Smashing open my childhood piggy bank showed me how to live courageously
This me column was written by Anna du Plessis, who lives in Calgary. For more information on CBC’s first-person stories, visit the FAQs.
My mother and brother eyed my chubby ceramic piggy bank. I met her gaze and nodded my head. From the age of about six I had a strong sense of duty to my family. It had to be done. I have to do the honors – SMASH!
My little pig was in a thousand pieces.
That sounds like a sad story – like we’ve hit rock bottom. But it wasn’t sad for me. I felt hope, the possibility of freedom.
That smiling piggy I haggled at a flea market taught me that I have agency, that I can change my circumstances. This is where my adventure of independence, optimism and courage began.
Growing up poor in an abusive, alcoholic household, I fought my way from dingy bars in South Africa to the boardrooms here in Canada.
The kind of poverty I have endured is not the kind of poverty you might see on the international news from a war-torn village plagued by disease and hunger, but rather a self-inflicted shortage. Money mismanagement fueled my father’s addiction, and trying to keep up appearances had dire consequences.
My parents were teachers with modest salaries. But all our money went to my dad’s liquor friends – drinks were always on him or someone to lend and then owe someone that. As a child I spent many hours with him in the bar. But when the drinking stopped, the shouting and fighting began. His anger was directed at my mother.
My mother did her best. She loved us and kept us fed. She took on my father’s debts, hid his drinking problem from everyone, and took part-time jobs.
I didn’t want to be a martyr like my mother.
When I first saw this piggy bank at the market, it was sitting on a table among all sorts of other second-hand goods, from kitchen utensils to jewellery. I was only about four years old but somehow I had this thought that it would make things better and that’s why I had to have it.
Then I saved for two years—everything from my birthday money from my grandma, to scavenging for leftover coins in slot machines at the bar, to money I was supposed to put in the collection plate at church. In my child’s mind, I thought Jesus knew we were poor too.
We smashed the piggy bank in the middle of winter, when our electricity had just been shut off again and there wasn’t a single cracker or soup can on the pantry shelves. My mother didn’t tell me, but I volunteered.
I remember wrapping the piggy in a rag and smashing it on the kitchen table. I don’t remember my mother’s face, but I was proud. It was worth a South African rand today, the equivalent of about CAD200 – enough to fuel the car and buy groceries, plus a couple of candles for light.
It changed my life because it changed my attitude. I suddenly believed that my situation was temporary, that I could face any challenge and improve my life.
But life was still hard. I survived when I was 14 when I was hit by a car in front of our house. My father was the driver and he was drunk. I had a concussion, but somehow I got up, went inside, and passed out again. When I showed up at school the following Monday bruised, I told everyone exactly what had happened and told my truth without flinching.
I was teased about it. I didn’t care. This was temporary.
In my final year at school, this courage also helped me to persuade my mother to move out. I couldn’t protect her from my father’s anger when I wasn’t there. And then I found the courage to move even further away.
My partner and I had a long term goal of moving to Canada – a country that is much safer and where we would have the freedom to live without judgement. So in spring 2020 we packed up everything we could and sold the rest.
Two weeks after we arrived in Calgary, the whole world went into lockdown. I finally found the job I wanted but lost it a month later when the company went bankrupt. Another dream temporarily shattered.
But I could remodel. That I have learned. I work in the competitive retail industry. Applying the skills of frugality and perseverance my piggy had taught me, I worked my way up to become a senior merchant.
Despite economic setbacks during the pandemic, I’m proud to say I’m now working for my dream employer doing what I love. I’m showcasing clothing and other product lines in boardrooms and it feels so far from those dingy bars and the home I grew up in. Still, I’m grateful now for the childhood I had, and especially for that piggy bank. It helped shape me into the person I am today.
I am a fighter. I’m frantic and looking forward to whatever comes next.
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