Long Mountain and Mr Subramanien

Today may prove to be one of the turning point days of my life.

I could have gone with the others to the beach or Chamarel in the south. Instead I had a really strong sense that I should be with my parents. So I went to Quatre Bourne with them. Mum was meeting an old friend from her teaching days. meanwhile dad, Marceline and I went to Queen Victoria hospital. I was born there and I had a vague idea I might bump into someone who knew the family name and they could be a contact. I think I'd like to work in Mauritius in a few years time when I retire.
The hospital is a bit of a cottage hospital by our standards. It's all on one floor, but there are surgical theatres, and an outpatient block. I took photos. There were cues of people at the gynae and cardiac clinics. Some of the buildings have been replaced but many are the same as they were 54 years ago.
It seems to have suffered from cut backs too, as the once well tended gardens are barely attended lawns. We didn't bump into anyone.
The family moved here because Granpere worked there. He was an 'Infermier', a sort of specialist nurse and did all sorts, including midwifery. After we went to see dad and Marcelines house. It had been knocked down of course. The surrounding fields of sugar cane were built over. The place had changed.
Later we went to Mountain Long, where Granpere had worked earlier. It is little more than a village, but it had a small hospital. Above the village is the imposing and stark edifice of Peitr Both, the second highest mountain in Mauritius. Long Mountain looks pretty basic, like you'd imagine a third world village high up in the mountain. It is isolated, now still with one road in. At least it is tarmacked.
The sugar cane fields are all around but there is also green countryside. There is a cool breeze, and a stream where my mother was taken to by my father when she first came to the island aged 23 years. Sounds romantic, and it was good to see them walking hand in hand to the stream, but it must have been terrifying too. This country would be a marvelous place to work sometime.
Earlier, after the hospital, we had tried to find our old house in Quatre Bourne again. Dad couldn't remember exactly where it was. The corner of Farquar and Ollier, he kept saying, but the streets are not named well and we got lost several times. We almost gave up.
Luckily mum has a friend who still lives near our old house, so we called. After a few more failed attempts we finally found her and she showed us the way.
In fact Phyllis is one of the reasons we moved to this location. I remembered that her son is a doctor, perhaps he can help me find a contact on the Island, to fix up a retirement elective. No luck, he is in England. Perhaps this pipe dream isn't to be, after all.
We found our old house. It was as we left it, structurally, but every thing else has changed. Before there were fields all around, no concrete fence and surrounding houses. Still it had kept it's originality and charm.
As I looked through the fence, my father opened the gate. From the house a stern looking man emerged. 'Excuse me, but I am Yves Benett. We built this house, would it be OK to have a quick look at it'.
The expression on the man's face changed instantly and was replaced by a broad smile. 'Of course' he grinned, barely containing himself. 'I remember you. You taught me at the Royal College' in his best Mauritian French. It turns out he was very young and dad had left soon after, but still he recognised the face and remembered the name. 'You have a very famous name at the Royal College' also bouncing with joy. 'Please. Come in and have a look if you wish'. So we did. Inevitably it was smaller than I remembered, but I did remember the lay out. This man, Mr Subramanien, clearly loved this house. 'What do you do now' asked my father as we were going round, no doubt curious to find out what had happened to his forgotten student. 'Oh I was a humble civil servant, but retired now just today'.
We looked round, mum noticing little changes, but essentially tastefully kept. We took photos of us and the house and Mr Subramanien.
As we were leaving I asked if he'd like me to e-mail the photos to him. He was delighted and went to get his card. Then I don't know what made me ask, but I asked 'What did you do in the civil service?'
'Oh I was in the Government. Permanent Secretary in the department of Education, and before that in Health'.
Is this a coincidence, or is somebody telling me something? We shall see, but there aren't many days when this much happens. So now I'm exhausted and having an early night. Probably.