The Sound of the Wash

The Sound of the Wash

I was 15 years old and my Mother had to travel to St Kitts in the Caribbean to attend the funeral of her Father.
My Father worked long shifts so I was left to help look after three of my younger siblings, (Sophia 5, Paul 6 and Garth 7.)
More than cooking, cleaning the house and caring for three children.

I found ‘Wash Day’ the hardest.

We did not have a washing machine, but we had a bath to hand wash the clothes. Bending over the bath on my knees, I filled the bath with hot water, sprinkled Daz soap powder and swirled and ruffled the water to increase the foam. I soaked the clothes of the family weekly wash in the soapy water and then rubbed the clothes up and down, firmly, over the glass ridges of the wash board.

In contrast woollens were always washed gently using Lux soap flakes.

I continued squeezing and rubbing the soaked fabrics between my hands, trying to make the squelching sound that my Mother was always able to make. It was like a ‘Rites of Passage’ when I too was able to finally master the sound of the wash.

Mary