Mike Knight, a former sales executive, radio station manager and DJ_is now a civil servant living in Luxembourg. He is sharing his magical memories of Awali School with a series of articles in GulfWeekly about life in the Bahrain of yesteryears. Right, Mike then and now MIGRANTS had come to Bahrain through the war years, lost friends, made friends, they had lived through an era that I am sure none of them ever wanted to repeat, and were now tackling life head-on to improve their predicament in any way they could.
It was with this background that my father left his job as a fireman in Manchester's cold and foggy climate, to take up employment on the hot and humid island of Bahrain.
My uncle was the person responsible for dad's career change.
Uncle Stan had been a very early Bapco employee; back in the pre-Muharraq airport days, when flying out involved a trip of, I believe, three or four days, in a Sunderland flying boat.
By the time my father made the trip to Bahrain, the journey was down to a couple of days in an Argonaut, and Muharraq was in use.
Dad's first contract called for bachelor status - which meant that back in 1951, he had to leave my mother and me behind. It was not until around 1952 that dad was granted a family contract, and we were able to join him.
Back in the early 50s - Awali was still being built - all the houses looked pristine and new, and almost none of them had any kind of garden.
The Awali "village" was very American in style, right down to the white picket fences, and all the electrical supply was 110volt - the furniture, fixtures and fittings all continued the American feel.
Arriving from the greyness of the UK, which still had rationing for some items at the time we left, into the heat of Bahrain, was a heck of a change - not the least being the fact that we moved into a house that had to be cooled rather than heated.
However, one thing compared with Manchester was a little similar, but for different reasons. It is often joked that it always rains in Manchester - so you often get wet.
The difference between getting wet in Manchester and wet Bahrain is that in Manchester, it pours on you, and in Bahrain, it pours from you!
Awali was like one huge holiday camp. As kids, we were completely free to roam around inside the gated community - a freedom which we all enjoyed immensely.
My early years were spent discovering every nook and corner of the camp, watching the new houses being built - sitting with the Bahraini workers at "Accle" time, and always being offered food and drink, usually incredibly sweet "chi" tea.
I remember trying to drink the rather saline water out of the regular water taps - and therefore discovering why every house in Awali had a special "sweetwater" tap for drinking water.
There were new bugs and caterpillars to be discovered - desert rats that looked like mini kangaroos - and lizards by the tonne.
My father once found me trying to make two of my latest "discoveries" have a fight ... I had given them a stadium to fight in - an old biscuit tin - and I was prodding them to induce a more gladiatorial attitude.
Good job he stopped me before either of them actually got aggressive - as one of them was a scorpion, the other a huge spider of unknown type. Continues next week
