Hedley Cole Vickers Churchward (1862–1929), later known as Mahmoud Mobarek, stands within my own family tree. Through our shared ancestor, John Churchward (1761–1840) of Devon, Hedley and I are second cousins. For me, however, the importance of the Churchwards extends far beyond one relative who made history. This family name, and all the lives lived under it, form part of my identity and heritage.
The Churchwards were never a family of one type. Some branches rose to prominence — landholders, skilled traders, respected craftsmen, and even artists who found their way into the highest circles of Victorian society. Hedley himself moved in the theatres of London, brushing shoulders with Tennyson, Millais, and Lillie Langtry. Yet other branches struggled. Some lived in poverty and endured the humiliations of the poorhouse system, reduced to dependency in a world that gave them little chance. Many were ordinary working people: servants in households, agricultural labourers in Devon’s fields, men who laid railway tracks, cut stone in quarries, or served in regiments. Each life, whether marked by struggle or success, was part of the same continuum. They all carried the Churchward name with persistence and dignity.
Hedley’s own father, Richard Gunter Hicks Churchward (1833–1912), was born in Kingskerswell, Devon, and embodied those South Devon roots. His relatives spread across the parishes of Newton Abbot, Kingsteignton, Torquay, Stoke Damerel, and Plymouth. In these towns and villages, generations of Churchwards lived and worked, their names written into baptismal registers, census returns, and gravestones. This web of family across South Devon shows how deeply the Churchwards were woven into the life of the county.
From this same stock came my own direct line: through John Churchward (1791–1869), then Charles (1827–1885), to George (1878–1961), my great-grandfather. His daughter, Edith Mary Churchward (1903–1986), was my grandmother. From her the family’s story passed into my own life, down to me as Ian Waugh. This continuity — stretching from the soil of Devon to my present — is why the family matters so much. Each generation links to the next, carrying forward memories, names, and resilience.
Why This Matters
I am proud of every relative, no matter their station. Some, like Hedley, made their way into books, newspapers, and the pages of history. Others left quieter traces — names in parish ledgers, notes in poorhouse registers, or fleeting mentions in railway pay books. Yet their contributions were no less real. The Churchwards, across centuries, show the full range of English life: from poverty to prominence, from back-breaking labour in fields and quarries to audiences with royalty, from quiet village lanes to the sacred precincts of Mecca.
Hedley’s courage to embrace Islam and perform the Hajj in 1910 is one strand of this larger story. His leap of faith inspires me. But so too does the perseverance of those who endured the poorhouse, the faithfulness of those who worked as servants, and the strength of those who toiled in anonymity. The family’s greatness lies not only in the exceptional figures, but in the multitude of ordinary lives that held steady through hardship and change.
Together, they form a lineage I honour deeply. Their lives remind me that family history is never only about fame or fortune, but about resilience, humanity, and continuity. I am proud to carry the Churchward name forward, recognising its richness, its pain, and its triumphs — from Devon’s humble cottages to London’s theatres, and from the poorhouse to the Kaaba itself.
