Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
I WAS born in Bahrain in 1959. My brother Peter was also born in Bahrain in 1954.
My parents are Frank and Irene Nash, and my father worked for Bapco for 35 years.
I attended Awali School from 1965-1970, when I left for boarding school in the UK – like most others at the age of 11.
I don’t have much recollection of my brother’s time at Awali School as he left there the same year I joined.
My most abiding memories are of the different personalities of the teachers – the most influential for me was Miss Anne Evans, a talented educator who had very high standards for everyone. She was not averse to hitting us on the back of the leg with a ruler, but she was utterly determined and unequivocal about her methods, and I’m sure she drew the best out of me and many others.
My other favourite teacher was John Clingley who instilled in me a deep respect for literature. He had his detractors, and was possessed of a pretty fierce temper, but he was a charismatic teacher and again, he got results.
We all shared a great respect for the headmaster, Bill Thompson, who also taught us geometry, and cut an elegant, dashing figure with his bow ties and wavy silver hair. He maintained a high standard in his school – Awali School alumni were always complimented on the quality of their scholarship, spelling and numeracy, and for their strong work ethic which was instilled in them from infant school level.
I seem to remember we were arranged at our wooden desks around the classroom in alphabetical order, and there was of course a traditional blackboard, chalk and duster. Prefects would announce the change of lessons by ringing a hand bell around the school.
The school magazine was called the Oasis and has now achieved cult status among ex-Awali kids! It would print anything, even barely intelligible infants’ contributions in the interests of celebrating everyone’s efforts equally. I don’t remember any elitism among Awali schoolchildren - and certainly no racial or social class consciousness. I feel lucky to have had that ‘classlessness’ as the norm for my childhood.
I remember Thursday lunchtimes which were the start of the ‘weekend’. My father would usually meet me after he finished work in the car next to the school buses, in a haze of sandy dust as kids scrambled to get on. I would listen to the BBC World Service on Thursday afternoons after school - contact with ‘home’ such as this was very important to my parents, even though they loved the expatriate life.
The playground (like at any school) could be a tough place for those who didn’t easily muck in, but there was constant surveillance by teachers who took no prisoners.
I remember playing cats’ cradle, and French skipping (or English Twist) – which was like cats’ cradle but with the whole body instead of the fingers, and was extremely athletic – I was more than happy just to watch the competitive skills of the sporty girls.
None of us had sun cream on out there – and I’m sure I didn’t drink nearly enough water, although the drinking fountains were nice and cold. Swimming was on the agenda for everyone, and was seriously promoted by parents and staff alike. Galas were exceptionally well organised, and this was one area where the competitive spirit was alive and kicking.
We would go down to Awali Hall – the community hall next to Awali Church – for morning assembly, marching in to the cool dark space to the strains of hymns on the piano – and then out again, squinting, and back up the hill to school.
The library was modest, but a lovely restful place to be – I was proud to be a librarian in my last year. I think we must have all gone home for lunch – there was no facility at school anyway. I went home and back on the bus – four return trips every day except Thursday from Lower to Upper Camp.
There was no air-conditioning on the buses, and at times it was so humid and hot in there that I would be absolutely desperate to get to the ‘sweet water’ tap at home!
I am now a mother to Charlotte. I live in Warrington, England, near to my parents who also have fond memories of Awali School and are very gratified that it was such a safe, happy place for their children to learn and grow up in.
