Kris Massie's memories of Kitwe.
Part 27
At the back of the uncultivated part of the farm we had power lines on marching pylons over the land and one could hear a distinct hum if walking underneath. I only did this once as it gave one an eerie feeling! Closer to the office was a large anthill which husband and two friends climbed one day for a better view. They were soon disrupted with much laughter from all onlookers when suddenly ants stormed up their legs. Having danced around a little before thinking of getting off, it was too late! As they scattered in disarrayed descent, they divested themselves of such clothing as to remain ‘decent!’
We had another fascinating view, this time of ‘army’ (legionary) ants. On a given day Luka came running to me saying ‘Madam, come and see the ants’ … and there they were, on the march from under the front stable door, across the dark brown carpet, and under and out the other stable door onto the veranda. Neither of these doors were exactly ant-tight due to a miniscule gap at the bottom. There is nothing whatsoever one can do when these ants are on the march for they have large pincers and give a nasty stinging bite and are sort of ‘cling on’ too. In fact there were hundreds so any disruption and you would be in big trouble! They marched in columns with such precision hence their nickname. When they had finally gone there was a perfect dust trail left in their wake.
It was after relating this event that someone gave me a deterrent tip – talcum powder! Spotting any ants near the abode, the powder should be sprinkled. We know this is not attractive, but it stops them in their tracks.
One evening round about 8pm I had a frantic telephone call from Jim. He was at home lying on his bed and his eyes were affected meaning he couldn’t see very well and could I come over quickly? There was no time to lose, I jumped in the car to drive through the township and town, through red traffic lights (thank goodness for less traffic at that time of night) and I made his house in Central Street Nkana in 8 minutes! His house servant was waiting at the already opened gate saying ‘Bwana (Sir) has cooked’ as I skidded to a halt. I dashed inside grabbed the pot of potatoes and a spoon as I sped by and on entering his bedroom just said ‘open.’ It was carbohydrates he needed then and I am so thankful that he had actually cooked. He soon ‘came round’ when I informed him we were off to Nkana Mine Hospital. Despite his furious protestations I got my way and he was kept in for two weeks before they could regulate his insulin.
He was always naughty in that he would have a whiskey or two and when I admonished him he’d coolly inform me that it was diluted with milk!! That’s what his usual tipple was, whiskey and milk.
He was the only person who could get my African Violets to bloom. His secret was to water them with the last of his black tea.
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