Open Writing

KNITTING NEEDLE: Slender rod of steel, wood or ivory, two or more of which are used together to form fabric, garments, of inter-looping yarn or thread.

When I was about eight years old I was taught to knit by an aunt of mine, who recognised in me a kindred spirit, greatly interested in hand crafts. I took to knitting like a duckling to water and soon produced numerous dish cloths from a coarse cotton yarn my mother purchased to encourage her second daughter in this most traditional of crafts. When purl and plain on two needles had been mastered, I progressed to a four-needle project and manufactured a small marble bag, with a row of holes at the top for a cord to go through, and tapering off at the bottom, and ending in a point.

As knitted garments were hardly necessary items in the usual wardrobe of the tropics, my knitting skills developed no further until many years later when the Japanese overran the then Dutch colony of Indonesia and started herding together the whole of the European population into what they chose to call 'protection camps'.

Education came to an abrupt halt, books became a scarce commodity and time began to lie heavily on our hands. So it was with great enthusiasm that crafts such as knitting, crocheting, and embroidery were embraced by many.

It was at this time that I became a real knitting addict and it was fortunate that a cheap and suitable knitting yarn became available in the camp. This yarn had the appearance and thickness of a crochet cotton. It came in silky skeins, and in a variety of pastel shades. It could be obtained from the camp shop, either for cash, or with coupons earned by carrying out camp jobs, such as working in the central kitchens, transporting furniture or assisting in the distribution of the daily food rations for the camp population. Not much later, this facility was discontinued.

The garment I chose to knit was a fairly simple type of brief, with the advantage that it could be knitted in a variety of stitches. The various stitches were taught to relative beginners like me by the more experienced knitters, of which there were many. I was about eighteen at the time, and attractive briefs seemed like useful garments to make for those times that the war would be over, our Japanese masters gone, and life would be back to what it had been before - a few months at the most, we were made to believe. The stitches I chose were the peacock feather stitch, fallen leaves, lattice lace, trellis, and a few others. Every new stitch was a challenge, and every finished pair of briefs gave me the most satisfying sense of achievement.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, not one of these loved pieces of work lasted the distance and not one had survived when, several years later, I, together with my mother and sister, and several hundred other camp inmates, were transported to another camp in a different city.

It was in this camp that some of us became 'professional knitters' and knitted, no longer for pleasure, but as a means of augmenting our, by this time, extremely meagre rations. In short, we knitted socks for the enemy. This was not compulsory, but there was no room for false sentiments and those of us who could knit, did so. For every completed pair there was the reward of a coupon, which could be exchanged for some food item, such as sugar, or for some toilet or washing soap. The exact details escape me. Low-grade, unbleached cotton yarn was supplied; the pattern was that of a heelless sock, knitted in a ribbed spiral so that it would sit snugly round a foot. Four short needles were used, made either from whittled down pieces of bamboo, or from lengths of bicycle spokes. As well as working in the central rice kitchen, I knitted, and knitted, and knitted.

Some time later, when all this lay behind me, and when, as a young married woman I came to live in colder climes, I came into contact with some of the attractive knitting yarns which were already beginning to come onto the market. Lovely long, smooth knitting needles, row counters, stitch holders, the whole world of knitting opened up before me and again. Whenever I had the time, I knitted and knitted. Twin sets, jumpers, cardigans, vests, in a variety of yarns, stitches and styles. Pearl and plain, fair-isle or Aran, whatever took my fancy. With every garment came a fresh challenge and, on completion, a sense of achievement and pride.

When our family grew and the children arrived, there were bootees, matinee jackets, leggings, then on to school jumpers, pullovers and vests. But never socks!

One of our sons will have a birthday next week. He has been a grown man for many years, but, guess what? I have sent off a knitted garment for him and hope he will like it. I loved knitting it and, looking back over the years, I can say with conviction that for me the knitting needle, that slender rod, has been the greatest invention of all time.