P019 19370307
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Please note these are transcribed by software,so there WILL be mistakes.
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PORTMANTEAU 019
In the middle
of the swamp,
N. Rhodesia.
Sunday, 7th March, 1937.
Darling everybody,
I've got so far behind with the news that I'm going to start from where I left off yesterday, and go straight on till I come to the end, and I'm not going to tell you a Word about What We Are Doing Now until I get there.
Sunday, 28th February
at about 5 o'clock in the morning, just as we were beginning to think about getting up, and Merry was getting out of his bed and scrabbling on the mosquito net for his early-morning rough-house, the male-barge from Mungo arrived with the wire from Mummy and Daddy saying that the nurse was engaged, so that's all right. I took a film of the barge, but I wish it was a colour film as all the men – 12 of them – wear bright scarlet shorts and shirts and fezes, as they looked simply lovely starting off in the early-morning light with the sun just up. I thought Annie-people might like to see how we get our mail!
When we started off, Merry & I went as usual in the barge, but G. walked along on his flat feet and the dry land for about an hour in the hopes of meeting some more game. And lo and behold! Before we had been parted for 10 minutes there was a BANG, and shortly afterwards a man came rushing with the news that he had got another Impala, with the first shot stone dead. So we went on a little further up the bank and presently heard another single Bang, and again the news came through that he had got another Impala, with the first shot stone dead.
We waited there and soon there arrived to Impala hanging on sticks over people's shoulders, and they were lumped into the second barge (which was by this time very Oh poof, with the remains of yesterday's in it too); they were both bigger than last nights, full-grown, but quite small as they are rather a small breed in this neighbourhood and they were both males luckily.
Then the Conquering Hero Came, and off we went.
We didn't see any more game that day, and had only one small insignificant rapid to negotiate, so there were no more excitements. We camped fairly early – at about 1 o'clock, near a deserted village, which was a pathetic model of broken down fences and hearts, roofs falling in, no doors, white ants crawling up the walls and all, and very high grass all over the place. It was deserted because all the people are in their gardens now keeping the birds off
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and they won't go back to the village till their crops have finished growing. There was hardly anywhere to walk as it was an island and the grass was terribly long and had seeds in it that got stuck onto our socks and clothes and pricked like anything, so we didn't go out shooting and had a very pleasant lazy day in our grass hut.
Monday and Tuesday were fairly dull, just going along and we played our usual bouts of Jutland, writing letters, reading, sewing and bullying Merry. On Tuesday we got out of our District into Senanga District, so we have no more prepared camps and no more work to do, and the paddlers have to clear the space and collect the firewood and make paths etc.
On Tuesday night we camped miles from anywhere on a ridge above a lovely quiet day with a white sandy beach all round it and masses of hartebeest spoor all over the place and a hippo's path. The next day we passed any number of these little bays, and at the end of each one there was a point of land sticking out into the river making a little rapid where the water rushed round the corner into the next day. At most of these corners they all had to get out and pull us round with the rope, and at one place we had to get out to to lessen the load.
Wednesday, 3rd March, 1937.
By Jove doesn't time fly? I'd forgotten it was March already, and we forgot to say has and rabbits but I can't remember what happens if you DO say has and rabbits so I don't expect it will make any difference.
At about 10 o'clock we turned up a small backwater to avoid the very narrow and rushy Sioma Gorge with the Falls at the far end, and had to get everything out of the barge so that it could be towed overland by oxen for about 4 miles. As I told you in the last portmanteau the oxen didn't turn up till about 12 so we had lunch there before we started off, and watched the span of 20 vast beasts towing the old arc along the sandy track, kicking up a nice dust frost walk-through afterwards!
G. had to walk, and it was terribly hot, and the b heat of the sand underfoot came through his shoes – like the pavement in New York did when we were there – and Merry's toes didn't approve at all, so he jumped up into the modular with me; it was a very neat little hammock thing that some missionary had given to G. up at Luwingo when he first came out, and they found a stout pole to hang it on and tied it together with the tent ropes and it was very comfy, with my head and feet right up in the air and my behind hanging nearly to the ground in the middle!
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we hoped to get a glimpse of the Falls when we got to the other end, but though we could hear them as if they were very close the messenger said it was about a mile to them, and when one did get there there wasn't much to see as it was rather difficult to get a good few of them; G. had been to them in 1935 on his way up to Mankoya-via-Mongu, in the height of the dry season, and had walked out onto the rocks on the very edge, but he said it was awfully difficult to get at and would probably be even more so in the flood-season, so we didn't go, but contented ourselves with looking at the rapids that led to the Falls, having a cup o' tea, and taking a couple of taxes and teaching Merry to Lie Down to order.
The shooting results were three white-faced duck and to common sandpipers with long slim straight pointed little beaks and long green legs. We have seen quite a lot of them about, and he shot these quite by mistake, the same shot as he got two of the duck!
Thursday, 4th March.
All day we went up a little backwater with breeds and long dry grass on either side, backed by thick bush and trees. At about 7.30 somebody suddenly said "Nsefu", which is Eland, and there we saw, about half a mile ahead of us, some heads standing up above the grass, straight up horns on chestnut heads. G. and the Head Messenger and Musonda and Chishimba and the rifle rushed off at breakneck speed, and about half an hour later we saw the heads turn in their direction, then well round and disappear, and then we heard a shot. Silence. Two quick shots. Silence.
We waited for some time, then paddled up the river as far as the place where we first saw them and waited for news. Presently somebody arrived carrying a tail, a fawn-coloured cow-like tail, which Merry immediately commandeered as his own special property; the man said that they had shot this one dead and had wounded another in the shoulder pretty badly, so we presumed he was following it up. All the paddlers lept out of the barges and rushed off to skin and cut up the dead one – it would be much too big to bring in whole – and Mehdi and I sat under a tree and awaited developments, which developed in the shape of G.
he then went off and got the wounded one, who had lain down feeling very sick, and hadn't the energy to go very far. Unfortunately they were both cows, but as the cows have horns as well as the bulls, and as there is usually only one bull in the herd, it is very difficult to get him, and very hard to see which is which in the changing lights and the very high, thick grass.
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the first animal was the biggest – I should think she stood about 14.2 hands high – and her horns were approximately 29" or 30" long, which is quite good, as the average is 28" and the record 37". Those numbers are for a male, of course, and females are usually longer and slender than males – straight horns with the bit that looks as if it has been twisted round them afterwards. Nice chestnut-fawn coats, with white stripes down their sides to show where their ribs are, and funny black splodges on their legs like the chestnuts on a horse's legs. They are the biggest buck in the bush, and the most harmless, as they are one of the few bucks who will not go for you when he is wounded; they have that funny sweet milky smell like cows do, and are very like cows altogether – and are very good indeed to eat, especially the tail.
Well, by the time the hunt was over it was about 10.30 and presently the paddlers arrived carrying great hunks of meat on poles over their shoulders, and they brought the head for me to see, and I think we will probably keep it – anyway until we get the chance of a better one. The people were thrilled to have the meat – they were very lucky as they had already had the best part of three Impala – and we heard the buzz of talk very late into the night. Our Wemba boys smoke there's, like biltong, but them Marozi eat theirs raw. We kept the brisket and had a huge hunk of its salted to last the journey up.
Friday,5th March.
Last night we pitched camp at a place where the down-mail had seen some buffalo the other day, but the only sign we saw of them were a few two-day-old spoor – so disappointing. But we got up early the next day, and every now and then during the journey the Head Messenger went ashore to explore the prospects, but always came back with a shaking head and the news of day-old spoor, and we finally gave up hope of getting into them and came to the conclusion that they had wandered off into the Bush again. That's the trouble of the reins, everything is scattered because there is so much water about all over the Bush that they do not need to contretemps rate at the river to drink. It's the same trouble exactly that we came across in Kenya, when we went up to the Northern Frontier Province with Eric in search of lion.
We camped at about three, and just as we were sitting down by the fire in our fat dressing-gowns (to keep the mosquitoes off our legs) for some downers, we heard the bicycle wheel-noise of guineafowl, quite close to us in the trees at the edge of the river. Off went G.'s dressing-gown, out came the shot-gun, Chishimba appeared like magic and off they went. Seven shots, the last one when it was almost
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too dark to see – "all Mrs of course" sez I. Then home they all come carrying Seven Dead Guineafowl! They are such good eating too, when they are well cooked – most people say they are so drunk, because they need a terrific loss of basting, pouring gravy over them the whole time they are cooking, and luckily good old Musonda knows how to do them better than I've ever tasted them (not that I've tasted them often, but the Martin,s Cook certainly didn't know how to do them properly).
Old Musonda's such a scream. He is the most marvellously cheery person, always laughing and smiling, and he's been very cocky lately as he is the proud possessor of a power of my brown tennis socks and a pair of G.'s old veldtschoen, which died the other day. I don't know how he manages to get size's nine socks on, G.'s shoes are like boats over them, but that doesn't matter and he wears them all the time and is frightfully thrilled with them, especially as Chishimba and Peter both forgot to bring any issues and so get an awful lot of thorns in their feet.
He was so funny the other day. He came along when we were having breakfast to say good morning, which consists of curtsying clapping his hands, and saying, "Mwapoleni Mokwai" and grinning hugely; he did it to me, then got up to go away, so G. said aunt you going to say good morning to me?" And he said "well, you're the same thing aren't you?" Or words to that effect. G. promptly said, "NO, I am not, I AM THE BWANA", very importantly. Musonda came back with "but I am the Mama's boy now." Complete flab gas station of G: "well. What about taking a month's notice then?" Answer: "that's all right, I'm an old man and it's about time I retired!" Roaring with laughter the whole time, and old Chishimba sniggering behind his hand.
Some people might consider that it was cheeky of Musonda to talk like that, but it isn't at all. He's been with G. ever since he first came out, and helped him learn the language and mothered him when he was new, and is such an "old friend" and nothing would be further from his mind and to be cheeky, and he would be terribly upset if he was ever considered so.
He is very much a "white man's boy" so to speak, and is "on our side". For instance, when we are at home and a Marozi boy comes round with some meat to sell and demands a shilling for it, Musonda simply will not allow me to buy it, as he says it's much too expensive and the boy is a robber to ask that! I never buy anything without consulting him, and he scrutinises every fish and every egg and every groundnut with great care before he will let me buy it. He is so wonderfully trustworthy too; I keep about 10 bobs worth of six fences and shillings in a little pot on my dressing table, and when he comes in and says he wants 6d
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to buy some Mili's, I just tell him to go and take it out of the pot, and I am quite certain he never takes more than he wants, as I keep an account in my diary and it is never wrong (it may be my bad arithmetic of course).
Well, to get back to the business in hand. That night we heard hippos hooting quite close to us on the other side of the small island, in the main river. It's such a funny noise, very deep and low and grandly; I love hearing animal noises in the night – hyenas and the like – as it really does make you realise you are in the Bush – even if you have got deckchairs and three servants!
Saturday,6th March.
We got a mail from Livingstone at sparrow-squawk, and read all the letters going along in the barge. We got one from Mummy, having just got our cable saying I was coming home! It was silly of us not to think of a booking a cabin before, but now I am very glad we didn't as it just settles it – I CAN'T come home even if I wanted to! The Blue Wool Shoes sound most intriguing, and it must have been fun looking at Matinee Coats – I always think that sounds as if he ought to have an Evening Cloak too.
We got Four from Mum, from Aden, Bombay, Agra and New Delhi, which was rather fun, and your tour sounds so lovely, and I'm so glad the jamboree was such a success, but it just COULDN'T be as marvellous as the Australian one. But I am still not in the least jealous! But the funny thing in both the letters was the everlasting controversy over Girls' Names. I hope to goodness it's a boy, because if it isn't I'm afraid we'll just have to take the law into our own hands and be really hard-hearted and call it exactly what WE like, or else call it something quite quite different from anything we've suggested before – how about Agatha or Harriet? I must tell you what you all said about the names as it really is rather funny, it made us roar with laughter till we realised how serious it would be if it DID turn out a Girl
1. Juliet.
Daddy – likes it much better than Julia and likes Judy for short.
Mommy – I like and I also like Judy for short. Julia no.
Mum – oh NOT Juliet! And Judy is cruel.
2. Sylvia.
Daddy – quite approved of.
Mommy – not bad, quite nice and uncommon.
Mum – NOT Sylvia, oh please not!
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3. Lindia
Daddy – would bar it, and we don't think it would be popular.
Mummy – very nice but I feel it wouldn't quite do. There was a lot of disapproval when Lindros was called it.
Mum – yes. Very nice, and Lindis St Clair sounds nice.
4. Penelope
Daddy – doesn't care for it a bit.
Mummy – don't like it because servants call it Penny-lope. (But she won't be living with white servants, and anyway they'd soon learn – B.)
Mum – not. Or Sally or Janet or Penny.
5. Sally
Daddy - no good.
Mummy – AWFUL
Mum – no
6. Alison
Daddy – too Scotch and we're NOT Scotch
Mummy – don't like it either.
Mum – I like it.
7. Ariel
Daddy – there isn't such a name except in Shakespeare. (Yes there is, I know one. – B.)
Mummy – rather too fanciful, but rather nice.
Mum – is nice and unusual.
8. Gillian.
Daddy & Mummy – you didn't comment on this, and we are rather favouring it at the moment, so could we please have your opinion – or is it so low that you didn't think it worth mentioning?)
Mum – is nice.
Now our views on the next batch of Mummy's:
1. Victoria – quite ghastly.
2. Robina – quite ghastly.
3. Elizabeth – very dull – everybody's called Elizabeth. Also people who didn't know would say that she was called after me, and I'M NOT Elizabeth.
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now would you just cast your eyes over these and give your opinions of them? And do say what you feel and don't think that we are being put off by your opinions, because we do so want to have something that everybody likes, though I've no weird all love her very much if she's called Prudence or Matilda (poor little soul). Anyway, it doesn't really matter in the least as we all know perfectly well it's going to be a boy, or else twin boys. So it will probably turn out to bequin-girls, which would save an awful lot of trouble as they would be simply Primus second us tertiary's quadruped (or whatever4th is) and Quintus, or else, Ann, Jane, Mary, Betty and Hey-you.
1. Diana – the goddess of hunting. We both quite like it though we aren't batty about it.
2. June – one of the reasons we liked Juliet or Julia (apart from the fact that I've always loved the name) is because it's being born in July, but if it came early, what about June?
3. Gillian – definitely to be considered. It would be called Gill for short, but the only snag to that is that she would then suffer under the same torture as G. does – of having it spelt with the J, which irritates him beyond measure.
(G. is out at the moment, and I can't remember what else we thought of. Oh, here he is.)
4. Vivian – I like it, and G. does quite, but not very much.
5. evil in – only on condition she was called evil in, and certainlyNOT EV, although I've got to like it a bit better than I used to because of liking EV so much.
I think that's all we can think of. Hugh is sending us his name-book soon I believe, so we will have another whack when that arise.
Well, at about midday on Saturday the 6th we arrived at Senanga, the next Station up from Sesheke and found there Mr Leversedge, who came out on the Dunnottar with us and is a Grass-widower as Lisbeth is staying in England with the two children until October, when they are being moved to Namwala. He was in very good form and talked 19 to the dozen all the time we were there; G. new just how he felt, having been at Mankoya alone for months and months without having a soul to talk to, though there is a mission (to French ones) and an odd storekeeper or two quite near Senanga, but it's not quite the same as meeting
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someone else in the Service that you can let off steam to
the house is quite new, only built in 1931, and has a lovely situation up on the top of the hill above the river, overlooking a wide sweeping bend with a wooded ridge running right round the edge of it. I would to the left is nothing but mile upon mile of playing, with a faint blue line on the horizon which is the "opposite shore" so to speak of the Zambesi's basin; usually that plane is just grass, with bits of grass here and there, and an occasional clump of grass, and every now and then patch of grass and wide stretches of grass, but now it is all just water, with here and there channel of water, and a pool of water every now and then to break the monotony between the patches of water. Actually, it is water and grass together, as some of the grass refuses to become water till the water is grown big enough to completely submerge the grass. So the view from Senanga is a symphony of grass and water.
The house is the same style as the Mankoya house, and it isSO nice – absolutely palatial after the little pig-sty at Sesheke. It is built of new red brick, with a nice long Veranda and the sitting room and dining room are joined together by a tall archway, which would look very nice with a heavy draping curtain. The floors are all nice and whole instead of with great cracks across them and white ant mounds sticking up in the cracks, and the walls and ceilings are also clean -looking and newly painted. It'll be so lovely when we go to Mankoya and have a beautiful house like this, and start all fresh in it, and I have to get some new curtains and things.
The whole station is very nice too. Until 1931 it was at Nalolo, not very far away, which consists of several small islands, so you had to go in a boat from the house to the office, and in another boat from there to the Morena Mokwai's village, and in another boat from all of them to the mainland. So tiresome, and so unhealthy, being surrounded by water like that. So they move it up to its present position, and I can't think why they didn't think of putting it there in the first place as it is an ideal spot for a Boma. All the paths from house to office, aerodrome, compound, messengers lines, river, etc. are built of brick lined with little white stones, so neat. The office is a lovely place with an office for the D.C., another for the junior official, another for the native clerk and a nice big court-room with a lime skin on the floor under the desk.
There's is a very fine aerodrome to; Leversedge is very keen on flying and passed his A or B certificate on this last leave, so he is scrupulous about keeping the aerodrome in good order and has flipped round several times in the old planes that landed there.
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he had a huge dog called Ben, which belonged to his predecessor, Heggs, whose home on leave and is coming back in a few months time to Senanga; it is a sort of native dog with probable bits of pointer somewhere, a vast white animal with brown splodges and a tailless curving over his back in a native-dog manner. When Merry arrived on the scene of action bend disapprove strongly and almost went for him, snarling and baring his teeth and heckling his back, so he was turned out on the end of the boot which annoyed him still more. However, by the time we left he had come round, and was even trying to play with Merry, though it was a very pathetic effort as he was so fast that Merry couldn't get away from him, every time he tried to catch up with us then got hold of his back in his teeth and rolled him over, and poor little dog couldn't get up without being rolled over again!
Merry's second day in a house was not a very great success. He had one day at Sesheke, and misbehaved himself several times, and this time he succeeded about three times, but was so cruelly treated after each time that he didn't tried it on again so it was all right and he was allowed to stay indoors. I think it was a great deal excitement, and the fact that he couldn't get out whenever he wanted to, but he has never made a mistake either in the barge or in the tent so we thought he considered himself house-trained. He always sleeps in bed with us now, neither of our feet or else curled up in the crook (that is meant to be crook) of our knees or tummies, and is SO good, never moves till it's time to get up. He is much gentler with his little sharp teeth now too, and only licks faces instead of biting them, and understands NO perfectly. He really is the MOST adorable little person, and has such attractive little tricks – sometimes lying on his back and galloping with his front paws with a broad grin on his face. And when he lies on his tum on your chest, with his nose between his paws and his eyes rolling up at you, he's just irresistible.
I must stop now. We are at Mongo, staying with the what more is, but I'm not going to tell you anything about it at all till the time comes, as it is only muddling if you know something about last week and something about next week and nothing about this week, so to speak. The mail goes tomorrow, and as we have arrived a few days early I will probably have quite a lot of spare time and will be able to get up-to-date in the next portmanteau.
It's all being SUCH fun, and were still just at the point of bursting with happiness. We are both very well, and G. seems to have quite got over his bits of fever. I am better than I've ever been before I think, and I'm very pink, which is unusual for Little Pasty Face, isn't it.
Bags of Love (all we've got to spare, anyway),
from
US.
