Once Upon a Winding River

by Kaseina Dashe (Nigeria)

Making a local connection United Kingdom

ONCE UPON A WINDING RIVER By Kaseina Dashe “Winding river. That’s what Worcester originally means” said Susan with a wide smile and a hint of pride in her voice. I smiled back. I felt very lucky indeed … No. Not lucky. Actually, I felt like a VIP to have such an ace tourist guide. Susan was a Professor of History at the University of Worcester and she was referring to the River Severn which ran through the entire cathedral city. It was my first day at the Campus after resuming for my Master’s program and I was like a fish out of water gazing at the river as if trying to find my kin. Susan must have sensed it. I was fortunate to sit beside her in the bus and gratefully, we began talking after introductions. “Do you know that all the swans in the river belong to the Queen of England?” she asked “No, I had no idea!” I responded with a widened gaze. She laughed. It was a quite pretty laugh. It sounded regal and dignified. We got to the city centre and alighted from the bus. I could not pass up this opportunity. I just had to ask. “Where is your favourite place in the city?” She flashed me a dazzling smile. “Come with me” she beckoned as we walked past the hustle and bustle of the High street. Everything seemed so modern and vibrant until we got to Friar street. I stopped abruptly and gasped audibly “Is everything alright?” Susan asked, her voice a mix of concern and British politeness “Its … breathtaking. Like a story book come to life … or something from a fairy tale” She looked around and nodded in agreement. Then she glanced at me and smiled a deep knowing smile. “Yes, it is” She whispered and then added, “It has stood there majestically since the 13th century. Behold, I present to you - Tudor house” I stared at Tudor house with an admiration almost like the devout adoration a monk would accord a holy mountain. White with timber frames, Tudor house occupied a significant portion of the street. Susan clarified that it was built in the first half of the 16th century on the foundations of an earlier 13th century building. “Part of the fascination of Tudor House was the sheer number of roles it has played - a dwelling house, a workshop for weavers, a tailor, cloth-maker, baker, and artist, a brewery, and an inn. In the early 20th century the house was purchased by the Cadbury family and served as a confectioner’s shop, then a coffee house.” Susan explained. She went on to add that during WWII the house briefly served as an air warden's post and a billeting office. In the late 20th century the house served as the Worcester Museum of Local Life, but after the museum closed in 2003 the house was rescued by a group of local volunteers who keep it open to visitors till date. “Wow” I said astonished. “I know right?” Susan replied. We were both staring at Tudor house. There and then, I fell in love. It wasn’t just Tudor house or the sheer brilliance of the Worcester cathedral. It wasn’t just the white majestic looking swans or the winding river which was their home. It was Sabrina bridge whose outstretched arms embraced me every time I crossed her to get to school. It was Claire whose hair colour kept changing but her beautiful spirit and talent remained constant. It was Victoria, the homeless woman whose megawatts smile made me feel at home. It was St George’s catholic church just beside my house whose choir, I can almost swear, is a host of angels singing. It was Iveta with whom I shared many warm sunny days in the courtyard of an Italian bistro drinking cappuccino. It was Sarah, the most caring and generous woman I had the privilege to know. It was David who showed me how by doing rather than talking. It was Jane, my professor who made me realize that my tattered wings could fly. It was actually the little things and … let’s not forget – a winding river.