Zambia World Wide

Introduction

This article is split in four episodes with sub titles. This allows the selective readers to easily choose the sections that of an interest to them. The first episode will give the reader an idea where I come from and some of the memories I have from 1933 to 1953. The second episode covers the memories I have of my holidays in Northern Rhodesia from 1953 to 1955. Episode three starts with my immigration to Northern Rhodesia in 1956. It covers my employment with Sammy Sampson and the Federal Government with incidents that took place during that time until April 1958. It also includes some of my views on African culture and beliefs. The last episode from May 1958 to March 1967 covers my employment with Rhodesia Congo Border Power Corporation, which was later, renamed as “Copperbelt Power Company”. Apart from incidents that took place at C.P.C it highlights some of my social and sporting experiences. It also includes a few incidents that took place after Independence.

EPISODE ONE 1933 to 1953

Our stay in Johannesburg.

It was on the 22^nd August 1933 in Turffontein Johannesburg that I was introduced to mother earth. Before leaving for Cape Town around 1937/38 we lived in 31A, Andrew Street Kenilworth Jo’burg. My childhood memories date back to this period. I can still hear the laughter and see my Mom and Aunt holding my hands while walking in the snow. I so badly wanted them to let me go so that I could roll in the snow. My sisters Cynthia and Rosalind were also born during this period.

Our move to Cape Town

Moving to Cape Town was a joint decision of both parents. Mom wanted to be close to her mother and Dad wanted to be close to the sea. From the beginning of 1927 to the end of 1930 he did his naval training in Simonstown on board of the H.M.S.A.S. Protea. It was more than likely the time he met my Mom. My father’s love for the sea was demonstrated at an early age of 12yrs with his tour of a boat in Durban harbour. His parents had difficulty in getting him off the boat. At the age of 14/15yrs he ran away from home and tried to enlist with the Navy in Durban. The Navy fortunately realized that he was not of age and he was taken to the police station where he spent the night in a cell. His father and their Methodist minister I believe spent sometime in convincing him that it would be to his benefit to complete his studies By 1926 with his studies complete he left Maritz Brothers College.

My parents bought a house at 86, Surrey Street Goodwood. On moving in I saw some boys about my age standing at the fence. I ran outside to meet them but in no time I was back in the house with tears running down my cheeks. My Mom was highly upset as I told her that I hated this place as the boys outside kept swearing at me. She went outside obviously to give them a good lecture but on her return she was having a good laugh. She then explained that the boys could not speak English and they were trying to communicate with me in Afrikaans.

My school days

The Goodwood Preparatory School was the first school I attended. Here I had my first real fight which unknown to me was arranged by my friends that I had met at the fence in the above chapter. I think I surprised quite a few in winning the fight, as I was the smaller of the two.

From there I went to Raymond Primary School in Vasco. The school was approximately 3 km from our house and we preferred walking to school as we could spend our bus fare of two pennies on sweets or we could go to the local bioscope on a Wednesday for a penny. The down side was in the winter months. Walking barefoot which was then common practice up to Standard 6(grade 8). We had to cross lots of open grassland and we had to negotiate stretches of water. Where the water was too deep for the smaller boys and girls the bigger boys would piggyback us across. These stretches of water were filled with frog eggs something not seen these days. Here I played rugby for the A team in the flank position for players under 80lbs. On practice days I would run home after school get changed, run back to school, practice and then run home after practice. I was a bugler with the school cadets

Most of my school days at Raymond Primary were during the 2^nd World War. At school the Army supplied us with food rations. We received soup, milk, cheese, fruit, and cocoa. Scarce items, which were possibly controlled by the government, could be purchased from the army trucks. They were parked at selected places on certain days of the week. When you required more than your quota your siblings would join the queue and we would avoid making eye contact. Only brown flour was available but this was overcome with some ingenious methods. Staying close to Wingfield aerodrome we were often made to partake in mock air raids. Tarred paper was used to seal our windows to ensure that no light was visible from outside.

My Mom bought me a bicycle when I was in standard six for six pounds. One afternoon a group of us were in a race. At an intersection a cart drawn by two horses coming at a fair gallop from the opposite direction failed to stop before turning up the intersection. Fortunately being some distance ahead of the others I was the only one that collided with the horses. To this day I am convinced that there was a guardian angel looking after me. There is no doubt in my mind that the horses made an effort not to trample me. As the cart went over me I was lower than its axle and in the center of the two metal wheels. I survived with a broken arm, a few cracked ribs, cuts and bruises. The bicycle looked rather bad, as it had gone under one of the wheels.

It was during this period that I learnt to swim. It was in a stream running through a pine forest where to day is the Grand West Casino in Goodwood. We would dam the stream up until it was deep enough to swim in. We could swim and sun bathe in our birthday suits knowing that not many people frequented the forest. The forest ranger would patrol on horseback and he would regularly blow a trumpet, which gave us ample time to grab our cloths and go into hiding. To think that in our time we never knew of water pollution.

My last two school years were spent at Epping High School. Here my hopes of going through school without a hiding soon came to an end. The first hiding was for smudging the class register with a water pistol I had made. With your head placed under a bookshelf you had no choice but to remain stationary during your caning. The last hiding I got made up for the years that I had escaped a caning. It was for placing a poisonous snake in the desk of one of the girls. When she spotted the snake her scream was enough to waken the dead. To crown it all we had a lady teacher a Miss Deetlifs that period for an Afrikaans lesson. On seeing the snake she was gone with half the girls behind her. I ended the last year with a fight over a girl, which I met through my eldest sister Cynthia. Cupid was certainly around as we just clicked. Had I known that her ex was not only insanely jealous but he was known as a fighter I possibly would have been more cautious. It was not long before he confronted me with an instruction to see him after school as he intended teaching me a lesson for courting his girlfriend. Arriving at the arranged meeting place I noticed him warming up. As I was removing my school bag from my back he rushed at me and landed a punch squarely on my left eye, which sent me flying backwards. In the process I saw him coming again at me but he was not expecting a handful of sand in his eyes. Before he could recover I was on to him like a fox terrier. When the spectators saw the blood on his face they stopped the fight. Parents those days seldom knew when you were in a fight as they would more than likely give you a hiding for fighting.

The loss of my father and son

We knew that sooner or later my father would be called up for active duty in the North as he was with the Navy. Standing on Monument Station on the 23rd Feb.1944 at 21h00 was the last we saw our father as his train was leaving the station. Seeing your father leave and everyone else in tears and some trying to find a spot where they could see their loved ones for just those extra seconds was a traumatic experience. Monument Station was next to Cape Town Station on the seaside and was used exclusively for the Defense Force.

It was a few days after his death that we received that dreaded telegram with its black edges. He was instantly killed on the 14^th Nov. 1944 while serving on the H.M.S.A.S. Treern as a Chief Engine Room Artificer. He was reading a letter from Mom when he was struck in the head by a 20mm Oerlekon Canon that was firing at an enemy sea mine in the vicinity of Volos off the Greek Coast. He was 34 years of age at the time of his death and was buried with Full Military Honours in the Gulf of Volos off Greece.

My father was not only a good carpenter and mechanic but he could play most musical instruments. During his naval training in Simonstown he played the piano accordion for the “Jasoka Band”. Just before his departure he played Drowsy Waters on the Hawaiian guitar for my Mom on one of the radio channels. He was an excellent artist. The comments I have received of the two paintings he made on the leaves of a Silver Leaf Tree in 1929 and 1930 certainly endorse my viewpoint. The details of these paintings of his training vessel the H.M.S.A.S Protea are unbelievable. His three separate photos of my sister demonstrating: - Hear no evil, See no evil and Talk no evil using the same negative and a Brownie box camera was published in the Cape Argus on 18^th April 1942. On the 15^th Sept. 1940 he was the only one who was prepared to accept the challenge to jump from the ship’s mast while docked in Durban. The photo is not a good one but it is one I often boast with. He taught his sister Margaret and me how to print. I still get complimentary comments concerning my printing. If only he taught me to write as I often can’t read my own handwriting

My father’s name appears at the Plymouth Naval War Memorial U.K. for those buried at sea and on the S. A Navy Roll of Honour in Simonstown Cape Province.

My mother’ being a senior citizen was contacted by the Durban Municipality requesting permission to name a street in Emberton using one of her names. In 1991 the municipality sent her a map of Emberton indicating the position of Christine Road.

Van der Hoff road one of the major roads in Pretoria is named after my great/great Grandfather the first Dutch minister in the Transvaal. He arrived in Cape Town in Dec 1852.

The loss of my son Stephen does not fall in this period but the similarities of his death and that of my father are so close that I felt its inclusion is justified. On the 27^th April 1983 just 5 months after celebrating his 21^st birthday he was also accidentally shot in the head. He was with the S.A.Police at the time and he too was buried with Full Police Honours.

After the loss of my father

My mother had to find work and apply for a housing loan. In the forties no bonds were approved until you appeared before a panel of four adjudicators. Being the forties it was virtually unheard of a woman being the breadwinner and being among the first woman to apply for a loan possibly attributed to the grueling interview. After the interview she was asked to leave the room so that they could discuss the application before reaching a decision. Once outside she just burst out in tears. One of the adjudicators on his way to the toilet (P.K to N/Rhod meaning Picanine Kaia and later Pres Kaunda) on seeing the state she was in walked up to her and informed her that she had just won his vote. With Mom at work my sisters and myself were responsible for most of the housework chores.

The norm in my schooldays.

• We could go out and play and our parents would only become concerned if we were late for meals.
• We would ride a stray horse by just inserting a rope or belt in its mouth.
• Many a Blue Gum tree had a slide attached to it, which kept us rather active.

The games we played are far too many to mention in detail. Two games are band today and to be honest I have never heard or known their English names. The first is “Kennetjie”. It was played with two sticks. I have heard of boys losing an eye with this game but personally I have never witnessed something of that nature. The other game was “Bok Bok”. The danger of this game was when the one team started jumping on the backs of their opposition. After a rowing regatta at Luansha we had to take one of the participants of this game to hospital with a dislocated knee. Back injuries were more common. Then there was a time for marbles, a time for spinning tops and a time for kite flying. During these times we mostly would gather on a wide-open space, which was once a golf course. Here there was great competition not only to see who had the best kite but also the biggest and who could fly his kite the highest. The best of this past time is that it was often shared with your father.

Other fond memories of this open field were when the circus put up their tent here. To announce their arrival they would parade through the streets with their band in the lead followed by the elephants and other animals. The clowns etc were on the back of open trucks. To me the Boswell –Wilkie circus was of course the best. Then there was the Fun Fair. In the center of the Merry-Go-Round we could climb to the top where there was platform on which you could run to push the Merry-Go-Round. The operator would blow a whistle to signal the start and finish. After thirty minutes you were given a coupon, which entitled you to make use of all their entertainment free of charge for a certain amount of times.

At a certain time of the year we would pick a flower we knew as an Afrikaner or Sandpypie. This flower was mainly picked for its fragrance. With all the housing development in the area this flower has become very rare. When we picked them we were instructed not to damage the bulb. A couple of these flowers were enough to fill the whole house with a fantastic fragrance for days. Believe it or not you invariably smelt the flower before seeing it. They came in blue and pink. They were of the Gladiolus variety.

Almost every boy owned a catapult. The lucky ones had a pellet gun. The catapult possibly accounted for most of the broken windows and of course hidings.