a real story of my family's journey from Maymyo to London

Japanese War Propaganda

rangooncalling — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:31:45 +0000

Some interesting Japanese war propaganda flyers that were dropped on the Burmese at the time. These images are taken from the Burma Star Association website.

I find this last one rather amusing.

War Time In Burma

rangooncalling — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 15:48:34 +0000

The war in Burma began in January 1942. The Japanese invaded by crossing the river Salween after having already fought their way through China, Hong Kong and the Philippines. Rennie joined the British Navy and left Rangoon to board the ship he was assigned to. Meanwhile, my grandmother, her sisters and her father were all caught by the Japanese and transported to a internment camp in Northern Burma. Because of Andrew Francis’ business and close relationships with the British, he and his family were a particular target and their house was ransacked by Japanese soldiers.

My grandmother and great auntie’s tales of the life within the internment camp are sparse but interesting. I know that they were all very ill with stomach upsets. I know that many of the women in the camp were raped and beaten by Japanese soldiers and some of them even gave birth whilst in the camp to the resulting offspring. I also know that some of the women struck up fully consensual relationships with the camp guards, and Burma has always been a melting pot of different cultures and social groups. I also found out that whilst they were in the camp, the man who would turn out to be Edna’s future husband was also being held. His name was Charles Duroiselle.

Rangoon University

rangooncalling — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 12:20:54 +0000

My grandmother was the only one of her family to go on to university. She attended Rangoon University, which was established in 1878 as an outpost of the University of Calcutta. The university has always been a center for Burmese Nationalists and some of it’s alumni include some well known figures in Burma’s history such as Aung San, Ne Win and U Thant. By 1937, when my grandmother arrived, there had been anti-colonialist strikes and protests at the university.

I have found an interesting article on Rangoon University on wikipedia here, if you’re interested: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/University_of_Yangon

Whilst she was at university, her brother Rennie joined a British accountancy firm as an article clerk and began his training to become a chartered accountant, however it wasn’t long before he was whisked away in the Navy in order to help the war effort.

Brightlands

rangooncalling — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 12:09:31 +0000

I’m meant to be working but, sod it, I’ve hit a wall. Being self-employed, sometimes I find it incredibly hard to motivate myself and at the moment I’m still a little distracted by the shoebox. Anyway, let’s carry on from where I left off…

My grandmother and her brother and sisters grew up in a house called Brightlands in Insein, a borough within Rangoon. Annie had died and so a fleet of servants and maids looked after the children, mainly Burmese residents from Indian backgrounds who spoke Hindi. They would fuss and coo over the four of them as if they were their own and taught my grandmother to speak Hindi too. My great aunties would share fond memories of being taken to school in chauffeur driven cars and having all of their meals prepared for them by the servants. This might explain why my granny was such a terrible cook. The girls were also given a narrow gold bangle for every birthday up until the age of 21. My grandmother had tiny thin wrists, which was handy, otherwise she would never have taken these bangles off. That said, when she died she still had all 21 of them on, so she rarely removed them. Sadly, my mother has only retained 3 or 4 of these bangles but to me they’re of great sentimental value.

My great grandfather, Andrew, was very protective of the children, in particular the girls, and I remember my granny telling me about how he refused to let them swim in Hwlaga Lake as he was scared they’d drown. As a result my grandmother never learnt to swim but was always very taken with the English seaside when she came to the UK, must have been the novelty factor.

You can see a photo of my grandmother in her school days in the post below, taken whilst she was attending a girls convent school in Rangoon. Apparently it was run by the Daughters of the Cross, a religious order that also run several Catholic girls schools in the UK. She, Edna and Anne all attended that school whilst Rennie was sent to an all-boys British run boarding school in India. Rennie was an excellent cricketer and whilst at school was asked to join the Indian national team. However, as in those days Cricket was not a ‘professional’ sport and Andrew had high academic hopes for Rennie, my great grandfather didn’t allow Rennie to take up the offer.

The Francis Family

rangooncalling — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 18:27:41 +0000

After Rennie’s birth in 1917 followed my grandmother, two years later, in 1919. They named her Estelle and almost exactly two years after her arrival came the last sibling, a girl, in 1921. Because she was the littlest one they all called her Babe.

During the last birth, Annie died due to complications. Andrew was devastated and called the youngest girl Anne in her memory. It is a shame, but I must admit that I know very little else about Annie Luckett. I can find no photographs of her and all of her belongings were lost when the family were forced from their homes during the war.

There is one thing of hers that I do have though, and that is the engagement ring that Andrew gave her. It was a gold claw-set diamond solitaire set with a yellow diamond mined in Burma. In those days they hand-cut the stones and it is beautifully wonky and mis-shapen, however it has a lovely sparkle. The ring in it’s original form was miniscule, Annie obviously had very delicate hands. My mother gave the ring to me this year as a gift, and I wear it all the time now that I have had it re-set.

My grandmother with her school friends…

Here are my two great aunties with a family friend, Noel and his fantastic hat.

Noel, pictured here, was a close family friend. He came from a mixed Anglo-Burmese family who were based in Maymyo. This picture was taken after my family moved from Rangoon to Maymyo. As you will see below, Noel was a sweet looking boy, but he always had a penchant for hats…

Noel as a kid

Noel, here with my grandmother & friends, sporting his hat again.

I can only assume that there was a lack of milliners in Burma at the time.

It’s A Miracle That This Survived…

rangooncalling — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 18:02:53 +0000

My great grandfather’s passport. I found this in the shoebox.

Pause For Thought

rangooncalling — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 17:26:25 +0000

I had to take a little break from the blog for a couple of days. My mum gave me a shoebox filled with old letters and photos from our family’s days in Burma. Reading through it all made me feel quite sad, it gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I suppose you’ll see why as I keep on posting. I’m going to post some photos tonight that help put some context to the story. I hope you enjoy them.

Annie

rangooncalling — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 09:01:25 +0000

Andrew worked for many years for a family based in Rangoon. I don’t know how, but he managed to leave employment as a servant and set up his own business. He was an English speaker, with an English name, and this probably helped. It took him some years to build up cash reserves and contacts but he was doing reasonable well for himself. In that time he met and married a local girl by the name of Annie Luckett. Annie was mixed race – her mother was Burmese and her father was an English Sea Captain. 1910 saw the arrival of their first baby, a girl named Edna. Shortly after this, the Austin Morris car company was formed and this was to turn out to be a very important development for the family. Back in the UK, Austin Morris’ first factory opened in 1913 in Cowley, near Oxford. They began production of two models, eventually expanding to production of 4 or 5 by 1915. Being the days of the Raj, there was huge demand for cars in Burma too – all the Brits wanted what their friends had in England, and so Andrew managed to obtain one of the only licenses in Burma to sell Austin Morris cars to expats. By 1917, Andrew had his own car showroom in an upmarket part of Rangoon. The year also saw the birth of he and Annie’s second child, Rennie.

Ooty?!

rangooncalling — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 15:20:59 +0000

My great grandfather’s name was Andrew Donald Francis. It was an unusual name for an Indian lad, I think you’ll agree, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. Andrew was an orphan at a childrens’ home in ‘Ooty’ run by christian missionaries. Many of them were from the UK and they often gave the children in their care traditional British names. Ooty is the nickname for Ottacamund, situated in Tamil Nadu in India. In those days (late 1800s) Ooty was a popular spot for Brits. It had been surrendered to them in the 1700s and much of the land occupying the area was bought up by John Sullivan, a British Governor, around the year 1900. The town was developed heavily by wealthy Brits enjoying the Days of the Raj and railways constructed using venture capital from the Madras Presidency, who holidayed in Ooty during the summers. Many missionaries saw the opportunity to set up orphanages that fed children into ‘mission schools’ where they would be educated in English and introduced to Christianity. Andrew Francis was one of those orphans and he remained in Ooty until his early teens, when he went to live with a wealthy family in Burma as one of their house servants.

So this is me…

rangooncalling — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 22:28:39 +0000

…and this is my first blog.

I’m a 26 year old London girl with a Burmese mother and a white father. I had a privileged upbringing, unlike my parents. Privately schooled, living in a spacious house in a leafy London surburb, I had no idea how lucky I was until my grandmother, great aunt and great uncle died when I was 14. I realised that I had missed the opportunity to ask them so much more about Burma and their lives than I already knew. Their pride and tenacity shame me now into realising how much more there is to life than my little London bubble.

By writing this blog I hope to:

a) get down everything about my family’s very sad, insightful and bizarre family history before my mother becomes too old to tell me any more

b) discover more than she could tell me by attracting people who can help me add to the puzzle i’m putting together

c) do my late grandmother, great aunt and great uncle proud by sharing their incredible story

and d) get my head straight before I make my first trip to Burma (Myanmar) next year to see where it all began.

I hope you enjoy their story.