in Holland. He must have amused himself continually, with his continuously inquisitive mind, his indomitable spirit, and his sense of fun. I can just imagine him at the head of a crowd of his boyhood friends, leading them on to some new adventure, some new experiment which he had concocted in his busy mind.
Fr. Benedict, “Voosh” to us Old Boys of the Abbey School at Mt. St. Benedict, arrived at the Mount as a young cleric sometime between 1948-49, according to Trevor Evelyn’s recollections. He did not take long to make his mark, and every boy whose fortune it was to have met the man, can fondly recall the exuberance, the joy of life, the fun, the excitement which he exuded as he described in detail the latest adventure or experiment upon which he had embarked. Seemingly, everything he did seemed to end with an explosion, a high point somewhere along the line, which ha punctuated with an expression of delight – “Vooooosh” – and that’s how he got his nickname.
I first met this happy wannabe scientist when he presented us, sometime in 1956, with a beautiful model of a speedboat, about 2’ long, which he had rigged with remote controls, to be operated from the upper windows of the Monastery on the hill above our swimming pool, which might have been a half-mile downhill from his bedroom. He asked us to simply take the boat down to the pool and deposit it in the water, whereupon he, with the aid of a telescope and his remote controls, would attempt to operate the motor from the safety of his mountaintop home. So said, so done. The boat worked magnificently, and was duly returned to him for storage among his memories.
Voosh also appointed himself as the School Photographer, and probably every Old Boy of the Abbey School still retains, among his souvenirs, the Class Photograph of his buddies and classmates, most of which were taken by the Great Man himself.
We loved Fr. Benedict and his hair-brained schemes, and the world will be a little sadder today, at the news of his passing last night, January 1, 2009 at 6.30 p.m.
The stories abound, where he was the star actor, extending the bounds of human effort, inspiring us boys to “try something new”, giving of himself, and I guess, enjoying our company and loving us into the bargain.
I recall the fact that he would never take a swim in the clean, chlorinated pool. “There’s no life in it. There’s no oxygen,” he’d say. The pool was growing moss. Long, thick, green strands of it covered all the walls. The water too, was green. We were in a drought, as so often we were. In fact, I remember that someone would drive a car from St. Augustine with large bottles of water for us to perform our nightly ablutions, down in the front of the School, spitting out the tooth-paste over the bougainvillea hedge, which grew against the side of our school, at the top of a steep cliff. (There is only one way to carry a toothbrush – you pinch the tiny hole, which USED to exist on toothbrushes of old, between your incisors – it’ll never fall out). Anyway, the pool was a ghastly green. And no one was swimming in it. We’d hang out on the bleachers, but never get near to the pool. And then there was Voosh. But on one occasion at least, I recall, when the chlorination system had shut down for an extended time and we sat glumly on the bleachers looking at the dark green, clearly stagnant water with long green filamentous algae protruding from the walls, he came down, put on his bathing trunks and dived in.
Arriving at the pool with bathing suit and towel in hand, he declared upon the healthiness of the water, how the algae were creating a wonderful, natural oxygenated environment, the PERFECT time to go for a swim. “Come on, boys, it’s good for you.” We watched in amazement as this crazy man (maybe there were no swimming pools in Holland????) dived in and emerged smiling, covered with green stuff. “This is marvelous”, “Come on in, boys. This is healthy for you. Lots of oxygen he said, as he sniffed all the free oxygen he could possibly desire. What a character!
Voosh decided to test his flotation apparatus, as the story goes. He once, supposedly, spread a net (an old seine he’d got from a fisherman, probably) over the edges of the pool, supported from sinking by a number of rum bottles tied randomly throughout the net. The idea was to see whether the floating net could support his weight! Climbing to the top of the diving board, he jumped, floated for an instant in space, and then crashed into the net… which promptly sank, enveloping him in its clutches at the bottom of the pool. I’m told that he had to be extricated, through the quick thinking of some of the boys, who rushed to his rescue and brought him up to the surface. At least, that’s how I heard the story.
It didn’t.
It took the combined effort of a lot of us boys to fish him out of the water, net an all, as he spluttered and gasped for breath. Another great idea which failed.
Voosh invented a window that would automatically close when rain threatened. It operated on the simple principle that toilet paper bursts apart when it is wet. Voosh attached his window to a spring, a hanging weight and a strip of toilet paper. Of course, with all the windows that existed at the Abbey, it could have been a great idea during rainy season. Unfortunately, however, he had set up the working model in the room directly above Fr. Abbot’s room. Well, wouldn’t you know it. The rain fell, the toilet paper grew moist, got wet and soggy, and burst. The hanging weight, released by the torn toilet paper, fell by its own weight, causing the window to slam shut, as Voosh had predicted. This released the weights, which went crashing through Fr. Abbot’s window below. Needless to say, Fr. Abbott was not a happy camper, and Voosh never patented his new wet-weather window, the original www.
I believe that we will all fondly remember the wonderful character who was Fr. Voosh. I would like to pay tribute to a fine priest, a good man who did his bit to keep us entertained during our time at the Mount, and who must have instilled into the minds of some of us a healthy respect for the study of science.
P.S. (I cannot vouch for the 100% accuracy of any of the stories given herein. I can only write what I can recall, and it is not my intention to upset or to hurt anyone’s feelings. If I have inadvertently done so, please accept my apology in advance. If I have rekindled old memories of our school days at Mt. St. Benedict, then praise be to God. I look forward to reading YOUR memories.)
Voosh owned a large Australian war boomerang. Heaven alone knows where he’d got it. But we would often ask him to show us how it worked, longing to see the magnificent spinning weapon circling the Mount as we would stand admiringly, watching to see who the lucky boy would be to catch it on it’s return swing over our heads.
He resisted our appeals for a long, long time. But eventually, I suppose, his curiosity got the better of him, and with great pride in his possession, he approached a group of us one Sunday morning, after Mass. “Now, listen, boys,” he intoned, “I’m going to let you throw the boomerang. But I want to make sure it comes back to us. So, I’m going to ask the strongest boy to throw it for me.” (And here my memory fails me – I’m not certain, but I believe it was Richard Galt who was the chosen thrower. Please forgive me if I’m wrong. Time dulls the memory somewhat. I shall assume it was Richard, anyway.)
“Come, Richard. Take the boomerang. Hold it like this (and he demonstrated the correct hold), and throw it hard overhead. If you do it correctly, it will whirl around the school and come right back to us at this very spot. Voooooosh.”
So said, so done.
And Richard drew back his arms and threw that sucker clear over the hedge, the mango trees, the houses of St. Augustine, and probably over San Fernando hill (which once was and is no more). And that was the last of the boomerang. It never returned to the Mount. It just flew and flew and flew and dropped into the trees and bushes, far beneath us, lost forevermore. .
“Ah well”, said Voosh, “I suppose we won’t see that again, eh boys?”
So if anyone passing through Bourg Mulatresse should see some kid trying to throw an Australian war boomerang, why don’t you pay him a few bucks and explain how it got there. And then, take it back to the Mount for us, and lay it on the grave of our dear Fr. Benedict. A boomerang is MEANT to return to its owner.
Voosh wanted to try his hand at a hot-air balloon. One Sunday, therefore, after the 1st Mt. St. Benedict Scouts had dutifully marched around the school-yard a million times, Mike Howard leading the pack, with bugles and side drums (and bass-drum as well, of course – I remember ‘cos I beat the hell out of it myself) played by Dennis Gurley, Richard Clark, Pepe Marino, Manuel Prada, John Golding, Maurice De Verteuil and I forget who else, Voosh appeared on the scene toting his latest contraption – a home-made (make that Monastery-made) hot-air paper parachute that he intended to launch. It was made of a 4’ x 4’ sheet of brown paper from the corners of which hung a little pan of pitch oil from 12” long wires. The paper parachute was suitably inscribed with, I think, a Mickey Mouse drawing and the words, “If anyone finds this hot-air craft, please return it to Fr. Benedict at Mt. St. Benedict”.
We watched with growing excitement as he had two boys hold the edges of the paper outstretched, and, drawing a match from underneath the folds of his white soutane, he lit the flammable material in the tin can. Surprisingly, the thing actually worked. The paper swelled with the rising hot air and slowly, ever so slowly, it began to rise from terra firma, then over our heads and, amazingly, it took off over our mango trees, the basketball court, the Mount itself, until it was just a blip on the radar screen, eventually disappearing from sight. Wow! But when a few days later, the flying paper bag was returned to Fr. Benedict by a U.S. soldier stationed at the Chaguaramas Base on the NW peninsula of Trinidad. Voosh had every reason to be proud of his achievement. It had flown some 30 miles, and was returned from Chaguaramas by a U.S. service man. Our respect for Voosh knew no bounds. He had dreamed the impossible dream, he had boldly gone where no man had gone before, and he had set an example for us youngsters, which, as you can see from these notes, was quite unforgettable
We graduated from the Abbey School and left Voosh to his tricks, to amuse and entertain yet another batch of wide-eyed youngsters. But the years eventually took their toll, and the old man slowly succumbed to the weight of his own mortality. A 2001 photograph shows him, still at the School, apparently demonstrating a microphone and speaker.
And finally, the end came. Or rather, as his faith would have it, his new life began. Freed from the infirmity of old age and the need to use his wheel-chair, the dear old man left us for the last time, VOOOOOOSH and went to live with his God.
May his soul rest in peace. May he enjoy his eternity in the presence of all theOld Boys who have gone before us, and in the presence of Almighty God.
POSTCRIPT:
The following email correspondence took place on January 2nd, between Jon Golding and Richard “Mousey” Farah, and I believe it amply demonstrates the fact that I wasn’t kidding with my stories of the good old priest:
From: jongolding
Sent: Fri Jan 02 19:01:47 2009
Subject: Memories of Fr. Benedict-Science Class
Nigel,
Please add this to your circular if you think it OK.
I believe these are among the last photos of him which I took on a recent visit to his sick room in the monastery. It is ironic he took so many pictures of the 'boys' and that the last ones of him should be from the 'boys'.
You might want to add this:
OUR MOST UNFORGETTABLE SCIENCE DEMO
1957 - Form 1 class - held in upstairs large study hall - Science class.
I used to sit next to 'Mousey' (Richard Farah) - about 3 months before his mango tree accident, which cost him his leg. A brave soul and another Mount hero!
Fr. Benedict was teaching us about gunpowder that day. To demonstrate, he made gunpowder in the class, a mix of Carbon, Potassium Nitrate and Sulfur.
Mousey and I quickly wrote down the proportions (which we later bought on a dentist trip to Port of Spain, and tried out in the bush near the reservoir. But we nearly killed Louis Lacour and my brother Geoff!!).
Our intrepid science teacher then produced a small cannon he had made from some lead piping, one end hammered flat, the other end a lethal open gun barrel anchored firmly onto a chunky mahogany2 by 4.
He positioned the weapon at the hall window aiming it at a mango tree a mile away on the hill across the valley. His intention was to see if he could hit a mango from this distance.
In went the gunpowder followed by a ramrod stick from Brother Joseph's woodwork shop to pack it tight. He then inserted a marble he had confiscated from one of the Venezuelans in an earlier class. (These guys sometimes used to roll a few marbles onto the floor before the monks came in to teach, hoping they'd 'buss their ass' on the floor! But so far no hits. Fr. Benedict knew the game and caught one red-handed the week before! Anyway he had his cannon ball for the demo and told us that is what he'd do with all the marbles he found on the floor!
Next step, he pulled out a length of Jetex fuse wire. We all held our breath realizing this experiment was getting reeeel serious!!! You could hear a pin drop. No other monk/ teacher had ever exhibited such macho bravado in a class that any of us had attended in the prison on the hill.
He ran the wire along the window sill and inserted the end into a hole in the pipe cannon near the flattened end. He drew a sketch on the blackboard to show us what was going to happen and asked us to write down the chemical equation: C + S + P + Ni = BANG!!
He then stepped back and pulled out a cigarette lighter (he'd borrowed it from Fr. Paul, the walking chimney!). We all began to talk loudly and nervously and duck under the desks. It was pandemonium!! I vividly remember that Mousey and I could not stop laughing - wide-eyed and in disbelief to relieve our anxiety.
"OK, boys, get down, here comes the countdown! Ten - nine - eight - seven.... we all chorused the countdown getting louder and louder. By this time everybody was ducking down below their desks --------------
" - two - one - ZERO!!!" -------------------
Dead Silence!
Nothing happened!
Actually it did!!
We looked up from under the desks and saw he'd just lit the Jetex fuse. I remember some of the guys sitting near the corridor were so scared they ran into the corridor. Others ducked down into the walkway between the desks and crawled to the back of the study hall. Mousey and I were in the second row from the front and we decided to stay put. We kept looking at the fuse hissing its way quickly towards the cannon and saw that our Voosh had moved behind the big desk at the front (where the teachers used to sit to supervise us during study time).
When the fuse sparks were climbing up to the cannon we ducked down for certain this time and did not have to wait too long:
!!!!----- BBBAAAANNNNGGGGGGGGG!!! --------!!!!
The cannon let out such a loud bang we could not believe it. Heads slowly began appearing above the desks and we saw a huge amount of smoke coming from the cannon window- an after effect of the explosion.
The next thing I heard was someone starting to clap until we all quickly joined in the rousing applause! Our new military hero – Fr. Benedict!!! We'd go into battle for him immediately, confident he knew how to blow away the enemy!!
Well the fun did not last long.
Next thing we knew was Fr. Bernard coming rushing down the corridor into the study hall his face as white as a sheet and eyes wide open searching the room madly - as if to find an assassin hiding under a desk. He did not notice Fr. Benedict at first since he and the big desk were camouflaged behind the smoke cloud.
Fr. Bernard shouted out in near panic: “What's going on here?"
We all sat frozen as we faced this unexpected after shock! Our dear headmaster had never looked so furious and lethal - as if to prepare himself for the battle that Fr. Benedict had signalled with his opening round of cannon fire.
The tension broke when Fr. Benedict, amazed at his resounding success (sorry about the pun), called out apologetically, "It's OK, Fr. Bernard, it was only an experiment!"
I cannot remember the rest of the dialogue but it was not pretty. Fr. Bernard laid into Fr. Benedict about how irresponsible it was not to inform him and the rest of the school first. We found out later that the bang was so loud that most of the other classes were cut short as they all ran out into the corridors to see what had happened.
Eventually, Fr. Bernard left in a huff and Fr. Benedict looked sheepishly at his terminated science lesson, ducking his head down a little with a mischievous grin, but receiving a round of supporting laughter and light applause from his newly initiated class. Yes, this was an initiation - into science - that every one of us present that day will never forget!
From that day on, we all listened intently to every word in his science classes and I believe we all got record marks, never to be repeated again. I am sure someone in our class will get a Nobel Prize for science one day!
For me, it was a true positive initiation into science which I approached fearlessly from then on - I eventually got A's all the way through 'A' levels and university and it is to Fr. Benedict I owe my motivation- gaining my BSc (Hons) in the UK eventually.
I know I am joined by all those in the 1957 science class, and beyond, in expressing our utmost affection and admiration for our unsung hero of science education who put more than his best efforts into making our classes interesting and memorable. To top it all, he never needed to get heavy with us for discipline and had a lovely charm and gentle smile - identifying with the 'boy' in all of us - in a way that only few of the other teachers could!
The pictures attached, which I was fortunate to take before he went to be with the Lord, say it all! Let us pray that one day we also will arrive and see him again at that Heavenly Place where he must be continuing his curious science experiments - since God most certainly would have rewarded him with the biggest science lab and endless gunpowder to shoot down the enemy of our souls.
May God rest our Fr. Benedict, a true Benedictine par excellence, and exemplar for us to emulate while we still have the time! Well done, Fr. Benedict and may the angels "Voooooosssssssh" you straight up into the Heavens like a cannon ball!
Your grateful and admiring student
Jon Golding (1955 - 1962)
On behalf of all the science class of 1957
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John,
I can remember that experiment vividly to this day. And I became a gunpowder freak from that day on to the eternal annoyance of our cascade neighbours at holiday time, as they had to endure bombs and rockets every week, as I used to buy the chemicals at Albert Phillips Pharmacy at the corner of Queen and Henry Streets. It’s amazing that priests like Fr. Benedict gave up their lives to pass on their knowledge gratis. May God rest his soul.
Richard.
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Another note from Roger de Meillac stated:
Hello Nigel,
Sorry to hear about Father Benedict , but I am sure that he is in a better place now. What I remember from him was his experiment with bugs. There was a particular insect that he said was only found in the hills a little black beetle with particular markings ( I don’t remember what it was) but he paid ten cents for each one we found when your pocket money was $.75 cents per week you searched diligently for these bugs. (Invariably the ones we found did not have the correct markings.)
Regards
Roger de Meillac
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These photos were originally included in the article but could not past direct.
Ladislao Kertesz at kertesz11@yahoo.com,
Photos:
Mount Inside 6407 page 12
64UN0001FBEANT, Fr. Benedict with the satellite antena.
01UN0503FBEMSB, With the microphone.
09KA2012FBE, Lowered in an unmarked grave.
