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Greg Lance – Watkins
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From there we headed back home as our time off was at an end.
We thoroughly enjoyed our little foray into the seldom travelled
parts of the country although, with hindsight, we were naïve and
foolish. Had we known then what we know now, we would have
been too afraid to wander around out there. Ritual murders,
known there as “Muti Murders”, were and still are, a part of the
traditional way of life. Although it is now against the law, it has
not stopped it from continuing to happen. Superstition is rife
countrywide but particularly so in the rural areas where there’s not
much formal education. People are murdered and certain of their
body parts are removed for use by witchdoctors in various
ceremonies traditionally believed to bring about some or other
stipulated benefit to a customer willing to pay the price. This is
not a fairy tale – we know first hand of several of these incidents,
which happened in the valley where we worked and it still
happens all over Africa. In fact, in South Africa the other day was
a newspaper item, not rating headlines or any grand place in the
news. Just a filler article to warn the relatives of the dead about to
be buried that body parts, particularly genitals are being removed
at the morgue for onward sale for muti!!

End of Part One

25

Part Two
Swaziland is an independent democratic country, and at the time
we were there ruled by an old king named “Sabouza” who had
been on the throne for many years. As is still the custom, he had
many, many wives and a multitude of children. We were a bit
surprised to discover that some of the royal family were working
at the hotel in various positions, from room service waiter to the
very impressive looking doorman, turned out in traditional Swazi
dress, whom everyone fondly called Induna – which is more or
less our equivalent of “Chief”. King Sabouza was popular and
well respected by his people and by ex-patriots alike. He was a
wise old man who knew who he could trust and who he couldn’t
and wasn’t above enlisting the advice of a white man if he thought
the opinions of his own courtiers were likely to be biased to suit
themselves. Swaziland is a former British territory and Sabouza
had ruled his country under the watchful eye of England until
independence was granted. The currency had been Stirling and
there were many British companies and British industry in the
country. With Independence and with the withdrawal of the
British, Stirling was ousted and the Rand became the new money.
The Rand is the currency of South Africa, with which Swaziland
shares its borders, and both Stirling and the Rand had much the
same exchange rate until about 1975. At that time the Swaziland
parliament finally chose to have its own currency, the Lilengeni –
or in the plural – Emalengeni. We were in the country when this
event took place and were surprised at how the people reacted to
it. Instead of feeling empowered by having their own money,
they were very suspicious of it. At the end of the first month after
the change over, the majority of workers in the land refused to

26

accept payment in this new currency and insisted on being paid in
money (Rands). We saw this at first hand when we ceremoniously
presented our Swazi housemaid, Christina, with her first wages in
the new currency. She was ironing at the time and, instead of
being excited, was visibly unhappy with the crisp notes and shiny
new coins that Chas placed on the end of the ironing board. She
prodded the money with a suspicious finger as one might an
apparently dead scorpion and then looked up at us, saying “why
do you give me this? Where is my money?” We were obliged to
dig out some south African Rands which we had fortunately held
on to, just in case. The Rand remained legal tender, along side
the Emalengeni, for a considerable time. Even the king showed
his scepticism when he called in a white lawyer to tell him how
much money was in the fund for the wedding of one of the
princesses. When the lawyer gave him the figure in the now, not-
so-new, Emalengeni the king said “no, tell me in money” so the
lawyer gave the amount in Rands. “no, no”, insisted the king, “I
want to know how much is in the fund – in money! Tell me how
many pounds there are!!” On being given the Stirling equivalent
the old king was finally satisfied.
Around September of that year, Chas told the manager of the
restaurant that he was considering resigning since he and I had
been working all those months in different departments on totally
opposite shifts and enough was enough. Chas wasn’t prepared to
wait any longer to get into the casino, especially since Christmas
was looming again and casino training would be impossible if it
was left any longer. We would have both resigned and gone off
somewhere else to be together. However, Chas won his point and
was allowed to start his casino training right away. He trained
blackjack, which is the easiest and quickest to learn and I was able
to help him with it, and he passed his table test at the end of his
training period. Then, would you believe it, the casino manager
said he wanted roulette dealers and that Chas was to train in that
game if he wanted to work in the casino!! Isn’t there always

27

something?? So he started training roulette, which was much
more complicated than blackjack. More techniques and more
rules and lots more mental maths involved. After lots of hours of
training, squeezed in between restaurant shifts where he had
continued to work, he was finally accepted to join the casino.
Unlike the women, who had a whole wardrobe of uniforms
supplied, the casino men were obliged to supply their own
tuxedos, white shirts and bow ties. Off we went to Johannesburg
on our first available days off and Chas got himself kitted out in
what was to be his working clothes for many years to come. It
had to be hell for him on his first night, what with the stage fright
we all experience and feeling trussed up in an outfit which doesn’t
lend itself to the kind of activity involved in dealing any game in a
casino and particularly roulette. But what a knees-up when we
finished our shift that night (next morning, actually)!! It was the
first time in over nine months that we were able to finish working
at more or less the same time and go home together. Poor Chas
went through all the nightmares of being a “Lumpy Dealer”.
That’s what all trainee dealers are called because their fingers
move like lumps of independent gristle on the ends of the hands
until time and experience moulds them into nimble extensions of
the brain. We were able to settle down to what, for us, became a
normal life in spite of the fact that we worked by night and slept
through the mornings, rather like bats. Thereafter, Chas and I
seldom worked apart and when we did, it was under great
sufferance.
We made some wonderful friendships during the years we worked
in Swaziland – strong friendships, which are as strong today as
ever they were then. The Fisher family, who took Chas and me
under their family umbrella, always made their home our home
where we always stayed when we had time off to go to
Johannesburg. Peter Watkinson, a senior pit boss at the time,
married my friend, Linda Fisher and I was her matron of honour
and Chas was best man for Peter at their wedding. Chas and Peter

28

became best friends as did Linda and I, sharing our social lives
and often taking our annual leave together. Then there’s Mac and
Vicki, Danni and Ivan, and Sylvia and Alec – all couples who
were and are our friends and who got married during the five years
we spent in Swaziland. We had wonderful weddings in that
country. Always with beautiful scenery for a backdrop to the
celebrations and always catered by ourselves. In fact, we got so
much practice at serving up trays and trays of delicious foods that
I’m surprised not one of us ultimately went into the wedding
catering business. We became a well-practised, slick operation
that had all of us organized doing flower arrangements and
decorations of churches and reception venues, special foods and
drinks, indoors or alfresco. Everything was done to our very best
ability because we loved the couples tying the knot and really
wanted their special day to be perfect. And in spite of doing all
that, we were always dressed and on time at the ceremony.
We found the Swazi people to be a friendly bunch, on the whole,
and many were given a fairly formal education in schools much
the same as anywhere else in the world. But we discovered that
the average “man in the street” was not very familiar with Western
technology. On the surface one could engage in an intelligent
conversation and their naivety wouldn’t be too obvious but every
now and again some little situation would arise and the Swazi
person would do something amusing – from our point of view.
For instance: one of the Swazi waiters, Alfred, who had worked
under Chas in the restaurant remained friendly with us even
though Chas had joined the casino and he didn’t see us so often.
One day he invited Chas to come to see his new house which he
had almost finished building. Chas went along and on arrival
praised Alfred on his workmanship. Considering he wasn’t a
builder he’d done a pretty good job. It was a small, simple two
room dwelling of breezeblocks covered with mud which was how
most of the ordinary local town people built their homes. When
they went to inspect the interior Albert proudly showed Chas the

29

water taps he had installed. To Chas’ surprise, the hot and cold
water taps were attached to short lengths of pipe which had been
simply jammed into the mud wall. No plumbing of any kind was
evident. Before Chas could ask the question, Albert told him that
his taps weren’t producing any water yet because he hadn’t yet
learned the magic that white men were born with that can divert a
river to flow out of the pipes. He had seen the taps at the hotel
producing limitless water but neither he nor any of his friends or
family had any idea of how it came to be there.
The manager of one of the banks in town requested one of his new
clients to come in and have a chat. When the man arrived the
bank manager told him that his cheque account was overdrawn
and that he had no money in his account. He would have to pay in
more money to clear the debt. The client thought for a minute
then started to write out a cheque for the amount owing. He
hadn’t grasped that one could only write cheques if one had
money in the bank to cover it. He had seen the white people
writing cheques and exchanging them for goods or cash and
assumed that this was some kind of privilege that he, somehow,
was allowed to share because the bank manager had given him
“The Magic Paper”. So many anecdotes, too many to re-tell, on
the subject of White Man’s Magic.
We went horseback riding fairly often. Sometimes there would be
a dozen or so of us from the casino who did without some sleep
(we’d get about four hours) to have a day in the mountains. Chas’
sister, Mo, also joined us if she was on a day off. Mitch, my
angel of mercy in my first days in the casino, owned a riding
school in the valley, run by his wife, Yolanda. He would organise
horses for us all and have them saddled and waiting for us when
we arrived, usually at about 9AM. We would mount up and be on
our way to a pre-arranged spot, somewhere nice, and he, Yolanda
and their kids would meet us there in his truck with a delicious
picnic lunch. There were places in the valley where it was wise to
keep the horses at a canter because of the dagga (marijuana)

30

bushes growing wild. In some patches it was as high as our
horses’ chests. If we had allowed the horses to eat any of the stuff
they would become quite unmanageable. “Loco Weed” as it’s
known in the Americas. This is where our Christmas tree had
come from. We had some great times riding in the heat of the
valley then starting up the mountain slopes. One of the routes we
sometimes took was so steep we had to dismount and walk to give
the horses a hand. Exhausting stuff but well worth the effort when
we reached our destination. We unsaddled the horses and let them
free to graze and rest on a mountain top with a stunning view and
a crystal clear stream flowing over a long, smooth rock face at just
the perfect angle to make a water slide. Down we slid on the cool
water into a series of small rock pools dappled with sunshine.
Then Mitch and his family would arrive and join in the fun. After
that we relaxed and dried off over our picnic lunch. Around 2pm
we would reluctantly catch the horses, saddle up and remount. Of
course, these riding school horses were no fools and it was always
a bit of a job to catch them. For everyone except young Neils, that
is. He was the youngest in our group but what he lacked in years
he certainly made up for in stature and brawn. Neils was built like
the proverbial “brick shithouse”, average in height, thickset with a
neck like a bull buffalo. He was of typical Afrikaner stock with
the soles of his feet as tough as tractor tyres. He thought nothing
of walking for miles barefoot, over thorny, stony ground that
would have torn any one of us to shreds. For all that, a nicer,
gentler young man you couldn’t hope to meet – but back to the
subject of the horses. Neils caught them by “ambushing” them.
While we were expending great energy running after our horses,
Neils would simply stand behind a bush and wait for a hapless
animal to come trotting past him. With perfect timing he would
step out from cover at the very last second, into the path of the
horse and brace himself. As he connected with the horse it had
no choice but to stop dead and there would be man and beast,
chest to chest, and a big grin all over Neils’ chubby face. The
horse would be very meek after that – probably trying to work out

31

what had happened – and we would all make our way back down
the mountain to the stables and then drive home to get bathed and
ready for the night shift in the casino. Once at work, it was easy
to tell which of us had been out riding. Apart from the obvious
stiffness in our walk we were all aglow from the sun. Of course,
by the wee hours we found it a struggle and were desperately tired
by the time we finished work at around four or five in the
morning. But, sure enough you guessed it – it wasn’t long before
we were making plans to do it again.
On one of these blissful outings we visited a small island in the
middle of a river in the valley. To get to the island we remained
on our horses’ backs with feet held high to avoid contact with the
water. This wasn’t because we were lazy but because the rivers
below a certain altitude were infested with bilharzia. This is a
parasite which lives on the snails in the shallows, that gets into the
bloodstream through any orifice or lesion and ends up making a
person terribly ill and, if left unchecked, will cause death. We
were safe up at our mountain waterslide because of the altitude.
Unfortunately, Chas’ sister, Mo, was unlucky and found herself
dunked but as she had kept her head above water and knew of no
cuts we all figured she’d probably be OK. She kept an eye out for
bilharzia symptoms for some months but there was no sign of it
and she eventually forgot all about the incident. It wasn’t until
fifteen years or more later, living in Canada, that she started
feeling unwell. Her doctor diagnosed a thyroid problem and
ultimately she was subjected to cobalt treatments. These made
her feel sick and caused her to lose some of her hair but she wasn’t
feeling any improvement from the treatments. One day, while
she was sitting on a hospital bed waiting for her treatment, a
young doctor came in and they started to chat. They exchanged
histories of their travels and it turned out that he’d just come back
from a long stint in Africa. Mo told him that she’d spent some
years in Swaziland and he stopped her in mid sentence. He asked
her if she’d been tested for bilharzia, which she hadn’t, as her
dunking in the river had been so long ago she’d forgotten. Well,

32

she had a test right there and then and sure enough, she tested
positive. That parasite had lain dormant for all those years before
rearing its ugly head. Her treatment was quickly changed and it
was a simple injection that turned Mo around to the road to a
complete recovery in a very short time. It doesn’t bear thinking
about what would have happened to Mo if that young doctor
hadn’t been studying tropical medicine and recognised the
symptoms immediately.
Being surrounded by dagga, and people who used it, the time
came when I just had to try it for myself. We went to a charades
evening at a little place in the valley where Sheryl and Asa, two of
the senior female croupiers, lived. Linda and Peter were there too
and we played this game which I must confess I wasn’t enjoying.
I felt rather stupid and embarrassed, getting up there in front of
everyone miming and acting and so-forth. I’ve never enjoyed
doing that sort of thing. That was when Asa suggested that I try a
“joint” to make me less inhibited. I thought, why not? Chas
would see that I didn’t get into trouble, so I accepted. Well I must
say that my inhibitions decreased somewhat and I found
everything that happened hysterically funny. The good thing is, it
didn’t agree with me and the minute I got home I was violently ill.
I had been drinking red wine that night and I suppose that had
something to do with it. All I know is that the mere smell of
dagga unsettles my stomach to this day and red wine I didn’t touch
for about twenty years. I think it was a marvellous thing to
happen to me. Just imagine if I had liked it and got hooked.
There was once a winter party given by a couple of croupiers,
whom I won’t name, where the soup had been secretly spiked with
dagga. Fortunately, Chas and I didn’t have any and we left early
because the party was very dull. People were just sitting around
with very loud “music” playing and being generally boring. Of
course that was the effects of the ingredients of the soup. We
heard the next day that one chap in particular, who had just
become engaged and had been made to promise his fiancé not to

33

drink, had lots of soup instead!! Well, it seems that when they
left to go home, they got into his VW beetle and instead of turning
left out of the driveway and onto the road for home; he took a
direct line to his home in the staff compound. This entailed
driving his little car cross country via the hotel’s prized golf
course, making furrows across the putting greens and generally
causing quite a lot of damage. His fiancé refused to believe that
he hadn’t had a drink and he had little idea of what he’d done to
upset her. The poor guy was just a victim. Well, the hotel
management came down on him like a ton a bricks and told him
that he was to foot the bill for the repairs to the golf course. His
girlfriend broke off the engagement and left the country within the
week – although that was probably doing him a long-term favour
as she really wasn’t his type. The perpetrators of the soup-
spiking were thoroughly hauled over the coals and put on pay
suspension for at least a month, which meant that they still had to
work their normal shifts but got no pay. I think it was either that
or put the matter into the hands of the police, which could have
been seriously bad for them, so they accepted the pay suspension.
By the following Christmas Chas & I had moved out of the staff
compound and rented a two-bedroom house, up in the mountains
in Mmbabane, with lots of lawn front and back. Obviously it was
much more comfortable to be able to spread out and, of course, the
luxury of our own bathroom was simply too wonderful. There
was some furniture in the house which we bought at a good price
and had the lounge suite recovered to match the curtains we’d
bought. We got permission to repaint the interior in lighter,
brighter colours – it was a bit drab when we moved in – and we
chose a nice orange and white combination. We had a zebra skin
which we mounted on the wall and added an orange shaggy carpet
in front of the fireplace. Being up in the mountains, we were very
happy to have a real fireplace in the cold winter time, often
lighting a cosy fire when we came home from work in the wee
hours. I bought some fabric and took it, along with the cushions

34

of our inherited lounge suite, to the convent where the nuns took
in sewing for a reasonable fee and had curtains and cushion covers
made to match. Chas and I loved it when it was all put together
although Linda wasn’t very impressed with the orange colour –
she’s more conservative than me. The people next door were
Swedish and friendly and owned a big black Labrador cross called
Sipho (which, in the local language, means “a gift”) whom I
quickly befriended. He was always pleased to see us when we
came home from work in the wee hours and gave us an
enthusiastic welcome. I know he grew very fond of us but I also
suspect that he looked forward to the warm fire. We used to let
him in until we went to bed so I’m sure that had something to do
with our popularity. But it meant that I had a dog, albeit part-time,
to lavish affection upon. The neighbours were pleased because
they often went away and used to have to put Sipho into kennels.
Now Sipho didn’t need to be taken away from his territory as we
were there to look after him. Mind you, he could be a handful at
times. The Swazi staff from the clinic up the road had to walk
past our place on their way home in the afternoons if they couldn’t
get a lift. He would rush out and nip their clothing with Chas and
I in hot pursuit screaming at him to go home and trying to tell the
poor workers not to run. When the dust settled we were all
apologies and sympathy and assurances that the dreadful animal
didn’t belong to us!!! Sipho just didn’t like black people. We
couldn’t find a way to tell him that he was black too. It’s a funny
thing with dogs though. Dogs belonging to black people usually
don’t like white people either.
We discovered that we had some “wildlife” living between the
outer roof and the ceiling. We kept hearing this chirping sound
coming from above us when we were in bed and all was quiet.
We assumed it was birds but it wasn’t long before we discovered
we had bats!! I woke up one day to see Chas kneeling on the end
of the bed with this thing flying back and forth across the room.
Chas was not taking his eyes off it for a second and then I realized

35

what it was. Only about the size of a small child’s hand but when
it finally settled I saw that it was not a very pretty animal. Now,
as mentioned, Chas isn’t fond of things that flutter about and by
now I was the official “bouncer” where uninvited creatures were
concerned. I found it pointless to try to catch it in my hands as I
did with the moths. I’m sure that it thought that I was an ugly
looking monster too because it just wouldn’t let me get anywhere
near it. Besides, I’m quite sure it would have bitten me and I
understood that bats can carry rabies. I eventually got the straw
broom from the kitchen and knocked it to the floor as it made one
of its passes across the room. Well!!! It didn’t half give me a
thousand words and barring its sharp little teeth at me at the same
time. Discretion being the better part of valour, I chose to gently
sweep it out of the front door then closed it quickly before it came
back in. One night as I was getting ready to leave the house for
work (Chas had already left for an earlier shift) I was visited by
yet another bat. I had become a dab hand at getting the little
blighters out so I watched as it flew back and forth across the
room waiting for my chance to pounce. Suddenly, it disappeared.
After carefully checking the whole room I realized it had flown
towards the zebra skin mounted on the wall and, to hide from me,
it landed on one of the black stripes and scuttled behind the skin
so quickly that I didn’t even see it happen. I must say that I was
spooked and my scalp prickled until I discovered that its
disappearance was just an illusion. That one I put outside without
the gentle, reassuring words which usually accompanied such
ejections. We later discovered that they were breeding up there in
our ceiling when we found a couple of little ones in the house so
we decided enough was enough. One afternoon we checked
around the eves and found two places where they were getting in.
Chas got the ladder and plugged one of the entrances and at the
other he lit a fumigation tablet, the kind that gives off a lot of
smoke, with the intention of making our home an unattractive
nesting place for generations of bats. I was holding Sipho in case
he got excited and knocked the ladder from under Chas as he

36

began inserting this smoking “bomb” through the hole and
suddenly there was a scream from the top of the ladder. One
whiff of the smoke and the bats made for the hole, en mass. Poor
Chas was still up the ladder when they came hurtling out through
their only escape route and he was right in front of it!! There he
was, the upper half of his body lost to view amongst about a
hundred black, furry, wildly flapping squeaking BATS.
Whenever I picture this scene, my mind conjures up illustrations
in my childhood picture books about haunted houses. Chas came
down the ladder “fireman style” without his feet touching the
rungs once, his eyes huge and his skin pale and clammy.
Although it was a hysterically comical sight I stopped laughing
when I thought he may have a heart attack or something. During
this whole drama, the local hospital workers happened to be
passing on their way home from work and saw the smoke so,
checking that Sipho was restrained, they took up position at our
split-rail fence to watch what the crazy white people were up to
this time. At the appearance of the bats, up went a roar of
cheering, whistling and clapping in appreciation of such an
unexpected entertainment to brighten an otherwise dull end to a
hard day’s work. Chas gingerly climbed back up and plugged the
hole and thereafter we were free of wildlife – of this particular
kind. I truly believe that if the bats came back into the roof, we’d
move out before Chas repeated the events of that afternoon.
Linda and Peter lived only a couple of blocks away so we spent
lots of time at each others’ places, often getting together for a few
drinks after work. We were the best of friends. Many were the
mornings when our neighbours were having their breakfast and we
were just wending our way home after going straight from work to
Linda and Peter’s place. Looking back, I can’t remember, for the
life of me, a single conversation we had that kept us entertained
together for so long, so often.

37

On a few occasions Chas and I invited half a dozen or so
workmates up to our place after work to have a fondue meal.
The “evening” began at around 3 o’clock in the morning and we
served snails in garlic butter to start with and then the fondue
came after that. We served up cubes of beef and pork fillet,
peeled king prawns, vegetables and a variety of dipping sauces.
We’d follow that with cubed tropical fruits in a fresh buttery
fondue and vanilla sugar to roll them in. Naturally, copious
offerings of wine accompanied all this food. Now, in case you’ve
never participated in a fondue evening, it’s a rather long, drawn-
out affair. Consequently, our housemaid, Christina, sometimes
arrived to start work at eight in the morning to find us still sitting
on the floor around the coffee table, by this time talking rubbish
and the fire all but dead. With the curtains still closed no-one had
realized the sun was already up. We’d hurriedly clean up the
wreckage of the fondue and our friends would head out into the
blazing morning, still wearing the casino uniforms of long dresses
and tuxedos since they’d come straight from work. It must have
been quite a sight for the neighbours. I have to say that, apart
from our Swedish next-door neighbours, the people in our street
tended to look upon us as something akin to interplanetary aliens.
We got the feeling that they considered casino people to be of
loose morals for some reason, perhaps because we worked at night
and wore “glamorous” uniforms. Not that it ever bothered us – we
simply minded our own business and got on with our lives. Most
people have a social life after they finish a day’s work and so did
we. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who finishes work and goes
straight home and dives into bed. The only difference was that
our work ended in the wee hours of the morning and sometimes
even after the sun came up. We still needed to unwind and have
the equivalent of dinner before going to bed. For some reason this
has always been difficult for “normal-hours” people to grasp.
Chas had an aunt who was his godmother and, soon after we had
moved into this house up the hill, Chas got word that she had

38

passed away. She hadn’t been well off but she had left Chas a
little money in her will which amounted to about a month’s wages
in those days. Chas used this to buy a new car for us, a white
Triumph Chicane, brand new out of the box. The first new car
Chas had ever had and was he proud of it!! So after that we were
able to be independent and come and go as we pleased. What
little public transport there exists in Swaziland is strictly for the
very brave or the very foolish, and you really, really have to like
goats!!
Once we were settled in nicely and had wheels, Chas decided it
was a good time to do something he’d wanted to do for a very
long time. Learn to fly a plane. He’d met a pilot who gave
lessons at the airport in Manzini, the second biggest town – well
the only other town – in Swaziland, about twenty-five miles away
at the far end of the valley. It was a funny little landing strip in
that, as you watched the plane gathering speed down the heat-
shimmering runway, just before parting company with terra firma,
the plane would suddenly disappear!! Then just when you
became convinced there was something wrong with your eyes,
there it would re-appear and take to the sky. This is because there
was such a dip in the runway that a Dakota was lost from sight for
some ten seconds. Chas was very enthusiastic about learning to
fly and they didn’t charge an arm and a leg as they did at a flying
school in Johannesburg, for instance. He got his books to study
and made arrangements for his first lesson which, unfortunately,
was to be at eight O’clock in the morning. Not such a bad time
for a person with a day job but extremely difficult for someone
who finishes work at anywhere between two and five in the
morning. Well, he dragged himself out of bed on the appointed
day and drove to the airport where he received his instructions and
had a little fly around to get the feel of it. When he got back
home he was quite exhausted and, after giving me a brief
description of events, took himself off to bed for the rest of the
day until it was time to get up and go to work. After a couple
more such mornings he told his instructor that he simply couldn’t

39

continue with flying at that time of the morning. The instructor
said he could try to teach him in the afternoons but doubted it
would be suitable. The early mornings were best for student
pilots because it was before the heat of the day. Once it warmed
up, and it could get very warm in the valley, there came a lot of
turbulence which made for some “interesting” flights. Chas got
quite a lot of flying hours clocked up but the weather in the
afternoons was really not satisfactory and many was the occasion
when he’d come home without having flown at all due to storm
cells, wind etc. There was one occasion on which I, at home in
Mmbabane, started feeling quite worried about Chas for no
apparent reason and caught myself pacing the rooms of the house
and wishing he’d come home. With great relief I saw the car
come up our road and he seemed none the worse for wear. When
I told him about my odd apprehension during a certain period of
the afternoon he told me that, right at that time, he was in a plane
that was falling out of the sky. He wasn’t allowed to fly that day
because of bad up-draughts but he’d been invited to be a
passenger with the instructor and another, more advanced, student
pilot who had to do “stalls” on that day. Chas was happy to go up
but he said it was a hell of a scary flight as the plane would be
taken to a high altitude and then the engine would be stalled,
making the little plane literally fall out of the sky. That part was
easy to do. The trick was to get the thing started up again and
levelled out before they hit the ground!!! An interesting day.
After several more efforts of turning up for lessons and being
stopped by the turbulence, Chas decided to stop. He’d learned a
great deal but it was all taking too long and the continuity had
become too disjointed. It was sad. He would have made a good
pilot because he has the temperament for it along with good
common sense. I would have been happy to fly with him at the
controls.
Christmas time was the busy time for us with very long hours and
seldom enough sleep but we were determined to have some kind

40

of celebration. Dannie and Ivan, a couple who worked with us
and were part of our particular circle of friends, invited Chas and
myself, Linda and Peter and Sylvia and Alec to have Christmas
lunch at their little thatched cottage in the valley. We all made the
effort, not only to celebrate Christmas, but Chas’ birthday as well,
which falls on the 23rd and Dannie’s which falls on the 26th.
Being so close to Christmas, they rarely had the opportunity to
have a knees-up on their birthdays. So our little group gathered in
the afternoon and somehow managed to produce a very festive
meal, wearing party hats which came out of crackers and throwing
streamers from one end of the table to the other. We all received
a gift for Christmas and Chas and Dannie got a birthday present
too. Well, of course we had wine and beers. Did you think we
would have a dry party?? All too soon we had to break up the fun
and get ready for work at 6pm (we’d brought our uniforms to
change into). That night wasn’t the easiest I’ve ever had. Lack of
sleep, a big late lunch and a few glasses of wine is not really
recommended slap bang in the middle of a punishing holiday
promotion at the casino with minimum twelve hour shifts, but we
managed. So well, in fact, that we did the very same thing again
the following year!!

After we’d been in Swaziland for about a year, Mo and her
boyfriend parted company. Ronnie and the band got another gig
somewhere and Mo decided to move on too. She went to work
for the local airline, Swazi Air, in Mmbabane where she did
bookings and regularly went down to the airport to supervise the
load and trim of the aircraft, which she was very good at. She
found it a bit difficult working with the Swazi pilots because they
couldn’t abide being obliged to defer to a woman’s judgement and
eventually Mo said “do it yourself, then” and resigned. She left
for the “big smoke”, Johannesburg, where she stayed for a while
in a similar line of work before heading off to Canada, where she
has remained to this day. Not long after her arrival in Canada she

41

met – and subsequently married – a chap with the surname of
Argue!! Now, I ask you, what chance has a girl for a blissful
future when she starts with a handicap like that!?! Well, true to
his name, he did – often – and Mo is not the kind to suffer in
silence. She voted with her feet and they were divorced within a
year or so. Thereafter she settled herself in Canada and made her
own capable way in the travel agency business in which she has
made quite a name for herself and won numerous prizes within her
chosen field. She eventually met a man by the name of Leo who,
in those days, was working as ground crew at Vancouver airport.
They really took to each other and are still together today. Leo
has retired now, he being somewhat older than Mo, and he looks
after her very nicely. He has always done the cooking and is a lot
of fun with a wicked sense of humour. We’ve managed to meet a
couple of times when we all got together for holidays and,
happily, we all got along like a house on fire.
Chas & I went to the Kruger National Park so often it became like
a second home. We both learned to love the wild places of Africa
and have since travelled extensively in Zimbabwe, Namibia,
Botswana and South Africa. We’ve been privileged to witness the
Victoria Falls in full flood – an awesome spectacle – and in
drought, a sad trickle. We’ve often had to travel in 4 wheel drive
vehicles through very rough country. It has made us fully
comprehend the amazing fortitude of those early explorers such as
Livingstone, travelling map-less on foot and exposed to wild
animals, wild natives and even wilder mosquitoes and tsetse fly.
In the rainy season I have sometimes walked in front of our
vehicle, when negotiating flooded areas, keeping a wary eye open
for crocs and snakes, while Chas drove behind. The idea being
that if I encounter a hole or submerged log or suddenly disappear,
Chas knows its not safe to drive on. I can swim and save myself
but the vehicle doesn’t swim so well, being heavily loaded with
camping gear etc. We’ve had many a good laugh at the surprised
expressions on the faces of some Swazi boys herding their cattle

42

to higher ground. We often thought it would be fun to tie a rope
around my waist and attach the other end to the vehicle so it
looked like some poor woman was dragging the vehicle through
the floods and her husband nice and dry inside. We never did get
around to doing that though. We’ve had many exciting camping
trips into the bush, always photographic rather than hunting safaris
and often have animals right in our camp, particularly at night.
The elephants are our favourites. They’re so careful in their
movements that those big feet tread on nothing. More often than
not we don’t even know they’ve been until the morning, when we
discover their footprints all over the place. Lions tend to be fairly
noisy and we hear them vocalising from far away as they approach
the camp. They like to let each other know of their whereabouts
most of the time, though they can be very quiet when they want to
be. Hyenas scrabble about and bicker incessantly so you know
when they’re around, which is most of the time after dark. It can
be a bit un-nerving if you need to go to the loo during the night.
We very quietly unzip the tent just far enough poke our heads out
to have a good look around and a good listen, too. If there
happens to be a couple of lionesses sitting by our fire (they’re not
as afraid of fire as story tellers would lead you to believe), we just
have to wait until they push off, usually around daybreak. We
developed very muscular bladders! One trick we learned from
observing the animals in the wild was to mark out our “territory”
in the same way they do. That is by urinating on the ground
around the back our tents last thing at night before going to bed. I
don’t know if it is coincidence but we seldom had any carnivores
intrude upon our demarcated space close around the tents after
doing that. I can’t say the same for creepy-crawlies though.
There was one time when we were chased around our campsite in
Savuti, Botswana, by a pair of very irate spiders which came out
of the log burning on the fire. They were a very pale colour so
presumably spent most of their time hidden away in the darkness
and were only about the size of a five-year-old child’s hand. But

43

you should have seen the way they bailed us up – we six intrepid
adventurers!! First one then its mate came hurtling out of the hot
log and made a bee-line towards two of our party who leapt up
and ran with the spiders in hot pursuit. The rest of us perched up
on our chairs with feet raised high. When the two being chased
ran back towards the fire the creatures suddenly changed direction
and headed towards Chas & me, so we also set off at speed with
the spiders following close on our heels. Then they suddenly
peeled off into one of the tents. Carol, whose tent it was, was
adamant that she was not going in there until the “monsters” had
been evicted so we all got together and ended up completely
dismantling the tent and contents. I can’t remember if we actually
found the spiders but she was eventually appeased and it was OK
to put it all back together so she could go to bed. It wasn’t until
we sat down around the fire again and examined the whole
episode rationally that we realized what had happened. The fire
was quite big as it was a cool night so our campsite area was quite
well lit. Besides, it’s always better to be able to see if there’s
anything creeping up from behind you and sitting in a circle
means there’s someone facing you who can watch your back. The
spiders weren’t actually chasing us but were trying to hide in our
shadows. By our running away, they too had to run, to stay in the
darkness. When we eventually passed close by the tent they chose
its shadow because it was large and not moving away from them.
We had a good laugh about it and finally got into our cots. Next
day was washing day and Carol and I drew the short straws. We
got down to business while the rest of the party went off in the
land cruiser in search of animals. We were fortunate in this
particular camp. It had a tap situated over a concrete trough, put
there to provide water for thirsty animals during bad drought. It
seemed to have been unused for a long time and by shovelling all
the accumulated sand out of the trough, we had ourselves a wash
tub with running water. What luxury!! In went the grimy jeans
and t-shirts, making sure there was one article of clothing placed
neatly over the drain hole. In went the soap powder then in went

44

Carol and I. This is the only way to wash clothes if you have no
washing machine. In bare feet, shorts and brief tops, both of us
chanting some of the latest songs of the day, to ensure a good
rhythm, we stamped our way around and around the trough.
Then we’d reverse direction to make sure every item of clothing
got a thorough stamping. Under the blazing sun this chore became
a pleasure due to all the splashing going on. During all this, a large
truck bearing the logo “Overland Experience” arrived with a
group of newly-arriving tourists travelling across Africa from
Germany. They insisted on stopping next to us, probably to find
out if we had gone mad from the sun. “Just doing the washing” we
chorused with grins a mile wide. Our visitors moved off to find an
overnight camping spot a respectable distance away from ours,
looking more than a little perplexed. After rinsing we strung a
rope between two trees and hung up the clothes. The air was so
hot and the breeze so dry that the first pair of jeans we hung up
was dry by the time we hung up the last of the wash. When the
others of our party came back from their game viewing drive it
appeared that Carol and I had been sitting around in the shade,
doing nothing all morning. Then they went into their tents and
found all their clothes, beautifully clean and dry, neatly folded on
their bunks and smelling wonderfully fresh. They’d only been
gone for three hours!! All part and parcel of the love of wild
places. Africa somehow gets into your blood.
But that’s enough of bushy escapades for now.
Swaziland borders the southern part of Mozambique and although
it’s a bit of a rough journey by road, very corrugated dirt at best,
it’s just a quick hop by plane. One of the inspectors in the casino,
Graham Bisdie, held a private pilots licence and a few of us
sometimes got together and hired a six-seater aircraft belonging to
the local doctor, Charlie Tredway. We would start out at about
ten in the morning and be in Lorenzo Marques in half an hour or
so (then under Portuguese administration, now independent and
called Maputo). One of the punters who frequented the casino, a

45

Portuguese Immigration official for Mozambique, was able to
furnish us with the necessary visas and the name of someone to
change our currency into Portuguese Escudos at the optimum rate.
After landing and clearing passport control etc., we would catch a
taxi into town and split up to shop or get haircuts and so on. Then
we’d meet up again and find a place to have lunch. In those days
there were lots of restaurants and sidewalk cafes and most of them
served the best prawns you’ve ever tasted. We’d choose a fairly
clean looking establishment and order prawns, grilled or fried with
delicious sauces, one of which is the fiery peri-peri which is
famous in the Portuguese enclaves of Africa. With the table
groaning under enormous platters of seafood and the “must have”
Mateus Rose to wash it down, except for Graham the pilot, we’d
all tuck in with our fingers and spin out the lunch for a good
couple of hours. Then back to the plane and return to Swaziland
in time for those who had to go to work that night. A couple of
times we passed through “L.M.”, as it was locally called, by car
on our way to or from a short holiday further north. We’d make a
point of staying overnight at the Polana hotel, built on a headland
overlooking the sea, and go out for lunch at Katembie which is on
the other side of the harbour. This we reached by ferry along with
the local people, goats and chickens etc. And then on the other
side we’d climb onto a broken-down old bus which took us to this
particular eating place. It was far short of a salubrious venue, with
Formica topped tables and chairs, linoleum covered floors and, in
typical Portuguese tradition, walls painted in an array of stomach
churning pastel shades. The view was of the harbour but one was
obliged to avoid taking in the foreground of mud and rocks littered
with bits of flotsam and the occasional dead fish floating by. As I
said, not a great venue – but, oh God, the food!!!! None of us has
ever again experienced prawns and crab as fine as that which was
put before us in that unlikely place. We were not the discoverers
of this gastronomic paradise. We got the recommendation by
word of mouth, as everyone else we knew seemed to have done.
How, I wonder, did the original intrepid non-Portuguese diner

46

come to eat there? We didn’t often see people other than
Portuguese families there. It was way off the beaten track and
from appearances, certainly not the kind of place one would
venture into if it hadn’t been already well commended. Whoever
the discoverer was, I take my hat off to him for bravery beyond
the call of duty and I’d kiss him on both cheeks for making it
possible for us to follow confidently in his footsteps. Mind you,
not one of us had the courage to venture so much as a glance at the
kitchen!!!
Linda and Peter joined us for a two weeks holiday in (then)
Rhodesia. I really can’t remember why, but we were travelling in
two cars. Probably, they were travelling from Linda’s mum’s in
Jo’burg to meet us somewhere along the way. We crossed the
border at Beit Bridge, having driven up through South Africa by
way of Louis Trichardt. Once through the border and passport
control our first overnight stop was the Victoria Motel, a stone’s
throw from the Zimbabwe Ruins, an ancient ruin of a civilization
of uncertain origins. Many theories have been put forward but, as
far as I know, no common theory has yet been reached. Many
schools of thought fancy it was used for some kind of religious
purposes due to the alignment of certain key sections with the
rising sun at the summer solstice. It is believed to have been
built between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries and is one of
those amazing works where the method of building is stone upon
stone, perfectly structured and obviously very durable yet nowhere
is mortar used. Every stone simply balances in its place.
We four scrambled all over it and I marvelled at the thought of
people so long ago being able to build like that. I was in my
element there as I’m fascinated by archaeology and just love relics
of the past. When we became too tired to climb any more stairs
or double ourselves over to negotiate another passage (the
originators must have been very short) we wearily made our way
down a descending pathway to a little curio shop where we bought
the obligatory post cards and various other knick-knacks. Then

47

back to the motel for a very well appreciated beer. That night we
had dinner in the bar and afterwards, played scrabble… or tried to.
Linda and I challenged our men and they did nothing but cheat,
and we still soundly trounced them.
Next day we set out for the capital, Salisbury where we stayed at
the Jamison Hotel. We were very impressed with the service there
as, deciding to stay ahead of the laundry problems, we called the
switchboard to send someone up to collect it. No sooner had I put
the phone down and there was a knock at our door and there stood
a porter with a laundry bag!! We were on the third floor so he
couldn’t have received the message and got to our door that fast.
Telepathy, perhaps??
Our next stop was Bulawayo and I’ll never forget our grand
entrance into this town. Linda and Peter were in their car ahead of
us and as we came into town we saw the front of their car
suddenly take a nose dive then the front wheels catapulted off the
tarmac. They’d discovered one of Bulawayo’s famous speed
arresters. Instead of the more common “hump”, these were the
exact reverse and were indentations across the street but deep
enough to be termed ditches!! Well, once you hit one of those at
anything over fifteen miles an hour, it has your undivided
attention and you’ll certainly keep your speed down until you
leave town. I don’t imagine Bulawayo gets much revenue from
speeding tickets but perhaps the local suspension workshop makes
a killing. We overnighted here and then we headed for Whangi
Game Reserve, which we reached at about four in the afternoon.
We booked in at the Southern Sun Game Lodge on the edge of the
reserve where we spent two nights. We enjoyed our game-
spotting drives there and on one occasion, we found a lot of road
workers, all standing up on top of three foot high posts and
peering into the bush. They told us that a breeding herd of
elephants were very near and that we should go quickly but
quietly to the river which was just a hundred metres away. This
we did and we found ourselves with one of the finest sightings of
elephant we’ve had in all our travels. The river was only a few

48

metres wide and the elephants were drinking from the opposite
bank. The good thing was that our side of the bank was high,
about three metres, so we were quite safe although poor Linda
wasn’t feeling at all comfortable. She loves elephants but doesn’t
like to be close to them. In the restaurant of the hotel we stayed
in, there was a mounted elephant head over a fireplace. Definitely
not to my taste – the poor thing. And on the menu we found
“elephant trunk in red wine sauce”. Also definitely not to my
taste. I believe we had a steak Diane, made from cow!!
After Whangi, we headed back across Rhodesia towards
Mozambique. It was a long stretch and we kept ourselves
entertained by stopping now and then to swap music tapes – we
had the old eight track cassettes back then, big bulky things.
Moody blues was our favourite and we played them to death. In
fact, any time I hear moody blues now, which is very seldom, I
immediately think of that long road winding through native
villages and not another white face in sight the whole day. We
reached Leopard Rock Hotel at Umtali, close to the border
between Rhodesia and Mozambique, just in time for sun-downers
and that’s where we spent the night.
*Next morning we crossed the border into Mozambique and began
the dusty journey towards Gorongosa Game Reserve.
This, as it turned out, was not the ideal time to be in such an out-
of-the-way area of that country as the political situation was like a
boil coming to a head. It was only once we had travelled miles
into Mozambique that we noticed armed men at strategic places
such as on railway bridges. The Portuguese, who had been in
control of the country for generations, were about to be over-run
by the native Mozambicans who wanted, and aimed to have,
independence with or without a fight. We found ourselves on
some very lonely roads through the bush and there simply had to
be terrorists in the area. Linda and I, not being up on politics,
were blissfully unaware of our dodgy situation and Chas and
Peter, after realizing the implications, chose not to worry us. That
is, until our car got a flat tyre and we had to stop and change it.

49

Chas moved so fast, he could have been the number one wheel
changer at the grand prix. We had to unload the luggage from the
boot because our spare was stored under the floor boards. Then
Chas jacked up the car like lightning and had the wheel changed in
a flash, got the gear back into the boot and we were just gathering
speed again when Peter’s car caught up with us. He’d been
travelling behind at just enough distance to let our dust clear and
had a very worried look about him when he found himself
suddenly caught up with us. Had something serious happened?
Had we been stopped by terrorists? Chas told him it was OK, just
a flat, and we got going again and at this point we girls were told
about the possible danger we could be in, in that area. Happily,
we reached Gorongosa unscathed but dusty, parched and a tad
relieved. We booked in for two nights and were told that dinner
would be served between 6pm and 6.30pm. Which we thought
was a bit early, not to mention hell-of-a-quick. But we were
hungry so we hung around and had a couple of beers in the
meantime. It sounds as if we hardly thought of anything but
booze at the end of any journey but, well, I suppose you’d be
right!! We felt like we had half the country’s topsoil lodged in our
throats. Anyway, whilst we relaxed with our drinks, and no longer
feeling in any danger, this being a famous tourist venue, we were
greeted by a young antelope, a kudu doe, which suddenly
appeared from nowhere. She was quite tame and very friendly. In
those days Linda and I both had long blonde hair and on that
occasion I had mine in “pony tails” fastened with red “baubles”.
The kudu must have thought they were berries and actually reared
up on her hind legs, placed her hooves on my shoulders and tried
to nibble at the “berries” with her long raspy tongue. I was
somewhat nonplussed at this unexpected and un-kudu-like
behaviour and jumped back from her. Linda was nearly wetting
herself with laughter until miss kudu turned her attentions on her.
Once we got used to it we had a lovely time making friends and
she tried to follow us into the dining room when we went in for
dinner. Actually, calling it dinner leads one to think we were

50

given a full meal. Well, that was not the case. We ordered steak,
eggs and chips from the extremely limited menu and we got a tiny
piece of overcooked meat, one egg and about half a dozen chips.
We spent the rest of our allotted half hour of dining time
negotiating for more food. As I recall, we eventually got another
egg and some more bread. We were hurried out of the dining
room on the dot of 6.30pm, I suppose before we could hassle them
any further for sustenance, and, after making our plans for the
following day’s game drive, we went to our rooms and to bed.
The following morning after a breakfast that was somewhat more
substantial, thank god, than the previous day’s evening meal, we
set off on a game viewing drive in our car, which had the
advantage of a sun roof from which we could get a better view of
anything of interest. We came to a dam where a hippo carcass
was laying half on the bank and half in the water. It had probably
been dead for a couple of days, judging by the stench and the
whitewashed appearance of the skin from bird droppings.
Vultures were busy crawling in and out of the body cavity and
squabbling among themselves as they always do. A short distance
away was a derelict building, partly overgrown with brush, and on
the roof, of all places, was a pride of lions. By the looks of their
distended bellies they had had their fill of hippo meat. They were
taking it easy in the morning sunshine far enough away from the
irritating cacophony coming from the vultures but close enough to
see off any hyena, their mortal enemy, should it look like steeling
so much as a morsel. It is probable that the hippo died of natural
causes and was scavenged by the lions as hippos are not their
normal prey. Of course, if the hippo had been wounded the lions
would not have hesitated to finish it off. We left them to their
vigil and travelled on to see what else we could find.
There were plenty of antelope and, to our surprise, quite a lot of
lions. One small pride we stopped close to gave us a bit of a
scare. Linda and I were standing up with our heads and shoulders
out through the sun roof to get a better view. Not clever. One of
the lionesses took exception to our presence and rose to her feet

51

with the apparent intention of leaping upon us. We were very
quick to get down where we belonged and she settled down again.
On hindsight, I imagine her chuckling to her pals saying ‘see how
easy it is to make these humans jump. That’ll teach them to do
stupid things like sticking parts of their bodies out of their cars in
our reserve!!’ The animals don’t actually recognise a vehicle as a
threat or associate it with humans unless they have been shot at
from a vehicle at some time. A vehicle to them is just a big lump
of “something” that moves around the reserve, makes a strange
noise and emits noxious fumes, thus covering the scent of the
people inside. Stick a part of the body out of the vehicle and its
possible to distinguish a potential meal in there somewhere. I
knew better but was stupid.
After a long day trundling around the reserve we headed back to
the camp and played with the kudu again. That nights dinner was
marginally better than the previous night’s but we had already
consumed bags of crisps and sticks of biltong along with our
sundowner beers so at least we didn’t go to bed hungry this time.
Next day we packed up the cars and headed slowly out of the
reserve, taking about three hours to get to the exit so as not to miss
sighting any of the wildlife. Our next stop was Ixi Ixi ,
pronounced “Shy Shy”.
This was a fishing village on the Mozambican coast, and used by
weary travellers as an overnight stop. We were hungry by the
time we got there and booked into the rather rustic hotel where we
immediately ordered pregos all round. A prego is actually a
Portuguese steak roll, usually with deliciously tender beef and a
few fried onions. There was a pet Vervet monkey which was very
friendly and made a fuss of the guests in the hope of being offered
food. Chas squatted down and made a fuss of the little guy and it
danced around him and was altogether too “cute” until it spotted
the back of Chas’ jeans where the waist band stood away from his
middle, creating a gap that the monkey took to be a pocket. It
rammed its little hand down the back of Chas’ trousers right up to
its armpit and quickly grouped around between the cheeks of

52

Chas’ bum for the peanuts he had learned to find in peoples
pockets. Chas shrieked and leapt to his feet with the monkey
trapped and dangling by the arm in the now tightened waist band.
What a sight to see!! We begged Chas to do it again but he was a
party pooper and wouldn’t go for it. Although he played with the
monkey again later on, he was careful not to let it get behind him
at any time. That night we heard that the terrorists had, that very
same morning, shot up the camp in Gorongosa which we had just
left. In fact we would have been still been inside the reserve,
approaching the exit gates at the time the attack took place.
We’ve never been sure exactly why they did this in such an
unlikely place as a game reserve but it seems it had something to
do with a doctor, who had some sort of political connections,
being there. As the story goes, he flew into the airstrip near the
camp, saw the terrorists and attempted to take off again when they
riddled the plane with bullets, killing him outright. Then they
turned their automatic weapons on the camp itself and sprayed it
with bullets too. I don’t think anyone at the camp was killed but
there were some injured. We were sooo lucky to have left. We
stayed just one night in Ixi Ixi then we were headed south for
Lorenzo Marques – now Maputu – which we reached the
following night. We stayed at the Polano hotel which was very
up-market in those days and next day we were back in Swaziland,
due to start work the night after that. So, another adventure over
and a lucky escape.

End Part Two

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Chas’ bum for the peanuts he had learned to find in peoples
pockets. Chas shrieked and leapt to his feet with the monkey
trapped and dangling by the arm in the now tightened waist band.
What a sight to see!! We begged Chas to do it again but he was a
party pooper and wouldn’t go for it. Although he played with the
monkey again later on, he was careful not to let it get behind him
at any time. That night we heard that the terrorists had, that very
same morning, shot up the camp in Gorongosa which we had just
left. In fact we would have been still been inside the reserve,
approaching the exit gates at the time the attack took place.
We’ve never been sure exactly why they did this in such an
unlikely place as a game reserve but it seems it had something to
do with a doctor, who had some sort of political connections,
being there. As the story goes, he flew into the airstrip near the
camp, saw the terrorists and attempted to take off again when they
riddled the plane with bullets, killing him outright. Then they
turned their automatic weapons on the camp itself and sprayed it
with bullets too. I don’t think anyone at the camp was killed but
there were some injured. We were sooo lucky to have left. We
stayed just one night in Ixi Ixi then we were headed south for
Lorenzo Marques – now Maputu – which we reached the
following night. We stayed at the Polano hotel which was very
up-market in those days and next day we were back in Swaziland,
due to start work the night after that. So, another adventure over
and a lucky escape.

End Part Two

53
PART THREE

War broke out in earnest in Mozambique very soon after and so
our visits to that part of the world were totally out of the question
until some years later when the troubles ended and the borders
were re-opened to tourists and we were told we were welcome. At
least our foreign currency was. We headed to an out-of-the-way
place called Parke Flora about half-way up the length of the
coastline. This was a very pleasant and quiet little holiday spot,
very basic and, as I recall, we were the only guests. Just as we
like it!! Accommodation was just a small bungalow with linen
and some cooking equipment provided. There was also a small
“restaurant” which was a primitive sort of café with a bar at one
end and we chose to use that rather than get involved with carting
food from Swaziland and have the bother of keeping perishables
from going off. On our first night we wandered into the café and,
over a couple of pre-dinner drinks, chatted with the man behind
the bar. He turned out to be the manager, the cook, the waiter and
the barman and since there was no one else staying there, we had
his undivided attention. We both ordered prawns perri-perri
which came grilled on a bed of rice and an alcohol bottle filled
with the perri-perri sauce placed in the middle of the table. As
always, we loaded on the sauce and rolled up the sleeves and
attacked the prawns with gusto. Bad move!! That sauce was so
hot I could feel my face flushing and the beads of sweat erupting
on my forehead. I dragged my eyes up to Chas’ face and noted
the same reaction in him. When we were finally able to find our
voices to speak, it came in expletives rather than dinner
conversation. Once somewhat recovered and having obtained

54

two large cold beers from the bar we did our best to finish the
prawns, which were superb, without ingesting any more of the
lethal brew posing as a sauce!! We didn’t manage to finish all the
prawns but enough to take the edge off our hunger and decided to
fill up on more beers instead. We had befriended a large dog
which took station under our table as soon as we sat down but he
apparently knew about the sauce and refused even a morsel when
we offered him some of our prawns. I still believe to this day that
the sauce was a deliberate ploy to increase the bar percentage and
it certainly worked with us.
Once we were recovered we had a chat with the manager and got
information about things to do around Parke Flora. The resort is
at the edge of a lagoon, separated from the ocean by a line of high
sand dunes. It was explained that the lagoon water was
replenished by the seepage from the salt water table since the
dunes had closed off the mouth of the lagoon a couple of years
previously. The lagoon being landlocked, he assured us, it was
quite safe with good fishing and had the added advantage of being
shark-free, unlike the open sea on the other side of the dunes.
Next morning found us down at the water’s edge where we
discovered the man in charge of boat hire. Yes, it was the same
man! We could have either a small boat with an outboard motor
or a two-man canoe with paddles. Feeling fit and strong we opted
for the canoe and once we had practised a bit to get synchronized
and our balance sorted out, we set off with fishing tackle,
sandwiches from the café and something to drink. We had the
whole day ahead of us so we just took it easy and went exploring
the waterways. After paddling for some time we decided it was
time to rest so we dropped the small anchor we’d been provided
with and set up our lines for fishing. The sun was hot and the
surface of the lagoon was like a sheet of glass and the silence was
blissful. A few bites, re-bait, cast, quiet conversation, then
suddenly there was a big splash and a flurry of fish skittering
along the surface just a couple of yards from where we sat. Then
up came three dorsal fins. These most definitely were not

55

dolphins but belonged to those “non-existent” sharks we had
enquired about from the manager. Within minutes the water
surface was back to it’s glassy self and all was peace and quiet
again but just knowing that there lurked beneath us, at the very
least, the three sharks that we had seen first hand, tended to subtly
minimize our comfort zone. Now, being in a canoe that could
easily overturn due to our unprofessional handling of it made us
exercise a lot more caution than we had earlier considered
necessary. It wasn’t a hardship, just a little niggling voice in the
back of the head saying “watch out”. We didn’t catch any fish.
They probably went into hiding with the appearance of the
predators so we pulled the anchor aboard and set out for the
distant sand dunes which separated us from the Indian Ocean.
After about two hours of paddling we pulled the little craft up
past the high water mark on the sand and went dune climbing.
There’s something about the feeling that I’m quite alone in an
unspoilt wild place (apart from Chas being there, of course) that
makes me feel absolutely whole. Don’t ask my why. I’ve always
been a loner but that total isolation from the rest of the human race
gives me a feeling of belonging. Mind you, I’ve never been
obliged to be in such solitude for longer than a day or so and I
could, possibly, change my mind should the isolation be extended
too much beyond that.
We spent a couple of hours there, had our sandwiches and walked
a short distance along the surf side of the beach then returned to
the canoe at around 3pm to get started back. By then we were
fairly tired from all the paddling and walking and our hands had
become a bit sore from the shaft of the paddles. We were both
glad to be heading back for a nice hot shower and get the salt
accumulation off then relax with a nice cold beer. About half way
back, when we were still more or less in the middle of the lagoon
and a few miles from home, the wind suddenly picked up, blowing
straight into our faces, which made it very hard going. After half
an hour of this battle we decided to dog-leg closer to the shore
where, at least if we were blown over, we could stand up. We

56

hadn’t forgotten about those sharks, either. It was a long battle,
taking turns to paddle so we each could get a little break and by
the time we got to shore our palms were very blistered and our
arms were quivering from the strain of paddling against the wind
and current. We got out of the canoe and, using the anchor rope,
waded and dragged the canoe through knee-deep water for the last
mile or so. I kept thinking of stonefish and all sorts of other
unmentionable beasties we could stand on in the now murky,
choppy water and was very happy to see the jetty come into view
and beyond that the little cluster of buildings that comprised Parke
Flora. We had made it through yet another fine mess. The dog
came bounding down the grassy verge and jumped up to greet me,
knocking me on my bum in the shallows but I really didn’t mind.
It was kind of nice to have such an enthusiastic welcome on our
return from our expedition. I presume we had dinner after
getting cleaned up but I really don’t remember and I suspect we
were in our bed very early that night. The next day was spent
quietly recovering from the trials and tribulations of the pursuit of
“fun” and we left Parke Flora a day later. We got to Maputu
(which used to be Lorenco Marques) in the middle of a very hot
day. Chas said he was feeling a bit bilious and that it was as if he
had eaten an apple
(he’s allergic to apples and the mere smell of raw ones sets him
off). I sheepishly opened the glove compartment and produced
the offending fruit which I had stashed there – thinking it was out
of range of Chas’ odour receptors – and disposed of it. Within
minutes he was feeling himself again so that was a lesson learnt.
Don’t sneak apples into a car with Chas in it!! The tropical heat
will warm anything up enough to intensify it’s fragrance a
hundredfold. We booked into the new Polana hotel then set off for
those famous L.M. Prawns perri-perri (not the blow-ya-head-off
stuff of a few nights ago) and the traditional bottle of Mateus Rosé
for a late lunch. Maputu was a poor comparison to the old
Lorenco Marques showing a generally grimy, unkempt demeanour
with the same shops of old but not much for sale inside. Sidewalk

57

cafes were fewer and the prices rather higher but the prawns were
just as wonderful. Considering this country, and this city, had
been through a devastating war it was surprising how any of these
businesses had managed to continue to survive. Of course, one
was not allowed to forget there had been this traumatic upheaval
in the country. There were demobbed army personal hanging
about the streets still sporting their uniforms and weapons. Once
the war was over there was nothing for them to do and in most
cases, nowhere to go as their homes and families had been wiped
out. The new government had told them there was no money to
pay them so there they were, dispossessed and armed to the teeth.
Not a comforting scenario. We did our best to avoid any trouble
and enjoyed our prawns and wine lunch which, as was customary,
lasted all the way through the afternoon. On returning to the hotel
we had a quiet evening, foregoing dinner, and went to bed early
having requested a wake up call at six the next morning and tea
and croissants with butter and honey or jam from room service.
We awoke at seven without having been called at all and then had
to call room service to bring our breakfast. This eventually
arrived but was quite awful as the tea tasted like tar with milk and
the croissants were very stale. No sign of anything to spread on
them. We called to complain but found this was to no avail and
realized that we were barking up an empty tree. We packed the
car, paid the bill and were on our way back to Swaziland and
home.
Still in Swaziland, in ’74, Chas & I took a few weeks leave and
went to England where we got married on the 6 th of July, in the
beautiful church at Great Baddow near Chelmsford, Essex. This
was where Chas’ mother, Mary & her second husband, Henry
Yarde-Martin, worked as Warden and Nursing Matron of the
Chelmsford Police Training College. Chas’ natural father had
died in 1969 and Henry was also widowed. Mary & Henry were
married in 1970. I had been in regular contact with Mary &
Henry by letter for a couple of years due to Chas being a rather

58

poor letter writer but this was the first time I’d met any of Chas’
family apart from his immediate siblings. I was married in white
with the veil and the full to-do, feeling like the fraud I actually
was since I definitely was no virgin. But Chas’ mum really
wanted to have me in white and since she’d done so much for us,
organizing everything before we got there and putting on a superb
reception, I felt it was a small favour to do for her. Now that we
were in England I was staggered by the size of the family. Chas
has a brother and a sister and two step brothers and a step sister so
with the merger of the two families you can imagine what a bunch
of relations he ended up with. After all these years I’m still a bit
confused as to who belongs to whom, especially since the kids are
all married and having families now. On arrival at Heathrow,
Mary and Henry were there to meet us. It was a strange feeling to
meet them for the first time and I knew that I was being sized up.
I took the decision that the best way to handle the situation was to
make a bee-line to Mary and hug her with great enthusiasm and
blabber about how wonderful it was to finally meet face to face. It
really was wonderful as a matter of fact but the trauma of the
moment made me feel on the defensive. I hugged Henry too and it
seemed that I had done exactly the right thing. They were both
beaming and Chas had a contented and relieved look on his face.
We were rushed off to Westminster Abby where Mary had made
an appointment to obtain our wedding banns which were duly
produced on the most splendid document complete with enormous
red seal. It was a pity we were in such a rush as the Abby is a
fascinating place to spend some time in although I did find it a bit
disconcerting to be walking over the representations of the graves
of the famous people inlaid upon the tiled floors.
Off we headed to Chelmsford which was a good couple of hours
drive and along the way most of the discussion was about the
wedding only a few days away. Amid the talk of flowers and cars
and colours etc., I was quite overcome with fatigue and
uncomfortable because the sun was low in the sky and shining
directly into my eyes. I finally just closed them in self defence

59

and the next thing I knew we were at the Police Training College.
Once upstairs (Mary and Henry have living quarters on the top
floor) I looked at the clock and thought it was wrong. It said nine
o’clock. I had never experienced twilight before and suddenly
realized why I was so tired. It had been about half past seven in
the evening when I finally lost the battle with the sun in my eyes
but I thought it must have been about three o’clock. I hadn’t
looked at my watch all day. A light supper and we were all off to
bed – with Chas and me in separate rooms. Next day was a
typical overcast day with clouds heavy with rain scudding about
and now and then letting down a light drizzle. Funnily enough,
ever since then wherever we are in the world, when we have that
kind of day we call it Chelmsford weather. After breakfast we
were taken on a tour of the building and shown where everything
was and introduced to everyone we came across. I was very
pleased to have the impression that Chas’ folks were proud of me.
Of course Mary positively doted on “her little boy”, as she
referred to him – much to his chagrin.
Over the next days Linda and Peter joined us, having been in
Liverpool visiting with Peter’s mum and introducing Linda to his
family. She had been through the same apprehensive family
introduction as I had and, of course, they just loved her – how
could they not? We four made a trip down to London to shop for
Chas’ wedding suit and I for a going-away dress. Linda also
needed an outfit because she was my Matron-of-Honour. So our
two men went off and left us girls to it. Linda found a lovely long
dress in Harrods which looked lovely on her but I had a really
hard time finding anything I liked. I finally ended up finding a
little boutique called “Just Looking” and came away with a
creation I rather liked. When Chas learned that I’d spent ninety
pounds in a place called “Just Looking” he nearly wet himself at
the irony and I’ve never lived that down to this day. To add insult
to injured feelings it turned out to be totally wrong for the
occasion. It was all chiffon, long and flowing and brown in
colour, just the ticket for an after-dark departure. I’d forgotten

60

about the bright sunshine at seven o’clock when we were
scheduled to leave the reception and that made it all wrong. As it
turned out, it’s just as well I didn’t wear it because, on hindsight,
I think I looked rather like Friar Tuck in it!! Anyway, Chas’ dark
blue pinstriped suit with waistcoat looked perfect on him. We
stayed over in London that night so that Chas could have a “stag
night” so we booked into the Park Lane Hotel and had a bit of a
rest in the late afternoon. Chas and Peter were to go out and meet
with Chas’ brother, Bernard and all three would go and paint the
town red. Linda & I chose to stay in the hotel and have a room
service dinner. After the men were gone Linda came and joined
me in my room and we watched some TV (there was no TV in
Swaziland and the TV In South Africa was pathetic and half of the
programs were in Afrikaans so it was a great opportunity to watch
a few English programs).
Linda & I perused the dinner menu and the all-important wine list
and eventually chose something although I no longer remember
what it was. We phoned down our order and had the wine sent up
immediately. Dinner followed in a half hour or so and just as we
were finishing that there was a call from reception –“a Mr. Alan
Sher would like to visit. May he come up?” Oh! Absolutely!!
Alan was one of our workmates and in Europe on holiday and had
made it his business to get to England for our wedding. He was
absolutely gay and a wonderfully close friend. When he arrived
at the room he waltzed in and quite naturally snuggled in between
Linda and myself on the bed from where we had been watching
TV. We phoned room service for more wine and another glass
and we didn’t have too much trouble persuading Jonty (his
feminine name) to give us a run down of his adventures on the
continent. He was just getting into full swing, describing some of
the “joints” he’d visited and the characters he’d met, when the
waiter knocked on the door with our wine. He must have heard
our howls of laughter (Jonty had a venomous sense of humour)
and up went the waiter’s eyebrows when he noted that we two
girls had found a male friend since his previous delivery. He

61

looked a little envious of Jonty, little realizing that, in a romantic
situation, Jonty would prefer Mr.Waiter to us any day of the week.
At around eleven-thirty, we were very surprised when Chas and
Peter came back in, stone cold sober and a bit down in the mouth.
Their attempt to paint the town red was thwarted by a “lack of
paint”. After having a meal, they headed for a casino where Peter
had once worked and expected to be able to have a bit of a flutter
on the tables with some drinks signed for by the staff Peter knew.
Well, that may be how things are done in Africa where pit bosses
and inspectors had the power of the pen for the sake of spoiling
the big punters and were happy to sign off drinks for visiting
casino staff as well. But since peter had worked in this casino,
things had changed in the UK. No alcoholic drinks were
permitted on the gambling floor and had to be consumed in the
bar, hence no power of the pen necessary for the pit bosses etc.
To add to the disaster of this proposed knees-up, the bars closed at
10pm so there was poor Chas and his two supporters drinking tea
and bored to distraction. They decided to call it a night and
Bernard made his way home so Chas and Peter came back to the
hotel and blessed room service. And there they found their
women-folk, somewhat sozzled, roaring with laughter at the tales
told by a man who was sprawling on the bed amid empty wine
bottles and the remains of our meal. We looked up at their
entrance and asked “what the hell are you doing here?” Not,
Isuppose, the kind of welcome a groom should expect upon
returning before midnight on a stag night. But we three, who had
stayed in the hotel room that night, certainly didn’t expect the
return of the town painters at such an early hour and stone cold
sober to boot. I must say though, Chas and Peter did a fine job of
catching up with our party mood once they got a couple of beers
under their belts. I have no idea what time the party ended but
when I saw Jonty again at the wedding, he mentioned that he got
some very leery looks from the hotel staff as he threaded his way
through the foyer on his departure. I can just imagine how smug
the gossiping staff must have been when Chas and Peter returned

62

early and asked at the desk for their keys, unaware that the girls
upstairs were entertaining a man in one of their rooms. They
must have waited for the interloper to be tossed out on his ear and
got a big surprise when he was seen to leave some hours later,
unscathed and happy.
Next morning we four headed off to Chelmsford to prepare for the
wedding which was now only a couple of days away. Linda and
Peter checked into a motel and Chas and I were given separate
rooms in his mother’s flat which was up on the roof of the training
school. Chas’ mum had gone to enormous lengths to make a
success of this special day when her “baby boy” took a wife. The
mess hall where the reception was to be held was being decorated
with all manner of festive knick-knacks and several lady helpers
were proudly introduced to us. The cake had just been iced, two
tiers of it all done by Mum’s loving hand. We were shown an
example of the invitations long since sent, the menu for the
reception, the place cards, all of which Mum and Henry had taken
charge of in our absence as if I had been their daughter. We were
introduced to Terry, the driver of the bridal car, shown a brochure
with the chosen flowers for the bridal bouquet. . I had only one
request of mum by letter prior to my arrival – that I would like to
have a flower called cosmos in my bouquet. It is a simple daisy-
like flower that grows prolifically in South Africa and, when in
bloom, whole swathes of countryside become a sea of swaying
shades of white, pink and dark red. It is a flower that I dearly love
and I felt it deserved to be represented at my wedding to reflect at
least one thing that was essentially me. But in spite of all mum’s
inquiries to florists all over, none had ever heard of it. She even
contacted the gardener at Kew Gardens who disdainfully
dismissed it as a weed and therefore not to be tolerated in any
garden of England. There ended the “me” part in the
proceedings. It may be a weed but it’s a beautiful weed!! Mum
settled for a lovely arrangement of yellow roses and in the absence
of cosmos I was very happy with them. The brides maids were

63

Chas’ sister Maureen, his step sister Nicki, two of his nieces Lisa
and Caroline and a four year old page boy who was a nephew
called Christopher. The only ones of my entourage whom I knew
was Maureen and, of course, my dear friend Linda who had
agreed to be my Matron of Honour
On the eve of the wedding Chas, according to somebody’s custom,
was banished from my presence and went to spent the night with
Peter and Linda at a motel. God, how I wished to be there with
them. I had pre-wedding jitters and was surrounded by strangers.
A constant stream of people dropping in to get a preview of the
woman the “overseas son” was about to marry. They were all
smiling and gushing and plainly sizing me up so they could go
home and report their first hand assessment to members of this, to
me, enormous family.
An hour or so after dinner I hugged Mum and Henry and excused
myself saying that all the excitement had exhausted me and I
needed to get my beauty sleep.
Linda, God bless her, arrived at the flat fairly early next morning –
the wedding was to take place at 11.00h so I had plenty of time to
get ready – I thought! As we laid out the wedding dress and veil
etc. in my room I was unaware that the flat was filling up with
people. I honestly can’t recall who they all were, only that when I
tried to get into the bathroom to shower and wash my hair, I had to
get in the queue. For some reason the little bride’s maid, Caroline
and her page boy brother were getting ready at Mum and Henry’s
flat and the place was in chaos. Linda marched me back to my
room, closed the door and made me calm down. She then went to
the other rooms and announced that if the bride couldn’t use the
bathroom and get ready then there would be no wedding for the
rest of them to hog the bathroom for – or something to that effect.
Order was returned and the bride was duly permitted to jump the
queue. Once I was ready, Linda saw to herself and we made our
way to the living room where glasses of champagne were being
poured. Mum looked lovely – Lord knows when she managed to
get near the bathroom – and Henry, who seemed very proud that I

64

had asked him to give me away, looked the absolute gentleman
that he undoubtedly was. As I emerged from the building I was
greeted and applauded by the police cadets who had gathered to
see the bridal party off to the church. Terry was waiting with the
immaculately polished and be-ribboned bridal car, himself looking
so very smart in a chauffeur’s uniform, all spit ‘n’ polish, cap and
gloves. I didn’t quite expect that but appreciated it very much.
He opened the rear door of the vehicle and with the help of Linda
and Henry, got me seated regally with my dress and veil, now
draped over my face, all arranged to their satisfaction. Henry
scooted round to the other side and slid in next to me, heaving a
little sigh. Now that we were alone together I realized that he was
extremely nervous about his role in the ceremony. We took each
other’s hands and squeezed, consolidating our meagre reserves of
individual courage into the pair of smiling faces that eventually
arrived at the church. Henry and I formed a bond that day that
lasted until the day he died and is still there with me to this day.
Although Henry had three children from his first marriage, only
one was a girl and she was then too young to be married. This
was Henry’s first experience of being “Father Of The Bride”.
Many years later Chas and I were present when he gave his own
daughter’s hand in wedlock. He thanked me profusely for my
having “given him a practise run” as he felt much more confident
the second time around.
On reaching the church we found the minister, robes flying in a
fairly stiff breeze, pacing up and down on the pavement with
much of the congregation milling about on the lawn and looking
somewhat worried. The groom hadn’t turned up!! There was
another wedding booked immediately after ours. “Drive round
the block, you cant go into the church until the groom has taken up
his place at the alter!!” Terry drove round the block at a snail’s
pace until we again arrived outside the church. Again we were
waved on but this time Linda suggested that Henry get out to hold
Mums hand and she got in. Terry drove to a spot a block from
the church, stopped the engine and produced a pack of cigarettes

65

which he considerately offered to his two charges in the back seat.
We drew on them desperately and, when we eventually calmed
down, saw the humour of the situation. I didn’t think for a
moment that Chas had “left me at the alter”. His mother would
have boxed his ears. He was as bad at time keeping then as he is
today and, to be absolutely honest, I was irritated rather than
worried. Terry left us in the car and walked to a spot from where
he could see events unfolding at the church and when Chas and his
best man, Peter, eventually arrived, Terry came back to the car and
drove us sedately to the church once more. There were a number
of people on the lawn as Henry helped me alight from the car and
I wondered why they weren’t inside awaiting the arrival of the
bride. I heard the wedding march start and still the people outside
made no move to enter the church. Then the penny dropped.
These people were the guests for the next wedding ceremony and
we were holding up the works. I entered the church on Henry’s
arm and there was Chas standing sheepishly by the alter looking
flustered and just a tad strained. Henry gave me into Chas’ hands
and we were duly married. All went without a hitch although I did
have a bit of a heart flutter when it came to the time for Chas to
put the ring on my finger. My ring was not a single band but
consisted of seven delicate looking narrow bands and I had
suggested to Chas on the previous day that it might be an idea to
tape them together for the ceremony to make them easier to
handle. Well, they weren’t taped and Chas’ hands were shaking
alarmingly as he held the seven little circles out toward my finger.
To avoid the disaster of having them all spill out of his trembling
fingers I practically stabbed my ring finger into the rings and got
them safely to where they have resided to this day.
At the beginning of our walk back down the isle as Mister and
Missus, something made me look up and I stopped dead in mid
pace, horrified. Dark shapes up above the rafters – there were
people hanging from ropes!! I was mortified! A thought flashed
through my mind. What kind of a custom was this that would
have people dangling inside a church, of all places! At a

66

wedding!! Then all was revealed and I felt truly ridiculous –
wedding bells began to peal in the traditional glorious deafening
clamour that announces the emergence of a newly married couple.
The dangling people were soaring up and down on the ends of
their ropes with each tone of their individual bells, really putting
their hearts into the performance and looking as if they were
thoroughly enjoying themselves. This was no “canned wedding
bells” – this was the real M c Coy!!
I emerged from the church with the bells resounding across the
countryside
The wedding, Linda & Peter part of ceremony, reception and
subsequent trip with THE CAKE.
Friends showing up from Swaziland. Sharon & Graham Bisdie
afterwards.
After the wedding, we went on a short honeymoon on which we
took our friends Linda & Peter. A sort of touring holiday of the
lake district then up to Scotland. At one stage we found ourselves
in a misty and spooky place called Ballock, where we found a
hote
l that looked rather like a haunted castle. We girls stayed in the car
whilst the menfolk went in to see what it looked like from the
inside, 45 minutes later they still hadn’t come back so being
worried our men might need rescuing, Linda & I mustered the
courage to follow them inside. Wouldn’t you know it, there they
were looking all relaxed, perched at the bar with, beers in hands.

After extricating them from there we were shown to our rooms.
It was a rambling old place with long creeky corridors and the
whole place was freezing. We were told that we were the only
guests that night and if we were not happy with the allocated
rooms,we could feel free to choose another. We had the run of
the place. Well, since it was so cold and we were used to the
warmer climate of Africa, we moved our belongings into another
room that seemed warmer and we took the ywo bar heater from
the original room with us. Chas decided to try out the big inviting
looking bed and launched himself full spread-eagled through the
air to landsmack, Flat across it. As he hit the bed

67

he suddenly looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of his
head and his breath was one loooong intake. I laughed at his
antics, he has a very sharp sense of humour and is always doing
daft things.  It took me a minute or so to realize he wasn’t kidding.

The invitingly soft ederdown on the bed had cunningly disguised
a viciously hard mattress underneath, uppon which he had merrily
flung himself. Poor darling had the wind knocked right out of him
plus, we discovered soon after, he had cracked a rib. We bathed
and dressed and went down to dinner in a dining room designed
to seat about fifty people in it, with only we four in the whole
place.

Upon asking the waitress why the restaurant was not well
supported, she explained that there was a Calie on in the hotel
that night and everyone was already there. The hotel rooms
were empty because of the expected noise. As if this
explanation was a cue, the sudden raucus sound of a bagpipe
sounded somewhere in the upstairs part of the building.

It seemed the Calie had begun and the waitress kindly invited us
to join in after dinner.




 

. THE MEAL WAS OF A HIGH STANDARD AND OVER SWEETS WE
DECIDED THAT IT WOULD BE WISER TO JOIN IN THE FESTIVITIES THAN
TO ATTEMPT TO SLEEP THROUGH IT. SO UP WE TROOPED AND WERE
MET AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS BY THE PROPRIETOR WHO MADE A
FUSS OF HAVING OVERSEAS VISITORS AND SEATED US AT A TABLE
ALONG WITH SOME VERY FRIENDLY LOCAL PEOPLE. WHEN ASKED
WHAT WE’D LIKE TO DRINK I DON’T RECALL WHAT THE MEN HAD BUT
LINDA AND I CHOSE DRAMBUE. MUCH TO OUR SURPRISE THE WHOLE
BOTTLE WAS BROUGHT AND PLACED WITH TWO GLASSES IN FRONT OF
US. I HAVE TO CONFESS THAT MOST OF WHAT FOLLOWED IS TO THIS
DAY SOMETHING OF A BLUR. I RECALL LOTS OF SINGING AND
WATCHING LOCAL LASSES PERFORMING JIGS AND FLINGS. THERE
WERE QUITE A FEW SONGS WITH WORDS IN GALIC AND I SURPRISED
EVERYONE, INCLUDING MYSELF, BY SINGING THE WHOLE SONG IN THE
GALIC LANGUAGE. IT HAPPENED TO BE A SONG I HAD LEARNED AND
PARTICULARLY LIKED AT SCHOOL. AT SOME UN-GODLY HOUR WE
SAID OUR GOODBYES AND THANKS FOR A GREAT AND UNEXPECTED
EVENING OF LOCAL CULTURE AND MADE OUR WAY OFF TO BED.
NEXT MORNING WE WERE GREETED WITH A LARGE TOMATO JUICE
AND A COUPLE OF ASPRIN. WE’D FLATTENED THE BOTTLE OF
DRAMBUE AND NEGOTIATED THE NARROW STAIRWAY WITHOUT
BREAKING OUR NECKS. WE WERE A BIT SLOW MOVING BUT GOT
OURSELVES UNDER CONTROL AND CONTINUED WITH THE REST OF THE
HOLIDAY/HONEYMOON. TWO WEEKS LATER WE RETURNED TO WORK
IN SWAZILAND.
ANOTHER RECEPTION AND THE FINAL DEMOLITION OF THE CAKE.

68

ONLY BACK A WEEK AND “B” RINGS FROM UK ASKING FOR “LOAN”
2000 QUID
TOOK A BRITISH PASSPORT.
DURING THE NEXT YEAR CHAS BECAME INSPECTOR AND I HAD MY
FIRST TASTE OF TRAINING.
MINI MOKE
MARUJANA IN THE VALLEY, TRIP TO SEYCHELLES & MAURITIUS.
LINDA’S TURTLE. MAC & VICKI’S SWAZI WEDDING.
FLYING HOLIDAY TO CHOBE, VIC FALLS ETC.

WE STAYED IN SWAZILAND UNTIL ’77 WHEN WE WERE OVERCOME
WITH AN ACUTE ATTACK OF ITCHY FEET SO WE PACKED UP OUR
ACCUMULATED GOODS & CHATTELS AND HEADED FOR THE UK.
BOAT TRIP WINDSOR CASTLE
WE HAD A FEW BOB SAVED AND THOUGHT WE MIGHT BUY OR LEASE A
PUB OVER THERE BUT ON ARRIVAL, WHAT WE SAW EITHER DIDN’T
SUIT US OR WHAT WE LIKED WAS OUT OF OUR LEAGUe FINANCIALLY.
I PERSONALLY WASN’T TOTALLY UNHAPPY ABOUT THIS SINCE I
DISCOVERED THAT I WASN’T TOO KEEN ON THE PROSPECT OF LIVING
IN ENGLAND. TOO DAMNED COLD, FOR ONE THING. SO WE BOUGHT A
STATION WAGON (KNOWN OVER THERE AS AN “ESTATE CAR”) AND
WENT TO EUROPE FOR A HOLIDAY WHICH ENDED UP LASTING ABOUT 8
MONTHS. WE SPENT ALL THAT TIME BETWEEN ITALY, AUSTRIA AND
GERMANY. INNSBRUCK WITH ERNST & MARIA & ALBERT. BEAUTIFUL
OLD PART OF TOWN, SKIING, NUMBER PLATES OFF FOR PARKING,
VIENNA & VISIT WITH POLDY & JOYCE TO SOME OF THEIR RELATIVES
IN THE MOUNTAINS. LOTS OF HOMEMADE LIQUORS AND SINGING IN
THE VILLIAGE HALL. LIPPINZANA HORSES. STAYED IN B&BS AND LOTS
OF EISBEIN AND SHINKEN, KESSER TORST, BACON & CHEESE
FRANKFURTERS, CASTLES, MESSAGE TO MEET PETER FOR FOOTBALL
LONG DRIVE TO NORTHERN ITALY. 2 NIGHTS WITH AUGUSTO,
ANGELINA & PRIMO, HAD TO BE ESCORTED EVERYWHERE, WITH
AGUSTO TO ROME – MAD DRIVERS, DESPERATE FOR LOO AT
FOOTBALL GROUNDS, OLD ROMAN BATHS, CHARRIOT RUTS,
FOUNTAINS AUTOBAAHN TOO TERRIFYING, RETURN TO INNSBRUCK &
BOUGHT CAMPING EQUIPMENT FOR ITALY LAKE GARDA NEARLY
KILLED ON LAKE IN STORM, , MET FRED, HENK & DESERIE, BALLROOM
COMPETITION DANCERSHOTEL CALIFORNIA WHILST CAMPING AND
COOKING AFRICA STYLE
AND DURING THAT TIME WE WENT TO THE UNIVERSITY IN MUNICH
AND TOOK A GERMAN LANGUAGE COURSE. WHAT WITH MY
PREVIOUSLY LIMITED EDUCATION IT WAS SOMETHING OF A BIG DEAL
FOR ME TO ATTEND UNIVERSITY, EVEN IF IT WAS JUST A SIDELINE. IT

69

WAS FREE OF CHARGE AND COST US ONLY OUR TIME AND
ENTHUSIASM. HAVING A GERMAN MAIDEN NAME, I OFTEN WONDERED
ABOUT WHERE IT ORIGINATED AND IF MY ANCESTORS CAME FROM
ANY OF THE MANY PLACES WE VISITED IN GERMANY. ON HINDSIGHT,
WE SHOULD HAVE USED THE PHONE BOOK IN EACH TOWN & CITY TO
SEE IF THERE WERE ANY HIELIGS THERE BUT DIDN’T THINK OF IT AT
THE TIME. MAYBE NEXT TIME. WE EVEN TOYED WITH THE IDEA OF
SETTLING IN GERMANY AS WE MADE SOME LOVELY FRIENDS AND
WERE EVEN OFFERED DECENT JOBS. ANOTHER ATTRACTION THERE
FOR ME WAS THE MUNICH ZOO. I WENT THERE VERY OFTEN WHEN
CHAS WENT OFF WITH HIS FRIENDS TO THE FOOTBALL STADIUM. I
WAS MISSING AFRICA AND AT THAT STAGE WASN’T EXPECTING TO GO
BACK THERE SO I ENJOYED SPENDING TIME AROUND THE AFRICAN
ANIMAL EXHIBITS. ONE DAY I WAS CHATTING WITH A GERMAN
COUPLE IN FRONT OF THE CHEETAH ENCLOSURE, EXPLAINING HOW
THOSE BEAUTIFUL CATS WERE IN SUCH DANGER OF EXTINCTION AND
TELLING THEM SOME STORIES OF OUR FIRST-HAND ENCOUNTERS
WITH THE WILD LIFE IN AFRICA. SOMEONE BEHIND ME ASKED ME TO
SPEAK LOUDER AND I SUDDENLY REALISED THAT A GROUP OF PEOPLE
WITH A GUIDE HAD STOPPED NEAR US AND OVERHEARD MY
CONVERSATION. THEY SEEMED NOT TO MIND MY BROKEN GERMAN
AND ASKED LOTS OF QUESTIONS. I EVENTUALLY LEFT THEM WITH
THE PROMISE THAT I WOULD RETURN THE FOLLOWING WEEK, WHICH I
DID AND THERE MOST OF THEM WERE, WAITING FOR ME. I MUST SAY I
FELT SOMEWHAT SHY BUT RATHER IMPORTANT TOO. WE ALL SPENT A
LOVELY AFTERNOON TOGETHER AND THEN I GOT ON THE BUS AND
FOUND MY WAY BACK HOME WHERE CHAS HAD A DELICIOUS PFEFFER
SCHNAPPS WAITING FOR ME TO WARM ME UP. THIS DELIGHTFUL
SCHNAPPS WAS MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE BUT I SOON LEARNED THAT
TWO WAS MY LIMIT OTHERWISE I HAD TO BE CARRIED HOME.
GERMANY WAS JUST AS COLD AS ENGLAND ALTHOUGH THERE, THEY
BUILD THE HOUSES WITH THE IDEA OF KEEPING THE COLD ON THE
OUTSIDE, UNLIKE THE BRITISH WHO USE LITTLE MORE THAN A STIFF
UPPER LIP THE COMBAT THE MISERIES OF WINTER. SO IN SPITE OF THE
JOB OFFERS, WE WERE PLEASED WHEN WE WERE ASKED TO RETURN
TO SOUTHERN AFRICA TO BE ON THE OPENING TEAM OF A NEW
CASINO TO BE MANAGED BY OUR FRIEND (CHAS’ BEST MAN), PETER.
WE DIDN’T HAVE TO DELIBERATE FOR TOO LONG BEFORE ACCEPTING.
WE GAVE THE CAR TO CHAS’ MUM ALONG WITH ALL OUR CAMPING
GEAR etc, TO SELL AT THE CHURCH BAZAAR AND BOOKED OUR
FLIGHT TO RETURN TO AFRICA.
BY THIS TIME THE MONEY IN CASINOS WASN’T NEARLY AS GOOD AS
IN THE OLD DAYS. INFLATION HAD REARED IT’S UGLY HEAD IN
AFRICA AND THE SOUTH AFRICAN RAND WAS DEVALUING STEADILY.

70

WE NO LONGER LIVED HIGH ON THE HOG THE WAY WE USED TO BUT
THE CASINO BUSINESS WAS STILL BETTER THAN ANYTHING ELSE WE
WERE QUALIFIED TO DO. WE WERE PROVIDED WITH FREE HOUSING
INCLUDING ELECTRICITY AND WATER, WHICH EFFECTIVELY BOOSTED
THE SALARY BY ABOUT 40% AND STILL LEFT OUR TAXES FAIRLY LOW.
WORKED IN BOPHUTUTSWANA MAFEKING – BRIEF HISTORY – 1 ST 2
MONTHS IN CREWS HOTEL THEN INTO SHARED HOUSE.
PETER IN TROUBLE FOR KILLING A CYCLIST ON THE ROAD. I GAVE UP
DRIVING FOREVER
1 YEAR – FISHING AT LAKE IN BUSH –
CHAS’ FLYING LESSONS – HOLIDAY TO KRUGER IN STOLL WITH PILOT,
ME FALLING OUT AT SABIE RIVER BUNGALOWS GOLF COURSE, CRISPY
DUCK – CHAS FLYING PLANE IN STORM ON WAY BACK
MY DECISION TO GET SPAYED.
TILL JAN ’79 THEN LEFT BECAUSE OF PETER.
WAITED FOR JOB IN LESOTHO. RYAN BORN JAN 7 1979. GODCHILD –
.ALL LIVED TOGETHER AT 10 DARWIN. APPLIED FOR VISA FOR S.A.
GOT WORK IN SWAZILAND YEN SAAN & FIRST HORSE. LIVED IN A
RONDEVAL FULL OF BEES. SMOKED DAGGA FOR FIRST TIME. WATER
SKIING ON LAKE WITH LEACHES & SOUTHERN COMFORT ISRAELI
AMBASSADOR’S COCTAIL PARTY. DUCKING THE BOARDER POLICE –
NO VISA S.A. OR SWAZI.. JUST ESCAPED IN TIME TO LESOTHO1981.
TRAINING SCHOOL FOR ME & PIT BOSS FOR CHAS. LITTLE BIT OF
WORK IN CAGE THEN STAFF CANTEEN. SAILING COURSE. WITH LIZ &
JEFF. WATCHED THE WAR FROM OUR BALCONY. BMW STOLEN &
REPLACED WITH TOPOGIGO
“B” ARRIVES IN SA AND SPENT XMAS WITH US (AND SCORPIONS)
HURRIED DEPARTURE MARCH 1984 – PACKED 3 HOUSES IN 1 DAY AND
HID CONTENTS OUT IN THE OPEN IN FRIEND’S GARDEN WITH DOGS TO
GUARD. PRAYED NO RAIN. REMOVAL TRUCKS NEXT DAY OVER
BOARDER.
6 MONTHS WITH NOTHING TO DO BUT SPEND OUR SAVINGS
IN SEPTEMBER 1984 WE WENT INTO PARTNERSHIP WITH LIZ & JEFF
ADAMSON . WE CHOSE TO SHARE A HOUSE TO KEEP EXPENSES DOWN
AND IT MADE COMMUNICATION EASIER. WE BECOME THE PROUD
OWNERS OF A DELICATESSEN COME FAST FOOD TAKE AWAY SHOP IN
JOHANNESBURG. WHAT A CATASTROPHE!! OUR TIMING WAS ALL
WRONG. WE’D BEEN IN BUSINESS FOR ABOUT 3 MONTHS DURING
WHICH WE’D SPENT LONG MONIES ON CHANGING THE POSITION OF A
WALL BY ONLY HALF A METRE AND PUTTING IN A HUGE EXTRACTOR
FAN AND HOOD. ALL THIS WAS AT THE INSISTENCE OF AN
AFRICAANER HEALTH INSPECTOR WHO WAS PLAINLY EXPECTING A
BACK-HANDER AND WE WEREN’T BITING. IN THE LONG RUN, MAYBE

71

WE SHOULD HAVE BUT IT WAS THE PRINCIPAL OF IT PLUS WE HATED
THE THOUGHT OF GIVING HIM THE TIME OF DAY, LET ALONE MONEY.
NO SOONER WAS ALL THIS DONE AND BUSINESS WAS PICKING UP ( WE
WERE EVEN DISCUSSING OPENING ANOTHER BRANCH IN CAPE TOWN)
WHEN THE COUNTRY WAS HIT BY A MASSIVE RECESSION AND SMALL
BUSINESSES LIKE OURS WERE GOING BANKRUPT AT THE RATE OF
AROUND 30 A DAY IN JOHANNESBURG ALONE. SUICIDE WAS RIFE. WE
HUNG ON TO OUR LITTLE SHOP DOGGEDLY – WE HAD NO CHOICE AS
NOBODY WAS REMOTELY INTERESTED IN BUYING ANY BUSINESS
LARGE OR SMALL. LIZ WAS PREGNANT AND WE WERE ALL SERIOUSLY
STRESSED AND IN NEED OF INCOME. WE FINALLY GAVE IN AND
CLOSED OUR DOORS IN JULY 1985 AND, AFTER PAYING UP ALL THE
BILLS, WE WERE LEFT WITH ONLY R20 TO OUR NAME AND AN OLD VAN
TO GET AROUND IN.
OUR OLD FRIEND, “MAC” MACAULAY, WAS THE MANAGER AT THE
WILD COAST CASINO SO WE TRIED TO CALL HIM TO GET A JOB. AS IT
HAPPENED, HE WAS AT THE JO’BURG AIRPORT, ABOUT TO FLY OFF TO
CANADA FOR A MONTH’S LEAVE. WE HITAILED IT TO THE AIRPORT IN
THE HOPE OF CATCHING HIM WHICH FORTUNATELY WE DID. AFTER
EXPLAINING OUR SORRY SITUATION HE IMMEDIATELY CALLED HIS
ASSISTANT TO TELL HIM TO EXPECT US ON THE STAFF. HE GAVE US
BOTH JOBS AS DEALERS (GOD BLESS YOU MAC)ALTHOUGH WE HAD TO
START AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PILE. FAIR ENOUGH SINCE HE COULD
HARDLY PUT US IN OVER HEADS OF HIS EXISTING STAFF. IT WASN’T
EASY TO SWALLOW AT THE AGE OF 43 AND CHAS AT 40 (MY TOY BOY),
BUT WE HAD A PLACE IN THE BUSINESS AGAIN AND WERE READY TO
CLAW OUR WAY BACK UP THE LADDER.
PACKED UP – KIND LETTER & CHEQUE FROM LEN FISHER. OUR R20
ENOUGH TO BUY PETROL TO GET THERE. THE HORRENDOUS DRIVE
DOWN. OUT OF PRACTICE AT THE TABLES.
WE PUT OUR HEADS DOWN AND TOOK A SMALL SUB AGAINST OUR
FIRST MONTH’S WAGES AND SO AVOIDED HAVING TO USE LEN’S
CHEQUE. WE JUST GOT ON AND WORKED AND BEGAN TO GET TOME
SAVINGS TOGETHER AGAIN. ONCE AGAIN THE CASINO BUSINESS WAS
OUR SAVING GRACE AS WE WERE GIVEN GOOD ACCOMMODATION IN
THE FORM OF A SEMI-DETACHED 2 BEDROOM BUNGALOW, FULLY
FURNISHED AND CURTAINED WITH CROCKERY AND OTHER KITCHEN
NECESSITIES, ALL QUITE BASIC BUT ENOUGH TO GET BY WITH.
NORMALLY A BUNGALOW LIKE THAT WOULD HAVE TO BE SHARED
BUT SINCE WE WERE EMPLOYED AS INDIVIDUALS AND NOT A
“PACKAGE” WE WERE ENTITLED TO A BEDROOM EACH LIKE ANY
OTHER INDIVIDUAL. THAT WE CHOSE TO SLEEP TOGETHER IN ONE
ROOM WAS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE TO ANYONE ELSE. THE
ELECTRICITY AND WATER WAS PAID FOR SO THERE WERE NO
OVERHEADS TO COME OUT OF OUR WAGES. WE EMPLOYED A

72

HOUSEKEEPER TO TAKE CARE OF T HE CLEANING & WASHING AND
IRONING. THIS WAS GLORIOUS FOR ME BECAUSE AFTER WORKING THE
LONG SHIFTS REQUIRED IN THE CASINO ( USUALLY 12HOURS AND AT
TIMES 16 HOURS) WE WOULD ONLY GO TO BED AT 7 OR 8 IN THE
MORNING AND WAKE UP AT 3 OR 4 IN THE AFTERNOON. NOT A LOT OF
TIME FOR CHORES BEFORE STARTING WORK AT 6 OR 8 IN THE
EVENING.
PETER DIED SEPTEMBER 1985 LEAVING WIFE LINDA AND SON RYAN.
KNOCKING ON WINDOW BY VICKI MACAULAY WITH THE BAD NEWS.
CHAS DEVISTATED TO LOSE BEST FRIEND. WAKE IN JO’BURG TWO
WEEKS LATER.
EVENTUALLY, IN 1987 WE WERE FINANCIALLY ABLE TO SELL OUR OLD
VAN AND BUY A SOUND USED KOMBI MINI-BUS AND WHEN OUR FIRST
YEARLY LEAVE OF 3 WEEKS CAME AROUND, WE WERE CRYING OUT
FOR OUR BELOVED WILDERNESS PLACES TO TAKE SOME DEEP
BREATHS OF FRESH AIR, SLIGHTLY FLAVOURED WITH ELEPHANT
DUNG AND GET SOME AFRICAN DUST IN OUR HAIR. WE DECIDED TO
HEAD FOR THE ETOCHA RESERVE IN SOUTH WEST AFRICA, SOME 2,000
PLUS KILOMETRES AWAY. WE WERE FULLY LADEN SINCE WE
INTENDED TO CAMP AND WE HAD TWO FRIENDS WHO WANTED TO
COME ALONG WITH US, SO IT WAS A LOT OF GEAR. WE BORROWED A
TRAILER FROM ONE OF OUR WORKMATES AND HOOKED THAT BEHIND
AND SET OFF EARLY IN THE MORNING LOOKING FORWARD TO THE
REST FROM THE STRESSES WE’D FOUGHT THROUGH OVER THE PAST
YEAR. JUST ON DUSK AND NOT FAR FROM OUR FIRST SCHEDULED
STOP-OVER, HAVING TRAVELLED ABOUT 1,000 KM, DISASTER STRUCK.
THE ROAD WE WERE TRAVELLING SUDDENLY NARROWED AND WE
FOUND OURSELVES WITH THE TWO OFF-SIDE WHEELS ON A GRAVEL
SHOULDER. ROAD WIDENING HAD BEEN DONE UP TO THIS POINT BUT
HAD SUDDENLY STOPPED LEAVING A 3 OR 4 INCH JUMP TO GET BACK
ONTO THE NARROWED TARMAC STRIP. AS CHAS TRIED TO SLOW
DOWN AND AT THE SAME TIME GET US BACK ONTO THE TARMAC THE
TRAILER’S WAS DRAGGED OFF IT’S RIM CAUSING IT TO JACK-KNIFE.
THIS SENT THE KOMBI SHARPLY TO THE RIGHT AND ACROSS THE
ROAD THEN TUMBLED US END OVER END SEVERAL TIMES, FINALLY
COMING TO A HALT 30 YARDS OFF THE ROAD IN A PLOUGHED FIELD.
OF COURSE WE’D BEEN SHEDDING EQUIPMENT AND SUPPLIES ALONG
THE WAY AND LEFT A TRAIL OF OUR TREASURES FOR LOCAL
TRIBESMEN , WHO SEEMED TO HAVE MATERIALIZED FROM FRESH AIR,
TO GATHER UP BEHIND US. THEY MUST HAVE THOUGHT IT WAS
CHRISTMAS. ONE OF THEM HAS A DOG WITH HIM WHICH CAME
SNIFFING AT US AS WE LAY IN THE DIRT BUT THE MAN DIDN’T
ATTEMPT TO ASSIST US. JUST CONTINUED TO POKE THROUGH OUR
DEBRIS FOR WHATEVER HE COULD USE. SOMEONE HAD BEEN
TRAVELLING BEHIND US AND SEEN IT ALL HAPPEN AND REPORTED TO

73

THE POLICE SOMEHOW. I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG IT WAS BEFORE
THEY ARRIVED TOGETHER WITH AN AMBULANCE. MEANWHILE, CHAS
HAD MANAGED TO CRAWL OUT THROUGH THE NOW NON-EXISTENT
WINDSCREEN. I COULDN’T GET MY SEATBELT UNDONE SO HE TURNED
TO HELP ME AND IN SO DOING REALISE HE AS SERIOUSLY INJURED IN
TERRIBLE PAIN. IT TURNED OUT THAT HE HAD 3 COMPACTED
VERTEBRAE AT TOP, MIDDLE AND BASE OF HIS SPINE. I SEEMED TO BE
OK, JUST A BANG ON THE HEAD, BRUISED KNEES AND THE SEATBELT
(THANK GOD I WAS WEARING IT) HAD BADLY BRUISED AND DONE
SOME DAMAGE TO MY RIGHT BREAST. ONE OF OUR PASSENGERS,
LORRAINE, HAD HER PELVIS BROKEN IN TWO PLACES AND SHE SPENT
A LONG TIME IN MENDING. THE MALE PASSENGER, CRAIG, ESCAPED
UNINJURED AND WAS EVENTUALLY ABLE TO GET FREE BY HIMSELF
BY CLIMBING OUT THROUGH THE SUNROOF. HE LATER TOOK CHARGE
OF GETTING THE WRECKAGE TOWED AWAY TO A SCRAP YARD AND HE
GOT THE POLICE TO TRANSPORT HIMSELF AND WHAT BELONGINGS HE
COULD FIND IN THE NOW DARK FIELD, BACK TO BLOEMFONTEIN.
THERE HE BOOKED INTO A HOTEL AND HIRED A CAR SO THAT HE
COULD TAKE ALL OUR THINGS BACK TO OUR HOMES AT THE WILD
COAST. WE OTHER THREE WERE TAKEN BY AMBULANCE TO
BLOEMFONTEIN HOSPITAL AND WERE SENT TO VARIOUS
DEPARTMENTS AFTER ADMISSION AND X-RAYS. I ONLY FOUND OUT
ABOUT FOUR HOURS LATER, HAVING THROWN A TANTRUM OVER THE
SEEMING CONSPIRACY OF NON-INFORMATION, THAT CHAS HAD BEEN
MOVED TO ANOTHER HOSPITAL WHICH SPECIALISED IN
ORTHOPAEDICS. I WAS KEPT FOR OBSERVATION BECAUSE I WAS IN
SHOCK WITH VERY LOW BLOOD PRESSURE. THEY CONSIDERED ME TO
BE OK BY MORNING AND THEY LET ME LEAVE. CRAIG WAS THERE
WAITING TO TAKE ME TO A HOTEL JUST ACROSS THE ROAD FROM THE
HOSPITAL WHERE CHAS HAD BEEN TAKEN. THE HOTEL WAS FULLY
BOOKED EXCEPT FOR A LARGE ROOM WITH, I THINK , TEN BEDS IN IT
AND A BATHROOM DOWN THE HALL BUT SINCE IT WAS SO CLOSE TO
CHAS, I DECIDED TO TAKE IT ANYWAY. I DUMPED THE SUITCASE
CRAIG HAD SALVAGED FOR ME FROM THE WRECKAGE AND WENT
STRAIGHT OVER TO THE HOSPITAL TO FIND CHAS. HE WAS STILL IN
THE SAME CLOTHES WITH MUD AND DIRT ALL OVER HIM FROM THE
FIELD WE’D LANDED IN. THEY HAD CUT AWAY HIS JEANS SO HE
COULD BE EXAMINED AND HE WAS IN ENORMOUS PAIN. HE HAD 3
CRUSHED VERTEBRAE, ONE AT TOP, ONE IN THE MIDDLE AND ONE AT
THE BASE OF HIS SPINE AND THERE WAS SOME CONCERN AS TO
WHETHER OR NOT HE WOULD WALK AGAIN. THEY DIDN’T SAY SO BUT
KEPT ASKING HIM IF HE COULD FEEL HIS TOES AND WERE WATCHING
HIM VERY CAREFULLY. HE WAS DOSED UP ON A COCKTAIL OF PAIN
RELIEVING DRUGS GIVEN EVERY 4 HOURS BUT HIS PAIN WAS SO
SEVERE THAT THE DRUGS TOOK AGES TO WORK AND THEN ONLY

74

GAVE HIM RELIEF FOR ABOUT 20 MINUTES. IT WAS JUST TOO
TERRIBLE FOR HIM AND I FELT SO USELESS STANDING THERE
WATCHING HIS AGONY. I RESORTED TO MASSAGING HIS FEET A
COUPLE OF TIMES A DAY. HE SEEMED TO CALM DOWN A LITTLE AND
HE SAID IT NOT ONLY FELT SOOTHING BUT WAS A WONDERFUL WAY
TO KNOW THERE WAS STILL FEELING IN HIS FEET. I FUSSED OVER HIM
EMPTING BED PANS AND SUCH AND BETWEEN US WE DEVISED A WAY
TO TURN HIM ON TO HIS SIDE FOR A WHILE WITHOUT ALTERING THE
POSITION OF HIS SPINE. THIS GAVE HIM A CHANCE TO GET SOME
FRESH AIR CIRCULATING AROUND HIS BACK AND TOOK THE PRESSURE
OFF THE HIPS FOR A WHILE. I SUPPOSE THE NURSING STAFF THOUGHT
I WAS A DAMN NUISANCE BUT I REALLY WASN’T CONCERNED ABOUT
THAT. ONCE THE SPECIALISTS WERE CONFIDENT THAT THE SPINAL
CORD WAS NOT INJURED THEY TOLD US THAT CHAS WOULD BE ABLE
TO WALK AGAIN BUT WOULD HAVE TO REMAIN LYING ON HIS BACK
FOR ABOUT 3 MONTHS. MEANWHILE, MY DEAR FRIEND, LINDA,
INSISTED ON COMING TO BLOEMFONTEIN FOR MY SUPPORT. SHE TOOK
ONE LOOK AT THE DISMAL “DORMITORY” I WAS STAYING IN AND
ORDERED ME INTO THE SOUTHERN SUN HOTEL IN TOWN. HERE,
BECAUSE THE CASINO WE WORKED FOR WAS PART OF THE SAME
HOTELGROUP, I WAS ENTITLED TO A SUBSTANTIAL DISCOUNT AND I
MUST SAY I WAS A GREAT DEAL MORE COMFORTABLE. I HAD TO GET
TAXIS TO & FROM THE HOSPITAL TWICE A DAY BUT IT WAS WORTH
THE EXPENSE. ANYWAY, MY HOTEL DISCOUNT PRETTY MUCH
COVERED THE TRAVEL EXPENSES. LINDA WAS A GODSEND BECAUSE
SHE KNEW ME SO WELL AND WAS ABLE TO STOP MY CONCERN FOR
CHAS FROM GETTING ME DOWN. ONE OF THE WAYS SHE DID THIS
WAS BY POURING COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF WINE INTO MY GLASS AND,
ALTHOUGH I FOUGHT TOOTH & NAIL TO AVOID DRINKING IT, SHE MADE
ME DO IT!!!
ONCE SHE WAS CONVINCED THAT I WOULD HANDLE THE SITUATION
SHE WENT BACK TO JO’BURG TO HER FAMILY.
I WENT TO THE SCRAP YARD TO HAVE A LOOK AT OUR VEHICLE. I
ALMOST FAINTED WHEN I SAW IT. IT WAS UNBELIEVABLE. CRUMPLED
– AND I’M STILL ASTONISHED TO THIS DAY THAT WE ALL GOT OUT
ALIVE. CHAS’ SEATBELT WAS STILL BUCKLED SO HE MUST HAVE
BEEN WINKLED UP AND OUT OF IT WITH ALL THE SUMMERSAULTS THE
COMBI HAD DONE. I SOLD THE VEHICLE FOR THE BITS AND PIECES
THAT STILL WORKED AND GOT R1200. I WAS PROBABLY STITCHED BUT
THERE WERE NO OPTIONS AND THAT WAS THAT.
MAC, OUR FRIEND AND EMPLOYER, HAD IN THE MEANTIME SPOKEN
TO A CHAP BY THE NAME OF CRAIG BOWLS WHO WAS DOING SOME
CONTRACT WORK AT THE WILD COAST. MAC TOLD HIM ABOUT OUR
BEING STUCK IN BLOEMFONTEIN AND CHAS’ DELICATE SITUATION
AND CRAIG, INCREDIBLY KINDLY, PUT HIS PRIVATE AIRCRAFT AND

75

PILOT AT OUR DISPOSAL, HAVING REMOVED THE SEATS ON ONE SIDE
TO ACCOMMODATE CHAS ON HIS STRETCHER. I CHECKED OUT OF
THE HOTEL AND WENT TO PAY MY ACCOUNT TO FIND THAT THE
ACCOMMODATION HAD BEEN SIGNED OFF, COMPLIMENTS OF MAC
AND ALL I HAD TO PAY FOR WAS THE ROOM SERVICE AND PHONE
BILL. I TOOK MY FINAL TAXI RIDE TO THE HOSPITAL FROM WHICH AN
AMBULANCE TOOK US TO THE LITTLE AIRPORT AND THE
ATTENDANTS LOADED CHAS IN AND MADE HIM COMFORTABLE.
FINALLY WE TOOK OFF FOR HOME. ON THE WAY WE FLEW OVER THE
DRAKENSBERG MOUNTAINS WHICH WERE INCREDIBLY BEAUTIFUL
SINCE IT HAD SNOWED WHICH MADE THEM A SIGHT TO SEE. CHAS
COULDN’T SEE THEM BECAUSE HE WAS LYING ON THE FLOOR OF THE
AIRCRAFT SO HE HELD UP A MIRROR, WHICH I WAS CARRYING IN MY
HANDBAG AND HE HAD A LOVELY REVERSED VIEW OF THEM. ON
LANDING AT MARGATE AIRPOT (THE NEAREST TO WHERE WE LIVED)
WE WERE SURPRISED TO FIND A VERY SPLENDID AMBULANCE,
COMPLETE WITH ATTENDANTS, WAITING ON THE RUNWAY FOR CHAS.
IT WAS THE NEW AMBULANCE WHICH THE M.D. OF THE WILD COAST
HOTEL & CASINO, MR. ALBERTO CHIRANDA, HAD PURCHASED TO WITH
A VIEW TO ASSIST THE CISKEIAN PEOPLE WHO WERE WITHOUT ANY
REAL MEDICAL FACILITIES. HE VERY KINDLY SENT IT TO TAKE CHAS
TO THE PORT SHEPSTONE HOSPITAL WHICH WAS THE LARGEST AND
BEST IN THE AREA. THEY HAD THE LATEST KIND OF STRETCHER
DESIGNED TO TAKE A PATIENT FROM ONE STRETCHER TO ANOTHER
WITHOUT THE PATIENT’S SPINE BEING MOVED AND IT WHOLE THING
WAS HANDLED VERY PROFESSIONALLY. THESE ARE THE THINGS WE
WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER WITH GREAT GRATITUDE – THE RALLYING
ROUND OF OUR FRIENDS, NOT TO MENTION CRAIG BOWLS WHO DIDN’T
EVEN KNOW US, AND MAKING SURE WE WERE WELL TAKEN CARE OF.
WHEN YOU THINK OF IT, HAD ANY STRANGER FOLLOWED OUR
PROGRESS, THEY COULD HAVE BEEN FORGIVEN FOR THINKING THAT
CHAS & I WERE SOME KIND OF ROYALTY, WHAT WITH THE KIND OF
ATTENTION AND CARE WE RECEIVED.
CHAS WAS ADMITTED TO PORT SHEPSTONE HOSPITAL AND AFTER
SEEING HIM SETTLED, I WENT HOME TO OUR STAFF BUNGALOW AND
WENT BACK TO WORK. I WAS ABLE TO GET A LIFT TO SEE CHAS AND
TAKE HIM TREATS A FEW TIMES A WEEK AND SINCE HE WAS VERY
POPULAR WITH THE NURSING STAFF, HE WAS ALLOWED TO KEEP SOME
CANS OF GUINNISS IN THE FRIDGE AT THE NURSES STATION. DURING
HIS STAY THERE WAS A FLOOD IN THE AREA CAUSED BY CYCLONE
DEMOINA AND IT BECAME PRETTY DODGY TO GET TO THE HOSPITAL
TO SEE CHAS. WAYNE MONTGOMERY, WHO WORKED IN PORT
SHEPSTONE, WAS USUALLY THE PERSON TO GIVE ME A LIFT AND WE
HAD TO DRIVE HALF WAY THERE UNTIL WE REACHED A PARTICULAR
BRIDGE. IF IT WAS UNDER WATER WE HAD TO TURN BACK BUT IF THE

76

WATER LEVEL WAS JUST BELOW, THE POLICE USUALLY LET US
THROUGH. CHAS’ BED WAS BY THE BIG PICTURE WINDOWS AND HE
WAS ABLE TO SEE THE SHARKS DOWN AT THE MOUTH OF THE RIVER,
ENORMOUS THINGS, FEEDING ON THE CATTLE AND PERHAPS PEOPLE
WASHED AWAY FROM THE BANKS OF THE RIVER UP-COUNTRY.
CHAS WAS EVENTUALLY ABLE TO COME HOME AFTER TEN WEEKS IN
HOSPITAL. WHAT A GREAT DAY!!! OUR FRIEND, JOHN M C DONAGH,
TOOK ME IN TO PICK HIM UP AND HE WAS ABLE TO WALK TO THE CAR
WITH HIS TORSO ENCASED IN A METAL BRACE TO KEEP HIM FROM
BENDING HIS SPINE. CHAS INSISTED ON GOING TO A HOTEL AND
ACTUALLY SITTING AT THE BAR TO HAVE A PINT. FOR WHAT REASON
I SIMPLY CAN’T REMEMBER, WE CHOSE A PLACE WHERE THE BAR WAS
UPSTAIRS AND WE HAD TO CLIME A REALLY HAIRY SET OF ABOUT
TWENTY STAIRS TO GET TO IT. JOHN & I TRIED TO TALK HIM OUT OF IT
BUT HE WAS ADAMANT AND BEGAN TACKLING THE LONG CLIMB. HE
MADE IT AND BELLIED UP TO THE BAR AND WRAPPED HIS GUMS
AROUND HIS FIRST PINT IN A VERY LONG TIME. BE THE TIME HE’D
FINISHED IT HE WAS GETTING A BIT SHAKY SO WE THEN HAD TO
NEGOTIATE THE DAMN STAIRS AGAIN, DOWNWARDS TIME WHICH WAS
WORSE THAN GOING UP. ANYWAY, HE MADE IT DOWN AND WE
FINALLY GOT HIM HOME. I HAD FOUND A DAY-BED FOR HIM SO THAT
HE COULD HAVE A CHANGE FROM THE BEDROOM AND HAD PUT UP A
BAR IN THE SHOWER FOR HIM TO STEADY HIMSELF WHEN HE CLIMBED
INTO THE BATH. IN WENT A STOOL FOR HIM TO SIT DOWN ON AND
THERE HE HAD HIS FIRST SHOWER IN TWO MONTHS, WITH ME
WASHING HIM AND HIM HOLDING HIMSELF UP ON THE BAR. BOY!! DID
HE ENJOY IT AND FLATTENED THE HOT WATER SUPPLY. ONCE HE
WAS DRIED, IN CLEAN PYJAMAS AND IN BED, I WENT BACK TO THE
BATHROOM FOR SOMETHING AND FOUND WHITE FOOTPRINTS ALL THE
WAY FROM BATHROOM TO BEDROOM. IT LOOKED LIKE TALCUM
POWDER BUT WE HADN’T USED ANY. THEN I REALIZED THAT IT WAS
THE SKIN OF HIS FEET COMING OFF. THE SKIN ON THE SOLES OF HIS
FEET HAD BUILT UP DURING ALL THAT TIME WITHOUT WALKING AND
SLOUGHING IT OFF. NOW IT WAS BEING SHED WHEREVER HIS FEET
TOUCHED THE FLOOR. I HAD TO GET A PUMICE AND SCOUR IT ALL
OFF AND WHEN THAT WAS DONE HIS SOLES WERE PINK AND TENDER
AS A BABY’S BUM. I HAD TO BEG THE NEW MANAGER TO LET ME GET
ONTO PERMANENT DAY SHIFT AT THE CASINO ,THEN IT WASN’T TOO
DIFFICULT TO LOOK AFTER CHAS AND HE WAS A REAL STAR, NEVER
COMPLAINING ABOUT THE PAIN OR BEING LONELY AND BORED STUCK
IN BED TWENTY-FOUR HOURS A DAY. LITTLE BY LITTLE HE WAS ABLE
TO STAND AND WALK AROUND THE BUNGALOW UNTIL HE FINALLY
WENT BACK TO WORK, DOING THE COUNTIN THE MORNINGS. THIS
WAS A SIT-DOWN JOB AND ONLY TOOK THE MORNING SO IT WAS A
FAIRLY GENTLE REHABILITATION PROGRAM. EVENTUALLY, HE TOOK

77

HIS PLACE BACK IN THE CASINO PROPER ALTHOUGH HE REALLY
SUFFERED A LOT OF PAIN FROM ALL THE STANDING, IN SPITE OF HIS
STILL WEARING THE BRACE FOR SUPPORT. BEING THE DETERMINED
SOUL THAT HE IS, HE BRAZONED IT OUT AND AFTER WHAT SEEMED A
VERY LONG TIME WAS ABLE TO DISPENSE WITH THE BRACE AND
RESUME A FAIRLY NORMAL LIFE. I WAS OK WITH THE BREAST
HEALED NICELY ALTHOUGH IT’S A FUNNY SHAPE NOW, BUT WHO SEES
IT UNDER MY CLOTHES? UNFORTUNATELY, MY TROUBLES RESULTING
FROM THAT CRASH STARTED SOME TIME LATER.
SO IT WAS “HEADS DOWN” TIME AGAIN SINCE WE HAD NO CAR AND
WE’D LOST A HELL OF A LOT OF BELONGINGS ALONG WITH IT. IT WAS
TIME TO REBUILD, YET AGAIN. LIFE CAN BE INTERESTING, CAN’T IT???
MANA POOLS
1988 ONE OF THOSE HOLIDAYS WAS IN ZIMBABWE (EX RHODESIA) IN
1988. ANOTHER COUPLE, JOHN AND GAYLE, ALSO LONG STANDING
FRIENDS OF OURS FROM THE SWAZILAND DAYS, TOLD US THEY HAD
THE OPPORTUNITY TO TAKE AN INTERESTING TRIP WITH A SAFARI
OUTFIT OWNED AND RUN BY A FRIEND OF THEIRS, KEITH MEADOWS.
THIS CHAP WANTED TO EXPLORE A NEW ROUTE FROM THE WESTERN
EXTREMITY OF ZIMBABWE AT VICTORIA FALLS, INTO WANKIE GAME
RESERVE, CROSS OVER TO THE KARIBA DAM AND TRAVEL THE
SHORELINE AS CLOSELY AS POSSIBLE THEN ON TO MANA POOLS IN
THE NORTH AND BACK TO VICTORIA FALLS. A JOURNEY OF
SOMEWHERE AROUND A THOUSAND KILOMETRES ROUND TRIP. THE
CATCH WAS THAT KEITH HAD NOT EXTENSIVELY TRAVELLED THAT
PARTICULAR AREA BEFORE SO THIS WOULD BE A REAL TRAIL
BLAZING ADVENTURE. JOHN AND GAYLE WERE GIVEN THE
RESPONSIBILITY OF FINDING FOUR MORE GUINEA PIGS TO MAKE UP
THE NUMBERS KEITH THOUGHT HE WOULD BE ABLE TO COPE WITH
WHEN IT CAME TO THE REAL THING WITH OVERSEES TOURISTS. THE
ATTRACTIVE PART WAS THAT HE WOULD NOT CHARGE US THE GOING
RATE, WHICH NONE OF US COULD EVER AFFORD. THE DEAL WAS
THAT WE GET OURSELVES TO VICTORIA FALLS AIRPORT, WHERE HE’D
PICK US UP PLUS PAY FOR OUR SHARE OF THE EXPENSES FOR THE
SAFARI, ie FUEL FOOD BEVERAGES ENTRANCE FEES TO THE VARIOUS
GAME RESERVES AND OTHER INCIDENTALS ALONG THE WAY. IT
SOUNDS LIKE A LOT BUT IN THOSE DAYS IT WAS MANAGEABLE ALBEIT
NOT CHEAP. THERE WERE TWO CRITERIA, HOWEVER, THAT HAD TO BE
MET. WHOM EVER JOHN AND GAYLE INVITED HAD TO HAVE A SENSE
OF ADVENTURE AND A SENSE OF HUMOUR!! WE WERE WARNED THAT
WE COULD POSSIBLY FIND OURSELVES IN SOME LESS THAN
SALUBRIOUS SURROUNDINGS AND WE MAY NOT HAVE THE FINEST

78

FOOD ON OCCASION SHOULD THINGS NOT PAN OUT JUST RIGHT. WE
HAD TO BE ABLE TO TAKE THE ROUGH WITH THE SMOOTH. WOULD
WE LIKE TO GO? I THINK CHAS AND I HESITATED FOR ALL OF HALF A
SECOND BEFORE SAYING YES, YES, YES!!! CHAS SUGGESTED THAT MO
AND LEO MIGHT LIKE TO JOIN US AS THEY HAD PLANNED TO COME TO
AFRICA TO VISIT US. WHEN WE GAVE THEM THE OPTION THEY
READILY AGREED AND PLANNED TO FLY STRAIGHT TO VICTORIA
FALLS INSTEAD OF GOING VIA SOUTH AFRICA AS IT WAS MORE
DIRECT. WE HAD ABOUT A MONTH TO PLAN OUR TRIP AND WE SPENT
A LOT OF TIME DECIDING WHAT WE OUGHT TO TAKE WITH US TO
COVER ALL THE BASES.
ON THE NIGHT BEFORE WE WERE TO FLY TO ZIMBABWE CHAS AND I
DROVE UP TO PINETOWN, JUST OUTSIDE DURBAN, TO STAY THE NIGHT
WITH JOHN AND GAYLE. THEY HAD ANOTHER FRIEND STAYING OVER
WHO WAS GOING TO HOUSE-SIT AND TAKE CARE OF THE DOGS FOR
THEM DURING THEIR ABSENCE. WE ALL SAT DOWN, EXCITED AS ALL
HELL, AND WENT THROUGH THE LONG LIST OF “GOODIES” THAT HAD
BEEN PACKED INTO A COUPLE OF LARGE TIN TRUNKS. FIVE LITRE
BOXES OF WINE, WHOLE SALAMI, HOMEMADE TERRINE OF SOMETHING
EXOTIC, WINE, FISHING TACKLE (TO BARTER WITH) CHEESES, MORE
WINE, SPARE ENGINE PARTS, FRUIT CAKE, SOME MORE WINE, TINNED
HAMS AND OTHER MEATS, I CAN’T REMEMBER IT ALL NOW BUT THERE
WAS ENOUGH TO FEED AN ARMY AND PROBABLY BUILD THEM A
BARRACKS!! OH, AND DID I MENTION THE WINE?? I SUPPOSE ALL
THIS SOUNDS A BIT OVER THE TOP BUT IN THOSE DAYS, ZIMBABWE
HAD BEEN THROUGH A TERRIBLE WAR AND WAS RELATIVELY NEW AT
INDEPENDENCE. THERE WAS LITTLE FOREIGN CURRENCY AVAILABLE
FOR BUYING THE LUXURIES (AND MANY OF THE NECESSITIES) AND
BESIDES, OUR IDEA OF LUXURY AND THEIRS WOULD HAVE DIFFERED
ENORMOUSLY. KEITH AND HIS WIFE, ANGIE, HADN’T HAD MUCH
OPPORTUNITY TO ENJOY THE THINGS WE WERE ABLE TO COME BY SO
EASILY IN SOUTH AFRICA AND WE WANTED TO GIVE THEM A LITTLE
TASTE OF THE OUTSIDE WORLD….THAT’S MY STORY AND I’M
STICKING TO IT!! SO, WE FINALLY GOT THE TRUNKS SEALED UP AND
READY FOR TAKING TO THE AIRPORT IN DURBAN. GAYLE WENT TO
GET SOME BLANKETS OUT OF HER LINEN CUPBOARD AND, CLIMBING
UP AND REACHING FOR THE TOP SHELF, SHE FELL. SHE TURNED HER
ANKLE BADLY AND WAS IN SERIOUS PAIN. JOHN RUSHED HER OFF TO
THE DOCTOR WHO BANDAGED HER ANKLE AND FOOT, GAVE HER PAIN
KILLERS AND TOLD HER TO STAY OFF IT FOR AT LEAST A WEEK!! BUT
IF YOU THINK THAT OUR GAYLE WAS ABOUT TO MISS OUT ON THIS
TRIP, YOU’D BE VERY MUCH MISTAKEN. BY NEXT MORNING SHE
COULDN’T WALK IF YOU’D PAID HER TO SO SHE HAD JOHN HELP HER
DOWN TO THE CAR AND ONCE WE GOT TO THE AIRPORT, ORDERED A
WHEELCHAIR!! ON OBSERVING THE FINE TREATMENT SHE RECEIVED

79

FROM THE AIRLINE STAFF, BOTH ON THE GROUND AND ABOARD THE
AIRCRAFT, WE ALL VOWED THAT THE NEXT TIME WE FLEW
ANYWHERE, WE’D ROCK UP IN A WHEELCHAIR.
THE ONLY WAY WE COULD FLY TO VICTORIA FALLS WAS TO GO VIA
BULAWAYO. ON THIS FIRST LEG FROM DURBAN WE WERE QUITE
APPREHENSIVE ABOUT HOW WE WERE GOING TO GET ALL OUR
FREIGHT THROUGH ZIMBABWE CUSTOMS AT BULAWAYO. THIRD
WORLD BUREAUCRATIC PERSONNEL CAN USUALLY BE COUNTED
UPON TO BE OFFICIOUS AND GREEDY AND WE HAD VISIONS OF BEING
OBLIGED TO HAND OVER A LARGE PORTION OF THE GOODIES OR AN
EQUALLY LARGE PORTION OF OUR US DOLLARS, OR BOTH. BUT WE
HAD TO TRY TO GET AT LEAST SOME OF IT THROUGH. GAYLE GOT
BACK INTO A WHEEL CHAIR ONCE WE WERE DISEMBARKED AND, WITH
HUSBAND JOHN PUSHING HER, WE MADE OUR WAY TO IMMIGRATION
AND THEN ON TO COLLECT THE LUGGAGE AND FREIGHT. WELL
THERE WE WERE WITH THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES HOVERING OVER
OUR HEADS AND MAKING EVERY EFFORT TO BEHAVE IN A LIGHT
HEARTED AND INNOCENT MANNER AS WE APPROACHED THE
CUSTOMS OFFICIALS. MIRACLES OF MIRACLES!! THEY ASKED GAYLE,
SITTING IN HER WHEEL CHAIR WITH HER OFFENDING LEG STUCK OUT
IN FRONT OF HER, WHAT HAD BROUGHT US TO ZIMBABWE. WHEN SHE
ANNOUNCED THAT WE WERE GOING ON A LONG SAFARI THEY WERE
VERY IMPRESSED AT HER COURAGE TO BE TAKING ON SUCH AN
ARDUOUS VENTURE IN HER INJURED CONDITION. SHE BEAMED AT
THEM AND MILKED THE MOMENT FOR ALL IT WAS WORTH. WHEN
ASKED WHAT WAS IN THE TRUNKS SHE WAVED HER HAND
DISMISSIVELY IN THE DIRECTION OF THE PILE OF FREIGHT AND TOLD
THEM THAT IT WAS ALL THE NECESSITIES OF A TWO WEEK JOURNEY
IN THE DARKEST REGIONS OF UNINHABITED BUSHLANDS TO BE FOUND
IN THEIR BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY!!! WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT – THEY
DIDN’T EVEN OPEN A SINGLE THING BUT WISHED US A SAFE AND
ENJOYABLE JOURNEY. WE WERE SAFELY THROUGH THE MOST
HAZARDOUS PART OF THE WHOLE TRIP. WE LITERALLY FLOATED OUT
OF THE CUSTOMS HALL ONLY TO BE SURPRISED YET AGAIN. WHO
SHOULD BE IN THE TRANSIT ROOM, WAITING FOR THE SAME FLIGHT
AS OURS TO VICTORIA FALLS, BUT MO AND LEO. CONSIDERING THAT
THEIR TICKETS HAD BEEN “STAND-BY” ALL THE WAY FROM
VANCOUVER BECAUSE THEY WERE STAFF- DISCOUNTED, THEY HAD
ARRIVED IN BULAWAYO BY A PARTICULARLY CIRCUITOUS ROUTE
YET, AMAZINGLY, THEY GOT THERE AT THE SAME TIME AS WE DID. A
BIG AND EXCITED REUNION FOLLOWED AND BY THE TIME WE GOT TO
VICTORIA FALLS WE WERE ALL IN WONDERFUL HOLIDAY MOOD.
KEITH, OUR LEADER TO BE, WAS THERE TO MEET US WITH A LAND
ROVER (WITH NO WINDSCREEN) AND ALTHOUGH HAPPY TO SEE US

80

ALL THERE AT THE SAME TIME, WAS A BIT DEFLATED WHEN HE SAW
GAYLE IN A WHEEL CHAIR. HE HAD RESERVATIONS ABOUT HER
ABILITY TO COPE WITH THE RIGOURS OF THE COMING TRIP BUT SHE
TOLD HIM HER INJURY WAS NOTHING SERIOUS AND SHE’D SOON BE
MOBILE. HE SEEMED TO BE REASSURED AND, AFTER INTRODUCTIONS,
WE CLIMBED ABOARD THE “LANDIE”, WHICH WAS TO BECOME
ALMOST OUR HOME OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS, AND HEADED
FOR TOWN A HALF HOUR’S DRIVE AWAY.

GOT NEW COMBI . TRANSFER TO FISH RIVER. CHAS PIT BOSS & ME
INSPECTOR/ “BUNNY MOTHER/ TRAINING OFFICER. SECONDED TO
GABERONE CASINO 3 MONTHS. CHAS VISIT LOOKED UP OLD FRIENDS
IN MMABATHO. BOUGHT BOAT AND WENT FISHING ON COWIE RIVER.
HAD VISIT FROM SEAL ONE DAY, SURPRISE. FINALLY GOT TO ETOSHA
ETC. “B” TURNS UP AGAIN FOR MORE MONEY (NEVER REPAID
PREVIOUS) ENDED UP COSTING OUR CAR & 9 MONTHS OF MY WAGES.
DISAPPEARS AGAIN.
ANNE & NEVILLE MAGICIAN. SNEAK WEDDING. SHAME, LOST TOUCH
NOW.
. OFFERED TRANSFER TO COMORES AND ACCEPTED. SOLD UP WHAT
WE COULD & OFF ON ANOTHER ADVENTURE
OUR SAGA CONTINUES…
THE COMORES IS AN ARCHIPELAGO OF TROPICAL ISLANDS HALF WAY
BETWEEN THE EAST COAST OF AFRICA AND THE NORTHERN TIP OD
MADAGASCAR. WE WERE SENT TO THE ISLAND OF GRAND COMORE,
THE LARGEST OF THIS ISLAND GROUP AND IS BASICALLY AN ACTIVE
VOLCANO (I BELIEVE THE LARGEST ACTIVE VOLCANO IN THE
SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE) RISING UP OUT OF THE SEA. THERE IS LUSH
VEGETATION IN THE HIGHLANDS SUPPORTING MANY SPECIES OF SPICE
AS WALL AS THE EXPECTED RAIN FORREST PLANTS AND TREES. THE
LOW COSTAL STRIP IS MADE OP MOSTLY OF COCONUT GROVES AS
WELL AS YLANG-YLANG FROM WHICH COMES THE CARRIER BASE OF
PERFUME AND WAS A MAJOR INDUSTRY IN YEARS GONE BY. AS WITH
MOST THINGS, AN ARTIFICIAL SUBSTITUTE HAS BEEN INVENTED AND
OF COURSE COMES IN AT A MUCH LOWER PRICE THAN THE REAL
THING. THIS PRETTY WELL TORE THE BOTTOM OUT OF THE COMORIEN
TRADE WITH THE GREAT PERFUME HOUSES OF EUROPE ALTHOUGH A
VERY FEW OF THE ELITE FRENCH PERFUME HOUSES STILL PREFER TO
USE THE YLANG-YLANG FOR ITS PRESTIGE VALUE. THIS, HOWEVER, IS
NOT ENOUGH TO SUSTAIN AN INDUSTRY. GRAND COMORE HAS SOME
BEAUTIFUL REEFS OFFSHORE BUT NOT MUCH IN THE WAY OF SANDY
BEACHES. LE GALAWA BEACH HOTEL, WHICH IS WHERE WE WERE

81

EMPLOYED, HAD A MAGNIFICENT BEACH, BROKEN UP INTO THREE
GENTLE LITTLE BAYS. THERE WERE ONLY A COUPLE OF OTHER
BEACHES ON THE ISLAND. ALL THE REST OF THE SHORELINE IS LAVA
ROCK RIGHT INTO THE SEA.
IT WASN’T ALWAYS SO. UNFORTUNATELY, SINCE THE LOCAL PEOPLE
LEARNED TO BUILD WITH BRICKS AND CEMENT, THE SAND HAS BEEN
REMOVED FROM THE BEACHES BY THE SACK-FULL AND DOWN TO THE
LAST GRAINS FOR THEIR MASONRY. THE CORALS OF THE REEFS ARE
ALSO BEING DEPLETED FOR THE LIME. ITS VERY RARE TO FIND A
COMORIEN HOUSE ACTUALLY PAINTED BECAUSE THE WALLS ARE SO
PORUS THAT THE PAINT WOULD DISAPPEAR INTO THE HOME-MADE
BRICK WITHOUT TRACE. THE FRIDAY MOSQUE WHICH IS THE PRIDE
AND JOY OF THE ISLANDERS, IS PAINTED WHITE BUT AT ENORMOUS
EXPENSE AND CONSTANT LAYERS BEING BRUSHED ON TO KEEP IT
FROM BECOMING GREY.
WE WERE TO WORK IN THE CASINO OF THIS RESORT HOTEL, THE ONLY
OPERATIONAL ONE ON THE ISLAND. CHAS AS ASSISTANT MANAGER
AND ME AS THE CASHIER AND SINCE THIS CASINO IS ONLY OPEN AT
NIGHT, WE HAVE TIME DURING THE DAY TO ENJOY THE PLEASURES OF
THIS ISLAND PARADISE.
FOR CHAS & I WAS HEAVEN. OUR CONTRACT WAS FOR ONE YEAR AND
WE WERE TOLD THAT OUR LIVING QUARTERS WOULD NOT BE VERY
SALUBRIOUS. IN FACT OUR “BUNGALOW” WAS PRETTY MUCH LIKE A
GARDEN SHED. RUSTIC. HOWEVER IT DID HAVE THE ONE VERY
PRECIOUS FEATURE FOR LIFE IN THE TROPICS… AN AIRCONDITIONER.
TWO, IN FACT, ONE FOR EACH ROOM!!
YES, WE WERE BLESSED WITH THE ONLY “LARGE” BUNGALOW IN THE
STAFF VILLAGE. TWO ROOMS 3 METRES BY 3 METRES PLUS A
BATHROOM WITH SHOWER, TOILET AND HAND BASIN. A CLOTHES
CUPBOARD IN THE PASSAGE BETWEEN THE TWO ROOMS, 2 SINGLE
BEDS (OUR REQUEST AS IT WAS FAR TOO HOT TO BE SQUEEZED INTO
WHAT THEY CLASSED AS A DOUBLE BED). ONE CHEST OF FOUR
DRAWERS AND TWO PLASTIC CHAIRS, A KETTLE AND TWO CUPS.
BEDDING WAS ALSO SUPPLIED AND, THANK GOD, A MAN TO CLEAN
WHOM WE SHARED WITH SEVERAL OTHER PEOPLE. THERE WASN’T
MUCH TO CLEAN AND AS WE WORKED AT NIGHT AND GOT UP LATE,
HE USUALLY MANAGED TO FINISH IN THE TIME IT TOOK US TO GO TO
LUNCH (BREAKFAST FOR US), +/- AN HOUR SO WE DIDN’T GET IN EACH
OTHER’S WAY. BEING SUCH A SMALL PLACE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN
IMPOSSIBLE FOR HIM TO CLEAN WITH US INSIDE. THERE WASN’T
MUCH IN THE WAY OF WILDLIFE ON THE ISLAND ALTHOUGH THERE
WERE THE FRUIT BATS. THEY ARE VERY LARGE AND I ALWAYS
THOUGHT OF PTERODACTYLS AS THEY LETHARGICALLY FLAPPED BY
OVERHEAD. THEY ONLY ATE FRUIT, USUALLY PAWPAWS, AND
ALTHOUGH THE ODD PERSON CLAIMS THAT THEY CATCH FISH WHILST

82

ON THE WING, I BEG TO DIFFER. I NEVER ONCE SAW A BAT EATING OR
CATCHING A FISH IN ALL THE TIME I SPENT OVER THERE. I DID,
HOWEVER, OFTEN SEE THEM FLY OUT OVER THE LAGOON IN THE
EARLY EVENING AND DIP THEIR FEET INTO THE WATER. I FIRMLY
BELIEVE THEY DID THIS TO RINSE OFF THE STICKY JUICES FROM THE
FRUIT THEY ATE BEFORE SETTLING DOWN TO ROOST FOR THE NIGHT
OTHERWISE THEY’D BE VERY CRUSTY BY THE MORNING.
THERE’S NO REAL BUSH AND FEW WILD ANIMALS SUCH AS WE HAVE
LOVED IN AFRICA SO WE BECAME INVOLVED IN ANOTHER SPHERE OF
WILDERNESS. WE LEARNED TO SCUBA DIVE. WE FIRST HAD LESSONS
IN THE HOTEL POOL SO THAT WE FELT SAFE AND ABLE TO
CONCENTRATE ON OUR INSTRUCTIONS WITHOUT BEING DISTRACTED
BY “WILDLIFE” SWIMMING AMONGST US. ONCE WE WERE ABLE TO
HANDLE OUR EQUIPMENT, AND SUCH A LOT OF IT THERE WAS, WE
WERE TAKEN BY AN ESPECIALLY FITTED OUT BOAT TO THE REEF
WHERE WE HAD OUR FIRST TASTE OF THE OPEN SEA. CHAS TOOK TO IT
LIKE A MERMAN. I, ON THE OTHER HAND, HAD A PANIC ATTACK ONCE
I WAS IN THE WATER AND CAROLINE, MY INSTRUCTOR, WAS ABOUT
TO LET ME GET BACK ON THE BOAT AND FORGET THE WHOLE THING.
INSTEAD, A SENIOR INSTRUCTOR TOOK CHARGE OF ME AND MANAGED
TO COAX ME UNDER THE SURFACE. THAT WAS JULIA, WIFE OF BUDDY,
THE THEN DIVE OPERATIONS MANAGER FOR THE WATER SPORT
CONCESSION, ISLAND VENTURES. JULIA IS RESPONSIBLE FOR MY
YEARS OF PLEASURE IN THAT UNDERWATER HEAVEN. IF I HAD GOT
BACK INTO THE BOAT THAT FIRST TIME, I WOULD PROBABLY NEVER
HAVE GONE BACK FOR ANOTHER TRY. MY MAIN PROBLEM IN THOSE
EARLY DAYS OF LEARNING TO DIVE WAS HAVING TO TAKE OFF MY
MASK UNDERWATER AND THEN REPLACE IT AND CLEAR IT OF WATER.
EVERY TIME MY INSTRUCTOR SIGNALLED ME TO DO IT I WANTED TO
DIE. OBVIOUSLY, I CAME TO GRIPS WITH IT IN THE END BUT ON EVERY
SUBSEQUENT DIVE I EVER DID, I ALWAYS WENT THROUGH THAT
EXERCISE, TAKE OFF THE MASK – REPLACT IT AND CLEAR IT – NO
MATTER HOW COMFORTABLE I WAS FEELING OR AT WHAT DEPTH I
WAS DIVING. IT JUST BECAME A RITUAL FOR ME. FUNNY EH?? SCUBA
DIVING IS AN INCREDIBLE EXPERIENCE AND ITS ASTONISHING THE
VARIETY OF CREATURES ONE ENCOUNTERS IN THE COURSE OF A
SIXTY MINUTE DIVE. ON MY FIRST DIVE AT A PLACE CALLED CASTLE
ROCK, I HAD A CLOSE ENCOUNTER WITH A FOUR FOOT MORAY EEL. I
MUST ADMIT I WAS A BIT NERVOUS BUT FASCINATED TOO AND WE
GOT ON VERY WELL. HE (OR SHE?) FELL IN LOVE WITH HIS OWN
REFLECTION IN MY FACE MASK SO THERE WE WERE, EYEBALL TO
EYEBALL, STRETCHED OUT ON THE SANDY BOTTOM AT ABOUT
TWENTY METRES (SIXTY-ODD FEET) BENEATH THE SURFACE. HE HAD
HIS MOUTH WIDE OPEN, WHICH IS HOW MORAYS BREATHE, AND
DISPLAYED AN AWESOME SET OF NEEDLE-LIKE TEETH WHICH MADE

83

HIM LOOK AS THOUGH HE WAS ABOUT TO BIGHT MY FACE OFF. HE
WAS SO CLOSE THAT HE COULD HAVE DONE JUST THAT. MY VIEW OF
HIM WAS THE INTERIOR OF HIS MOUTH AND INTO THE BACK OF HIS
THROAT WITH THE WATERY DAYLIGHT SHOWING THROUGH HIS GILLS
AS HE BREATHED. WE STAYED LIKE THAT FOR ABOUT 10 MINUTES
UNTIL HE FINALLY SLID BETWEEN MY ARMS AND OFF INTO DEEPER
WATER. HIS SKIN FELT LIKE WET VELVET AS HE PASSED BETWEEN MY
GENTLY CUPPED HANDS AND IT WAS ONE OF THOSE LITTLE
EXPERIENCES THAT MAKE LIFE SO SPECIAL.
EVENTUALLY, CHAS & I HAD OUR FIRST NIGHT DIVE AND THAT WAS
REALLY SOMETHING. IT WAS STILLDAYLIGHT WHEN WE LEFT THE
SHORE AND HEADED OFF TO TREASURE COVE BUT BY THE TIME WE
GOT THERE AND KITTED UP WE ENTERED THE WATER IN THE DARK.
WE HAD “ZILUMES” TIED TO THE FIRST STAGE OF OUR TANKS . THIS IS
A SEALED PLASTIC TUBE CONTAINING TWO CHEMICALS WHICH, WHEN
THE TUBE IS BENT AND THEN SHAKEN, MIX TOGETHER AND EMIT A
GLOWING LIGHT. YOU CANT SEE MUCH BY IT BUT THE GLOW AIDS
ONE TO SEE WHERE OTHERS IN THE GROUP ARE SITUATED IN THE
DARK UNDERWATER ENVIRONMENT. THE DIVE LEADER WORE A
DIFFERENT COLOURED ONE FROM THE REST SO THAT HE COULD BE
RECOGNISED IMMEDIATELY. OF COURSE WE ALSO CARRIED
WATERPROOF TORCHES OTHERWISE THERE WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN
MUCH POINT IN BEING THERE. THE COLOURS OF THE CORALS AND THE
FISHES IN THE TORCHLIGHT ARE STUNNINGLY VIBRANT, MUCH MORE
SO THAN IN THE DAYTIME AND WE EXAMINED EVERYTHING IN SUCH
DETAIL THAT WE PROBABLY DIDN’T TRAVEL MORE THAN FIFTY
METRES OR SO. AT ONE STAGE OF THE DIVE AND ON A PREARRANGED
SIGNAL WE ALL TURNED OFF OUR TORCHES AND EXPERIENCED BEING
IN THE SEA IN TOTAL DARKNESS. QUITE EERIE AT FIRST BUT ONCE MY
EYES ADJUSTED TO THE DARKNESS I WAS ABLE TO MAKE OUT LITTLE
POINTS OF LIGHT EMANATING FROM SOME SPECIES OF FISH AS WELL
AS OTHER ORGANISMS. UTTERLY FASCINATING!! THIS DARK SESSION
LASTED ONLY A COUPLE OF MINUTES BECAUSE WE COULD HAVE LOST
SOMEONE OR HAD SOME OTHER PROBLEM DEVELOP UNSEEN WITHOUT
THE LIGHT OF OUR TORCHES. DURING LATER NIGHT DIVES CHAS AND
I CHOSE TO HANG BACK FROM THE MAIN GROUP AND ACT AS “BACK-
UP” DIVERS. WE LET THEM GET FAR AHEAD OF US SO THAT WE OFTEN
MOMENTARILY LOST SIGHT OF THEIR TORCHES AND IN THOSE
MOMENTS IT WAS LIKE HAVING THE WHOLE OCEAN TO OURSELVES. I
JUST LOVE BEING ALONE WITH NATURE, WHATEVER THE
SURROUNDINGS. CHAS AND I HAD BOUGHT OURSELVES A VERY
POWERFUL TORCH EACH SO THAT THE REST OF THE GROUP ALWAYS
KNEW WHERE WE WERE. THEY WERE SO STRONG THAT A SEA
CUCUMBER CURLED UP WHEN I SHONE THE BEAM OF LIGHT ON IT SO
AFTER THAT WE HAD TO BE CAREFUL NOT TO SHINE THE LIGHT

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DIRECTLY ON TO ANYTHING. EVEN IF THERE WAS AN OBSTRUCTION
IN BETWEEN US AND THE GROUP AND THEY COULD NOT SEE OUR
ACTUAL TORCHES, THE AMBIENT LIGHT WAS EASY FOR THEM TO SEE.
AFTER THE DIVE WE WOULD GET BACK TO SHORE AND WASH
OURSELVES AND OUR GEAR THEN RUSH OFF TO THE STAFF CANTEEN
FOR DINNER BEFORE IT CLOSED. WE WERE ALWAYS RAVENOUS BY
THEN. THAT FIRST GLASS OF WINE WASN’T HALF BAD EITHER.
WALL DIVES WERE ALWAYS INTERESTING, DAY OR NIGHT. THIS TYPE
OF DIVE TAKES PLACE WHERE THE RELATIVELY SHALLOW LAND MASS
ABRUPTLY ENDS AND IS ACTUALLY AN UNDERWATER CLIFF
DISAPPEARING INTO THE BLACK DEPTHS. FINNING ALONG ON THE
OCEAN SIDE OF THIS PRECIPICE CAN BE SLIGHTLY DISORIENTATING.
IN FACT, SOMETIMES EXTREMELY SO IF YOU’RE NOT CAREFUL. ITS
EASY TO ALLOW YOURSELF TO DROP TO UNWISE DEPTHS WHEN
YOU’RE FOLLOWING A LINE OF A PARTICULAR TYPE OF CORAL OR AN
INTERESTING FISH. THESE SELDOM KEEP TO A HORIZONTAL PLANE
AND YOU COULD FIND YOURSELF UNWITTINGLY HEADED FOR DAVY
JONES’S LOCKER. YOU REALLY HAVE TO WATCH YOUR DEPTH
GAUGE ALL THE TIME. A TYPICAL EXAMPLE OF HOW YOU CAN SCREW
UP HAPPENED ON ONE OCCASION WHEN WE WERE IN A GROUP AND
ESPECIALLY INTERESTED IN A WHOLE LOT OF BLACK CORAL
GROWING ON THE WALL. WE DIDN’T NOTICE THAT WE HAD DRIFTED
INTO A THERMO CLINE WHICH IS AN AREA OF FRESH WATER THAT IS
COLDER THAN THE SURROUNDING WATER. IT IS USUALLY CAUSED
BY A FRESH WATER VENTING OUT TO SEA ORIGINATING FROM THE
LAND MASS. ANYWAY, FRESH WATER GIVES YOU LESS BUOYANCY
THAN SALT WATER SO YOU SINK. THAT’S JUST WHAT WE DID AND WE
DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE UNTIL CHAS SAW ONE OF THE GROUP WAY
DOWN BELOW THE REST AND LOOKED AT HIS GAUGE. WE WERE ALL
VERY DEEP AND IT WAS A BIT OF A BATTLE TO GET BACK INTO
SHALLOWER WATER BECAUSE THE THERMO CLINE TENDS TO DRAG
YOU DOWN. WE WERE ALL BUSY INFLATING OUR BUOYANCY JACKETS
TO GIVE US “LIFT” BUT HAD TO BE CAREFUL WITH THAT TOO. WHEN
YOU FINALLY GET BACK INTO THE SEA WATER YOUR BUOYANCY
RETURNS AND, IF YOU’RE NOT QUICK TO DUMP THE EXTRA AIR, THOSE
PUFFED UP BUOYANCY JACKETS CAN ROCKET YOU TO THE SURFACE
AND POSSIBLY THE BENDS. THANKS TO CHAS, WE ALL CAME OUT
SMILING AND DID A VERY LONG AND SLOW ASSENT WITH PLENTY OF
TIME AT FIVE METRES BEFORE SURFACING. OUR QUALIFYING WALL
DIVE FOR OUR OPEN WATER TWO CERTIFICATION WAS TO FORTY
METRES WHICH IS MAXIMUM DEPTH FOR A RECREATION DIVER. IT’S
NOT VERY INTERESTING AT THAT DEPTH BECAUSE THE COLOURS
DISAPPEAR DUE TO THE LACK OF LIGHT AND ALL YOU’RE LEFT WITH
IS THE BLUE TONES. THE COLOURS ARE THERE BUT YOU CAN’T SEE
THEM UNLESS YOU USE A TORCH OR A STROBE AND THERE THEY ARE

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IN ALL THEIR GLORY. YOU CAN ONLY STAY FOR A FEW MINUTES AT
THAT DEPTH AS YOU CAN GET NITROGEN NARCOSIS, “NARKED” FOR
SHORT WHERE YOU GET “HIGH’ ON THE NITROGEN IN YOUR AIR
SUPPLY AND BEHAVE AS IF YOU’RE VERY DRUNK. IN THIS STATE IT’S
LIKELY YOU’LL BELIEVE YOU CAN BREATHE WITHOUT THE
EQUIPMENT AND TOSS THE REGULATOR AWAY. OR YOU MIGHT JUST
DECIDE TO HEAD STRAIGHT FOR THE BOTTOM. EITHER WAY, IT’S
VERY DIFFICULT FOR YOUR BUDDY TO GET YOU UNDER CONTROL
WITHOUT GETTING NARKED HIMSELF. A LOT OF DIVING DEATHS
COME FROM THIS. ANYWAY, I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT I FOUND THAT
DEEP DIVE RATHER LESS THAN EXCITING AS NOTHING OF NOTE
HAPPENED, FORTUNATELY, AND THE SCENERY WAS DULL DOWN
THERE. I NEEDED TO DO IT TO QUALIFY BUT WOULD NOT PUT MYSELF
OUT TO GO TO THAT DEPTH AGAIN.
THEN THERE WERE THE WRECK DIVES. THE OWNER OF THE
WATERSPORT CONCESSION, TONY KAY, SALVAGED A FISHING
TRAWLER CALLED THE MASIWA FROM THE REEF OFF A NEAR-BY
ISLAND. HE HAD IT TOWED BACK TO HIS CONCESSION AREA, AT THE
HOTEL, AND ANCHORED HER ABOUT A MILE OFF SHORE. A SHORT
TIME LATER HE SCUTTLED HER IN THIRTY METRES OF WATER WHERE
SHE SUNK WITH GREAT DIGNITY AND SAT HERSELF ON THE SANDY
SEABED, BEAUTIFULLY UPRIGHT, AND BECAME A VERY POPULAR
WRECK DIVE SIGHT. I DIVED ON HER QUITE OFTEN BUT I MUST SAY
THAT IT WAS MY LEAST FAVOURITE DIVE BUT I STILL TO THIS DAY
CAN’T PUT MY FINGER ON JUST WHAT IT WAS THAT I DIDN’T LIKE
ABOUT IT. CHAS REALLY ENJOYED IT AND KEPT GOING BACK BUT I
ENDED UP GOING ONLY IF I WAS REALLY NEEDED OR IF I’D GONE FOR
A DIVE AND FORGOTTEN TO ASK WHERE THE DIVE WAS TO BE. THERE
WERE LOTS OF VERY INTERESTING THING TO SEE SUCH AS WATCHING
THE CORALS AND SPONGES TAKE HOLD AND THE NATURAL
PROGRESSION OF THE REEF FISH MOVING INTO THE AREA WHERE
THERE HAD BEEN ONLY PELAGIC FISH BEFORE THE ADVENT OF
MASIWA. THERE WERE BIG SCHOOLS OF BARRACUDA WHICH SHOT SO
FAST INTO TEEMING MASSES OF SMALL PREY FISH THAT I NEVER SAW
THE ACTUAL KILL, YET IT HAPPENED RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME DOZENS
OF TIMES.

. MWALI WRECKED IN CYCLONE – SUCKED THROUGH BLOW-HOLE.
AT AROUND FEBRUARY EACH YEAR THE TURTLES COME TO LAY
THEIR EGGS IN THE SAND RIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR BUNGALOW. CHAS
& I OFTEN FOUND OURSELVES WATCHING OVER A TURTLE WHO HAS
COME UP TO DIG HER THREE FOOT DEEP HOLE INTO WHICH SHE MAY

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OR MAY NOT DEPOSIT HER EGGS. THE LAYING DEPENDED UPON
WHETHER OR NOT SHE HAD CHOSEN THE RIGHT SPOT AND SHE WOULD
ONLY KNOW THAT BY THE DRYNESS OF THE SAND AT THE BOTTOM OF
HER PIT. IT HAD TO BE ABOVE THE HIGH WATER MARK SO THAT THE
EGGS COULD DEVELOP WITHOUT BEING DAMPENED BY THE
UNDERGROUND WATER TABLE. SHE WOULD COME AT HIGH TIDE AND
FULL MOON WHICH PUT HER IN MORTAL DANGER BECAUSE THE
LOCAL ISLANDERS KILL TURTLES FOR THEIR MEAT BY TURNING THEM
OVER ONTO THEIR BACKS AND THEN BUTCHERING THEM. THEY
PREFER TO KILL THE TURTLE BEFORE SHE LAYS HER EGGS BECAUSE
THEY SAY THE MEAT TAKES ON A RANCID FLAVOUR AFTER SHE HAS
LAID. AS A RESULT, WHERE ONCE DOZENS OF TURTLES CAME TO THIS
BEACH TO REPRODUCE, NOW ITS UNLIKELY TO BE MORE THAN TWO
OR THREE SO THERE WE SAT LIKE SENTRIES WHILST SHE WENT
THROUGH HER LABOURS AND SELDOM WOULD SHE ACTUALLY LAY
HER EGGS INTO THE FIRST HOLE SHE DUG. IT WASN’T UNCOMMON
FOR HER TO HAVE TO LEAVE JUST BEFORE DAWN AND COME BACK
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT TO TRY AGAIN FOR THE RIGHT SPOT AND
CONDITIONS. ITS AMAZING TO THINK THAT SHE HAD BEEN BORN ON
THIS VERY BEACH SOMETHING LIKE SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS
PREVIOUSLY. OUR MISSIONS WERE USUALLY SUCCESSFUL AS, THREE
MONTHS OR SO LATER, AGAIN AT HIGH TIDE AND FULL MOON, TWO OR
THREE DOZEN LITTLE REPLICAS OF THEIR MOTHER – PERFECTLY
FORMED – BROKE THROUGH THEIR SHELLS. AGAIN WE WERE ON
HAND AND WERE ABLE AND WERE ABLE TO HELP THEM INTO THE
SEA, PAST THE WAITING GHOST CRABS WHICH NORMALLY ARE
SELDOM SEEN BUT ARE RIGHT ON THE BALL WHEN THE BABY
TURTLES HAVE TO RUN THE GAUNTLET TO THE WATERS EDGE. WITH
THE DAWN COMES THE GULLS AND THEY POUNCE ON THE LITTLE
STRAGGLERS. CHAS & I DON’T USUALLY INTERFERE IN NATURE’S
BUSINESS BUT IN THIS INSTANCE, WHERE MAN HAS ALREADY
DECIMATED THE GREEN TURTLE POPULATION, WE FELT JUSTIFIED IN
DOING OUR SMALL BIT TOWARDS RESCUING A FEW AND HOPEFULLY
ENABLING THEM TO RE-ESTABLISH THEMSELVES.
I ATTEMPTED TO LEARN FRENCH BECAUSE IT’S THE LANGUAGE USED
ON THESE ISLANDS ALONG WITH THE LOCAL LANGUAGE WHICH IS A
MIX OF ARABIC AND SWAHILI. WE FIGURED THAT FRENCH WAS THE
LESS DIFFICULT OF THE TWO AND CHAS BECAME QUITE GOOD BUT I
WAS WORSE THAN HOPELESS. CHAS IS FAIRLY GIFTED WHERE
LANGUAGES ARE CONCERNED. I’M CONVINCED THAT IT COMES FROM
HIS BEING EXPOSED AS A SMALL CHILD TO LANGUAGES OTHER TO HIS
MOTHER TONGUE. HE WAS BORN IN CYPRUS WHILST HIS FATHER WAS
IN THE EMPLOY OF THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT THERE. THEN HE

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SPENT SOME TIME IN THE MIDDLE EAST WHEN HIS FATHER WAS A
MILITARY ADVISER IN ADEN. HE SEEMS TO HAVE THE KNACK OF
MAKING HIMSELF UNDERSTOOD WHEREVER WE TRAVEL. I RECALL A
TIME IN ITALY AT A PLACE CALLED GARDA, NAMED AFTER THE LAKE
NEAR BY. CHAS DUG UP SOME OF HIS SCHOOLBOY LATIN AND PUT IT
TOGETHER WITH SOME ITALIAN-STYLE ARM WAVING AND GOT
THROUGH A RATHER INVOLVED CONVERSATION WITH THE OWNER OF
A QUAINT LITTLE RESTAURANT WE FREQUENTLY VISITED. THE
PROPRIETOR, ADELIO, NOTED THAT, AT THE TIME OF THIS
REMARKABLE EXCHANGE OF VIEWPOINTS, WE WERE PARTAKING OF A
DELIGHTFUL AFTER-DINNER LIQUOR CALLED AGRUMIT, ORANGE
FLAVOURED AND ICY COLD DIRECT FROM THE FREEZER.
THEREAFTER, WHENEVER WE WENT TO THAT RESTAURANT, ADELE
WOULD LEAVE US TO EAT OUR FOOD BUT AS SOON AS THE DISHES
WERE CLEARED AWAY, HE WOULD APPEAR WITH A BOTTLE OF ICY
AGRUMIT AND THREE ICE ENCRUSTED GLASSES WHICH REMINDED ME
OF SPECIMEN TUBE. THIS HE WOULD DEPOSIT FIRMLY ON OUR TABLE
AND ANNOUNCE “VINO VERITAS” (THE WINE OF TRUTH) AND SIT
DOWN WITH US TO DRINK THIS MAGIC POTION AND TALK, TALK, TALK.
ME…I BATTLE WITH ANY LANGUAGE OTHER THAN MY OWN.

NEW YEAR’S EVE – OTWAY STYLE, 2000/2001
“I’ve been invited to spend New Year’s Eve on a Warrum catamaran
and the Captain has said that you and Tracey are welcome to come too,
if you’d like to” said our friend John McDonoughto Chas early in the
week preceding the event. What a question, of course we’d love to, tell
us what to bring and we’ll be there.
Arrangements were finalized later in the week and on the last day of
the year Chas started packing up the businesses at 15.00h. As we
intended to sleep in our mini bus after the celebrations (rather not drive

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home after drinking the New Year in) we packed mattresses etc. and
managed to get away by 16.45h.
I had made and packed a nice potato salad and a batch of fried crumbed
chicken fillets to have on fresh rolls. By catering this way there was no
need for a lot of dishes, plates & cutlery. Naturally, there was the
cool box with beers, wine, soda & ice. Can’t do without that!!
The roads on the beachfront where we live were seriously congested
with vehicles choc-a-block full of people hell bent on seeing in the
New Year on the beach front. Every available square metre was staked
out with blankets or gazebos and even a few tents and still the influx
continued. For this very reason, we were happy to pack up and go
elsewhere to escape the unbelievable noise that is synonymous with the
hoards at this time every year. Chas had to take a long detour to get us
off the beachfront and once we were just two streets clear of it there
was hardly any traffic on the roads at all. We made good time and
arrived at the bluff yacht club with time to spare.
There were to be nine aboard the catamaran and we were introduced to
those whom we hadn’t met before. The Captain and his wife, Dave and
Barbara, were very welcoming and helped us to get on board and
showed us around. Another Dave and his wife Jean, we already knew
and then there was another couple, Jeremy and Yvonne . John came a
little later having been the good Samaritan, ferrying a few people to
and fro in his dinghy before he came aboard to make up the full party.
At about 18.00h we cast off and began a leisurely motor down the
channel towards the harbour. No sails tonight, just a relaxing chug
around. The plan was to find a nice central position in the middle of
the harbour in very shallow water and therefore be out of any shipping
traffic area. There we would break out the beers and some of the
snacks and settle down for a quiet evening under the stars and, from
there at midnight, we would be able to see all the fireworks going off
from everywhere around the harbour. The Warrum has a very shallow
draught and Captain Dave was able to drop anchor over a sand bank
with only about a metre of water covering it. No chance of being in
anyone’s way here or of being run down by any big ships. Engine
off….Silence…. Bliss!!

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With our first drink in hand we gathered on the foredeck and voiced
our appreciation of the interesting cloud formations and the lovely
colours tingeing some of them, compliments of the recently set Sun.
Someone mentioned the strange cloud formations and said “I’d love to
know what’s hiding behind those”. Famous last words as we were all
too soon to find out.
The breeze was coming from the North East and as we watched, the
clouds began to darken and take on some ominous looking attitudes.
Within minutes the wind picked up and lightning began to streak the
sky all around us. Very beautiful and eliciting plenty of oohs and aahs.
Then, suddenly, down came the rain. Big separate drops at first but
they quickly developed into a lashing, stinging torrent. All this
happened within minutes!! Appreciation of the elements turned into
apprehension. Barbara and Jean disappeared down below to stay dry
and invited me to join them but I couldn’t face the prospect of being
crammed into that miniscule cabin. Besides, the boat was starting to
leap about and I had visions of getting sick down there. As the force of
the wind increased the anchor began to drag so the men manhandled it
on board and Captain Dave started the engine to get us away from our
exposed position and make for some protection, the Point Yacht Basin,
perhaps. The force of the wind continued to increase with alarming
acceleration and we simply weren’t going to make it to the Point Yacht
Basin. In fact, we ceased to make any headway at all and found
ourselves at the mercy of this incredible gale. We were still bows into
the wind but, try as he may, Captain Dave was unable to keep the boat
from being blown sideways towards the lea shore. He had only one 30
horsepower outboard engine and, in the increasingly rough sea, the
prop began to cavitate. Suddenly there was a very large steel buoy
looming off the port bow and I just knew we were going to hit it. We
did!! As the wind drove us sideways we caught it a glancing blow
with the port bow before the men could stave off. During all this
confusion Barbara would periodically open the cabin hatch cover just a
fraction to ask me what was happening and I did my best to keep her
informed. It must have been scary down there, hearing the wind and
sea, not to mention the occasional thud. I, and everyone else on deck,

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was drenched to the skin within the first few minutes and it occurred to
me that, should we need to swim for it, I’d need to get rid of the anorak
I was wearing. It was full of water and heavy and only useful to cut the
wind and protect my skin from the sting of the rain. In the water it
would drag me down. It was impossible to look up-wind because the
rain bombarded my eyeballs. The wind roared like a hurricane making
it impossible to be heard by anyone further away than arm’s length and,
even then, half the words were snatched away by the wind. John,
squeezed into the tiny wheelhouse with the captain, stuck his hand out
and tugged Chas’ sodden shorts to get his attention. “You know,” he
chirped with a big grin “I almost forgot to phone you to ask if you
wanted to come on this trip!!”
Now we were on the wrong side of that buoy we’d bounced off and in
the shipping lane. Squinting through the stinging rain I noticed, to my
discomfort, that a rather large container ship was being brought away
from the dockside by two tugs not far ahead of us. We could only
hope that the ship and its shepherding tugs worked very sharpish and
got out of our way in time!! We, on the other hand, had no say in the
matter but in an attempt to avoid a messy end, Captain Dave brought
all force to bear and managed to turn the bows towards the other side of
the harbour. Someone must have been on our side and neither the ship
nor the tugs collected us and then the bigger tug of the two went
shooting off across the harbour. There was another ship coming in
which caused this old heart a bit of a flutter, and I assumed the tug was
going to guide that one to a safe berth Sadly, having our sharp end
pointing in a new direction accomplished sweet Fanny Adams and the
gale continued to force us towards the lee shore. Twice we missed the
corner of the dockside just vacated by the afore mentioned container
ship and I’m sure everyone was quietly calculating at just what
particular moment one should jump overboard. To be on board when
the yacht smashed into the wharf would, almost certainly, be fatal and
to jump into the raging water and be swept into the resultant debris of a
collision being smashed into the wharf would be equally disastrous.
The wharf was high with no hand-holds to claw your way up and out of
harm’s way. Then we found ourselves past the wharf and being

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driven, swirling, towards Salisbury Island Naval Base. Obviously this
is a restricted area but our choices were nil and I began to think it could
be our salvation because, being a Military establishment, someone
aught to be on watch and should see us and give assistance. Even if
they arrested us it would be preferable to the raging sea that was trying
to murder us right then!! About this time Jean emerged from the cabin,
having felt the first stirrings of seasickness and was amazed to discover
that we’d been blown all the way from the upper reaches of the harbour
to the neck where the in and out channels merge and enter the channel.
Barbara came topside soon after, I think because she couldn’t stand not
being able to see for herself what was happening and she had trouble
hearing my commentary against the racket of the wind.
Our craft went skittering into the Naval Basin and we spotted a slot
with comparatively peaceful water between a wharf and a floating jetty
and Captain Dave made for it. The rain had almost stopped and, in here
at least, the wind had lost some of its force. At that moment a group of
Naval personnel appeared on the wharf, looking askance at us and
shouting words we couldn’t hear. The wind wouldn’t let us get to the
sheltered spot and kept driving us to starboard of the floating jetty
where several work cutters were tied up and next to them was the
Strike Craft P1561. I doubt I’ll ever forget those numbers looming
bigger and bigger dead ahead of us. Amid much yelling and signalling
to reverse from the Navy guys, not to mention all of us on board and
Captain Dave having to crane his head out of the cockpit to hear, we
were making a beeline for P1561. Right then the engine cut out! Chas
was right up at the port bow making ready with a line to throw to the
Navy men on the wharf and I just had time to scream at him to look up
and brace himself as we head-butted that big grey ship right in the
bread basket!! We all hung on to whatever we could to avoid being
knocked off our feet and as we bounced back,we slid towards the stern
of P1561 and prepared to engage the wharf astern of it. The engine was
starting and stopping all the time by now but the Naval guys had taken
up position and produced enormous fenders which made our own look
like partially inflated condoms. More yelling and hand signals and
confusion and, wonder of wonders, we were tied up safely at Salisbury

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Island. For the time being. Captain Dave said that the thing uppermost
in his mind was the need for a cigarette!! To calm the nerves, no
doubt.
As the Navy Officer of the Day questioned Captain Dave about how
we came to be in a position to ram his Strike Craft, a call came in on
his hand-held radio and he excused himself and his men to “take care
of another call for assistance”. We were given a breathing space and
the engine was restarted and allowed to run to try and dry it out.
Barbara, bless her, very thoughtfully produced a dry pair of shorts and
T shirt for me to change into as I was simply sodden. As luck would
have it, the other Dave on board has a son who is a Commander of a
Strike Craft at this very Naval Base, although not P1561. Dave used
his cell phone to call his son and let him know about our predicament.
By then the Naval Officer of the Day had come back with his men and
Dave handed him his cell to speak directly to his senior officer. The
end result was that orders were issued to tow our craft back to the Bluff
Yacht Club by a Navy cutter and that they were not to stop the tow
until we were safely tied up at our own mooring. And after a couple of
abortive attempts in getting hitched up during which the tow line got
tangled in the Navy boat’s prop, we shouted our thanks to the Navy
men on the wharf and settled back for the tow home. It certainly pays
to have friends or family in high places at the right time!!
The weather was now quite peaceful with the water like glass and
you’d never know that the people on this Warrum catamaran were, just
a short time ago, in dire danger of having to swim for it.
We tied up to the Bluff mooring at around 22.00h and having bid
farewell to our tow, we gratefully settled down to drinks and a lovely
cold buffet and plenty of laughter to offset the previous anxiety. There
was quite a party going on ashore, mostly teenagers dancing and kids
with fireworks, but a nice family atmosphere. Some of the youngsters
paddled out on a raft to wish Captain Dave and Barbara a happy New
Year and, since there were about eight of them on a raft the size of a
door, it was a miracle no-one fell into the drink. At midnight we found
ourselves under a canopy of red flares hanging in the air above us, as

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they do, and reflecting upon the now glassy still water. Such a lot can
happen in four short hours!! It only occurred to me the next day that I
hadn’t even thought of asking where the life jackets were stowed. It
was a New Year not to be forgotten in a hurry.
We were ferried ashore amid fond farewells at about 3AM and we
found a quiet spot to park the mini bus in the safe confines of the Yacht
Club’s grounds. We climbed gratefully into our little nest and kissed
goodnight and as I drifted off to sleep I swear I could feel the car
rocking – let it rock, I was beyond caring!!
A word from Chas:
I’ll add a little to the saga now that Tracey has finished her account.
After the post mortem discussion, with drinks in hand, was over we
came to the conclusion that the 30 horse motor was obviously under
powered in 60-70 knot winds. Also a bigger anchor and chain was
needed ( in actual fact, we should have borrowed one from the Queen
Mary and with hindsight her ruddy engines too!)
The Warrum is not exactly a “dry boat” as it has no cabin space to
speak of. So it might be a great sailing boat for Polynesian voyagers
across the Pacific but leaves much to be desired in a bloody great
raging storm. I spent the whole time plastered to the outside of the
miniscule Doghouse by the force of the wind, shouting out the
occasional “Bloody great ship coming up on starboard quarter” and just
after “Effing hell yet another closing on port beam….gulp…” I
couldn’t move because the force of the wind and lashing rain. I was
soaked to the skin despite an anorak but I only had shorts on and the
back of my legs were getting a real lashing. In fact it went on so long
that I think I got to like it! At first I was hanging on to one of the
standing rigging cables but after a couple of lightning strikes and
bloody great thunder crashes overhead I clung like a limpet to the
relative safety of the doghouse roof instead. The friend who invited us
on the trip, John McDonagh, pointed out to me that twice he and I have
had to be towed back to the Bluff Yacht Club after engine failures in

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high wind. I said in that case, next time we embark on a trip together,
we should shoot an Albatross to bring us some luck!.
The fireworks that we eventually saw were quite spectacular and a lot
of out of date flares were fired off as well. This did make us comment
that it was a good job we didn’t fire off any distress flares as all we
would have got in return was a wave of a hand and a hearty “Happy
New Year”. So we managed to end 2000 with some excitement and we
wonder what else is store for us and was it a portent of what is to come.
Oh well “La Luta Continua”

Post Script
We went back to the Bluff Yacht Club on the following Friday to
return the clothes that Barbara had lent me. There, we found all our
shipmates in the pub and they gave us an update on the happenings of
the New Year’s Eve storm. During the week, Dave and Jean had
spoken to the skipper of the big tug that was shepherding the container
ship we had been so concerned might run us down. It turned out that
he is a friend of theirs who used to be a Strike Craft Commander and a
good pal of their son. He had called to ask if it was us who sent out an
SOS at the height of the storm, which it wasn’t. He told Dave and Jean
that he had seen us out there whilst attending to the container ship
which, by the way, was not leaving harbour but had broken its mooring
and was being moved to a more sheltered dock. Then the tug was
called away to rescue another ship which had broken eleven mooring
lines and had to be held against the dock by the tug. During all this, the
tug skipper called the Harbour Command tower to say that he had seen
us and, although he’d originally thought we were just a bunch of New
Year drunkards oblivious to the danger, he became convinced that we
were actually in big trouble when he saw us being swept into the Naval
Base. The tower called the Naval Base and informed them of our
demise and that’s why the duty officer had his men out in the rain when
we arrived. The tug skipper also told Dave that the wind out in the
harbour where we had been was sixty knots and gusting to eighty

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Well that takes us up to when Tracey & Chas left SA. Chas is still hoping to find further material written by Tracey herself – but as time passes the chances get slimmer.

However Chas has promised to complete the story for her and also write a prequel to document the full history of Tracey’s life, which can then reside on the internet for as long as the internet itself is archived!

Here is a picture of Chas & Tracey from Christmas 2019, whilst Tracey was still very much herself: