Kris Massie's
Memories of Kitwe
1963 - 1981
Kris Massie has posted some "Memories of Kitwe" on FaceBook, and has kindly agreed for them to be posted here as well.
BCal Office in Kitwe. Zambia - June 1975
Kris Massie [nee van Woenssel] (reservations)
Viv Jackson, Secretary to the Route Sales Manager
Terry Lesch (secretary)
(sadly lost her battle with cancer and is no longer with us)
Barbara McLoughlin (supervisor).
Don Whiting (Mgr Zambia),
Dave Gerrard (Mgr - Cargo Sales)
Chris Tear (Sales Mgr)
can also be seen in the photo
----oOo-----
Part 01
Deepest, Darkest Africa, here I come!
1963:
A week before Christmas I said goodbye to my parents and flew to Johannesburg to stay overnight with my old friend and her husband before being able to board the flight to Northern Rhodesia. The airline in question was Trek Airways. On phoning and checking the flight for the next day I found they had cancelled it and would operate day or so later. If I hadn’t called I would have endured a senseless journey to the airport. Communicating my delay to my husband was not what it is today, no telephone link, mobiles, texts or e-mails, only the sending of a telegram. For those unfamiliar with telegrams, the message was tele-typed and the strips stuck to a form and encased within a bright orange envelope. The minute you saw it there was no mistaking what it contained – either bad news or good news for birthdays and anniversaries.
The day of the flight arrived and I did not enjoy this journey either. The memory of my very first flight remained as vivid as ever - the occasion when I was 19, I represented Dad at his god-daughter’s wedding. I flew from Port Elizabeth to Johannesburg and travelled by road to Pretoria for the wedding. The aircraft was a ‘prop job’ and half way into the flight we entered a violent thunderstorm over Bloemfontein in the then Orange Free State. We were informed by the captain that there was no going round, over or under and to have our seat belts securely fastened. We rocked and rolled around the sky with flashes of lightning and buckets of rain. I was totally terrified. After swearing I would never fly again I somehow managed the return journey which remains a complete blur!
It was with this in mind that I found my hands clutching the arm rests with each little air pocket and all the while my 5 month old son slept blissfully on! Port of Entry was at Livingstone in the south west corner near the famous Victoria Falls and as we exited the plane, the heat and humidity hit us like a dozen sledgehammers. At the passport queue the ‘if you wait long enough, you’ll eventually be processed’ became proof of a very large pudding and one we all came to know so well in subsequent years. It was then that darling son vomited all over me. Despite my attempts to clean us up, you can imagine the delight of the other passengers as I boarded a smaller aircraft for the onward flight to Ndola - it certainly wasn’t Eau de Cologne!
I arrived in a daze toward early evening to be met by husband and his colleague at the small airport of Ndola on the Copperbelt. Having been processed through immigration and customs and with retrieved luggage we journeyed by car on a tarred road to Kitwe. How I recall my astonishment at the amount of trees and vegetation converging on the road sides! This was the Tropics not only in heat, but the vegetation I'd read about. I couldn’t believe I had found myself in this verdant denseness and I felt like an explorer, bewildered and lost but excited and not at all fearful of what might jump out at me! Strange smells assaulted my nose. Perhaps I should say scents but then Africa, especially Central Africa always has that certain recognizable scent as soon as you land and emerge from the ‘craft. Eventually blindfold you could tell where you were and when you are away, you long for Africa as it and your blood mingle!
Part 2
The journey from Ndola to Kitwe took up ¾ of an hour before we reached the Lister Avenue house we had been allocated in the area of Parklands. After such a journey I took in little on arrival and I was happy to drop into bed as was our poor tuckered out child. The following morning would be enough time for the adventure to begin.
With eyes wide open and not without excitement I explored. It was then when I found many home frontages were all open plan with a front lawn, trees and flower beds, a driveway and a fair sized rear garden where vegetables and fruit trees were grown and if you were lucky, there was a swimming pool too. Some homes had a hedge or wall surrounding the plot.
The house was semi-detached with another in similar style, they were both Council houses and on our other side was a vacant plot. Across the street more homes and a block of flats with a family living in one flat who were to become friends. To the left out front but a short stroll away, was Freedom Park which became a short cut to town (a fair walk away) along one of its many paths. Off the street and along grass verges were exotic Flamboyant trees with their stunning blooms not forgetting storm water drains to take the water from tropical downpours.
A male house help dad been employed for it was mainly the men who worked on the domestic side and as cooks, while the women were usually nannies when the family had children. I soon settled in and made friends with my next door neighbours with their infant son who were from England on a three year Council contract.
I soon learned what the rainy season meant. This commenced was then from the end of October until end March and the weather was glorious, with azure skies and hot sun. I was to experience terrific thunderstorms, loving every thunderous crash and dazzling lightning streak. Large clouds would billow and build mid morning and then the heavens would open up. I had never seen tropical rain on this scale before and soon appreciated why there were those deep storm water drains. Without them streets would be impassable. On many occasions even these would overflow and cause flooding when unpaved roads would become quagmires and homes flooded too. The rain would cascade down and you couldn’t see beyond this ‘curtain.’
I recall the start one day of a downpour and I was amazed to see it chucking down half way across the street as I stood in the complete dry as though an invisible curtain parted us!
There were occasions in the years that followed when the rains were late. You’d catch us anxiously looking skyward at the enormous cloud build-up and hoping, hoping ... When late like this, you could guarantee the first downpour would be on the night 5th November, the Guy Fawkes celebrations with fireworks courtesy the many English people living in the country. This was a tradition as the celebration is of a historical event but currently appears to be on the wane - excepting for organised firework displays and Health & Safety later came into being due to the unexpected injuries from naïve people.
We had no car having sold both before we embarked on our new life in the tropics and I spent two years walking everywhere and getting to know our area. Walking to town was quite exhausting in the heat although when buying our groceries but my husband had a works van and I was thankfully given a lift home. Kitwe is well laid out in a grid system with many established shops in the centre, a supermarket, a large post office, several banks, butchers, jewellers, a pharmacy, 2 doctors surgeries, a library plus shops for music & instruments, books, magazines & newspapers. There were shops for clothing and dress materials, curios, hairdressers, sports equipment, travel agents, airline offices, street curio and sellers of African Art paintings and carvings. There were a couple of restaurants serving lovely food and two hotels, the Edinburgh being the posh one and the older Nkana, the not so posh. There were general office buildings, accountants, insurance companies and lawyers/solicitors offices. The railway station was one street away from the main Matuka Avenue, and a large motor company, Duly Motors, with their showroom on the opposite corner of that street.
Also out of the town centre were both junior and senior schools, Kitwe Central Hospital, a Police Station, Fire Station and the TV Studio.
Kitwe was a busy thriving place which subsequently fell a little by the way side when their economy down turned from the 1980’s due to the drop in the price of copper – Northern Rhodesia’s main industry. As I write, I am happy to say it is now once again an up and coming country with enterprise, farming and the game parks resulting in a thriving tourism.
On the other side of the railway line is Nkana, a section of Kitwe which started off in the early part of the 20th century as a railway station. This supported the growing complex of copper mining (hence Copperbelt) and named after Chief Nkana, the local traditional ruler. The copper mines are situated there and elsewhere on the Copperbelt with a vast number of homes to house the mine employees. Kitwe grew as a service town for the mines and is also known as Nkana-Kitwe, and before the arrival of the white man, the place was called Itichwe (meaning ‘head’), hence the eventual name of Kitwe.
Part 3
When our son was approximately 10 months old I obtained the services of a nanny and I was able to resume work and by getting back to work it was a means of meeting people and making friends.
My first work was as Credit Controller and mastering an NCR accounting machine (huge and cumbersome] for Vennie Myers Gowns, a dress shop in Coronation Square (later re-named Kaunda Square after the first president at Independence). The owner, a widow, Vennie Myers, started her chain of three clothing shops with the others in the towns of Ndola and Chingola. She initially made her way round houses selling her wares from a suitcase carried by her African employee, named Engine, who became her driver and right-hand man as it were.
What a formidable and memorable woman she was! I estimated her age as possibly in her 60's, blonde curls piled atop her head, bright red lipstick and nail varnish to match, always wearing a dramatic black dress and high heels not to mention smoking from a long cigarette holder. Elegance personified was she who ran her shops by means of strictness and good customer service. This completed her picture and it was akin to something from a film to see her, every inch so decked out and in absolute authority.
The longer I worked there the more I got to know a bit more about her life and learned that they had been in the country a long time. Her late husband had been a keen photographer and I was to see some of his excellent work. I felt that her business was her life and kept her from being too lonely. She also had a deputy – in fact we were ‘an all women’ lot on the staff! The rest of the employees worked from behind the counters selling the clothing and helping in the changing rooms. Our mentor often came out of her downstairs office to greet customers and to give advice on whether a garment suited or to check the fit. I think she had her ear to the ground at all times! Her stock ranged from underwear to dresses, cocktail frocks and wedding gowns and she also employed a seamstress for alterations when and where necessary.
The rains, that first working year of 1964, were late in fact so late they arrived at the beginning of December and the large raindrops crashed down on the corrugated iron roof – a noise that was so loud you couldn’t hear or be heard to speak. We were just under it as our accounting office was on a balcony gained by way of a staircase toward the rear of the shop. Additionally, imagine how hot we were with the heat rising from the floor below and eventually one fan was installed but it just blew hot air around!
I dashed from the office that day to the pavement and into the warm rain and I got soaked of course but, on returning to the shop I was dry in 10 minutes!
Sleep at night became almost impossible for we were yet to have the luxury of air conditioning and we hadn’t yet bought a fan either.
On my walk home from town one day as I drew abreast of our lounge windows through which I could see our home help dancing! Now this alarmed me for what was he up to when we were out? Intent on having a word with him I fortunately held my tongue … thank goodness I did, for although he was dancing he was in fact polishing the floor! Each foot was slipped under the canvas grip of the floor brushes and he was moving his feet around doing just that, polishing! What a novel idea I though and one which I would remember and use myself one day - it beats getting down on one’s hands and knees.
I had grown vegetables before and was used to waiting for days before any green emerged from the soil. So imagine my delight and astonishment when the green shoots from the planted seed were literally seen the next day – that’s the tropics for you!
I eventually met up with the occupants of the flat across the road. Yvonne’s husband Tony, a salesman at Duly Motors, an energised and quite mad, lovely person. Yvonne was attractive and very serene – the exact opposite of Tony and they had two small boys. Having gone over for tea one day with son, I was informed by Yvonne well into the visit that one of her two had measles! I charged out of there but, too late. he caught it and the little fellow was certainly ill with a good dose of overall cloned spotting giving him a red hue. I kept him in his cot with curtains drawn as one of the complications which could occur was to eyes and I was taking all precautions. His nanny had strict nursing instructions as I could not take time off work. On arrival home one afternoon I was to find him, beetroot red and laden with jerseys … these were very quickly removed! It was then that I learned when African children became ill it was thought better to keep them warm, no matter how hot the weather! Fortunately a full recovery was made with no after effects.
Tony bought a radio controlled ‘plane, for his boys really, but it certainly brought the kid out in him. With my son, Yvonne, Tony and their sons we drove to the old airfield one day – Tony was to show his offspring how to fly it. He had a few trial runs down the runway and then decided he’d had enough practise at the controls, so got it into the air … and then … lost control. Oh!! It was one of the funniest episodes I have ever watched as Tony, desperate to get it back, ran down the runway trying whatever controls he could to turn the thing around. Alas, he had lost complete control and all was in vain as we watched the ‘plane growing smaller and smaller off into the wide blue yonder. How crest fallen were our children’s faces as we drove home – never mind Tony’s!
Margaret Tait:-
Lovely to hear about Vennie Myers, thank you. Our friends, Rosemary and Colleen Allanson, had all their frocks from her in the late 50s and early 60s. Fabulous clothes. Colleen's wedding dresses - for all of the bridal party - came from the shop too. I was the youngest and loved my dress.
Part 4
We carried on with work, husband ever busy with the parks and gardens also having to see to the digging of graves if there was to be a funeral. He was known to take over from one of his labour force whom he felt wasn't digging properly! A perfectionist he certainly was.
In our office we had a bookkeeper Elspeth and I gained a colleague Gladys. It was Gladys and I after work one day who ventured into a massage business (not a parlour!) to try it out. We had a most relaxing massage and the owner used a lovely scented oil after which I could have 'danced all night …' I was so energised. An amazing experience.
Northern Rhodesia was to gain Independence on 24 October 1964 and renamed Zambia after the Zambezi River which to the south divided Northern Rhodesia from Southern Rhodesia (latterly renamed Zimbabwe after their independence on 11 November 1965). Arrangements were made to celebrate and husband had to be on duty that evening in the park. A visiting Jamaican Steel Drum Band was in attendance and the sounds came wafting over to ours and other homes. I feared trouble when the allotted time was over – too much alcohol from the many in attendance and who knew what could develop. I needn’t have bothered considering sleeping under the bed with my son, as all ended peacefully.
Part of my apprehension was overhearing a couple of local men wandering down the Avenue the day before, discarding and selecting the houses they passed and which of these they would occupy immediately after Independence. The incoming President had intimated the country would be theirs – which it would be – but not in the way they interpreted it from their overheard conversation.
Part 5
I was also included in an invitation to join husband at the newly appointed Mayor’s cocktail party and had a grand time during which I met many professional African people. This was the first time in my life where I was at a mixed-race ‘occasion.’ Remember I came from a segregated country and had never before had such an opportunity. I was quite at ease and it came naturally to me despite never having spoken with my parents on the political aspect of the country I had left. Whether or not anything was discussed with my brother I don’t know but I suspect it was considered not seemly for a girl to know about. It was indeed a man’s world! Many early mornings though I do remember hearing both parents speaking, too softly to decipher the context of their discussions. It was in all probability aspects of Dad’s work in the Supreme Court.
All I know is that within me I felt very uncomfortable living with apartheid as segregation was known in South Africa. (This term was coined by the then Nationalist Government)
As I continued to work, meeting people and making friends I didn’t bargain for falling in love with a country, nor my compatibility with its peoples.
Zambia was inhabited by over 72 different tribes with a wide cultural diversity. It is one of the few countries in Africa with very little tribal animosity, and the existence of many tribes has proved less of a political problem than in many other African states.
In 1965 we moved to another council house in St Peters Close (eventually renamed Twalishuka Close after Independence – meaning unknown) off Freedom Avenue and still within Parklands but further away from the park. Freedom Avenue, a busy thoroughfare led to a roundabout with a parade of shops on one side. A petrol station and garage on the corner with a nightclub above, at the time named St Tropez (later changed to The Golden Peacock), the Zambia Television studios around the other side of the island and leaving this a road led further a-field to the suburb of Riverside. Other roads to the left and right led to more homes with Kitwe Central Hospital at one end and the Fire Brigade around that corner in Independence Avenue.
Our Close was a cul de sac and safer for children as our son was apt to charge down the drive way in glee with either nanny or us chasing after him. The house was of similar style to that vacated with the surrounding garden somewhat smaller and a Bougainvillea hedge acted as a screen giving some privacy at the front. There was one shrub on the front lawn, an Oleander, which we removed very quickly because its milky sap is lethal. I had heard of a child who had died from being poisoned after breaking off a branch which she stuck into her mouth.
Part 6
We occupied this house for a year when the house opposite came up for sale. It was being sold by a South African couple who had no faith in the new country and were therefore hot footing it back from whence they came. We grabbed the opportunity to buy it. It had all the appearance of a Swiss chalet with its peaked roof. I must mention the bathroom, the décor was definitely not our taste at all. Pink bathroom suite and black tiled walls and floor tiles - chic for some perhaps!
The lounge lounge had large windows which allowed a good view of the front lawn and the driveway.
The plot was large with a good sized area to the left when looking from the front gate and the previous occupiers had dug out a huge hole intended for a swimming pool – but this was as far as they and we got! A wall separated us from our neighbours at the rear and on the right. A Hibiscus hedge separated us from the Close and access to or exit from the drive way were a pair of high black gates. Further to the left a hedge separated us from a Railway Company owned house.
With such a large garden we employed a gardener and there was plenty of work to keep him busy. We noticed however that the Hibiscus hedge needed little clipping along the outside and made a discovery. African women would come along with their baskets and pick the leaves. On querying, I was informed that when cooked, the leaves taste similar to spinach! I regret never getting round to trying it for myself though.
We eventually planted a row of Poplar trees on either side of the driveway and many shrubs in the front garden - a low wall separated the drive from the lawn which was on a higher level and two rows of paving slabs, the width of car tyres, were laid on the driveway. We grew many vegetables to the side of the plot where the boundary ended in a V shape. We also had one very large variety of Monkey Puzzle tree on the front lawn.
During the vegetable growing season we allowed our gardener to plant mealies (maize) but on a given day as husband inspected the growth he discovered marijuana plants amid the mealies. Although these were widely cultivated by the local people it was illegal to do so but a blind eye was turned for it was much in demand by them – no matter what rank one held. Not in our back yard it wasn’t or a nice fine would have resulted. After a right telling off, the lot were pulled up and burnt much to the dismay of said gardener. We didn’t wish to get into trouble via his endeavours.
We were then very fortunate to employ a husband and wife team. Jarvis worked in the house and was also our cook while his wife Esther became Eugene’s nanny. She was wonderful and they became extremely fond of each another. Both employees were able to ‘live in’ as there was a bed-sit and toilet already to the rear of the car port. We eventually extended this with the addition of a room giving them a separate lounge from the bedroom. We also enlarged the toilet room and installing a shower and hand basin to become a full bathroom. In time too the car port was covered with a roof.
I remember being overcome with a feeling of guilt and in one rash moment I insisted one day on giving son his lunch, much to Esther’s amusement. I felt I’d seen too little of my child who was by then about 2.5 years old – the first couple of mouthfuls were a doddle when the imp came in to play. With a full mouth, his cheeks puffed out, and he whooshed food over me, his high chair, and just about everything within reach… much hilarious laughter from him to a highly un-amused Mom. No amount of coaxing altered his play and when Esther entered the kitchen with a ‘madam what have you done!’ Mom was politely told to please go and sit down and Esther ‘would bring her a nice cup of tea.’ My son thought this was even more highly amusing as his tea mantra followed me out of the kitchen!
Part 7
By now our son had made friends with the eldest son of a couple living halfway down the Close and who already had an older daughter and who were to become good friends of ours and if our son was not home he was at their house and vice versa or they were at the small park round the corner under the supervision of Esther. They had two more playmates in the Close.
Our dogs and cats loved their new garden with plenty of space to romp and play. We had brought Carmen, the German Shepherd and Pixie the Sealyham Terrier with us and later we acquired Goldie, the Golden Labrador/Retriever. She was spotted as a puppy when at the Rhokana Mine swimming pool and a lady was giving away the now ready litter. Goldie was to become very attached to me and anyone who visited whom she wasn’t acquainted with, she would sit between me and the other person until she was sure all was well! Pixie eventually succumbed to old age and she was replaced by a Fox Terrier named Topsy-Turvy, quite mad and full of life.
We sadly lost Carmen after a trip away during which we had an American couple to house-sit for us. Carmen had a pure pedigree and was highly strung to boot and when it came to thunderstorms and indeed, if she as much as spotted one cloud in the sky, she would come shivering indoors cowering under anything she could get beneath. Our vet had supplied tranquillisers for these seasons but they appeared to have little effect. We returned home to a very upset couple as Carmen had become blind from her nervousness. We were certainly not apportioning blame on them, it was something no one could help and we eventually, by consulting our vet Mike, had to put her to sleep. A very sad day.
Still with our animals, our cats also met their Maker through age but they were not then replaced. Goldie was mated with another dog and produced just one puppy and she was most protective mother. Topsy was maternally jealous and would try to carry the puppy away from her at every opportunity and great fights would break out between the two. Such situation could not be tolerated, nor continue, as we had to keep them separated at all times.
One Sunday afternoon my friend came to have a look at the puppy and as she entered the room, unbeknown to us Topsy shot in and the attack started … Goldie had Topsy’s head in her mouth and to avoid serious injury I, in a moment of rash brevity placed both hands on her upper and lower jaws to prise them open. I released Topsy and pushed her out, we swiftly closed the door but Goldie’s jaws came down to puncture the palm of my left hand. A trip to Nkana Hospital was necessary and I hurried there to get a Tetanus shot and to have the wound seen to. In my haste I’d not thought of taking the Rabies Certificate and the nurse on duty refused to treat my wound without it. Another round trip was made (4 miles each way) and on presentation of the required piece of paper, she barely looked at it before she informed me the treatment was to wash the wound with soapy water and I needed no further treatment. I blew my fuse in the car on the way home!
Part 8
In time Goldie’s offspring went to our friend's household but unfortunately some months later she was inadvertently run over. It was an appalling accident and they were very upset. Topsy went on to astonishingly mate with an Alsatian after digging her way out under the front hedge – I was horrified but there was little we could do. Goldie was fine with the new addition and left the protective Topsy alone to enjoy her motherhood despite Topsy’s fierce growling when she caught sight of her. Strangely enough her puppy was small enough for her to give birth to – I sometimes wonder at Mother Nature!
In time the puppy was given away but we were still concerned by Topsy’s behaviour toward Goldie and consulted vet Mike about it. He was not optimistic but worried that Topsy might well in time, attack a small child or worse, a baby. There is no cure for this and it was thought best to have her put down. Now that was one of the saddest days of my life too, but, we had to be practical. I cried all the way home in the car…
Our son joined other children at a nursery playgroup and months later fell ill with chickenpox doing the rounds. He coped very well as children do but it wasn’t something I had as a child despite Mom putting me daytime in brother's bed when he had it. I had thought myself immune over the years. I was at work when I developed an itch on my abdomen and on investigation there was the proof! I had to inform Mrs Myers and she was not at all pleased, ‘Now Van, who would do your work?’ were her first words! I offered to stay and infect everyone whereupon she reluctantly gave in!
I should mention that Mrs Myers could not pronounce my married name which was Dutch and she shortened it to ‘Van’ which I hated but could do nothing about!
I was very ill and our lovely Polish Dr Gottlieb prescribed a tranquilliser for day use and sleeping pills for nights. You couldn’t put a pin between the ‘blisters!’ Conscious of not scratching, when I got better I was left with two little indentations, one on my nose and one in my left ear. There was also the worry of Encephalitis due to some pain I had at the base of my neck however thankfully nothing untoward came of it.
It took weeks for the scabs to finally disappear which was when I asked for a mirror but no one would provide me with one! When I managed to laboriously crawl out of bed for such a long stay really weakens one – Oh Woe and Thrice Woe! Pale blue blotches greeted me and I burst into tears fearing I would never look the same as before. I needn’t have been concerned for after a week these too vanished and I returned to ‘normality’ and back to work.
We acquired a car the owner no longer wanted, an old Austin (with a ‘dickey!’) which allowed me to become more independent and get around. It wasn’t long before it gave up the ghost and we purchased a second hand car from a family leaving the country. A two-tone Humber Sceptre with a blue top and white skirt, very smart it was too and it drove like a dream.
Part 9
Having a reliable car I was able to regularly play hockey again and having made enquiries I met a hockey player from the Nkana Wanderers Club with the club’s field in the vicinity of the Rhokana Copper Mine. Due to the output from the chimneys in the smelters, the grass on the field didn’t grow too well and eventually it was to become a smooth gravel pitch. We had practise days during the week and our inter-town matches were at weekends with clubs in Ndola, Luanshya, Mufulira, Chingola and when they could field a team, Chililabombwe (formally Bancroft). I was able to take Eugene with me where he played with the other children in the facilities provided.
From my position in goal I was to face the opposition of a formidable inner and wing pair playing for the Kitwe Playing Fields Club. Yvonne and Marianne had been in these positions for some 20 odd years and either one of them could slam in a goal not seen with the naked eye! Not in the slightest disheartened I resolved to stop these goals the following year by sheer concentration, never taking my eyes off the ball from start to finish. And stop them I did! As time after time Copperbelt League winners, they were becoming a little disgruntled … to the point that I was invited to play for them the following year!
I then acquired a smooth haired black and tan miniature Dachshund whom I named Snoopy of course – she was the loveliest little dog and settled in perfectly with us and our other dogs.
One Sunday afternoon the ever energetic son was playing outside while I did a bit of cup cake baking. I went out to call him to come for cool drink and cake but he was nowhere to be seen. I called again and heard this little voice shouting from … oh my goodness … don’t panic … he was at the very top of the swaying branches of the Monkey Puzzle tree. ‘Look at meeeee, I’m King of the Castle’ … I repeated my offer and not wishing to cause alarm with the words ‘be careful’ I forced myself to walk indoors. One didn’t dare say much else for this could have an adverse effect. My astonishment was great when seconds later he appeared - how he had so quickly climbed down I will never know nor did I wish to know!
This episode got me thinking what would I have done had he fallen out and how would I cope with any injury? I posed this question to my friend at the first opportunity and she told me the Red Cross gave frequent first aid classes and perhaps we had better go along! And go along we did ...
I loved practising first aid, bearing in mind that I have always wanted to take up nursing which I had put on the back burner so long ago. We had use of a hall from Rhokana Mines and we had a good crowd attending. From the lectured theory we got down to the practical side using each other as guinea pigs. We were lucky to have a ‘resuscitation Annie’ on whom to practise mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and CPR.
We were fortunate too in having a male nurse who had come out from England on contract for the Mine and John was a great asset and was able to relate instances he’d experienced during his career. One he related was nursing a rabies infected man giving us detailed description of this awful condition for which at the time, there was no cure and death was certain. It was relevant to do so for rabies was prevalent in the country and domestic animals could become infected if they hadn’t been vaccinated, as many weren’t. We in turn had to teach our children what to do if they spotted a dog foaming or salivating from the mouth and acting in a strange manner – climb the nearest tree and stay there! What would happen if there was no tree … we hoped that if the unlikely occasion arose there would be one as Zambia was then endowed with trees.
We created ‘accident scenes’ using our members and the required make-up and would test their response. In time some of us gained our instructors accreditation and, I was one of them!
Part 10
The departure of many of our members (nearly all our trained personnel were expatriates on contract) resulted in suddenly finding ourselves heading the whole Red Cross unit. This meant taking responsibility for the two VW ambulances, a fully equipped Land Rover with radio facilities for contact with the outside world, the hired hall, working out rosters for attendances at events, fund raising, recruiting and training future First Aiders.
We designed a new uniform, grey dresses and trousers, and white shirts for the men. The standard navy blue serge Red Cross uniform certainly was not suitable for the tropics! We became involved in the undertaking of first aid duties at swimming gala’s, rugby matches, stock car racing, gymkhanas, the race course and the annual agricultural show to name but a few. We were approached by the then fire chief and the chief of police to train their personnel in first aid. Not only this, we were requested to work with them at the scenes of RTA’s (Road Traffic Accidents) now referred to as Collisions, shortened to RTC’s, thought to be a better sounding word. When they were called out we would be too, in the main due to Kitwe Central Hospital’s fleet of ambulances being severely depleted and the graveyard of carcases could be seen from the hospital compound - a lack of funds prevented repair. Not a sight for patient’s eyes for you could view the scene from some of the wards!
It didn’t matter what time of day our call-out’s came and our employers who recognised our voluntary work, were most accommodating. Thus commenced a memorable 7 years attending ‘RTC’s’. Some accidents were horrific to say the least and embedded in my memory.
The best was delivering babies and one was in the ambulance from village to hospital over a rough road, jolting along. My numerous requests for John to stop fell on deaf ears so intent was he on getting to the hospital! This instance I remember well as the baby had quite a long cord wrapped around its neck which I gently looped over its head having told mother not to push, but pant. All ended well, a baby girl whom mother named after our driver!
I and a few others then decided to obtain our Red Cross Nursing Certificate and started a training course in addition to first aid duties and still playing hockey – and working! Lectures were in the evening and our practical sessions were undertaken in the government run Kitwe Central Hospital in 4 hour shifts at weekends. We went through the whole gambit from medical, surgical to childbirth. It was fascinating to say the least and we experienced so much, probably more than we ever hoped for. One of the most horrific observations being the advanced stage of venereal disease; it was incredibly interesting as well as distressing - especially seeing babies born from mothers with Syphilis, their little bodies covered in yellow pustules. We took strict precautions of course and were masked and gowned. In the men’s ward I saw how the extreme cases affected them and a certain part of their anatomy.
I pick out the one instance when I nursed an elderly lady with Cervical cancer whom I sadly report did not last the week – her ‘release’ was a relief from this debilitating and awful disease. One of the Zambian nurses overheard me one day soothing the old lady who had repeatedly asked when she could go home and I replied ‘soon’. The nurse who nonchalantly stood in the doorway loudly said, ‘why do you say that? We both know she’ll be dead soon.’ I was aghast and hoped that the patient had not overheard and took the nurse into a side room and lectured her on the not to do’s and, her lack of professionalism. I just hope she remembered my words.
Occasionally giving injections too had its moments! I was called by another nurse one day who simply could not penetrate a patient’s skin. Try as I might … my goodness what a ‘hide!’ In the end the only solution which presented itself was to step away and by taking aim, launch the missile – bingo! Only in Africa!
Part 11
One of the firemen rang me one day to say his wife was in labour at home but that there was a problem, her mother had arrived and taken complete control, the likes of which he thought were incorrect for the early stages of labour and would I please go and somehow get his wife to hospital …
On arrival I found a tall woman, arms crossed over her chest and with a defiant facial expression letting me know that I wasn’t about to usurp her position! Her daughter was crouched in a corner of the room having been told by her mother to ‘bear down.’ This was far too early for first stage labour and quick thinking was required by me!
I decided to flatter her and proceeded to complimented her on her fine looks saying she was far too young to be become a grandmother in the first place ... compliments were flying from my mouth … and by golly, it worked a treat! After pondering a while she suddenly launched a huge hug on my person and I was given the command of ‘take her!’ It was with great speed that I whisked mother-to-be off to hospital. True to form the baby wasn’t born until the following day!
Our involvement occasionally required psychological input other than practical aid.
My next accomplishment was to again fall pregnant! How different were my two pregnancies for this time no such weight gain, I was as fit as a fiddle from playing hockey and was able to carry on working until I was 8 months. My Dutch in-law’s came out to visit in December 1966 to be with us for the birth, predicted to be the following month. I had not met them so I was understandably quite apprehensive but I need not have worried for they were wonderful! They occupied the third bedroom and settled in. True to form my waters broke at home in the wee hours of a January morning and we got to Kitwe Central without mishap where my second son duly arrived weighing 7lb 7oz. Do not for one moment think it was easy for the pain experience of my first now appeared to be worse and I very nearly gave up! Sheer guts and gritting teeth … no wonder we women can cope with anything!
There I too I came across a severe sister in charge! How different were the hospital stays for on day three my doctor said I could go home. I was busy packing when sister entered ‘what are you doing?’ ‘Doctor said I could go home’ I replied ‘He hasn’t told me!’ she retorted not happy at all that her position had been usurped. My mother-in-law had been a nursing sister in her day plus having had a baby I was quite happy at handling a new born this time round. So, home I went. Son No 2 slept in his pram carry cot in our room while his grandparents occupied what was to eventually be his bedroom.
One evening while preparing dinner I happened to open a cupboard door and out popped a cockroach! The stigma of these insects fresh in my mind from years ago I quickly looked round to find mother-in-law standing in the doorway having viewed the whole scene - and having seen my reaction – she was laughing while I stood red-faced with embarrassment. ‘These are nothing in size to the ones we had in Curacao!’ My father-in-law had been in the Royal Netherlands Navy and was stationed there for a few years.
Many years later I was to witness cockroaches flying which I didn’t know at the time having naively thought the wings were ornamental!
We showed the in-law’s around as best we could as unfortunately husband was unable to obtain leave so the trips were at the weekends.
Part 12
Then came the day when one toilet malfunctioned needing a new ball joint. Father-in-law expected an immediate repair! It was not as if this were the only toilet as there was another in the bathroom but it became a big bone of contention. Obtaining spare parts of any type was difficult at the best of times and most had to be ordered from the ‘head office’ which often created a delay.
So incensed was he that he decided to cut the remainder of their holiday short much to his wife’s great dismay. I put it down to his naval training and having to be obeyed at all times. They left, he in a huff with his very reluctant wife. It was such a shame.
It was normal for infants to be kept indoors for the first couple of weeks, being allowed outside in their pram for naps and only months later were they to accompany us on outings. Not quite the same today!
There is no other word for it, I was ‘summoned’ to show son no 2 to the lady of the house across the Close, the Portuguese and Italian marriage - a lethal combination in many respects for they had the most amazing rows! As I entered her lounge, she had covered her entire lounge suite with sheets in case my infant made a mess! My son was still a babe in arms and unlikely to perform any such act and I was highly amused if somewhat rattled. One was also expected to walk along ‘runners’ laid across the carpet, in case anyone made ‘a mess’ on that too! She was too house-proud for her own good and I know that her poor husband had to virtually strip naked on his return from work at the Mine only to enter the house via the scullery.
She had her ‘come-uppance’ some while later when her frantic screams for me to ‘come immediately’, had me rushing over to her home. There I found her in absolute hysterics as was her son in the bathroom, his blood all over the floor and wall tiles! My first action was to slap her face in order to get her to stop whereupon I shut her out. I then dealt with her son who was by then calmed and wide-eyed. I soon found that all he had was a small cut just inside his bottom lip. Such places we know bleed like 'billy-o' and it was soon staunched by my request for ice to use as a cold compress. I left her in wide-eyed stance too with further instructions …
The Railway house soon had an occupant from Ireland and we met over the fence after he had been there a month. All he did was moan and groan about how ‘he’d left a large house and a fantastic car’ in Ireland and had come to a menial job! My retort being ‘so what the hell are you doing here if you had it so good back home?’ That put paid to all the bad things he had to say and we didn’t see much of him before he eventually left within the year. But not before he came over to borrow a small amount of money though he did return it the following day.
On the other side of our wall, our next door neighbours were a lovely African family with the head of the household working for the Dairy Board.
So different were some of the work contract expatriates (‘expats’ as they were known). Most were only in it for the money, but something I could not tolerate was the detrimental things they said about the local people. Most of the locals had their way of working which in Africa terms meant ‘there’s always tomorrow …’ but it was up to us to show them another way. Patience was of the essence. I can say that Africans on the whole have a good sense of humour and don’t mind being ribbed without offence being given – they in turn would rib back.
I eventually left Mrs Myers with her gown shops as I felt I needed a change and I went to work as a receptionist to the Sales Manager, Derek Waters, another large garage two blocks away from the centre of town, Central African Motors. It was a good position, however as my desk was in the showroom, and every time a vehicle passed by on the forecourt the sun on that car’s windscreen would flash directly to where I was seated. These flashes of sunlight brought on the first of my migraines, which were to ‘lay me out’ completely. In subsequent years so bad were they that Dr Gottlieb had to administer medication used as a pre-med for operations to ‘knock me out’ and thereafter a good night’s sleep did the trick. I remember one year when my tongue became completely numb. This alarmed me greatly but my friend knew more about the subject and I was informed it was one of the ‘side-effects.’ I have learned to avoid bright flashing lights - no disco nights for me then!
Fortunately my last migraine (cross fingers) was over 40+ years ago, a surprising food related one on a flight via Johannesburg to Mauritius.
Part 13
Having been ‘poached’ by Kitwe Playing Fields, their club premises were closer to Parklands – but this was not the reason for my move though. There I received excellent coaching from Yvonne’s husband Roy who had in his day been selected for Northern Rhodesia as goalkeeper.
We had the usual season’s scheduled matches with the other clubs and also the Lusaka club who would either come to us or we would travel to them. It was from these clubs that selection was made for the National side, the Zambia Women’s Hockey Team.
In time I too left CAMS after Mrs Myers started ringing me and with each telephone call the salary increased and I returned. Within a year I had decided enough was enough and that money wasn’t everything!
I was to have several work experiences with a few other companies but these were never satisfactory. The longest I stayed was as a secretary to someone who became a very good friend of mine. We had enormous fun in the office as Stewart had a mad sense of humour. We played pranks on each other … and on one occasion we had a couple of Hari Krishna arrive collecting alms, both were resplendent in their orange robes. It was my turn for the revenge and despite Stewart's instruction ‘not to be disturbed under any circumstances’ I decided otherwise. I knocked on his door and informed him there were two people I knew he would want to see and after a weary ‘ok’ I ushered them in … he finally managed to get rid of them after ½ an hour with the threat aimed in my direction of ‘just you wait … I’ll get you for this!!’ And so we would banter back and forth.
I would subsequently have a calming effect on Stewart when his wife went into labour with their only daughter.
Son No 2 had been born with a Pectus Excavatum, which meant that his breast bone was concave and we were told this was a congenital defect. He was subjected to severe chest problems from the slightest cold and incurred many visits to our doctor. His medical condition became so repetitive that we were advised to seek a consultant’s opinion. A car trip to Salisbury became necessary, there to consult with a lung specialist. He advised a stay in hospital for while he conducted tests. The length of time was unspecified and we had to return to Kitwe to continue working – in order to pay the expenses.
It was a month later when we were advised to return with the report that he was to send us to a friend of his, a heart specialist, in Cape Town! He thought he’d detected an enlarged heart!
Husband said no to ‘trekking’ around the country, our son would go to Holland.
The fact is after a month away from us, he had grown so much and hardly recognised me which was most upsetting but within weeks, everything soon settled down and thankfully, we were back to our original familiar footing with one another.
December saw son and I on a flight from Lusaka to Amsterdam via Paris. Our flight was with the airline UTA (Union de Transports Aeriens, part of Air France) and our tickets were donated by their manager in Lusaka, a friend of ours. What a kind gift!
Babies under 12 months were given hammocks for sleep on the flight and this was rigged up to the right via hooks under the overhead locker. During the night I became aware that he had woken up and was playing with the hair of the gentleman seated next to me but directly under him! Thankfully the victim thought it was amusing but son spent the rest of the night on my lap.
We changed aircraft very early in the morning at the port of entry Nice, before boarding a smaller one for Amsterdam. While waiting at the airport we were offered refreshments and it was coffee. I don’t normally drink coffee but having had no breakfast I was also very thirsty. This strong black liquid did not sit well with me and I felt very ill as we flew on to our final destination.
My parents-in-law met us and we stayed with them when they still lived in The Hague. They had made an appointment for us to see Professor Otto at the University Teaching Hospital in Leiden where the consultation and extensive examination turned into one of jubilation! I was informed that our son did not have an enlarged heart as diagnosed in Salisbury. His Thymus Gland had become enlarged from all the antibiotics and due to this it was the gland’s swelling which had cast a ‘shadow’ over his heart. The gland was now seen to be shrinking and the Professor asked the question ‘weren’t there any proper doctors in Africa?’ He also intimated ‘I had wasted my money on such a trip.’ I gladly said I had not, for he had given an absolute answer to the problem, and had spared us further untold worry.
(The thymus gland is located in the neck above the heart. Its function is to generate mature T lymphocytes (white blood cells that help the immune system to fight off illness)
Part 14
With a day or so left before returning to Zambia, I was asked whether I’d ever eaten at a Pancake House, which I hadn’t – so off we went. We placed our orders for either a sweet or savoury filling and I chose the latter. When the pancake was placed in front me, it was mammoth! I could hardly believe my eyes and of course I couldn’t finish it – we had such a laugh about that. Then there are ‘Poffertjes’, perfectly lethal! They are made from wheat and yeast but are light and spongy, topped with powdered sugar, butter, whipped cream strawberries and, sometimes syrup too …
Visiting some of the aunts and uncles and meeting them for the first time was a bonus. At every turn, there was coffee and cake on offer and not to be refused! This also occurred on subsequent visits we made in the ensuing years to the extent that if I am offered cake I prefer it without any icing and would leave that behind on the plate.
We returned to Zambia happier than we’d been in the past and of course, extremely relieved.
I so vividly recall the first of my hockey trials in 1969 for the election of the Zambia Team, nerves had certainly got the better of me to the extent I completely forgot husband's birthday that day – I could have crept into a hole in the ground with embarrassment and I wasn’t allowed to forget it either. Despite this, my joy on being selected for the team first time, knew no bounds!!
In October when we went to Kenya (via Dar Es Salaam in Tanzania) for our first hockey tour we flew with Zambia Airways as they gave us a good discount as the national flag carrier.
We were to tour Kenya in the October at their invitation and what fun we had. The Kenyan girls had experience playing against other country teams and gave us a hard time but we enjoyed our games. We were playing on a murram pitch (a type of red soil also used in Africa for road building) and during one of the games as Marianne sped down the field with no one else to beat but the goalkeeper, would you believe one of the Kenyan players came up from behind and hooked her stick around her ankle. Of course she hit the deck to eventually rise all grazed and bloodied. The umpire should have given a penalty for the blatant foul but he accorded a free hit. We were incensed by this blatant favouritism!
Strangely enough we were housed in the Loretta Convent at Msongari some miles from the centre of Nairobi and along the Uhuru (freedom) Highway. It was the widest highway I’d ever seen, 3 or 4 lanes each side of the central reservation and not to mention the traffic circles. They were more than enormous and I would think that the current UK ones could fit thrice into them.
The Kenyans drove like maniacs! We had occasion between matches to go into Nairobi for the day and our only means of getting there was to hire a taxi. There were three of us in the back as we gunned it down the Highway. We were all very nervous and even I could see as we approached one of these huge roundabouts there were painters in the road. They must have been a fearless lot with such traffic whizzing by. I thought our driver might slow down. Well, not until I and a colleague had deposited ourselves on the car floor and only then did he, at the very last minute. I think he missed one painter by a hair’s breath!
We were able too to see a little of the countryside and were taken to a small game park not too far from Nairobi which could have been Ambroseli. As we walked about under the trees to view the surrounds some of the girls were eating sweets and biscuits. In a flash out of nowhere a troop of monkeys descended on heads, and to the loud shrieks of the victims they grabbed their sweets and biscuits scattering them everywhere. Within seconds nothing was left and neither were the monkeys to be seen! This caused much laughter.
Part 15
The Stanley (now named the Savora Stanley) is a famous hotel in Nairobi established in 1902 with tables and umbrellas outside a restaurant called The Thorn Tree and inside the foyer were shops and a hairdresser. I attended the latter as I needed a trim for my shoulder length hair. The hairdresser turned out to be Greek and with an ‘I could do things with your hair …’ so shocked was I by his words I shot out of my chair and made my way outside to where some of the girls were seated. They looked at me quizzically and burst out laughing when I related what had happened …
I must relate of our return flight home when the cabin staff encountered a problem on descent after the ‘fasten seatbelt’ signs were illuminated. One passenger was in the toilet and had not returned to her seat. Try as they might they couldn’t communicate with her nor could they open the door at this late stage and the situation was left until we landed. They then had to break the door down and out fell the body ... our passenger had committed ‘hari kari’ in the loo! The Hawker Siddley 748 we were on had its exit door at the rear and cabin crew wished to disembark passengers before the required removal of the body and the investigation by the police, so we were requested to step over the body to get out …
We missed our connection of course and there we sat in the terminal until another aircraft could be found to take us to Kitwe. It eventually arrived close to midnight and we piled on board a converted ex-military 748 with spaces between the floor boards where the air wafted through! I was in dire need of a tranquilliser at this stage of the game! However we arrived safely at Kitwe's South Downs Airport – it goes to prove how safe flying really is!
An American team came to Zambia in 1970 on tour and play, not only the Zambian squad, but several home clubs also.
They had experienced international players and we were certainly getting practise! It was from them that we learned we were playing ‘field’ hockey as there is also ice hockey played where the winters in the Northern Hemisphere are that much colder – snow and ice were unknown to us.
(As a matter of fact I once saw roller skating hockey in Holland. We came across the game by sheer chance and I was intrigued to say the least. The pitch had a high chicken wire fence around but this did not stop the puck from whizzing through one of the eyelets, and only just past my head to embed itself in a tree next to which I stood! We made a hasty exit after my lucky escape … no second chances …)
Selected for the 4th year not only as player but Manager too, our Scottish tour in 1972 was extraordinary. We were in part sponsored by Zambia Airways and flew with them via Rome to London. A change of aircraft and we arrived in Scotland. We were based in private homes rather than in hostels or hotels and our hosts were wonderful. In one home our coach and I had to share a double bed … we discovered the wretched thing sagged in the middle when we kept embracing each another at night. We held onto our respective bed sides and I know what it is to sleep on the thin edge of the wedge!
Part 16
We visited and played in numerous small and large towns and were also shown much of Scotland during our time there. On each coach trip we had an elderly lady who informed us of every inch of history, including the crumbling cairns and what they were when whole. In Aberdeen, our most northerly stopping off point, we attended a reception given by the Provost and I had to make my first speech of which there were many in the years that followed. The first is always a nerve wracking experience!
We also visited the magnificent Edinburgh Castle and found the centre of Edinburgh itself to be lovely with many preserved old buildings. Scotland is full of historical places - Stirling Castle in Stirlingshire was another, and my clear favourite of all on the west coast, Culzean [pronounced ‘kul-lain’] Castle on the Ayrshire coast, built to perch on a cliff top. Dwight Eisenhower stayed there four times where there are still mementoes in ‘his’ suite. The outside quad has cannon still in situ and from there one could peer over the wall and watch wave after wave crash on the rocks. We also visited the Trossachs, a woodland glen not far from Loch Lomond. It was autumn in the Northern Hemisphere and we were awed by the wonderful leaf colours.
All in all we won some of our tour games but lost more due to our lack of international experience. Many of the latter (apart from South Africa) had difficulty in raising teams as hockey vied with tennis, netball and softball. We were of course not permitted to play against South Africa, still in the throes of apartheid and banned from any contact.
I had sadly to give up playing at the end of 1972 because I developed problems with disc lesion in my neck – perhaps the aftermath of the ‘shock wave’ from the diving board mishap. I was instructed by a consultant at Nkana Hospital that to continue playing would lead me to life in a wheelchair in five years.
What a sentence and devastating blow. I had to take it on the chin and appeased my disappointment being unable to stay away and umpired for a while.
During one of the games the girl in the back position constantly interrupted me saying 'did you see that …' in the end I blew the whistle, walked over to her, held out my whistle and said' perhaps you would like to umpire instead …' she kept quiet after this!
Birthday parties for our and the neighbours children were a whizz! No matter what games were organised for them, they played their own and this allowed the invited mothers to have a good natter round the teapot!
Needless to say from the 70’s we suffered a lack of the basic commodities, sugar, salt, butter, flour, cheese etc and kept our eyes and ears open plus contact with the ‘grape vine’ for the imported arrivals. There would incur a mad dash to whichever town or shop had a delivery. Mufulira was the town most likely to stock up on where an Asian Trader never let us down!
Part 17
Everything from flour and sugar to cheese and milk were kept in the freezer and we made our own chutney, ketchup, mayonnaise and many other sauces.
We bought our meat from two farmers in Chingola, they were brothers and would deliver ½ a steer at a time and our kitchen would become a butchery for these occasions. The dogs and cats did well with the former a supply of bones whilst the cats enjoyed the offcuts!
With the army, we in the Red Cross were asked to attend and assess a flooded area in the most north eastern tip of the country. We had with us a Major who was Sandhurst trained and had returned home with a wonderful ‘pucker’ English accent – and a sense of humour to match! We took off from Lusaka in a Zambia Army helicopter and the fact that I was not the happiest of bunnies in the air must be pushed aside for what was to come next.
We landed within walking range of a small village and a school. As we stepped out a small curious crowd of villagers came to greet us, among them many children whom I was informed had never seen a white woman before! My head and arm hair touched and stroked many times before I became aware of a really old African approaching. He was bowing as he walked muttering some words I could not understand. I turned to the Major for interpretation to find him chuckling as he said ‘Kris, he’s saying 'Your Majesty because he thinks you’re the Queen' … My mind boggled for a moment but I managed to retort, ‘as long as its Elizabeth and not Victoria!!’ This raised even more laughter as I greeted the old man with the usual traditional African handshake. This is to shake the hand normally but twice without letting go while clasping the other’s thumb. Either women or men while clasping hands would also put their free hand over their own right arm with often a little accompanying ‘bob’ from the women to signify respect.
We inspected the school for this was situated on lower ground to the village area. Water had reached half way up the walls and everything below was destroyed. We would make the appropriate report to HQ in Lusaka of our findings.
Our return flight was far more adventurous when the pilot decided to show us some game along the way. The helicopter tilted to afford us a better view through its side windows. There were elephant, giraffe, buck and warthog to be seen – a thrilling sight but more thrilling than that, was my own eventual return to terra firma.
The mention of a ‘pucker’ English accent reminds me of an assistant my husband advertised for. He duly arrived, Ghanaian by birth, and to my utter surprise had the most delightful Oxford Accent! He had been trained in Horticulture at Kew Gardens and minded not in the slightest when the children dubbed him affectionately ‘Black Charles!!’ and he would roar with laughter … His wife Elizabeth on the other hand was the most elegant lady with a beautiful personality. She was indeed a Ghanaian Princess by birth as her carriage indicated.
Part 18
I must relate one of No 1 son's escapades which unnerved us apart from its ingenuity. Late on a Saturday afternoon when Esther, who had opted to work that day, went to find him in the garden as she’d run his bath, he and his tricycle were nowhere to be found. He had only been seen some 10 minutes before and now he had disappeared.
We searched the entire garden without result. The tall driveway gates were closed but nevertheless Esther decided to search further - every inch of the Close plus all the friends homes. Nothing! She went off round the corner to the small playground park she often took him to and still nothing. Despite having just washed my hair and with curlers in situ hopefully hidden under a scarf, I made the decision to go to the television studio just up the hill in Freedom Avenue to see if they’d put out a message for our blonde haired boy. As I got there they were in the middle of the news and I would have had to wait. A sudden hunch or was it instinct again, led me to check the shopping precinct across the way.
And where did I find him? In a Perry’s Greek Delicatessen-Bakery sitting on the counter eating ice cream from a cone … Perry whom we knew well said he couldn’t remember whose little boy he was as he saw so many … My son had got on his tricycle, opened and closed our tall gates behind him, pedalled all the way to the precinct plus crossed the very busy Freedom Avenue. He had ‘parked’ in a parking bay outside the shop!
Our relief was so great that the only admonishment was to tell him that fast cars would run over him and if there was anything he wanted he was to tell me first. He promised never to repeat, and I am relieved to say he didn’t!
When No 2 son was about five, our doctor announced he should have his tonsils out as she was so sure this was the cause of his continued infections. A five page typed letter was given to the consultant at Nkana Mine Hospital. Husband had by then become Manager of the Copperbelt Agricultural Show Society which was part Rhokana Mine managed. I was somewhat annoyed with the consultant as he insisted on calling me ‘mother’ instead of by my proper name and we also had a bit of a controversial conversation when he asked me why I thought my son should have his tonsils removed! In return I simply referred him to the more than adequate letter he had in front of him. I learned later he could be somewhat difficult when in pain from a back problem he suffered, but there was no need to take it out on me!
After this everything went smoothly and I was blood type cross-matched as a precaution. As I waited for him to ‘come round’ I read the notes that were at the end of his bed to find the consultant had only referred to me as an ‘I told you so Mother!’ Too right!!
Best of all we did not look back after this ‘cure all’ and his health improved greatly.
Part 19
My friend in the Close's husband often went camping in the bush and both boys together with their eldest son, went along and they were taught how to fish, build a proper fire, erect tents - all that goes with the camping lark. Most importantly when leaving, to clear up and leave the site in the same condition it was in when they arrived. They were able to learn so much from these trips which were a ‘men and boys’ only event!
I made a couple of trips to see my Dad then living with my brother, his wife and their two children. Flights were now accessible with a few routes to select from. Air Malawi via Blantyre, Air Botswana via Gaberone or Swazi Air via Mbabane and with a transfer of airline, you would be taken further to South Africa or Europe. Later of course Air Malawi were too fly to and from London on a Comet which I also flew to South Africa from Blantyre. I remember fairly recently trying to tot up the various makes of aircraft I’ve flown on … some no longer in operation and fly-able! Zambia Airways was the only airline permitted to incorporate ‘feeder’ flights to the Copperbelt and other places with airports or aerodromes within Zambia. This airline was created in 1964 as a subsidiary of Central African Airways and sadly liquidated in 1995 due to the down turn in the economy as part of the reason.
I changed my work to become a Nurses Aide at the privately run Company Clinic sponsored by local businesses. It was very different from the hospital where I had been and where lack of funds and drugs plus dreadful overcrowding were some of their main problems. (There was the occasion when No 1 son sustained a fractured collar bone during a game of rugby and they wished to keep him in - this was before we were able to go to Nkana Hospital - and he would have had a mattress on the floor! There was no way I would permit this and brought him home). It was fortunate that we had such an opportunity when local folk had no choice. Horror of horrors, there was talk of rats running around the wards at night! To work at the Kitwe Clinic was pure luxury by comparison.
We had to collect a patient one day at the request of his girlfriend. A nurse colleague and I arrived at their flat to find the boyfriend very ill in a filthy bed and refusing point blank to leave it. There was nothing we could do and returned empty handed. Imagine my surprise on resuming duty after the weekend to be told by Matron that he was a patient and ‘he’s your baby’ and ‘I know you can handle him!’ No nurse would go near him as a result of his foul language and aggressive mood and I soon dealt with that! He had developed Blackwater Fever, a complication of Malaria which he had neglected to have treated. He was very fortunate to recover.
An 8 month old infant had been admitted with an untold number of what appeared to be ‘boils.’ I should explain that in parts of Tropical Africa there is a fly which lays eggs in linings and hems of clothing hung out to dry. It is therefore imperative that everything is ironed to destroy the eggs and to kill the subsequent hatching of maggots. Various names are given to this fly in other African countries, but in Zambia they are known as a Putsi Fly, causing parasitic infections under the skin of anyone wearing un-ironed clothing, hence the ‘boil’ type skin eruptions. The best method of ‘ripening’ these is to cover them with Vaseline preventing the maggot from breathing and so, killing it. Over the weekend the Vaseline had been applied and on my arrival for work at the start of the week, they were deemed ready for squeezing. I had the job. The poor baby was covered and in excess of 40 and dead maggots were extracted. The parents were suitably advised of the required prevention.
It was brilliant working in theatre assisting the theatre sister and watching as the surgeon set about his work.
It might be considered a strange set up for while I was employed by the Company Clinic, I continued voluntary Red Cross work. The Clinic had no ambulance of its own and was able to call on the Red Cross should such be required.
I relate the following occurrence because of what we had to contend with in patient transferral. Our patient was due to have her baby when it was found she presented placenta previa and as the theatre at the Clinic was not suitable because this required a Caesarean section and the Red Cross were called on to provide an ambulance not available at the Clinic. Her husband travelled separately, he had to call in at Rhokana Mine’s Wusikili Hospital to collect blood for his wife should she require a transfusion. My friend came to be with her, while I drove us to Luanshya’s Mine Hospital.
The journey was urgent and with siren blaring and lights flashing we set off … only to be harassed by other drivers on the road. Instead of giving way and pulling over, they raced us, over-taking at every opportunity and waving with glee as they did so … I can tell you the air was blue … we arrived safely and happily so it was too for mother and baby.
Such an event I must say left one totally drained, albeit gratified.
On a return visit to Kitwe in 2001 we visited the husband on his farm outside Kitwe and there I met the now young man, who was born after our hasty journey to Luanshya – he greeted me enthuisiastically having been told the story by his parents!
Part 20
Husband commenced talk of wanting to farm and after a time he received news that one was for sale. We went to have a look and I, after being worn down by his mentioning it, gave in. We made the financial arrangements after selling our house in town and moved. It was 1974.
The farm was located 8 miles from the centre of Kitwe, past the suburbs of Parklands and Riverside including the police station, through Buchi Township and via a causeway bridge across the Kafue River. There was another route via Kitwe Playing Fields and through the same Township. This river formed the frontage of the farm with a tributary called the Matupa Stream and a government run State Ranch on the other side both forming our boundaries. The rear boundary was a fence wayyyy out back. There were a total of 250 acres with approximately a fraction of this under cultivation – the rest was untouched vegetation and bush. We re-named the farm Matupa Ridge (from its previous name of Green Acres) as the house sat on a ridge facing a 300 yard sloping lawn to the banks of the Kafue and dubbed ‘the fairway’ as we kept the grass short more for the vista from the house than anything else.
From the causeway bridge one passed by State Ranch, traversed along a two wheel track for about ½ a mile, past a Pine forest on the right to reach the house. It was single storey and split level with a number of steps descending to the main bedroom. From the front door one entered a large lounge with enough space for the dining table at the far end. A wonderful stone fireplace to the right warmed us on many a chilly August night. Being close to the river it could be quite a few degrees lower at that time of the year and before the heat started to build through September into October, (aptly named ‘suicide month’) before the rains came.
Lovely big windows at the far end gave us a good view of the river, there were Eucalyptus trees and part of the orchard to the right just visible. A stable door led onto the veranda and two terraces to the left with steps gave firstly, access to grass and a flower garden, further steps to the second terrace led to another grassy area and the last steps straight onto the ‘fairway’. Eventually the steps which led to the second terrace had a kidney shaped swimming pool we built. To the far left we planted coffee and banana’s screened from view by the trees and similarly, trees to the right screened the orchard of oranges, lemons, grapefruit and ‘naartjies’ (already mentioned earlier). On the right steps led to a partially uncultivated area sporting a large bush and grass covered anthill. One large 20+ year old Avocado tree stood on one side of the orchard and yielded the best ever avocado’s I’ve ever tasted! The flesh was as creamy as butter and the size of them unbelievably large! The crop each year was so huge that we fed them to our pigs who adored them as much as we did! To the majority of Africans they were a little too ‘foreign.’ We had thought of exporting them but at what cost to the consumer when the tiny ones available in England at the time cost £1 each.
The strawberry patch was located to the right of the house on the edge of the pine forest and not quite visible from the grassed terraces. The rich, loamy soil was beyond belief and, beyond belief too, were the strawberries! They were the size of golf balls and delightfully sweet. (The current Queen visited Zambia one year to open Parliament and had been invited to spend a weekend at the then President’s lodge located further upstream on the Kafue. Word had got out about our strawberries and we were asked to supply a quantity for dessert – hence the patch being dubbed, 'The Royal Strawberry Patch'!)
Adjacent the river bank near the orchard was a well with pump which delivered absolute clear water to the house and from which everything grown was watered during the dry season.
Part 21
In time we built an office in the style of a Nissen Hut at the rear of the house. This is a prefabricated steel structure made from a half wall and cylindrical skin of corrugated steel to form the roof. (A variant of the Quonset hut used extensively during WWII and as far back as WWI). Inside the office to the right near the front door, was the office proper. The rest of the space sported a full ‘N’ scale electric model train set, all laid out and in working order! Husband had been collecting carriages, engines, stations, buildings et al for years and I was even roped in to make trees from matchsticks for the trunks and ‘pretend’ foliage of lichen bought in packets ... when friends came to visit after lunch the men would be off to 'play trains’ ...
I had given up active Red Cross duty as it was not feasible to continue when living a little further out of town. Husband continued in his capacity as a Director and he was also a Kitwe Lions Club member. As the wives of the Lions we could attend functions with our husbands but also lend a hand with fund raising.
We now had three dogs, an acquired black Labrador answering to Penny (mostly Fat Belly Penny despite being initially christened Lady Penelope) to make up the trio. On requesting strawberries one day I was told there weren’t any. ‘What? Don’t be silly there are many!’ ‘No, nothing ready yet’ was the muttered reply from our house servant Luka - ‘the dogs …’ ‘Dogs? Now that’s outrageous, someone’s stealing!’ ‘No Madam, the dogs. Wait I show you.’
So a couple of days later when Luka summoned me and in hushed tones said ‘come’, we crept over to the edge of the terrace to view the patch. There to find Penny and Snoopy slowly wandering down each row, sniffing, and eating the ripe berries - taking it in turns too mind!! I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen them with my own eyes.
Three black cats, Polly the only female with Wally and Doodle (‘all-the-day’) made up our menagerie. It is just as well to relate a subsequent litter Polly had of four black kittens plus amazingly, one absolute Siamese look-alike! We kept ‘her’ and ‘she’ was named Cleopatra … and on a given day to our horror, the ‘she’ we discovered to be a Claude …
The cats were mainly outdoors during the night as they hunted the rodents one always finds on farms. It was one night when we heard an awful screeching sound and on investigation could neither see nor find anything. The following morning I missed Doodle when giving them their breakfast. A little later one of our workers came with the news he’d found Doodle, spread eagled on the lawn and quite dead with claw marks in his back. It was that night he’d been unfortunate enough to be taken by an owl we think, who had found him a little too heavy to fly with and so had dropped him.
A friend visited one day accompanied by a holidaying Australian vet. During the course of his visit an idea was put to him and he heartily agreed to 'doctor' our three remaining cats and in exchange for this he'd take payment in two bottles of Campari I had somehow acquired. I have no idea how I came to have these in our cabinet and perhaps they were left by the previous owner. Anyway ‘our’ vet adored the stuff so fair exchange-no robbery was the deal!
We acquired pigs after building 4 styes across from the track opposite the pine forest, each having two ‘rooms' separated by a low wall and open one end between the two for access to both. One room had a thatched area for sleeping and the other for feeding from a large trough. Pigs are really clean animals, they select their toilet in an opposite corner to their trough. It was hosed every day with a change of straw and the manure collected for drying and compost use, as was the manure from our other animals.
Our one sow was such a lovely animal. She would hear my voice and grunt her greeting well before seeing me. The minute her small eyes met mine she’d throw herself on her side waiting to be tickled. If you stopped before she had had her required dose she’d nudge your hand with her snout! She duly delivered in excess of ten piglets for her first littler – tell me they aren’t beautiful!!
Cattle, goats, rabbits, chickens and ducks followed. Adjacent the stiles we built the cattle camp with a barn type building and following on, the goat camp and their quarters. A further building housed rabbit hutches and a little forward of these, a chicken and duck run behind the office.
A word about our Ram – he deserves a capital R … Rumbles by name and inherited from the previous owner. Oh, and hand reared and sometimes becoming just a wee bit too familiar … he got out of the enclosure one day and trotted, well probably galloped to the front door which he had spied with his calculating yellow eyes to be open. Luka was busy in the lounge when Rumbles made his entrance and a somewhat startled and now much paler Luka sprang onto the dining table trembling in fear. Rumbles commenced having a go at my indoor plants ignoring Luka’s yells but no 2 heard the commotion and came running. Rumbles took fright and tried to exit via the large window and most surprisingly, his lovely horns did no damage! He’d upset a few pot plants before being chased out onto the veranda and round the house where the herder got hold of him.
I had a personal 'encounter’ with Rumbles. It was a Sunday and we had given the herder the afternoon off which required our keeping an eye on him and his harem of Nannies. Time came to herd them into their sleeping quarters. No problems with the Nannies but Rumbles, now he was playing very hard to get. I was standing with my back to their quarters gesticulating with my hand and firmly using a loud voice shouting ‘Get in right now. Come on.’ This had no effect so I raised my voice an octave … and the next minute, head down, he charged! There was absolutely no time to think nor indeed, find a hiding place … my husband had meanwhile retreated behind a tree … as Rumbles was about to butt me.
I instinctively leap-frogged over him using his horns as leverage … Not only was I surprised by my act but he looked around positively bewildered at not finding his mark. I now yelled at him then and thankfully in shock, he quietly went through the gate which I quickly closed. I then turned on my dear husband and decorum forbids my relating the words I used!!
Part 22
We had a few incidents of small birds flying into the window from the dining area – they see the reflection of the world from behind. Only one ever met with tragic consequences and was buried in style in a shoebox under a flower bed. We ended up putting a brick over the grave having seen one of our cats eyeing the area suspiciously. Another bird, only stunned, was located on the ground and luckily survived after some TLC and being put on a tree branch. He soon recovered and flew off.
By now it was time to think seriously about the boys schooling. With the advent of independence many local children entered all available schools and standards had to be lowered to accommodate them and which I hasten to add, was the right thing to do. The majority came from poor homes where parents could not afford all those challenges that other parents start their children off with. There were no funds for children’s story books, coloured pencils, crayons etc. Many parents had limited schooling themselves but many had none and were unable to read or write.
Ours had the usual parental encouragement of having stories read to them, drawing and painting and so on plus they had earlier attended a nursery school. Further education now beckoned, and boarding school became necessary. With my friend we put our heads together and we managed to find and select a good school for our collective children. Lilfordia School established in 1909 by the Lilford family known as the ‘little school in the bush’ on their farm, approximately 20km north east of Salisbury in Southern Rhodesia.
As parents we felt dreadful at having to do this but in order for them to have the appropriate education, this was the only option. It was with sore hearts that we saw our boys off on the school bus in Kitwe which would take them all the way to the school. No1 son was 11½ and his younger sibling a mere 7 year old …
During their time there they would return home for holidays by the same method and if there was a 10 day break, families living in that country with their children attending the same school would ask ours to spend the holiday with them.
It was a day or so later that I went into the younger son's bedroom to give it a once over and an awful smell hit my nostrils. I searched everywhere and it was only when I finally checked the chest of drawers that I found the offending source. He had been taken a few days earlier by the parents of his friends to Mindolo Dam and whilst there, had caught his first little fish! The dam is to the west of Kitwe where there were facilities for sailing, fishing, making a braai (the shortened Afrikaans/Dutch word for braaivleis meaning meat barbeque) and where they also swam. It boasted a large play area for children.
So proud was he that that he brought home his fish for safe-keeping. There it was nicely tissue wrapped in a little box! It had to go of course but a photograph remains to recall his catch.
On entering his room the day after to put his clean clothing away I spotted a small white scorpion … it scuttled out from under the bed which I jumped on top of while frantically calling for Luka! I was taking no chances and the rest of the house was searched – for just in case – but happily we found no others.
Part 23
On the subject of creepy crawlies, one early morning on our way to the 'butler’s' pantry for the necessary cup of tea, we came across four baby Black Mambas lying along the skirting board. Fearful eyes scoured around trying to find ‘mother’ ... Luka was summoned to find out how we were to deal with this small problem. With a shrug of his shoulders he fetched the broom and ‘tut-tutting’ as if ‘how dare they’, he swept them out and away from the house! It sounds terribly amusing but it really wasn’t.
The boys were home one holiday and having just arrived they charged outside to investigate what had occurred in their absence. On being called for dinner shortly after they realised they were still wearing shoes and socks and with these abandoned in the lounge and hands washed, they sat themselves at the dining table. Luka had already placed the food on the table and went to collect their shoes for polishing when … from the inside one shoe, a distinctive hiss was heard … to find yet another baby Black Mamba! We never did find ‘mother’ …
(Black Mamba’s are not black but an olive to grey colour. The ‘black’ part of the name comes from the colour inside the mouth, a purple black colour. Oh, they are extremely lethal too!)
One Saturday morning as I was serving breakfast a shout from eldest son to ‘come and look’ saw him pushing a wheelbarrow containing a Python they’d found and killed in the goat run. It had already swallowed a kid.
I might as well make a meal of it! In the dry season there is a constant fear of fire and on one particular day we had one start in the pine trees next to the house – a little too close for comfort. Knowing how tinder dry it was we immediately called on the fire brigade to come and help extinguish it. We weren’t far from town and they were with us in a matter of minutes. Having eventually doused the flames and saving many firs, husband and some of the firemen went in to check on the still smouldering logs. I ventured forth in my sandals just inside the verge and as I stood among the pine needles I felt something move against my toes. I looked down and not taking it all in at first, I puzzled over whether or not it was a Python. To my utter horror the triangles suddenly became more enhanced to bright yellow and pink and … Oh Mommy, I knew without a doubt that this was a Gaboon Viper!! I must have broken all records in my backward leap much to the amusement of those firemen on the road and I just yelled in one breath ‘Gaboon Viper kill it but don’t damage the head and don’t touch it, I’m going to get the snake book as I want to show you something.’
We had to kill this lethal snake, it was just too close to the house. Having taught them the first aid theory now was the time for the practical!
On my return the snake was by now in the middle of the road. I got one of the firemen to lever its mouth open with two sticks and with another I managed to lever one of its fang’s from its resting place in the upper jaw. Incidentally the upper jaw of vipers rotate and they can move their fangs forward and backward - they also have the longest fangs of any venomous snake … and on this specimen at least 1½” (they can go to 2”). We were carefully studying it when all of a sudden its tongue flicked out, and as all common sensed people would know this as rigor mortis. Not me, oh no! I took off like a rocket and there they found me in the lounge, on the settee with my arms wrapped round my legs … how they laughed as they teased and drank their well earned tea!
In the swimming pool we once caught a puff adder that had accidentally fallen in and this time it was taken away in a sack and released well away from the house.
Part 24
With husband at the Show Grounds just outside Kitwe on the Kitwe-Ndola Road, the position he held was a demanding one. There was an annual show to organise and held over four days in winter. Exhibitors had to be found, spaces to rent out and allocate plus many other events to make it a success. There was a board of directors with a Chairman from Rhokana Mine and there were three secretaries, two of whom became close friends of mine and the other we unfortunately lost touch with.
The Red Cross also provided a First Aid Post. Shifts were organised and there was never a dull moment! When I was still actively involved we fortunately had no injuries from the daily gymkhana (a multi-game equestrian competition held to display the training and talents of horses and their riders, particularly in speed events) but a few of the local people who come in to see us with various complaints. Most were referred to their own doctors but one lady arrived with a deep ulcer mid- calf. She had been seen at the hospital some days before and should have returned for a check-up and new dressing. She hadn’t of course! This really had to be immediately seen to and I took it on. I cleaned it up and decided the best thing was to fill it with Acriflavine (now Acriflex in ointment form), a tropical antiseptic. Instructed to return on the last Show day, I was gratified to see it already granulated and nearly healed. Further treatment was administered and advice given for her to attend the hospital. Many locals actually thought of us as doctors!
Once we decided on the farm husband could not continue with the heavy work load and found a part time occupation closer to the farm. We both needed to work especially in the beginning because of our financial outlay.
In 1976 I finally found ideal work from an advertisement I saw in the newspaper for staff at the new Kitwe branch of British Caledonian Airways. I was successful in my application and joined as Reservations Agent at the beginning of July 1976. The staff numbered seven including a Manager from England. A certain number of our staff had to be Zambian as was my eventual colleague Gladys in reservations, our Telex Operator Charles and our man in the office who kept the office tidy, ran messages and made our much welcomed tea and coffee.
All our flight bookings were manual and taken down on pre-printed cards which Charles via a telex machine would transmit to headquarters at Gatwick Airport. All BCal’s (as the Airline became known) flights operated from Lusaka International Airport to Gatwick and return. Zambia Airways feeder flights transported passengers to and from the Copperbelt (Ndola and Kitwe).
The first block in Obote Avenue had on the corner, a bank, an office machine company where our secretary Terry's husband Ian worked, an alley way and thereafter a doctor’s surgery, our office, an unknown office or two (which means I can’t remember!) and Turnbull Gibson, a travel agency.
We were on two levels, lopsided levels really! As you face our office the reservations department was upstairs on the left – it appeared the office next door was portioned and partitioned off and we had no upstairs access to the rest of the office width so we were really in a room large enough for two desks and the telex machine but, you could swing a cat! Downstairs at the rear was a kitchen and a toilet with a little forward of these, the manager’s office, the secretary’s office and the front office where there were three desks for staff dealing with members of the public.
Part 25
We also received our company uniforms to wear, a Scottish kilt – the tartan could be individually selected – my two were the Blue Douglas and Lord of The Isles. White blouses with short sleeves and a small ‘stand-up’ collar with a 'tie' incorporated from the collar of the blouse on which we pinned the ‘Golden Lion’ brooch – this held the 'tie' to the blouse. (The Golden Lion being a children’s trust the airline sponsored) Black low heeled shoes and either stockings or tights were mandatory for us girls (with the heat in summer the blouse collar and the leg wear got more than a little uncomfortable at times because of the heat) oh, and topped off with a beret to match the kilt. We also wore a jacket and white gloves and I would love to say these were for winter months when it was cooler, but no, it was standard uniform for formal occasions and airport duty at Kitwe's South Downs Airport. The men wore white short sleeved shirts, a tartan tie with the same tie pin, black trousers and shoes. Rules dictated that the Manager wore a tartan jacket for special occasions.
I was only in my job a matter of days when I opened the local newspaper to scan the births and deaths column – always of interest! I would get to work early and a quick look made me aware of what was what – strange but true of most people I think to turn to these two events first. Our Supervisor Barbara called up to me to ask if I could see a gentleman who urgently needed to travel to England. This is how I met Jim who was to become a close friend and subsequently too, married his second wife, Marguerite. Having remembered the surname from that morning’s deaths announcements, when he gave me his reason for the flight, I was able to sympathise much to his astonishment, until I explained. His wife had died when her car overturned with no other car involved and the medical staff pronounced a heart attack. He was the bearer of her ashes to England for internment. He looked so lost that compassion took over and it was then that I invited him to the farm on his return should he feel lonely.
At the end of July Terry and I were sent to head office at Gatwick for a familiarisation trip – and this is how I had my first glimpse of England! I so looked forward to that ‘green and pleasant land’ from my book and poem reading from the aircraft window all I spied was ‘dun coloured veldt’ really, the result of a summer of great heat and humidity.
We were accommodated in the nearby Copthorne Hotel and visited the prefab building the airline offices were temporarily housed in called a ‘terrapin’ type building. This was a disused hangar with offices built inside.
How we marvelled at the automated reservations system! The airline was awaiting the completion of a multi-storied building to rent and it was subsequently named “Caledonian House.” We were also shown round Gatwick and met all the staff – everyone we came into contact with were friendly and helpful.
We flew from Gatwick to Glasgow, went by road to Edinburgh and flew back to Gatwick on our tour. At the weekend Barbara joined us and we went off to explore London. I must say the humidity got to me and I was perspiring which I never did in landlocked Zambia where we were on the Copperbelt approximately 4500ft above sea level. Most of England is well below this, sea bound with I believe, no town or city more than 30+- miles from any coastline. We visited the London Zoo too and I had my first glimpse of an Orang-utan. In the years that followed I came to dislike zoos of any description, they are not a natural habitat for wild animals.
On our return to Victoria Station for the train, I was astonished to see stretcher after stretcher being off-loaded from the carriages into waiting ambulances. The stretcher cases were so sunburnt as to require hospital treatment. Perhaps incidents like these led to the coining of the phrase from a song by Noel Coward “Mad dogs and Englishmen out in the noon day sun …!”
Our week soon passed before we were back and hard at work. Our office hours were 8.30am – 12.30pm, lunch break until 2pm and we finished our day at 5.30pm.
Part 26
We had another fire on the farm, this time it was even more serious. It incorporated the Eucalyptus trees either side of the ‘fairway’, part of the orchard and it burnt half of the long lawn and, threatened to burn the house. I was home that lunch time and in my uniform I sprayed the house and roof with a hosepipe to ward off any embers that might otherwise take hold. It was a close run thing and whether the fires were deliberately lit or accidentally started, we don’t know.
Another piece of bad news was our second robbery. The first occurred when we resided in St Peter’s Close and a person or persons unknown, sprayed a concoction through the open bedroom window to induce sleep. They entered the house via a small high window in the study and got out through the side door of the dining area. They were actually in our bedroom – thank goodness we were unaware. Husband's wristwatch was stolen from his bedside cabinet (I always wear my rings and my watch) and one of a pair of speakers for our music system which rendered the other useless. We got off lightly as in the coming years armed robberies took place more frequently. I clearly remember the first. The family concerned woke and were knocked about with the butt of whatever weapon they had and ended up hospitalised. Many local people blamed the Congolese from Zaire (formally Belgian Congo), bordering Zambia in the north west. (That country had changed name to The Democratic Replublic of the Congo and at the time of writing is once again the Congo!) The Copperbelt was not too far from what is called ‘the Pedicle’ where a piece of the then Zaire juts into Zambia and that country was undergoing a bit of an upheaval at the time. Most Zambians would not at the time have deliberately undertaken such ventures.
The second then took place on the farm one night after we were well in the Land of Nod. The boys were away at school when they cut the mesh at the window of younger son's bedroom. On opening the door Goldie, who thankfully spent her nights in the passage, growled fiercely and they scarpered. We woke to find that they had got away with bed linen and socks. Strange that none of the other dogs outside gave warning and it somehow makes one think that the robbers were familiar to them. Sadly there were some not to be trusted and one always locked away valuables, even sugar and tea. Anyone requiring these were told to ‘just ask'. Husband spent many hours scouring the countryside making fruitless enquiries.
On Jim’s return he became a frequent visitor at weekends. He worked in the Stores Department at Nkana Mine part of Rhokana Mines and had previously been in the British Army. He related that while on a stint in Burma he and his small group of soldiers were ambushed. He was the only survivor and with the shock of such an event he became a Diabetic dependent on Insulin. One other friend Ron was also a frequent visitor.
These weekends were for us social occasions with many friends coming over, enjoying lunch and a swim in the pool. One evening we also held a 25th wedding anniversary for two good friends, Dave and his wife Gwen. We had fictitiously arranged to go out for the evening and they were to collect us … theirs was the surprise when we asked them to come in as we weren’t quite ready yet – everyone was in the darkened veranda when we led them out!
Anthill clearing was a must-do exercise during the rainy season as was grass cutting and weeding – no matter how often cut or pulled, they’d spring up just as profusely within a week - this is the Tropics after all! The anthill on the right of the house under trees needed clearing with the use of a 'panga' (also known as a machete) – a slasher made of iron which the holder would swing from side to side in front of him. A cry went up ‘snake!’ and one of our oldest workers named Zulu chased after it as it slithered away at a pace. Up the veranda steps, over husband's feet as he happened to be standing there and the snake was just down the steps when Zulu caught up with it and performed the inevitable. It was a Boomslang (tree snake), another lethal.
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.
Part 28
Anyone familiar with Lions International (headquarters in Chicago, Illinois) may know that each country is a ‘District’ and Zambia’s was District 413. We would, from within the various clubs in the country, select a District Governor and Board as it were. There was great competitiveness between clubs and one of these was for “The Copper Quill.” It was presented annually to the club who had produced the best newsletter and guess who was roped in for the Kitwe Lions! I admit to very much enjoying the ‘writing and reporting’ via my typewriter on activities and other news - distribution was to type it on a stencil and print it off on a duplicator. I am delighted to reveal we won this trophy for the years I produced it.
Thereafter followed Medical Alert a worthy project District 413 took on, this on behalf of Medic Alert International (headquarters in Turlock, California). In fact many Lions Clubs worldwide adopted Medic Alert as a project. Our Chairman was Manu Desai, a Kitwe Lion and a well-known surgeon and I enjoyed the secretarial position for a number of years. He involved all clubs and coerced an engraver for the engraving on the discs – either a bracelet or a necklet. The engraver would follow the instructions we gave of an individual’s medical problem. This would additionally alert anyone of vital information should the wearer be involved in an accident or mishap. This is particularly relative to Diabetics to name one of many.
The current Lions Club District Governor came to see me with the view of asking me to start a Lioness Club. I refused at first but he persisted and I caved in! I commenced enquiries and made contact with wives of Lions, friends, and as many acquaintances as I could. In fact anyone who was interested and pretty soon we had the required number. It was to be the first in Zambia for District 413 and the Kitwe Lions Club. We selected a name, Bwafano Lioness Club - a loose translation being ‘To Help One Another.’ It was a proud moment for me to be inducted as the Charter President, a position held for a year before becoming a Past President when a new President is elected.
We had a good number of nationalities not only European but Zambian and Asian also. We raised a lot of money from Saturday morning cake, scones, jam and chutney sales and our Samosa’s surpassed themselves – the latter being made by our Asian Lionesses. They were instrumental for some wonderful curries and also gave us cooking lessons. We learned a lot about African and European cooking too and had such fun trying everything out. It was great to be mixing in like this.
We carefully scrutinised needful requests and wherever possible helped. Our largest project was the adoption of an orphanage with a number of handicapped youngsters for whom we were able to supply required wheelchairs. Medic Alert came in handy and we paid for and donated the necklets and wristlets.
We organised dances in the Edinburgh Hotel with raffle prizes donated by businesses in town and held film gala’s as the Rhokana Mine Cinema. We were fortunate in that the husband of a member was not only a Lion, but he knew the cinema manager!
Part 29
One of our labourers had spotted a large, indeed a very large 18-20 foot crocodile in the river. We issued instructions that the river bank was a ‘no-go’ area because some would pop down there for a spot of fishing. By now Luka had left our employ – in fact he disappeared without trace one day never to be seen again … Occasionally inexplicable mysteries occur in Africa and they become accepted as part of life. This was one of them.
My replacement for him was the wife of one of our workers. After about a year she became pregnant and as her time neared she brought along a relative to take her place while she was otherwise occupied. The girl I think was deaf – we were never sure nor did we like to ask for fear of upsetting her. Instructions had to be specifically given, sometimes in a very loud voice and almost mimed at times.
She did not heed our ‘no fishing’ instructions. It was a Saturday morning when a great shout went up and I raced to the veranda to see her running madly from the bank and unbelievably, the crocodile after her. Make no mistake, they may look unwieldy but they can move on those short legs! They can also swing their tail round with force, enough to knock one clean off one’s feet. Thankfully she had the presence of mind to run around a small rockery that the previous owner had built just up from the bank and this slowed the moment of the crocodile as she hastened up the lawn and out of danger. The crocodile seeing its quarry disappear made its way back into the river.
We informed the police to ask permission to have it shot for they are a protected species in Zambia. We had a visit from the police chief no less, a very large jovial man who had no quibble with our request and in fact, went further by telling us that if we came across any poachers or thieves we were to toss them into the river! The prison cells were overcrowded he said and such individuals were a menace hampering much more important police work … we said nothing. What could one say to that?
We contacted a wild life ranger who came along and scoured the area a few times but we never spotted this crocodile again.
On the brighter side of the wildlife we saw in our stretch of the Kafue many Hippopotami. One could spend hours watching them in the water and listening to their ‘guffaws’ particularly at night as one drifted off to sleep. Most soothing! Of an early morning with birdsong in the air one could often spot a small bush buck or two on the lawn. All of these made a nice interlude from the slithering kind!
Jim informed us one day that he had met someone and could he bring her along to the farm. Of course! This is how we met Marguerite who in subsequent years became my ‘bosom pal.’ In time the two made marriage plans and she asked me to be her witness. The ceremony to take place in the Magistrate’s Court or Boma as it was known locally. A Boma is normally a livestock enclosure, a stockade or a type of fort or, in this case, a district government office.
On the day, I dashed across the road in my BCal uniform to attend. The whole thing very nearly ended in fiasco. In fact it did when the Clerk of the Court stamped the marriage certificate for the Magistrate to sign and he spotted that the date on the stamp did not tally. In fact there was no date!! The certificate sported 00 November … and then the fun started for neither the Magistrate nor the Clerk knew what to do next. We sat around whilst the two argued and haggled with the Magistrate loudly proclaiming he could be sued! I foresaw us being there for hours, if not days and months, which was when I stood up and made a suggestion. ‘If you cross out the incorrect date and re-stamp it correctly, we all swear (turning to everyone who vigorously nodded) we will not sue you!’ A few more mutterings later and the deed done – we were all free to go!!! It was to become one of the best comedy acts much talked about in the years to come.
Part 30
One Sunday afternoon our herder came to us in great distress. The entire herd of cattle had disappeared. Vanished - into thin air. This was a first for us and no matter how much husband enquired, we got no answers. Everyone was summoned to start the hunt which led far and wide, across the entire length and breadth of the farm, over the Matupa Stream and further … still no luck.
We informed the police but they were without transport (which was often the case since independence and to be heard over and over again) and so the day passed.
Next morning old Zulu came to us to say he would consult a Witchdoctor but required some money with which to ‘cross his palm’ or more correctly, for him to ‘throw the bones.’ What does one do? One follows suit. A nominal amount was agreed on and handed over and we went back to waiting. Lo and Behold, mid afternoon the herd appeared! They were none the worse for their vanishing act and we never ever got to the bottom of that incident either.
I have already mentioned our other friend Ron. He had been a Merchant Marine in his day and joined Rhokana Mine in the Engineering Department. One home leave, he met a lady and things developed. Gloria came out on holiday and during her stay to the farm and she became another lovely friend. Before she returned to England they became engaged and when Ron took his next leave, they married and both returned to Zambia.
One of the Lions District 413 Conventions was held in Livingstone over a weekend. Farm sitter in situ and we flew there in high excitement for I so wished to see the famous Victoria Falls situated on the Zambezi River between Zambia and Zimbabwe, and known locally as Mosi-oa-Tunya (“The Smoke That Thunders”) discovered by David Livingstone, the Scottish Missionary.
We were able to walk along the path under trees dripping from the spray and soon we were too! The water falling over the edge makes the most thunderous noise and speech is impossible. What a truly magnificent sight to be standing next to the path railing, to gaze in wonder at the volume of water cascading down. We were there in the rainy season which is not the best time to view them as the spray was a little overpowering. Nevertheless it was so well worth it!
One of the other wives and I also had a trip to the Livingstone Game Park where I was given the opportunity to feed a Cheetah with its hunk of meat. I was a tad apprehensive but he was only interested in his meal. Quite tame and though a magnificent animal, there my thoughts ended for he certainly needed a bath! A not-so-nice odour emanated from him which considering their lifestyle, was to be expected.
Time came to fly back home to the farm and having boarded the Zambia Airways 748, we were taxing when the flight engineer came out, lifted the carpet and unbelievably manually cranked the flaps in! This aircraft was technical and in my opinion, should not have been in operation until a fix had been made. My mind was occupied thus for the entire journey and I fully expected the flaps to be cranked out as we approached and made our descent into Lusaka International Airport. No such thing! We came down on the very edge of the runway … the airport building whizzed by as did the fire station and the entire collation of buildings and it wasn’t until the chevrons at the end were visible, that the pilot slewed round … the wing tip very nearly touched the runway and with great relief, the momentum slowed. I somewhat relaxed my grip on the emergency exit door handle as he must’ve ‘stood’ on the brakes for us to come to a stop on the apron. Relief wasn’t the word for it and it was then we saw an additional four passengers emerge from the jump seats and the toilet – the Italian Crew on a ‘jolly’ to the Falls, positioning for their flight to Rome that evening! So we were forty eight on board instead of forty four and we know what that means - any mishap and no insurance pay-out due to the over-load!
Part 31
I have one more little incident to relate. On another return flight from Lusaka as we boarded we could see a couple of men attending to one of the engines. One stood holding the ladder while one was up the ladder, fiddling. Not a good sign but its something one should by now have become familiar with. It was hot in the cabin and with passengers already seated, even hotter. A passenger decided to fiddle with the air conditioning nozzle. Cold air only wafts of course when the engines are switched on … and as he twisted and turned, so the ‘innards’ fell out and dangled … We now had another problem!! Having seemingly ‘fixed’ whatever the matter was with the engine, the two mechanics came into the cabin to see to the dangling bits. Try as they might they couldn’t stuff them back up from whence they came! (We were taught in first aid that should someone suffer injury to the abdomen and the intestines were to spill out, we were not to attempt a repositioning. It is impossible to accomplish and would cause further injury, so a sterile bandage is to be laid over the area and made fast with tape) This was a similar situation! I eventually intervened suggesting they just tape them to the ceiling. Mission accomplished and we were off!
Flying on some of these 748’s one also got used to having no door to the cockpit and if seated on the aisle, one could view what the pilots were up to … suddenly a siren went off and it was enough to descend us into a sudden sharp downward slide while oil commenced a-spewing forth from that ‘repaired engine’ … With more grey hair than I started the day with, we landed at South Downs and eventually made our way down the stairs on rather wobbly legs.
This allowed for the popular caption Zambia ‘Scareways’!
Involved with Medic Alert Zambia, our first trip arose in 1979 (we had a second one in March 1981) to attend one of their international conferences in Turlock California. We again arranged for a ‘farm-sitter’ and flew from Lusaka to Amsterdam via Paris from where we took the train to The Hague. It was a golden opportunity to call in on the parents-in-law for a couple of days and thereafter flew with KLM to La Guardia New York. Having cleared immigration and customs, as we were walking away we were called back by Customs. They’d spotted we lived on a farm. Despite our stressing we had not come directly from the farm, it cut no ice with them and we had to slosh our shoes with feet in situ through a disinfectant solution … We had some funny looks from the other passengers because we were the only two who had this treatment!
We spent two nights and a day in the City and were able to view Broadway and surrounds in relative quiet on the Sunday. I remember finding a beautiful old church with wonderful architecture and alas, I have long forgotten the name and actual location. This is indeed the trouble when one decides to wait years before scribbling … and at the time, no written diary was kept …
This occasion is marked by my walking down a side street into a small square where I wandered around. Not being able to locate the street from which I had entered I spied a policeman further along and decided to approach him to ask for directions. To my utter consternation he drew his side arm which was pointing directly at me! I immediately held up my arms shouting I was a tourist and lost. Unconvincingly with the firearm still levelled at me, I got directions and a slow walk (no sudden movements!) arrived at familiar surroundings. I have never forgotten this little episode.
Our next flight was to Los Angeles where we were met at the airport and taken on a little tour to one of those wonderful Redwood Forests and also a Vineyard where we sampled different wines and thankfully lunch was provided otherwise … double vision … !
Our first night was spent in a hotel downtown and we were taken to a meet and greet dinner on ‘the what-ever-height’ floor of a restaurant with, I was informed, the most amazing views. When I heard where and how we were to get up there, in a glass walled lift outside of the building, I put my foot down. I dislike lifts, am not a happy bunny in them and as for getting way up yonder – forget it! Persuasion fell on deaf ears but they were becoming visibly distressed at having to leave me behind. I eventually provided the solution that if they were to situate me in the middle of however many could fit in at any one time, then I’ll give it a go! So cocooned, I got there. I wasn’t very happy up there either, having sensitive inner ears I could feel the slight building movement.
The dinner was to be fried chicken, French Fries and salad and I was longing for something non-fried. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted a couple of baskets filled with crudités and neatly positioned myself next to one as we sipped our drinks. Cherry tomatoes, cauliflower florets, cucumber, carrot batons and radishes – all vanished from the basket and I had a grand time. Of course I couldn’t eat a morsel of the dinner!
This was when I spotted the ‘doggy bag’ – my first experience. Not knowing what they really were for, I immediately offered my meal in the bag to the lady seated adjacent and mentioned ‘for your animals ...’ Great laughter followed when learned that these were for later consumption!
The next day we set off for Turlock by car where we stayed in private homes with wonderful hosts. The conference itself was excellent with attendees from around the world and we also made many useful contacts.
Afterward we returned to Los Angeles for a few days courtesy the ‘milk run.’ A small plane took us hedge-hopping from Bakersfield to San Louis Obispo and Santa Barbara before finally reaching Los Angeles. The pilot whose informal, friendly and joking manner we were not used to (British flight deck crew are pretty formal), apologised for those disembarking passengers almost as if they were a nuisance. We had a good laugh about that.
Our hotel was in the middle of the city, ‘downtown’ as it was termed and as no catering was provided, we had our meals at an adjacent restaurant. I won’t forget my first steak and salad. The steak was so large it overlapped the plate and try as I might, I could not finish it. I learned to ask for a child’s portion and even that was almost too much!
The next day we wandered around to get the feel of the place and mid afternoon encountered a poster depicting a ‘parfait’ at an ice cream parlour. Now this is something I hadn’t had since my teens in South Africa – fresh fruit and ice cream served in a tall glass. It was indeed a must. To my great dismay with the mentioned ingredients present, double cream was found in the mix. I had been unaware until I’d tucked in whilst wondering why the ice cream was quite so creamy! I could only muster a quarter and indeed, by dinner time, I was still sated. So I spent an astonishing time looking at the many TV channels with advertisements galore and much less of the actual programme between them (I did a lot of channel-hopping just because I could!). Something else I found disturbing was the constant wailing of either police or fire brigade sirens throughout the night.
I managed some shopping though and in one of the larger stores I was even more astonished when on wanting to pay in cash, they really didn’t know what to do about it. (Zambia did not yet have credit cards so we took travellers cheques and had fun cashing these too – it was already a credit card world outside of Africa) In the end my cash travelled in a small container via overhead wire on a sort of pulley system to the cashier. I had last seen this system operate in a drapery store in Grahamstown, South Africa, in the 50’s!!
I also bought at next to no cost ($40), a pair of Christian Dior sunglasses and had them fitted with my prescription lenses. I treasured these and I was as mad as a snake when some 10 years later they fell from my handbag on a flight to South Africa and I stood on them by mistake …
Via street car we paid a quick visit to Fisherman’s Wharf, I loved the atmosphere regretting we had such a short visit. Took loads of photos and had to re-load my camera once. Back in the hotel I couldn’t find the film I’d taken out and put into my handbag despite searching over and over – it was nowhere and to this day, lost andgone forever! Exactly the same happened with a film on our second visit – how on earth can one explain this?
We paid a visit on that occasion to Disneyland which was quite entertaining. Most impressive were the toilets, or bathrooms as Americans call them. So clean one could have eaten off the floor – unlike those in Kitwe which you could get a whiff of a block away!
At the end of our stay we booked a Continental Airlines flight to Houston, Texas from there to return home with BCal via London to Lusaka. We were to collect our tickets at the airport and stood in a queue. In front a man was purchasing his and when the time came to pay, he unfolded a wallet to proffer some 20 dangling credit cards and my jaw dropped! He was either filthy rich or lived off credit.
It was a Sunday morning flight and a full hot breakfast was served. On each tray a greeting card had been placed depicting a rising sun on the outer cover and over leaf, a short prayer. I have never forgotten this and thought it a particularly lovely touch. The breakfast itself was superb, husband found he was still hungry and it must have been from the look on his face that had the cabin staff offer him another!
Part 32
Life continued and in 1981 after our return we started to realise that the farm wasn't paying its way despite both of us working. This was not the only problem though, the drop in the copper price led to shortages. It became extremely difficult to obtain cattle feed as an example and slowly the painful decision was made to move. I had already spoken to my employers at BCal and after some time, the request for a transfer to Gatwick was granted. With one job in the bag we advertised the sale of the farm by mid year.
We were extremely fortunate when this was fulfilled and the buyers were a couple who were Zambian born. Ron offered us accommodation in his flat, older son would stay with our friends in St Peters Close and younger son was still in boarding school, by now in Johannesburg. He would fly to England when they broke up for the Christmas holiday.
The arduous task of paperwork complete, home contents were arranged to be sold and we were due to leave the farm at the end of August.
One evening, to be precise, 2nd August while we were sitting in the lounge playing games with the boys and Andrew, a school friend of younger son, was on holiday with us. We heard the sound of a vehicle. Not knowing who would visit at that time of the evening, younger son peeped through the curtain as the vehicle pulled up letting us know that the occupants appeared to be all right. This might sound strange but one could never be too lax especially on farms. We opened the front door and Ron practically fell through in a terrible state and in great distress saying over and over again 'my Gloria is dead' … We were in shock and the two Shiel brothers who had bought him to us, were our farmer friends who also supplied us with a steer now and then.
The story being, Jim and Marguerite had driven to Lusaka with their Basset Hound Fred for the Zambia Dog Championships. Ron had asked them to invite Gloria too. (We only found out later that Ron was seeing another woman, also known to us, behind Gloria's back …) On their return that night Jim evading a government lorry parked on a curve on his side of the road, had swung out to bypass it and in doing so had a head on collision with a car travelling to Lusaka.
The Shiels, returning from Lusaka came across the accident. They told us that Jim and Gloria died instantly and Fred, having been thrown out had died. Marguerite was thrown out but alive.
She was still conscious with many awful injuries and managed to let them know where to fetch Ron and to bring him to us. I cannot recall who Marguerite was taken to Ndola Hospital by but it was in an open 'bakkie' (small open truck) in shock and with her serious injuries.
In the other car were a husband and wife with one of their small daughters. Very sadly his wife didn't live and it was only some years later I found out that one of the girls in our hockey team to Kenya was their daughter, she had been at boarding school at the time.
We meanwhile coped with an even more hysterical Ron who spent the night and I more or less spent it sitting next to him for hours, consoling.
Part 33 : Finale
I took him home the following morning and shot off to Ndola Hospital to check on Marguerite. I found her after she'd had an awful leg fracture and other cuts and bruises attended to, her tongue had also been virtually sliced in half. Her concern for Gloria had me telling her a 'little white lie' in that she was in another part of the hospital – how could I let her know that our friend had not lived when she was herself in shock, stoical as she was.
How fortuitous was this, the local doctor was all for amputating her leg and there in the middle of Africa was No3 in the world, Orthopaedic Surgeon! They sometimes did this travelling around to gain more experience. He emphatically informed the doctor that he wouldn't live if he as much as touched Marguerite's leg ... so with much steel work, nuts and bolts, she kept her leg!
The following days were busy ones, visiting Maguerite and keeping an eye on Ron. I decided to tell Marguerite about Gloria after faithfully promising the ward sister that I would be responsible for any relapse in her condition. Marguerite had come to the conclusion even before I apologised for my small evasion from the truth. She asked me to arrange for Jim's cremation and service as she would not be leaving hospital any time soon.
We then had to positively identify bodies, never easy. Ron insisted on coming with us, so with a lovely Zambian nurse we entered the mortuary and she opened first Jim's drawer. His face showed horror and then the other drawer where Gloria on the other hand looked beautifully peaceful. When I turned around Ron had his arms around Gloria, hugging her and the nurse was on her haunches in the corner crying at the sight of Ron. Eventually after the grieving interval we had a dreadful time trying to get Ron to let Gloria go. When we finally did and left, we had to positively carry him to the car, he just wanted to go back …
Ron then wanted me to return to England with him when he took Gloria's ashes home. I am afraid that this was one function he had to do himself. We moved into his flat and just before he left, he asked me to collect her clothes for a charity shop, again no easy task. He said to look in her dressing table drawer, there I found her letter, written before the drive to Lusaka in which she described having seen her father's face in the mirror, he was beckoning to her … She had also filled the freezer with meals on a day when she normally didn't … I leave you to ponder on this.
Jim's cremation went well and Marguerite was transferred to Nkana Hospital in Kitwe where she stayed for almost a year before being released. She spent some time with good friends before returning to England as Jim's work permit was solely in his name despite the fact that she had also been employed. Jim went with her in her suitcase, undeclared due to the hassle of obtaining export and import licences!
So a new life began in 'Merrie England', very sad at leaving Zambia, and what a change!
I flew from Lusaka to London Gatwick on 4th October 1981 to take up my transfer. I was met at Lusaka Airport by Nickey who had previously worked for Zambia Airways and was now with British Caledonian. We chatted in the Departure Lounge and I started to get edgy as the last passengers were boarding when he said he'd take me out to the aircraft. I was led away from the economy steps with Nickey saying too many people and it was easier from the front section. I still hadn't realised … and as soon as we entered first class he led me to my seat right there! What a surprise and what a lovely gesture. Hugs all round with Nickey saying 'we don't want you to go' but, it was too late.
I said adieu to Africa with a heavy heart.
Kris Massie [nee van Woenssel] (reservations), Viv Jackson, Terry Lesch (secretary) and Barbara McLoughlin (supervisor).
(Terry sadly lost her battle with cancer and is no longer with us)
Don Whiting (Mgr Zambia), Dave Gerrard (Mgr - Cargo Sales) and Chris Tear (Sales Mgr) can also be seen in the photo
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