Zambia World Wide

Cath was born in Florida South Africa on 31 August 1926, the only daughter of Donald and Mary Campbell. Her brother John was three years old at that time. During the years of the Second World War her parents and she were members of the Red Cross and were involved with returning servicemen and those on R and R, one of whom was my father, Arthur Thomas whom she met and married in November 1947. I arrived in 1948 and my sister Elspeth was born in 1950.

Shortly after Cath’s father died early April 1953 we immigrated to Northern Rhodesia in a Model A Ford towing a caravan. We stayed in Lusaka for a short while and then moved on to Luanshya for a few months and then on to Mufulira where my father opened up a panel beating business. My sister Gwyneth was born there in November 1954. Elspeth died in an accident in 1960. Cath left Arthur and Mufulira in 1969, moving to Port Elizabeth to be near her mother and Cath ran the YWCA. After her mother died in 1977 Cath moved to the Johannesburg area, working as a boarding mistress at a university residence at Baragwaneth Hospital in Soweto. In 1985 Cath emigrated to Cairns then worked as a boarding mistress in All Souls and Saint Gabriel’s in Charters Towers until her retirement at the end of 1989, moving to Townsville and then here to Cairns about 5 years ago.

So much for the dry facts and chronology. A few people here who have met her may remember her as a frail old lady with a sharp mind and quite often a tongue to match. She did not suffer fools gladly or otherwise and could be quite scathing with her observations.

In her heyday Cath was a formidable woman and had some interesting stories to tell, and there are many told of her. Cath was almost fearless. She held a healthy respect for African wildlife and had no qualms about despatching snakes, stray dogs suspected of being rabid and other vermin with pistol, rifle or shotgun. Spiders, scorpions, centipedes and other dangerous wildlife did not bother her, but a bat in the house turned her into a timid, helpless being and she would cower under the bedclothes until she was rescued.

Shortly before Gwyneth was born we lived 7 miles out of town in a caravan and corrugated iron shed. While dad worked at his business in town during the day, mum would oversee the making of the mud bricks and the building of our new home. When the house was half built Gwyneth’s arrival put a temporary halt to proceedings.  Once out of hospital with the new baby work recommenced and the second half was completed mostly under the supervision of mum and her mother who had come to visit. The Africans used to give the white expatriates nicknames, and my grandmother was known as Dona-mama, which, translated is madam’s mother, whereasCath’s nickname was Dona-kalouma which means the woman who shouts. She was also known as Dona-Bwana. (Bwana is usually ‘Boss-man’)

I heard once that Cath went to visit a neighbour to point out the error of his ways and took along with her a double-barrelled shotgun and told him to look carefully at what may well be the instrument of his demise should she hear of any further transgressions, and if he was unhappy with her visit he was at liberty to take the matter up with the constabulary.  I asked mum not long ago if this was true and she just smiled and said that she’d not talk ill of the dead, indicating that that topic of conversation was closed.

Another incident with that weapon occurred after we’d been to see the Rogers and Hammerstein movie ‘Annie get your gun’ Cath thought that it would be cool to fire a shotgun from the hip as Annie did in the film. Unfortunately both barrels were loaded and she’d cocked both hammers. Needless to say both barrels went off. We were sharply reminded that it was not on to laugh at other people’s pain or misfortune.

Mum’s 60 plus years of involvement with the Red Cross started before the war as a Junior First Aid volunteer and ended at the blood bank in Cairns when she felt that she’d better give up serving teas and coffees because she was concerned that her unsteadiness would end up dumping a hot beverage in someone’s lap. My 12th birthday party BBQ turned into a huge bonfire and feast for what seemed like hundreds of refugees that had fled the Congo uprising that day. Our property turned into a large camping ground for a couple of weeks with my mother as the camp commandant. The farm, as we used to call it was where the local branch held meetings, training and stored supplies.

Cath was multicultural or multinational. She was born of Scottish parentage in Africa and became a naturalised Australian in 1998. She loved this country and was, like me, a very grateful immigrant. She also embraced the expression ‘you can take an African out of the bush, but you can’t take the bush out of an African. This saying was used by the Boers and British colonialists and was meant to be derogatory about black Africans, but for those of us who have been to or are from Africa, this is at the core of our being. Once you are bitten by the African bug you are infected forever.