P015 193701126 Sesheke

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  [12 pages]                                                        Sesheke,
                                                                             N.R.
                                                                26th January, 1937.
Dearest Everybody,

Don't you like this smart new paper I've got? It is so much better than that awful thick stuff which I had to write on both sides of because it was so thick, and it will be so convenient not having to do any more margin adjusting but just sweep majestically on from page to page – and much easier to read I expect.

Now what have we done this week? I'm being very diligent, and writing my diary every day, so now I can be much more accurate than I was before, when I had to either just remember, or jot them down on a piece of paper, which I promptly lost.

G. is quite well again now, you will be glad to hear, though the course of Atebrin made him rather sick, and I'm very glad he has stopped that now. We have got back to our old walks with the gun again, but have sadly got nothing except a couple of pheasants in the last week – no duck, no green pigeons, no nuthink.  Oh, yes, we did get one thing – and a Yellow-vented Bul-bul, who had lovely bright yellow feathers all round his behind and was very pretty. We also shot five Kakelaars – a kind of wood-hoopoe, because they have been sitting about round the house, chattering and shrieking and making an awful noise for some time. They were very attractive little birds though, with long tapering tails, bright red beaks and legs, and lovely metally blue and green and mauve bodies of dark velvet. Those were actually last week, but I don't think I told you about them.

All Wednesday and Thursday I spent being a good Cow, looking through Heather's beautifully-done Wedding Present book, checking off right addresses etc. and adding any that we had got since – the Popham's cut glass bowl, Marjorie Campbell's Lalique bowl, Lizzie McNeillie's toast racks, etc.

On Thursday I started off on the annual report for G., which had got so held up with him being ill, and on Friday I finished it, with great effort, as we had heard the was an aeroplane coming up on Saturday morning at crack of dawn, who could take it up to mongrel with it – taking two hours on the journey instead of 17 days! It was great fun to do, though not much fun for G., as he has only been here two months so didn't know as much about it as he would have if he had been here for the whole year, but he managed to compile it from odd notes left by Phibbs and from his own observation.

On Friday, after a hot dry week, we had one of the

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heaviest storms I have seen, even in this country. It simply came down in blankets – not even sheets – and it thundered and lightninged all round, and I had to go and pull the things out of the wireless and join them together, and I was on tin tacks all time I was doing it in case a flash of lightning would come along and cut me off in my prime. We do that every night now before we go to bed, as there is rather a lot of lightning about and it's very risky. We take out the aerial and the ground wires, and join them together, and then it just goes straight round in a circle and doesn't blow the wireless up.

Well, just after the storm was over, and the water was lying in lakes on all the paths and flowerbeds (lovely!) we heard an aeroplane, and lo and behold there floated down upon us a mono-plane, so they had some lunch at half past two and were highly entertaining.

It was the Principal Medical Officer of N.R., Dr Haslam, who was long and thin with rather close-together eyes and a monocle and very amusing and easy to get on with, and both he and his pilot had been at that dance in Lusaka when I won the dancing prize with the Man who was Murdered, that I told you about in Portmanteau 1 or 2.

They had flown from Lusaka to Mongu yesterday, to enquire into an epidemic of Bubonic Plague that had broken out in a village near. Apparently the rats in the village had been getting so voluminous that they decided to kill them off, and when they had killed about thirteen hundred they found that the fleas of the rats were ten thusand times more voluminous, and as the fleas had no rats to sit upon, they were hopping about all over the place and biting people like anything. They gave eight people Bubonic Plague, of whom three so far had died.

The doctor was now on his way to Machili, where one case had been reported – rather queer, as it's a long hike from Mongu to Machili, as the latter is only about 40 miles from here. He had been told by the P.C.at Mongu that G. was very ill and would he stop here and see if it was true, so he did that, and found G. bouncing about like a young hippo, and his wife sitting about like a fat prize pig. The P.C.had evidently said that he wants to do the best he can for us about going to Mankoya or staying here, so we will probably talk about it when we go up there in March, as I expect he will have heard something from Phibbs by then as to whether he (Phibbs) is coming back or not.

They were great fun, and after lunch we gave them each the Frog-mug (you know, that lovely antique mug that Auntie Mim gave me, with a fat china frog sitting inside) and they both rose beautifully and jumped like anything when

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they tried to drink out of it and suddenly caught sight of the great frog sitting there! Miss Lanz went even one better, and put her hand in and touched it, and then said "I have never seen a dry frog before!"

The Lanz and Lily Hippo came up to see is that evening, and I was rather pleased that L.H. came up as she is such shy little person that I never thought she would. However she was very perky, and chatted away in French about her school (she can't talk about anything else) and helped Miss Lanz with her sewing – "her sewing" being the shortening of one of MY frocks!  I have been having a shortening campaign, chopping hems ruthlessly off and throwing them brutally away, because I find that frocks the length we wear them at home are much too heavy and hot and annoying out here where we want everything skimpy and cool and free for walking as we can, so I am chopping them all off to about two or 3 inches below my knees, which is SUCH an improvement. So when the Lanz cams up I sit her firmly down with a frock and a needle and off she goes, quite happily. She's a dear.

23rd Saturday, we had another marvellous heavy storm in the morning, and by lunchtime all the vast pools had quite soaked in, so they don't really make much difference – we need a whole week of them to do the ground any real good, but these occasional ones just buck up the flowers a bit and make them think there's more coming so it's worth going on living. The aeroplane did not come, but went over very early some distance away, so we were not able to send off the Annual Report which was very trying. However, the boys said another would come over tomorrow, so we waited hopefully – but nothing happened till about lunchtime, when it went right over the Boma towards Livingstone –  AND DIDN'T COME DOWN  – the cad.

Both days we had prepared for them, because we had heard that in the one going up to Mongu was a woman and a small baby, so they might stop for breakfast, and in the one coming down again was a man and his wife and two small kids (under three) who might stop for lunch. So we had got lovely custard puddings and gently steamed chicken and nice children's food ready for them, on both Saturday and Sunday, and they never came after all, so we had to pretend we were children and eat it all ourselves.

We are rather thrilled with our Zinnias, who have, splendidly, and are flowering beautifully. There is one, a sort of deep pink, which we have never seen the like of before, and I do hope some of the others will turn out that colour too. Unfortunately it was just one of a mixed packet of seeds, so we do not know what it is called.

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The Cosmos has been coming out beautifully too for some time, but they are not nearly in their prime yet. I wish I could paint them, as they are lovely, but I'm afraid it's no good at all.

The poor nasturtiums have had a rough time. I don't know if I told you that Chief was being most annoying. As his ears were bleeding so and he would shake his head so and splash everything, we wouldn't allow him in the house. So, would you believe it, he calmly went and dug a great big hole in the back of the sunflower bed, and lay in it; very sensible really, as it was a nice cool place, having been watered in the morning, but it was VERY annoying. So we put a branch of thorn tree down there, so next time, he lay in the zinnias and in the newly-born calendulas.  We put thorns all round everything, and he learnt to lie in a cool patch under the shelter running from the house to the kitchen. But the final straw came one day we found him CURLED UP IN THE GREEN BIN BY THE FRONT DOOR!!  He had taken most of the nasturtiums (the good lot, too) and had climbed up into the bin and calmly curled himself down there. The nerve of him! He has learnt now, by the simple method of sitting a small boy down outside the house with my little riding whip, and every time the dog starts walking on a bed the boy leapt at him with whoops of joy and the whip whirling.

We've got 11 baby guineafowl, who are simply delicious and run about shouting in their tiny squeaky voices, picking at everything they see, and when you whistle and pat the ground they come rushing, falling over their legs and each other in their efforts to get there quickly. They live in a tiny round basket, which they seem to like as they always jump in quite happily, and in the day they are let out to run about where they like, as long as there is somebody there to see that they don't run away. They are so quick and so adventurous and so small that you hardly notice they have gone, and the only sign of them in the long grass is their squeaky voices and the waving of the grass over their heads.

The chickens are awfully naughty. We have one chicken who has got two babies, so we thought she would be awfully good and mother the baby guineafowls but not a bit of it. When she gets the chance she rushes among them and pesks them, in fact today I saw her literally pick one up she pecked it so hard! Her babies are very high-hat, and walk past the baby guineafowls with their noses in the air, and refuse to have anything to do with them.

I haven't yet taken a film of them, but I must soon,

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because once or twice when I haven't taken when I had the opportunity, the object has died or escaped or something – namely the Pangolin!

Well, while Mum and Dad and Heather have gone off to India to catch tigers, I have gone and caught an ImpeTiger here.  So far it is very bad on my left cheek – and it really is revolting and DOES itch so. There is a slight smattering of it on the other cheek, but nothing compared with the bad one, and I just long to scratch it all the time. I try very hard to leave it quite alone though, and we are not washing it, but keeping it as dry as we can, because it is the same sort of idea as he had on his lips when he had malaria, and he always found that the only way to make them better was to leave them strictly alone and not take any notice of them, so that they got so disheartened that they didn't think it worth bothering anymore.

I showed it to the Lanz, and she gave me some ointment so I put that on on the better side, this morning it was almost well. The bad side is too far advanced to be stopped though, so it must just go on till it comes to the end.

We got a Wedding Present from Whitmore this week – a rather attractive little chromium boat with a sale and a chromium man paddling it. Modern, but definitely decorative. He is flying home in February, via Kenya, the lucky beggar, and says Shall he beat you up. I don't quite know how long he will be home for – about six months I should think, as he has been waiting for this leave for a long time and they have kept on putting him off and putting him off. I do hope he will come and see you, because he is such a dear, isn't he.

Chishimba has just come back from his holiday. About 10 days ago he said that he wanted to go down to Wankie for a month to see his brother, because he had heard that his brother had been killed by an elephant and then quite recently he heard that he hadn't at all and was alive and kicking, so he wanted to go and see him, just to make sure. So off he went, in a very stripy blazer and his lovely green socks, with strict instructions to be back by 20th February because of going up to Mongu. 

Then suddenly yesterday at lunch Musonda rushed in to say that Chishimba had returned, and was on his way up from the river now. How they knew somebody's arrival before they arrive I don't quite know, but they always do. Lo and behold, Chishimba, in his very stripy blazer and his lovely green socks, and he came and "Mwapaleni'd" and said that he had got as far as Livingstone and had been told that as the was illness in N.R.– this bubonic plague – he would have to stay at Livingstone for a fortnight before he was out of quarantine, and then he could go into S.R.if he liked.

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But he didn't think he could sit about doing nothing in Livingstone all that time, and he would only have such a short time at Wankie if he had to wait a fortnight before he was allowed to go there, that he decided not to after all, so he returned. He is such fun, and has such a sense of humour, and G. teases them like anything, and they giggle and squiggle and squirm with glee. This time G. asked him if the beer at Livingstone was nice, so Chishimba said there wasn't any beer there; to which G. answered, oh no, of course there wasn't any beer left, because Chishimba drank it all. Shrieks of delight were wafted through the open door at that. It is against native law to beer-drink, but not against the European law; I don't think our boys do drink actually, I know Musonda doesn't, nor does he smoke, and looks down very much on people that do and says Serve Them Right when they get their heads broken in a beer-fight.

We are beginning to think about getting ready to go on tour, as we are starting on Thursday to go to Machili where the Martins are, for G. to do a spot of looking at forests with Martin. It ought to be good fun, and it'll be nice seeing Elizabeth again as she WAS so nice, and it'll be a good thing for us both to have a change I think, as the walks and views and surroundings of Sesheke are not exactly inspiring, and they DO begin to pall a bit after three months without a change.

We will probably take the little horse, the more exciting and healthy and young and energetic one, as the other is always getting sore backs and queer sore places on it and is rather ancient and might fall down dead if it was made to walk very far. G. will ride him, and I will be CARRIED majestically in the Machila like a Queen. I'm not allowed to ride, and I think it is wise as there are so many holes and things that the horse might trip over and it wouldn't be too much fun if I had a fall.

Well, I think that's all the news. Now your letters of Sunday. 

MUM.
How marvellous of you to write us a letter the very day before you sailed, when I know you must be having hectic last-minutes things – or were you rather at the stage of having got absolutely everything done weeks ago were wondering what to do to fill in the time till the train was due?

Now about coming home or staying here. When I read your letter I thought that once I MUST go home. Then when I was thinking it over gently to myself sometime afterwards I thought to myself, No, I don't think I can be bothered to go home. Then I read your letter again, and thought at once I absolutely  MUST  go home! So I think I had better

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write this quickly without looking at your letter again as it seems to have such a bad effect on me!

I would just love to be at home for him, with all of you all round, and having him gently at Pax, and having good care and a lot of attention! It would be very nice to feel that it would be quite all right if he arrived early, or anything, too, and the change of climate would be nice and refreshing – not to mention the joy of being at home again in my own old room!

But. The only trouble is: have I got the energy to uproot myself, pack myself up, book tickets, go through that awful journey down to Cape Town, two lots of customs to be gone through, staying the night in Cape Town, perhaps, and then the long, rather boring voyage home all by myself, – an awful "waste of time", as I am neither at home with you, or at home here with G. –  wasting my sweetness on the ocean air, so to speak, and I don't think I would enjoy it a bit. On the other hand, if I flew home, I think it would be too tiring for words. G. flew home once, and he says he wouldn't like to do it again as he arrived feeling like a complete corpse – and he hadn't got a great fat Robin inside him! I think the change of height, climate, food, etc., and the small amount of rest and sleep, and the continuous vibration and noise, for 10 days on end, would be very tiring.

It's the idea of uprooting myself, just at a time when I will probably be wanting to be extra cow-like, makes me inclined to stay out here. I would have to come home in about April to be really safe, and I couldn't bring Robin out here again before he was two or even three months old, very well, which means I've got to be away from husband six months at least – and I don't think I  COULD  do that, especially just at that time, it would be horrid for him not seeing his son for three or four whole months, and not being there when he was born.

About it's being cheaper – I should imagine it would be just about the same actually, because in both cases we have the fares of a nurse, here and back, of me, back and here, and of Robin, here. My idea is to have the nurse sent out, have Robin here, and in about May of next year the nurse and Robin and I come home without G., just for two or three months or so, so that you can all see him, and then bring him back by myself for the last year of our tour before we come on leave together with him. The only objection to that is that G. would so like to be there when his son is introduced to the family!

The hospital at Livingstone isn't very expensive, and I

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needn't be away from home so long – just a month beforehand, then G. could get a few weeks local leave to be with me for the last bit, and as long as necessary afterwards – and then just come back here as soon as possible to find all his cots and things already for him, having got ready by the nurse.

That would be an added difficulty, by the way, if I went home, of having to bring all his cots and things out for the voyage out, whereas it would be much easier and cheaper to get the things here. Also it would mean having all sorts of baths and prams and things at Pax, which would be an awful nuisance for you.

Then about Dr Hussey's suggestions that it would be better for us both to have the good climate. I'm wondering whether that IS a good plan. Would it be better for him to arrive in the nice good soft climate of England, get used to that,  and then be dragged out to this climate and have to get himself acclimatised to it at the tender age of three months?

I felt so uncertain as to which would be best – to go home or to stay here – that I have written to the Dr in Livingstone to ask what he thinks – as he knows how I am getting on. When he came to see us he said that there was no point at all in going home and I had much better stay here. I asked what would happen if it should arrive early, and he said the Lanz is quite capable of managing it herself, and that if necessary he could fly up, or even, if very necessary they could wire to a specialist in Johannesburg to fly up, so it is all quite safe and satisfactory.

However, I haven't even been able to make up my mind! One minute I think I should just COULDN'T do that long journey all by myself – too boring for words – and the next minute I think Oh, how heavenly to be at Pax again, and "oh to be in England now that April is here" kind of thing; then I think I COULDN'T leave G. for all that long time; then I think how lovely having all the family seeing him at once, and they'll all be so thrilled. So I'm not wiring to Mrs Wade this week, but am waiting to get the Dr's answer, which I think is almost certain to be Stay Here. It seems in a way unnecessary to go home; thousands of other people have babies out here – Mrs Cartmel-Robinson had both hers up at Abercorn or Fort Jameson or somewhere (I can't remember quite where, and G.'s not here at the moment so I can't ask him and I expect I'm wrong whichever I say!) where she was miles and miles away from the nearest doctor. Everybody has babies out here (except one woman we met in Livingstone who has just gone home to have one, and she goes home every six months or so anyway and is frightfully rich and hates the country) so I don't see why I shouldn't.

OH  it's going to be so exciting! We are so thrilled

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about it we think and talk about it all the time. Last night when I couldn't sleep because my Face was itching so I thought violently of Robin the whole time, and finally went off to sleep – and promptly dreamt that G. and I were drowned in the Victoria Falls!

Do you realise that in six months time he will be HERE !!

Aren't we clever.

Oh, all that was answering Mum's letter, wasn't it. Well, I've put it in the portmanteau so that Mummy will know too what I think – or rather what WE think, though G. has given very little of his opinion as he doesn't want to seem prejudiced!  There was also a little letter dated 24th December from Mum, which I think came by sea  telling how Rusty got Mange.  I do hope he was better by the time you sailed. It's those pig-buckets, probably. 

MUMMY.
I'm so glad you managed to see Mrs Leversedge, and her hints are awfully useful, about taking one's own boy, and the clothes etc. I'm glad you agree about getting nurse out from England – I think it's best really, as you never know what might be dumped on you, and I'd rather have an English person than a South African one. I expect she will want quite a large salary, but we are braced for the worst and it is worth paying a lot to get a really good one at the very beginning when it is SO important that everything should be done properly – care of teeth, spine, etc., about which I know nothing of course.  I think we need only have her for about a year – from the time she comes out to the time that I can bring the result home – but it all depends how the result bears up under the strain of having funny little US as its parents!

The Lanz says she thinks they would very likely allow me to take my own nurse into hospital with me, and might in some ways rather welcome it, as it then lets them off lightly. I will find out about that – thank you for suggesting, as I wasn't quite sure what we could do about that.

Thank you for the cutting about Lindis's is engagement, but the photo isn't a bit like her, is it. We are sending her a wire this week (if we remember!)

Yes that pink satin nightie stuff looks lovely, so do get Mrs F.to make me some in that. I like V-backs.

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It was very extraordinary that your carnations should arrive on New Year's Day when Mum's was able to arrive on Christmas Day, and they were ordered by the same letter. Very odd. But it was VERY naughty of you to un-order them like that. We WANTED you to have them all, that was why we ordered them. You darling, to want to save us that expense, and it was sweet of you to think of it, but we wanted you to have LOTS. There, a Row, from Me to You!  Well, it will be all right if you get plants later on from the shop in Godalming, and we forgive you this time – but you're NOT to do it again!

Thank you so much for the photos of Abbot's Wood – it looks SUCH a lovely house, with the owlie front door and all that nice creeper. Just the house we should have chosen if we'd been you, and we are just longing to come and stay in it with Robin.

We had a very nice letter from Georgie Mylechreest, telling us you had given her some of the China to take away and hoped we didn't mind!  Good, we ARE glad. (Sorry, that is a much-harried and hackneyed expression of mine which G.is trying to kill me of!).

Yes, I'm being a model cow, sitting about doing nothing in particular (but SO busy) and whenever I want anything carried or lifted or brought I just call for a boy. I am really a good deal luckier out here than I would be at home, where I would have a lot of bothering housekeeping to do, and maids getting in huff's and leaving, and having to dash out shopping, and having to pay calls and go out to dinner and have people to tea and a whole heap of things that I don't want to.  Whereas here I do nothing at all, except order the dinner, make an ice cream for lunch, write letters, do the flowers (sometimes, when I feel like it), play games of chess and draughts and beggar my neighbour with me Usbing, do a spot of darning (when I feel like it), plant plants (when I feel like it), ask people to tea (when I feel like it), go out for gentle walks, for as long as I feel like, listen to the wireless, sleep for the afternoon and go to bed when I feel like. No strap-hanging or catching trains and buses or hard pavements for me, thank you – I leave all that to MUMMY.

About the Ruby Ring  – no sign of it at all. I should think it is too late to get insurance on it, isn't it – anyway I don't really mind about that, as it was more of this Sentimental Value that I wanted it for, so I DO hope it is not really lost, but will turn up sometime – how I don't know, but I have a feeling it will. The trouble is I've lost the insurance list Mum very kindly sent me, so I had better tell Mrs Wade in case she has got a duplicate.

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I'm afraid I don't even know what insurance company it was. We had very little breakage on the whole among the presents. Two finger-bowls out of the very pretty half-dozen the Bathers gave us – about the only thing we didn't get two lots of, too!  Two of Uncle Wilfrid's champagne glasses which is a great shame, but we're not going to replace them yet as Champagne glasses are not exactly a necessity! Two cut glass water jugs, out of about six – so it was no loss. One funnel for an oil lamp, which is easily replaced from Livingstone. One China dish out of two little half-dozen sets – quite useless and rather plain, so we gave them to the boys, who were frightfully thrilled with them. And that was all.

HEATHER.
Another gorgeous Twenty-pager, which I'm busily answering separately, and which might arrive within the next year or so, as it is to be a continuous performance, so to speak. Very many thanks for same.

That was all.

Oh, Films. I have sent off another this week, of: the island about a mile up the river opposite the Mission where we went shooting once. I got a bit of it, and then quite suddenly for no apparent reason, the side of the camera fell off. I clapped it to my tummy to try and keep the film in the dark and slipped the side on again, but I'm afraid it may be exposed. So I took about 20 feet of nothing before I took anything else, so I hope the rest of it may be all right.

The other thing on it are the baby bush pigs; the Tawny Eagle shot by Musonda, held up by Peter and messenger; Musonda's wife and Bupe; the mattress arriving on people's heads. It is number six.

Thanks awfully for the socks, Mummy, they are just right and the brown ones are practically the same as my old ones; the lovely pillow has also arrived, but we are not using it yet as I'm going to take a lot of the stuffing out of it; the woolly knickers also arrived, the pair chosen by Heather, and they are fine, though I haven't been given an opportunity of wearing them yet as it is so hot always.

More name suggestions.
We don't much care for Angela, G. doesn't like Rosamunde, I don't care for Lavender, we both like Gillian quite. We don't care for Mary as it is rather dull.  We don't care for calling them two names – it is rather long.

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These numbers are the
order we like
them in:                 Juliet we both like, or Julia. So it is between:
 B.  G.
 1   4     Lindis..... Which G.is beginning to waver over, but which I like very much                                    indeed.
             Julia  or   ... Which we both like very much.
 3   3     Juliet
 8   8     Alison ......   which we both quite like – only quite though.
 4   1     Penelope .. To be called Penny.
 2   2     Sylvia ........ very nice, but she would have to be very beautiful (she                                                  naturally would with Such a mother)
                              and it is a bit too old for a little girl and she might be in danger                                        of being called Slly.
                              Not that I've ever met a Sylvia that was called Silly, but still.
  6   5    Sally ........ you will probably think the same about that as you do about                                         Judy.
  5   7    Ariel ......... I like it very much, but G. doesn't.
  7   6    Janet........ not bad.

Opinions wanted, please. The second names are to be Ella St Claire. I don't care for either of them, as names go, but we want them because of Mummy and G.'s pet grandmother and Aunt Ger and Mum and me.
 
G. went up the river to the island this evening. I didn't go, because I had been asked to tea at the Mission and refused on the grounds of having a nasty face, so I couldn't exactly sail past the mission in a boat having said that I wasn't well. However he managed to have quite good sport in spite of not having somebody to cheer him on, and came back with three duck – two widow duck and one whistling duck or Fulvous Tree-duck – and one small partridge. I made a Loganberry Mousse today, which was lovely. 

As we are going on tour on Thursday I may not be able to write a proper Portmanteau next week, so don't be worried if you don't get one. I may be able to write just letters, but they may not come on the right day. It'll be fun telling all about our journey up and the animals we see – I hope there'll be lots. Musonda's got the baths out already, and was poking about in the store today to see what he wanted to take. We will pack them tomorrow when the mail has gone.

Goodbye everybody,

Bags and bags of love

From

US.