“We were old ladies trying not to fall off ladders in the freezing cold. It was lots of fun!” retired Cambridge High English teacher Kathryn Thorburn, 79, said.
She was paying homage to an extraordinary impromptu community project led by former ANC MP Val Viljoen, who died on April 10.
Five years ago, Viljoen rustled up a group of women — retired librarians, teachers and administrators — and went into the East London Museum’s library to restore law and order.
Museum director Geraldine Morcom confirmed that they had been without a librarian for 14 years since 2012.
Viljoen, who served on the board from 2000 until her death, and was board chair from 2007 to 2012, was acutely aware of the bullet hole in the heart of the institution.
The people of the city loved bringing anything and everything that fascinated them to the library.
Without a librarian to police the chaos they were in trouble.
Thorburn, a close friend of Viljoen, said they found the library in a state of disarray. Books, clippings, folders, boxes, lay in piles.
The group of six would arrive at the start of work on Thursday and stick to working hours with tea at 10am.
The library was kept at a necessary 16°C. It was cold, and the work was tough.
Books had to be checked — did they already have a copy on the shelves? — two cards had to be made up, author and title, entered in the accession register, then classified.
The “retired” librarians piled in. More shelf space was created in the adjoining GG Smith gallery, and sorting and boxing began.
Treasure was found — 15 boxes of original harbour records — but some stuff, including entire family histories, could not be sorted.
Viljoen had the knowledge and will — “she was definitely OCD about order. Everything had to be in its place!”
Teatime was where the working quietude was abandoned and there was lots of banter and chat.
These were women, mothers who had struggled and lived exciting lives. Some had been married twice, and both Viljoen and Thorburn had been single mothers at some stage.
The commentary was rich, occasionally about “husbands and the lack of them” and the air filled with laughter.
More helpers had started appearing, including the wife of a young manager, and Viljoen’s daughters in Cape Town, Julie and Stephany, were brought along.
Thorburn said the younger women had been surprised at the number of risque jokes the “old ladies” could tell.
There was inevitably cake but the last was the most joyous and saddest.
She knew it was one of her last times here. She never said anything, but we all realised she was getting frail
For her 81st birthday, Viljoen brought an enormous chocolate cake and everyone in the museum was offered a slice.
By then five years had passed and the piles had slowly but inexorably vanished.
Thorburn estimates that 90% of the job has been done.
That cake was “huge”.
“She knew it was one of her last times here. She never said anything, but we all realised she was getting frail.”
She said the only person she had ever met who could read a book faster than herself was Viljoen.
The two met weekly, Thorburn having coffee and Viljoen squeezing five cups from one pot of tea.
At the end, each produced a favoured packet from somewhere famous with a book inside to be exchanged between them.
“She was the most generous person. She loved people. She lived for life. She loved learning,” Thorburn said.
She once exclaimed: “I just love it when a book teaches me something!”
Daily Dispatch
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.