Moving Moments
Chapter 4 – Consorting with the Chingola-ites
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| 14 Consort Avenue 2014 - 58 years later L. to R. - Nev, Current Owner, Rob, Al |
In 1958 Dad was the Mine Engineer at Nchanga mine in Chingola. As such he
merited a more upmarket house than most of the other lower ranking miner’s
houses. We moved into 14 Consort Avenue, which was a nice four bedroomed house
on a corner lot with about a half-acre garden. We were surrounded on three
sides by houses, but in the back was a large park which went up behind us for the
rest of the block and included the 9th Street Rocks. On the one side
of and behind our property were the storm water drains. These were deep and
wide to move the massive flow of water when we had a regular mid-afternoon
downpour. We were within earshot of the local African township and at night one
could hear the African folk partying well into the night, especially on
weekends, with their drums and singing.
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| L. to R. Dad, Alan, Mom, Rob, Rosemary, Neville |
Al and I shared a bedroom but the rest of the family could all claim their
own room. Most importantly we now had indoor plumbing but we still hadn’t
advanced to the point of having two washrooms, nor a two car garage. One had
really made it big if one had two washrooms in those days. We had a large
lounge (living room) and breezeway (family room) and a large open lawn which
became mine and Al’s playgrounds.
We all got settled into our new schools. Nev and Rose went to Chingola
High School and Al and I went to Helen Waller Primary school – now called
Chingola Primary School. School was a bit of a side issue at that stage for Al
and I.
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| Chingola High School in 2014 Still looking good. |
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| 1958 - Hellen Waller Primary School. 2014 - Chingola Primary School |
It didn’t take long for us to begin to make friends. Just over the road in one of the miner’s houses was Willie Dixon. He was our age and a real character and provided us with much fun and entertainment. One day Willie’s massive bull mastiff dog got into a fight over the road with another little dog and was all set to kill it. Dog fights were quite common as they were needed as general watchdogs and had to be able to move around and be fierce, so were not kept on a leash. Conventional wisdom was not to get into the middle of a dog fight as they could turn on you. My Dad though entered the fray. He grabbed Willie’s dog by the scruff of the neck, held him tight and then grabbed his paw and squeezed it hard eventually causing it to yelp and let go of his victim. My Dad gained heroic status in our sight for a while as a result of that.
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| Willie Dixon - one of life's originals. |
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| L. to R. Al, Willie, Rob Carefree living each day. |
The 9th Street Rocks were a little piece of heaven for boys
our age. The rocks were massive granite domes which one could clamber up on and
play in all of the nooks and crannies. There was a lot of tropical bush in amongst
the rocks and some very tall trees with “monkey vines” creeping up them. We would
clamber up the monkey vines and make our way to the tree tops where there would
be a nest of foliage that we could rest on and survey our imaginary kingdoms
from our lofty perches. For a bunch of little boys, 9th Street Rocks
became an endless source of entertainment for us.
My Dad was not around much. He would go off to the shooting range after
work and we wouldn’t see much of him. Mom was obviously very laid back as a
parent and gave us pretty much free range. We would play for hours on end at 9th
Street Rocks or in the storm water drain tunnels in our neighborhood. We would go into the underground tunnels exploring them to see what treasures had
been washed in there. We loved to practice throwing our knives and peg them
into trees. We had large blue headed lizards about six to nine inches long
which would sit on the sides of trees in our gardens. We would hurl our
knives at them and see if we could peg them to the tree. Another game we played
with our knives was “chicken”. We had to stand opposite each other with our
feet together and throw the knife pegging it into the ground no more than 12
inches from one’s opponent’s feet. They would then have to move their foot to
that point. The game was over when one’s opponent fell over as their legs were
so wide they could not stand up. Another game which wouldn’t go down so well
these days was when he had “fly catty” fights. A fly catty was a catapult made
out of a wire frame and strung with elastic
bands. They fired sharp little metal staples. We would go into our bedroom,
turn the beds on their sides and make two forts behind which the opposing teams
would take shelter from the storm of metal staples that we fired at one
another. It is a wonder that none of us lost an eye.
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| Rob and Al. School was a distraction from the real business of life. |
Jack’s Rock was another very special spot. It was two to three miles
away in the bush. We’d have to ride our bikes there. They were similar to 9th
Street Rocks except much bigger and a bit spookier as they were very quiet
stuck out in the bush the way they were. Here we were literally miles away from
supervision of any kind and of course the sky was the limit. Once we played a
live version of Cowboys and Indians with pellet guns. We would run around
taking pot shots at one another. The good thing about this kind of Cowboys and
Indians, was that there was no disputing when one had been “killed” or not. Once
again, miraculously there were no real injuries to speak of.
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| L. to R. Fifi, Mitzi |
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| Fifi was my pinup girl. |
Mom had two household helpers working for her at that time, namely Ronald
and his wife Luzina from Malawi. Ronald was in charge of the housework and
kitchen and I seem to remember Luzina did laundry and ironing. Fred, also from
Malawi, was our gardener. Malawians had a reputation for being hard working and
good natured so they traditionally got to do this kind of work. I remember once
that we kept a pet chameleon on the window sill of our kitchen. It would patrol
the window sill and eliminate any flies within spitting distance. It’s amazing
that Ronald tolerated this, because most Africans were very superstitious about chameleons. We would love to hold a chameleon behind our
backs, and then approach any unsuspecting African and suddenly produce it,
whereupon our poor victim would let out a yelp and take off at a rapid rate of
knots. Boys will be boys I suppose.
Rose I guess was a typical teenage girl and we as her little brothers
were dear to her, but she was not to be crossed lightly. One day Alan sneaked
into her room, locked her door and went through her cupboards and drawers
eventually finding a chocolate bar she had been keeping for a special occasion.
The bedrooms in our houses in those days had a window above the door to allow
air flow. When Rose realized she was locked out of her room she stood on a
chair and peeked in through the window above the door to see Alan munching his
way through her chocolate bar and grinning up at her. Well when Al finally
opened the door, Rose was waiting. She slapped him around in no uncertain terms
and I suspect around about then Al was regretting his little clandestine
escapade.
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| Rose looking glamorous |
Rose and Dad had a kind of a love hate relationship. They both had
stubborn streaks so the battles could be epic. Dad would object to Rose’s taste
in music and when she wasn’t around he would hide her records with dire
warnings to us if we told her where they were hidden. If a boy turned up to
visit Rose, my Dad would send him home if he wasn’t wearing a tie. One such boy
was Billy Dale who was rather unceremonially sent on his way one evening with
the advice “not to visit my daughter improperly dressed”. Things have certainly
moved on since my Dad made this his “line in the sand” for the boys. A few
years later Billy Dale, who had joined the police force, took his revenge on Al
and I. He nabbed us riding our bikes without lights after hours. We were given
a stern warning and sent packing. It wasn’t all friction with Rose and Dad.
Rose used to delight in cutting Dad’s toenails which Dad enjoyed. There was
also one memorable occasion when Dad had had a bit too much sun on his back and
his skin was peeling off in big strips. He was lying face down on his bed while
Rose peeled the dried skin off his back. She was then dropping the skin on the
floor and Mitzi was eagerly snapping it up. Who needs TV when one has this kind
of entertainment?
Speaking of entertainment, Dad would sit for hours at the piano playing
all of his war time golden oldies. Mom from wherever she was in the house,
would yodel away at the top of her voice accompanying him. Sometimes they would
have a party and let their hair down and play some risqué games. These would be
along the lines of pass the orange by holding it under one’s chin and having to
nuzzle up to the next person in line to receive it. They would attach
two pennies together on a length of string and the race would be on for each
team to move the pennies to the end of the line by passing the string through
each person’s clothes and so on down the line. Man it’s amazing they allowed us
to stay up late to watch them play these adult games.
Dad was a talented pianist. Naturally he wanted Al and I to follow in his
footsteps so we were signed up for weekly lessons. It didn’t take long for the
shine to go off of this idea as we settled down into the routine of learning
scales, starting to read music and a daily practice schedule. We would have
much rather spent our afternoons after school playing than performing.
Eventually our complaining wore Mom and Dad down and they agreed that we could
stop piano lessons, but it would mean we had to give up TV. This was a serious
concession on our part. TV had recently been introduced in Northern Rhodesia
and although we didn’t have a TV ourselves we loved to visit friend’s houses to
watch.
TV was newly introduced into Northern Rhodesia and a great novelty of
course. We would go around to Butch Attersoll’s house as a family to watch TV
for the evening. There was only one channel so no squabbling about who wanted
to watch what. The favorite game of the evening while the ads were on was to
see who could guess which product was being advertised first. This would keep
us going all evening. It didn’t take much to keep us happy in those days. I
can’t remember when we first got our own TV. I think Mom and Dad had to watch
their pennies quite carefully in those days and Mom would often make clothes
for Al and I. We’d have matching shorts and brightly colored shirts. As little
boys we were quite happy with that. Mom wasn’t one to worry too much about
making sure our clothing was colour coded correctly. In fact I think the first
time I discovered this concept was many years later when I started dating
Cheryl who helped bring me up to speed on such matters.
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| Art has never been my forte |
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| Writing was more my style. I used to win prizes for my handwriting. Hard to believe these days. |
I was quite sickly as a child and was often down with a dose of
tonsillitis. My Mom tried all manner of home remedies on me, but my complaint
didn’t yield much improvement. Although I enjoyed school I definitely never
liked going to school on a Monday morning, so it was quite often that
tonsillitis would mysteriously strike me on a Monday morning, of course
requiring a down day at home. These sick bed days perhaps lead me to my love of
reading, as I would lie on my bed and devour books. Eventually the tonsils got
the chop and my health did in fact have quite a dramatic improvement. Medicine
in those days was a bit more rough and ready. I had my appendix out at one point
and still sport a six inch scar across my stomach. Visits to the dentist would
have been quite amusing if they weren’t so painful to be part of. Dr. Findlay
hadn’t heard of anesthetic apparently and he had one of those new fancy drills
which he pumped with his foot until it built up sufficient speed. If he got
tired, well the drill just went slower.
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| Nev on left with his Scout Jamboree troupe in UK, 1957 |
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| Nev - ready to take on the world. |
Dad continued to do well at his shooting and every now and then he would
participate in a big “shoot”, sometimes in Southern Rhodesia or South Africa. In
1960 he was selected to be on the Northern Rhodesian team which was competing
at Bisley, the mecca of target shooters, in Britain. He and Mom decided to make
the most of it and also do some touring whilst over there. They were going to
be away from home for months. They decided to take Rose with them as Rose had
stalled out at school and they thought it would broaden her horizons. Nev was
starting university at Wits (Universtiy of Witwatersrand) that year. But what
to do with Alan and Rob? No problem. We’ll ship them off to a boarding school
in the bush for a couple of terms.
And so it was that Al, aged nine and I aged seven, found ourselves one
day being downheartedly dropped off by Mom and Dad at Eureka school in the bush near Kalomo
a very small farming town, two or three hundred miles from home. Eureka was a
mission school being run by the Brethren. It was the beginning of a school year
and we found ourselves the new boys on the block. Most of the other kids had
been at the school for a while. It didn’t take long before two older boys
approached us and asked us if we were homesick. Well of course we were! “We are
too and we are running away from school tomorrow. Would you like to come with
us?” Well of course we would!. And so, it was that the next day whilst playing
soccer on the field we accidentally kicked the ball into the bush. We went
after it and never came back. The school was 3 – 5 miles out in the bush from
the one horse stop of Kalomo. We knew the general direction and headed that way
through the bush. Our plan was to make it into town unspotted and then wait for
the daily train that came by at which point we would hop on and make our way
home to our parents who would undoubtedly be delighted to see us. We spent most
of the afternoon walking into town, keeping out of sight of the main road. Once
there we went to the main park in the middle of town and hid out in a massive
tree to wait for the train. It began to drizzle and we were getting cold and
hungry. One of the other boys had the bright idea that he knew some people in
the town who would give us a cup of tea while we waited for the train. We duly
presented ourselves at their doorstep and of course were invited in. No sooner
had we settled down for our tea than lo and behold the school principal, Mr.
Shoemaker just turned up to collect us out of the blue. We’d been double
crossed by our hosts. The principal took us back to his office. By then it was
dark. He left Al and I outside while he took the other two older boys into his
office. It wasn’t long before we heard the swishing of his cane and the two
boys shot out of his office rubbing their behinds vigorously. They disappeared
into the darkness and we were ushered inside, knees knocking. With
his office in darkness, save one light on his desk, Mr Shoemaker gave us a
stern talking to whilst idly swishing his cane in his hands. He asked if we
would promise never to do such a thing again. Without hesitation we promised
profusely. We weren’t going to beg for mercy, but we’d happily co-operate if he
was showing signs of weakness. He put his cane down and shooed us out. He’d
accomplished his mission of thoroughly terrifying us into future compliance and
model behavior.
We spent two happy terms at Eureka school. The missionaries ruled the
place with an iron rod, but life was good as we enjoyed simple life in the
bush. There was no indoor plumbing in my dorm. At night we had a bucket which
we could use as needed. In the morning someone had the job of carting the
steaming bucket out and dumping it. For more serious washroom endeavors there
was a four up, side by side long drop half way down the side of the soccer
field. For some reason these long drops were like a ball magnet and we often
found ourselves having to fish a soccer or tennis ball out of the contents of
the long drop. Boys are not easily put off their ball games.
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| My Bible. It had a sweet incense aroma. I would love to sniff it and enjoy God's presence. |
A few years back, Al, Nev and I visited Eureka, 55 years later for old times’
sake. Nev, who had never visited the place in the early days was incensed that
Mom and Dad had so casually dropped us down there in the middle of the bush at
such a tender age. Having said that, my memories of the place were happy ones.
The missionaries did a good job on me. In those two terms I learnt the story of
the bible from top to bottom. I loved to read all the biblical names. My bible,
which of course was the King James Version with all the Thees and Thous, was
very precious to me. It was gold trimmed on the outside and I am certain that
the printers used to add a scent to them because I used to love smelling the
pages of my bible. I am certain, that at that young age, at Eureka, God touched
my life in a meaningful way for the first time. I knew what I was being told
about Him was true and I remember the sweet feeling I used to experience when
hearing about Him and His love for me.
Mom and Dad were still overseas when we had our first term break from
Eureka. Al and I were put on the train from Kalomo down through Rhodesia, then
Botswana and into South Africa. Auntie Florrie in Benoni, had been asked to
take us in for the holidays. Auntie Florrie was a sister of Tickey, my Dad’s
Mom who had passed away by then. We stayed in her one bedroomed apartment at 15
Melrye Court in Benoni. Each night one of us would take it in turns to sleep in
the spare bed in her room and the other one would sleep on the hard as rock
divan in her living room. The one sleeping in with her was treated each night
to different stories from the family history as we were dozing off. This was
such a treat. Auntie Florrie’s husband had died many years earlier and so had
her son. We were her stand in grandchildren and we feasted off of each other’s
love. Auntie Florrie had an awful, large, open abscess on her back which would
never heal and she suffered a lot with it.
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| L. to R. Florrie, Tickie, Gwen looking glamorous in their beach-ware. |
Life at 15 Melrose had a host of
different characters who all made life interesting. Florrie’s older sister Gwen
lived upstairs in a different apartment.
Then another sister Auntie Evie would turn up from time to time with
Uncle Jack in tow. Uncle Jack had the largest ears I had ever seen but he was
as deaf as a coot. Mrs. Vlok, a friend from upstairs was a daily visitor,
always with a cheerful smile and a joke to share. Al and I would explore the
inner workings of the apartment building and Jack was the African man who
seemed to do most of the work around the place. He would huff and puff and
grump at us, disturbing his peace, but tolerated us. There were four movie
houses in Benoni, all within walking distance and Al and I would know which
movies were on at all times as this was our main source of outside
entertainment.
Eventually Mom and Dad returned from their travels and it was time to
leave Eureka and return to daily life in Chingola. Things had changed forever
though. Nev was at university. Rose, having struggled academically at school, had
realized whilst in England that what she really wanted to do in life was to
become a nurse. She had discovered her passion and Mom and Dad had decided to
leave her in UK in the care of Mom's cousin, Yvonne Bashham while she commenced her
nursing training. Little did Rose know it, but this was the start of a much
bigger lifelong adventure for her, but more about that later. So, suddenly two
of the chicks had flown the coop and we were down to four from six. Never again
would we all live under one roof again. It had all come up so quickly.
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| L. to R. Al, Mitzi, Rob |
As it happens, life carried on. When I was around nine or so, I was once
again sick and came home from school with a nasty cough. We were due to have
our school soccer practice that afternoon but Mom told me that I couldn’t play
as I was too sick. I rebelled as I had been looking forward to playing. I said
“well if I can’t go, then neither can Alan”, whereupon I stormed into my shared
room with Al, slammed the door and locked it, thereby preventing Al from coming
to get his soccer gear. This state of affairs went from bad to worse pretty
quickly. My stubbornness was only exceeded by Mom’s determination to get me to
open the door. Eventually my Dad was called from the office and he arrived with
a great deal of dire threats, which did nothing other than dig me deeper into
my intransigence. Eventually my Dad, who was not going to be defied
indefinitely, broke the door down and grabbed me and gave me a good whack or
two. In my memory this is the only time my Dad ever hit me and I have to
admit that I deserved it. Alan was sent off to soccer and I was banished to my
bedroom. Well by then I was in a rage and I decided I was really going to make
Mom and Dad pay for their misdeeds to me. I was going to run away from home and
then they would be sorry. So without any more fuss I climbed out of the bedroom
window and headed for the big roundabout on the edge of town from where I
planned to hitch a ride to the next big town, Kitwe. Once I was there I’d worry
about what would happen next. When I got to the roundabout I was beginning to
have some regrets. I decided to skip the hitch-hiking and hide in the nearby
quarry, where we used to play occasionally and await developments. I noticed
police cars going up and down but didn’t reveal my hideaway. Eventually at the
end of the afternoon the sun was going down and I saw my Dad cruising in the
car, close to the quarry. He was clearly looking for me. I finally decided the game
was up and made my presence known and walked up to the car. My Dad looked at me
sternly and said “Your Mother would like you to come home”. This was a
masterful stroke on his part as it provided me with a face saving measure.
I could climb down from my pride to help Mom feel better. When we got
home, Mom gave me a big hug and that’s the last time I ever heard that little mischief
mentioned.
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| 14 Consort Avenue I ran away from home out of the window 2nd from the right |
Our family’s lives were moving on. Nev and Rose were spreading out across
the globe as their lives moved on. Events in Southern Africa were picking up
the pace too. Harold MacMillan, the British prime minister at the time spoke
about the “Winds of Change” that were blowing in Africa. We still had a few
idyllic years left, but their days were numbered.
