Moving Moments
Chapter 5
Carefree Days - Last Call
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| 13 Consort Avenue, Chingola taken from the big rock in our garden., |
Towards the end of of 1961, Dad received a promotion to Divisional
Engineer at Nchanga mine in Chingola and so it was time to move again. We moved
from 14 Consort Avenue to 13 Consort Avenue. It was actually a fair distance up
the road, but more importantly this time we were on the golf course side of the
road and this meant we were moving upscale yet again. We now had two full
bathrooms. We had come a long way in just seven years from our early days at
Itimpi where we had only outdoor plumbing and were fending off nature at every
turn. Our house was on a 1 – 2 acre lot and had more than enough room to
stretch our legs in. The garden was dominated by a massive granite rock, about
6 – 8 feet high and about 50 – 60 feet long by 20 or 30 wide. At the far end of
that was a large anthill about 10 feet high with a base of maybe 20 feet in
diameter. Our back yard backed onto a stretch of untouched bush, which made a
wonderful playground, once we had scaled the fence and explored its mysteries.
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| Nev and Mau |
Nev had limped home at the end of 1961 having been given the boot by the
university after failing his second year of mining engineering. He and his
buddies had really been enjoying the social life and not paying sufficient attention
to the academic side. Nev’s real downfall though was that he had fallen in love
with Maureen Roth and this had completely wrecked his focus on advancing his
studies. Unfortunately the university was not that sympathetic to his plight
and he was given the chop. He came home and found work on Nchanga Mine as a “learner
official” eventually becoming a shift boss of a crew working at the rock face.
He had had to leave Maureen (Mau) behind in Johannesburg as she was continuing
her studies to be a teacher. Mau began to visit Nev from time to time in
Chingola and we began to get to know this precious gem who Nev had uncovered
while learning to be a miner. She was to be the find of his life. His two years
at university had not been totally wasted.
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| Rob "King of the Castle", repelling all oncomers |
Al and I were now the only ones enjoying the carefree life. Everyone else
in the family was shouldering the load of jobs or vocation. Mark Sturgeon now
lived just around the corner so he became more central to our core group of
buddies. We continued to be given free rein to run and explore to our hearts
content. Our anthill became a fort from which we would repel invaders. “King of
the Castle” went to the one who could throw all others off the anthill. Fun. We
would ride our bikes out into the bush following African footpaths. This would
take us to African villages and other unexplored delights.
Our garden abounded with trees and fruit of all kinds. We had mangoes, avocado
and paw paw (papaya) trees. We had a mild rivalry going with Margaret and Peter
Nupen who were similar age neighbor kids over the road from our house. Once we
heard them playing in their garden behind their hedge. We tossed a few unripe
items of fruit over their hedge to gauge the response. Before long we had an all-out
fruit war going on as we lobbed fruit bombs at each other. Once we sat hidden in
a tree overlooking the road and shot berries with our catapults at passing
cars. We would experience a frisson of nervous excitement as the cars would
screech to a halt to examine their splatted windscreens. This was risky as we
never quite knew what might happen to us if we were spotted by our hapless
victims. Would we go to jail or reformatory school? Would we be taken to the
police for a beating? Our nerves couldn’t
stand it. We only tried that game once.
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| Al, viewing our kingdom from the big rock |
The Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland was foundering on the rocks of restive
African nationalism and a British Colonial office, anxious to shed its colonies
which were no longer considered fashionable accessories. African countries were
attaining independence and “one man one vote” was all the rage. Northern
Rhodesia was heading in that direction and the white population could see the
end of their dream in sight. Concern over the fate of the schooling system
began to predominate and talk of “boarding school in Southern Rhodesia or UK”
became a hot topic of conversation. In 1963 the decision was made to send Alan
to Falcon College, near Bulawayo in Southern Rhodesia. Richard Moskwa was
already there, Mark Sturgeon was going too and Butch Attersol was going to St.
Stephens just a bit further down the road from Falcon. The exodus had begun. The
decision for Al to go to boarding school, was no doubt a sad day for Mom and
Dad, but for me it was devastating. My best sidekick and buddy was leaving
home. What was I going to do?
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| L. to R. Fifi, Butch Attersol, Rusty, Mitzi, Paul Celliers in front of big rock in our garden. |
As it turned out, life carried on. I had to search further afield for
playmates and it didn’t take long before some of my classmates filled the gap.
Paul Celliers became my firm and best friend. John Hendrie was not far behind. We
became inseparable and our lives consisted of school in the mornings, home for
lunch and a bit of homework and then we would ride our bikes to each other’s
homes and hang out. Climbing trees was always a popular activity. Mango season
was a highlight. We would climb in search of the perfect mango and then devour
it on the spot, before searching for the next one. We used to get “mango sores”
on our mouths from the juice dribbling down our faces. Our lives were full and
free and our folks were few in their limitations. A favorite nighttime activity
on the weekends was “roof rattling”. Most of the houses in Chingola had
corrugated iron roofs. The game was to carry a handful of rocks, pick a victim’s
house and then hurl a storm of stones
onto the roof and then run for it, before an irate owner could get to their
front door and give chase. Such is the life of ease and delight that we lived
in. Life was good.
Mom, continued with her free range parenting style. Dad was busy with his
shooting involvements. The one time Paul Celliers, John Hendrie, my cousin Kev
and I decided to go camping on a farm out in the bush where she seemed to have
had a contact of some sort. Mom plunked us down at the farm with all of our
gear by a dam and left us to get on with it. To my knowledge the farmers weren’t
even there as we never saw any sign of them at any point. We were ten years
old. So, we got on with it. Tents up,
firewood collected, baked beans on the boil. What more could a kid want? Kev,
my cousin, who was a real toughie, was the odd man out as he wasn’t part of our
regular gang. It didn’t take long for the arguments to break out and at one
point Paul disappeared into the night, abandoning the campfire, swearing that he
was walking home. He did emerge from the darkness a bit later and we all hugged
and made up. We found an old boat and went exploring in the dam. My enthusiasm
waned a bit when we found a snake swimming very fast in the water. I bet he could
have boarded the boat if he’d so chosen. This of course gave me the creeps and
I opted to get back to shore asap. Mom returned a few days later, to find four
boys, exhausted and partied out, but sad to be leaving such a heavenly
lifestyle.
Rose had continued on doing her nursing training in UK. We gathered that
she had become involved with a very religious group, Hospital Christian
Fellowship, at the hospital and had become quite fanatical. This seemed quite a
turn up for the books for Rose and we all awaited her visit to our new home
with great anticipation to see if she had grown horns and a tail or a halo and
wings. I was 10 when Rose came home. She certainly didn’t disappoint. I don’t remember
the actual conversation, but it seemed that she swept in with a flourish and
announced “you’re all going to hell, unless you become born again” This didn’t
go down too well, particularly with Dad and Nev. I was oblivious and Mom, being
a good Anglican, probably thought Rose would get over this “enthusiastic”
stage.
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| Our home made go kart, which Dad helped us build. Note the engine in the back. It never worked too well. |
This brought Rose and Dad back to a state of semi war as Dad was not
going to have anyone telling him where he was going, especially as in his mind he
was a fine upstanding occasional churchgoer. He had also been confirmed in the
Methodist church in his younger days. What more could possibly be needed? I do remember being quite impressed with Rose’s
sincerity and it took me back to my days at Eureka boarding school. Somehow she
spoke the same language as the missionaries did. I found it mysterious and
appealing.
At one point I remember Rose coming to tuck me up in bed and she spoke
very gently and sweetly to me about my need to have Jesus in my life. Rose
tells me that I prayed with her that night to invite Jesus into my life. I have
no recollection of that, but fortunately God never forgets a prayer, sincerely
said, and he brought me back to it from time to time until I finally caught on
properly, many years later.
Rose somehow got me hooked up with attending a weekly Scripture Union
Club at the local Brethren church. I quite enjoyed the games and the scripture
stories, which I remembered from my Eureka days. However the highlight came
when they announced that they were having a camp and that I was invited. Once
again the easy going lifestyle of the colonies kicked in. Al must have been
back from Falcon, or hadn’t left yet, but he also came and so did Butch
Attersol. We were dropped at the train station in Ndola along with what seemed
a couple of hundred other boys and travelled overnight, unsupervised as far as
I could tell, to a stop, where a bus was waiting to take us to the Mulungushi
camp site, way out in the bush along the banks of the Kafue River. Our
accommodation was tents and apart from some long drop toilets there was not
much else there apart from perhaps a kitchen. I vaguely remember us meeting
every day to sing songs and listen to talks and stories but of course the games
were our primary focus. We played Capture the Flag over a very wide area and I
remember it being intensely exciting. However the thing which most intrigued me
was the book table. They had a collection of little pocket bibles and
testaments and after great soul searching I surrendered some of my hard saved
pocket money to buy a cute little New Testament which I carefully tucked into my
shorts pocket, cherishing the thought of reading it. Nature called and I headed
for the long drops. These were particularly primitive, just being a hole in a
concrete floor and no seat even to sit on. One just had to crouch. To be safe
in these situations it is best to remove one’s pants altogether, which of
course I did. Lo and behold, to my great distress, I backed up and by accident
my shorts ended up down the hole. Oh my goodness, what a calamity. My precious New
Testament was irretrievably lost and, almost as seriously, I had to make my way
back to my tent, a fair distance, without any pants. This of course did not go
unnoticed by the other 199 boys at camp and I was the butt, excuse the pun, of
great teasing for a while. My other great memory of this camp was that Al won
the “best packed bag” award when we left camp after a few days. But I had won
the honor of being one of the first streakers, long before the idea even became
fashionable.
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| My treasured dagger - reward for beating Barbara Lemon |
Paul Celliers, John Hendrie and I were in Standard 4 (Grade 4) at the
time. In those days it was still fashionable to have kids compete for top marks
and of course the classes were graded into A, B and C streams. I cannot imagine
the unhappiness of being rated a C stream student, but that’s how life was in
those days. I, was in the A stream and I was close to the top of the class most
of the time. My arch nemesis, Barbara Lemon and I would battle it out for top
spot. I was determined to beat her, but she seemed to effortlessly stave off my
best efforts, most of the time, with a sweet smile. Mrs. Cave our teacher was
the grand arbiter of this epic contest. I had to admit that Barbara had me beat
fair and square most of the time. However I must have put in a supreme effort as
I pipped her at the post and came top of the class at the end of that year. I
still have the bone handled dagger which Mom and Dad bought me to celebrate.
We were just beginning to get interested in girls around that time. When we
attended a mixed party, kissing games were all the rage. I remember once, the
party group was spread across the rugby field in the dark and the game was on.
The boys had to chase the girls and if they caught them, they were allowed to
kiss them. The girls in turn, had to flee, but of course their hearts weren’t
in it, so inevitably they were captured and the prize claimed. Primitive, but
fun all the same.
I had my eye on Loretta who was in my class. Loretta was a good looker,
and of course was going to be the girl who everyone wanted to be “going out
with”. Her best friend was Jane, a much plainer Jane, but still a nice girl.
One day Loretta and Jane invited Paul and I to meet them at the public swimming
pool after school. This was a favorite spot where we would hang out and enjoy
the swimming and sun. Paul and I felt that finally we were being noticed by the
girls and we enthusiastically agreed. When we got to the pool, the two girls
studiously ignored us, as if we didn’t exist. Paul and I were nose out of joint
about this and sat on the bleachers plotting our revenge. Just then we heard a
giggle and looked down and there was Jane, hiding under the bleachers
eavesdropping on our plans. Paul and I were mortified at having been made such
fools of and vowed to have nothing to do with them from thereon. It wasn’t long
after that that Paul and I were hanging out at my house one day after school. Mom
was out, Dad at work and Nev was in his bedroom at the far end of the house. The
next thing the dogs barked – that was their job when strangers were approaching
and out of the blue Loretta and Jane turned up on their bikes. Paul
and I were a bit blown out of the water by this unexpected attention and we
were rather tongue tied and chatted to them awkwardly at the door before we
more or less sent them on their way. We didn’t even have the presence of mind
to invite them in for a drink. As it turned out Nev had tiptoed into the next
door bedroom and had been eavesdropping on our timid efforts. He teased us
mercilessly for a few days about our ineptness. Of course this was the
beginning of the tortured game of life in which we begin the painful process of
searching for our lifelong soulmates. I for one was relieved when Cheryl and I tied
the knot and removed that stressful game from our playbook.
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| July, posing for the camera |
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| Limon, July's son on a rare visit from his village in S. Rhodesia |
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| Rose receiving her 21st birthday gift from Mom and Dad. |
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| Nev, getting Rose set up for her move on David Gleason |
In 1963, Rose was coming home from the UK for her 21st
birthday. She planned to be home for a month or so. Nev decided it was time to
get Rose off of her religious kick that she was on and get her married off, so
she could settle down, have kids and get her life back to normal. Nev vowed
that by the time Rose returned to UK after a month, she would be engaged. Nev
had marriage on his mind as he and Mau were engaged in 1963. He obviously
figured if marriage would be good for him, it would be good for Rose. The
target of his efforts was going to be David Gleason. David was a nice guy who
we all knew. He wasn’t the typical miner type, but was more of a management
type in his outlook and ways. He did something on the mine related to
photography and journalism. I recall. He had his head screwed on and wasn’t
short in self-confidence. He used to call my Dad “Doug” which grated on my Dad
no end. In my Dad’s opinion, anyone the age of his kids should be calling him
Mr. Cornish and not being all pally pally with him, the way David was. The
bottom line is that Nev managed to pull off his quest and by the end of Rose’s
visit, she and David were engaged. I have no idea how he did it, but Nev had a
determined streak in him which didn’t accept no easily. Like Nev, my Dad, was
keen to see Rose married off. He gritted his teeth and granted permission for
David to marry his daughter, despite David’s lack of formal respect for him. Rose took herself back to UK sporting an
engagement ring but not with much of a spring in her step. David was not a believer
and Rose knew that the Bible was clear; believers should not be unequally
yoked. Rose was miserable as sin for a
few months and eventually broke it off with David. We all thought she was
destined for spinsterhood. Who was going to marry someone with such weird religious
views?
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| Rob and William Lungu preparing for the Soapbox Derby on Kabundi road Hill. The other Dad's had worked harder, but we had fun all the same. |
Once again, our family was about to face some tectonic shifts. Rose was
away in UK. Al was at boarding school in Southern Rhodesia. Now that Nev was
engaged it was time for him to focus on reaching his potential. He persuaded
the university of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg to take him back in 1965 to
repeat his second year of mining engineering. In 1964 Nev started making his
plans to get married at the end of the year. Meanwhile the Federation of
Rhodesia and Nyasaland had broken up, splitting back into its original three
components. Northern Rhodesia was set to attain “one man one vote” independence
in October 1964 to become the country of Zambia. Mom and Dad wanted me to join Al
at boarding school at Falcon College, but I was in Standard Four and Falcon
only began at Standard Six. After some trepidation the decision was made that I
would skip Standard Five and go straight to Falcon starting in January 1964.
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| Federation failed, and Northern Rhodesia was left on it's own, soon to become independent Zambia |
1964 was going to be a tough year for Mom and Dad. Their chickens would
have all flown the coop by the end of that year. Al and I would return for
school holidays, but this was the end of our time as a nuclear family. We had
enjoyed such a rich, full and carefree existence during our time in Northern
Rhodesia, but the breakup of the British Empire has left a swath of broken and
dispersed families in its wake. We, much maligned colonials, have paid a heavy
price for our few years of privilege as we have been thrust forward, out into
the world, away from our roots into a brave new future.
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