Sommer Calls A Pulleys Man

It seems in Joburg in 1939 you could sommer call the pulleys easy.

 

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British Pathé has a host of old archive stuff worth looking at. Pathé News was a producer of newsreels and documentaries from 1910 until 1970 in the United Kingdom. Its founder, Charles Pathé, was a pioneer of moving pictures in the silent era.

Tsavo in Kenya

After a slow drive from Mombasa we spent a night at a plush hotel in the metropolis of Voi. There it is in the left background. I think it was called Voi Safari Lodge. Don’t let Aitch tell you we didn’t spoil ourselves at times. The dining room had a linoleum floor, plastic chairs and metal tables, no table cloth. It was clean, the chicken and rice was hot and delicious, and the waiter was attentive. I had a Tusker beer that was cold and delicious. As was Aitch’s ginless Gin n Tonic. Luxury!

Voi, Kenya
– the metropolis of Voi in October 1998 –

Then on to a destination I had looked forward to all my life: Tsavo National Park!

All my life? Just about. We got the quarterly African Wildlife magazines at home back in the Vrystaat and I eagerly read about Africa’s great parks. I also knew of Bernhard Grzimek’s work in the Serengeti and his book Serengeti Shall Not Die. The great parks I knew and fantasised about included Kruger, Etosha, Luangwa, Masai Mara, Amboseli, Wankie, Serengeti, Okavango, Ngorongoro, Gorongosa – and Tsavo. I remember seeing an aerial picture of the drought in Kenya and how the vegetation IN Tsavo was worse than that outside the park. The story was it was due to Kenya (Leakey?) refusing to cull elephants and other game. Of course it may have been a story by the pro-culling people in SA’s parks. Who knows? Lots of jealousy and rivalry among the ‘good people in conservation!’ Me, I hang my hat on the need for active conservation management, no handwringing and no decisions made by anyone not on the scene. Once you fence an area you are responsible for that ecosystem, and you have the duty to care for it, difficult decisions notwithstanding. Overstocking kills everything. Here endeth the sermon.

* Tsavo East *

Tsavo East gate

Chris and Tilde Stuart, great Africa-philes, chose Tsavo as one of ‘Africa’s Great Wild Places’ in their book of that name, mainly for the huge wild expanse of Tsavo East where you can drive for hours without seeing another vehicle.

Elephant Hills Lodge in Tsavo
– arrival at Elephant Hills Lodge – whattacar! says Aitch –
scan0063.jpg
– here’s where the underground path to the underground hide leads down to the waterhole –

Driving around Tsavo East was amazing. We hardly saw any other vehicles.

The Galana River in East Tsavo
– the Galana River in Tsavo East –

Firsts for us – ‘lifers’ – Gerenuk, Lesser Kudu and Vulturine Guineafowl: Wow! at last.

Also Golden-breasted Starling, Red & Yellow Barbet, Superb Starling & White-headed Buffalo Weaver:

Birds I’d pored over as a youth in my Birds of the World book. One day . . And here they are! (internet pics, thank you)

~~oo0oo~~

* Tsavo West *

We saw Kilimanjaro! We weren’t expecting to, but as we drove around we suddenly saw a snow-topped mountain top WAY higher than one would expect above the low clouds and through the higher clouds; way higher than the hills around us. We realised that it must be Kili, the world’s highest free-standing mountain!

Of course we should have realised we’d be close to Kili, but we didn’t give it a thought. We were in Kenya, Kilimanjaro is in Tanzania, and it just didn’t occur to us! That’s our pic of the low clouds on the left and an internet pic of Kili from Tsavo West. Our view was a glimpse through a break in thick clouds. That was an unexpected treat.

genet at Kilanguni Tsavo West
– Genetta genetta – come to look at the lady on the veranda –

Here we also saw the magic clear waters of Mzima Springs.

~~oo0oo~~

Tsavo National Park was created in 1948. At approximately 21,000km², it’s the largest protected area in Kenya. In the late 1960s, there were approximately 35,000 elephants in the Tsavo region. This population has suffered two population crashes, probably due to mismanagement or misguided management in both cases!? Firstly there were simply too many elephants, so in the drought in the early 1970s many died, especially pregnant females, females nursing a calf or young calves. Independent bulls’ mortality was lower as they were able to travel greater distances in search of vegetation and water.

The second crash was due to the illegal killing of elephants for their tusks. The bulls who survived the drought were now the victims. Kenya had banned legal trophy hunting in 1977. By the late 1980s, at the height of the ivory poaching era, about 6,200 elephants remained in the entire Tsavo region. Not all conservationists – and few bleeding heart animal lovers far away – understand that when you fence an area, you have to manage that area. Pretending it’s still natural does a lot of harm; and allowing ‘rich donors’ to dictate what happens on unscientific, emotional grounds ends up killing many animals, and – a much worse disaster – their environment. Leading to way more animals dying starvation and disease deaths than the number that needed culling. Anyone doubting this, buy a cattle farm and never kill – or allow to be killed, so selling is no solution – any of your cattle. Soon you’ll have a desert full of many dead animals.

KenyaTsavo national park map

From this deck at Elephant Hills you can watch animals approaching the water from miles away. I’ll wait with my binocs and spotting scope while the obliging waiter sees to it I don’t go thirsty. Two Tuskers later, they’re still plodding closer, not here yet. It’s a long slow movie.

Tsavo East – Another ice-cold Tusker for you, sir? I scope the plains, Aitch wanders around with camera, our waiter sees to it we don’t go thirsty. Heaven!

~~oo0oo~~

Those wonderful old African Wildlife magazines. Official Journal of the Wild Life Protection Society of South Africa. Published 1946 to 2009

Houdini the Hound

Aitch rescued her from the vet who gave a sob story that the poor dog faced imminent execution due to persistent wandering which had driven more than owner to despair. She had now been decisively abandoned, Aitch was told.

So home she came. Jessica called her Honey, for her lovely blonde-y coat. But when I inspected his undercarriage I explained that actually, though goon-free, Honey was definitely a him, but Jess always called him Honey.

Later, we changed his name to Houdini for his astounding escape-artist feats. 

He’d been found and unclaimed often, and we were about to find out why.

Houdini was the gentlest, friendliest mutt you could imagine. A consummate diplomat with humans and canines. He just did not like being constrained to one small half acre of land. He had places to go, things to do and new friends to meet, so he would bolt down his meal and – as soon as Aitch and I had left for work – look around, decide things were boring and off he’d go, escaping under or over any fence in his problem-solving way.

If left to his own devices he’d always be home for supper, so no problem. But often he’d be found and ‘rescued!’ He would hop into any car with alacrity, so we would then get a call from someone – citizen, vets rooms or the SPCA. Sometimes in accusatory and disapproving tones – like: “you negligent, uncaring owner, we have your dawg”, as he now had a collar with our home number on it, they could phone us and berate us. So off we would go, time and time again, to fetch Houdini. And we’d explain, and sometimes we’d get the “Yeah! Right!” look.

We went around the perimeter closing any possible gaps and holes but Houdini simply relished the challenge. His greatest escape was when in desperation – and chastened by the sanctimonious – we locked him in the garage at 10 Windsor. We put his basket, bowl and water in there, much against our better judgement, as we were actually relaxed about his wandering, as we knew he was traffic-savvy and just had strong wanderlust. If only people would just let this mutt roam free!

10 Windsor Ave (1) (deleted 56ba8e0bfe593e06bf798fc6a3b29c89).JPG
– Houdini’s Rolladoor Prison –

Quite unbelievably, he climbed up various paint tins, structures and shelves, got onto a high window ledge and forced his way between the burglar guards and escaped again! He was a legend, every bit worthy of his stage name! And so unassuming. Butter wouldn’t melt in his beak. After that escapade we had special tag made that said “I’m Houdini. I wander. I’m fine. Please phone Pete or Trish and tell them where I am”. That helped a bit when people phoned us: We got less “tut tut”-ing. The wandering, however, continued.

One day he didn’t come back. We searched high and low and phoned the SPCA and the vets rooms. No sign of Houdini, who they all knew well. I hope he wasn’t imprisoned by a new ‘caring’ owner. I like to think his new ‘owner’ is tearing his hair out about how to keep this delightful vagabond in, and – I hope – failing, so that Houdini can still wander freely, visiting new places and new people, blissfully unaware of what the fuss is all about.

– Houdini at home with me and TomTom –

Those Special Years

Even if we live to be a hundred, the first twenty five years are the longest half of our lives. They appear so while they are passing; they seem to have been so as we look back on them; and they take up more room in our memories than all the years that succeed them.

  • paraphrased from a quote by Robert Southey, English Romantic Poet

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With music like this, no wonder ‘our’ best years were so memorable:

So basically it seems we have ten years of knowing nothing, then fifteen magic years of knowing everything (feature pic), doing everything and having the most fun and then about fifty years of thinking WTF happened!? – and some regretting we didn’t get up to even more stuff in the magic fifteen.

The Bend Whisky Phone-001.jpg

 

Hella Botanising

Barry Porter and Aitch got on famously and spent many a happy hour ‘botanising’ on Game Valley Estates (GVE), Barry and Lyn’s game farm in the Umkomaas river valley. GVE encompassed a lovely tract of land on both banks of the river valley below the Hella Hella kop, and a beautiful, special, rare patch of highland grasslands above.

Barry loved having an interested and knowledgeable companion who didn’t think him weird when he spoke Latin! Aitch was fascinated by plants and her tuition by Ian Whitton the cardio-thoracic surgeon botanist; Geoff Nichols, indigenous plant guru; Enver Buchus at Silverton Nursery; and her part-time work at Geoff Caruth’s Geoff’s Jungle indigenous nursery (“Bring elephants back into your garden, plant a marula”), all paid off on her trips to Hella Hella. She drank in all the new stuff she learnt from Barry on his very special natural heritage site in the valley and on the high grasslands on top of the Hella Hella mountain.

Just as she’d do with me and birds, Aitch was always an investigative reporter-type of learner: “Are you sure? How do you know? What are the points that make it that? What else could it be?” Jeeesh! Of course every now and then her questioning would wake you to the fact that, actually, you had it wrong, and then together you’d come up with the correct identification. Oh boy, and she loved that: “See!? Better watch it, boy!” she’d say triumphantly. To me or Barry.

Lots of bum-in-the-air photography (frogs in this case):

Barry Porter and Aitch got on famously and spent many a happy hour ‘botanising’ on Game Valley Estates (GVE), Barry and Lyn’s game farm in the Umkomaas river valley. GVE encompassed a lovely tract of land on both banks of the river valley below the Hella Hella kop, and a beautiful, special, rare patch of highland grasslands above.

Barry loved having an interested and knowledgeable companion who didn’t think him weird when he spoke Latin! Aitch was fascinated by plants and her tuition by Ian Whitton the cardio-thoracic surgeon botanist; Geoff Nichols, indigenous plant guru; Enver Buchus at Silverton Nursery; and her part-time work at Geoff Caruth’s Geoff’s Jungle indigenous nursery (“Bring elephants back into your garden, plant a marula”), all paid off on her trips to Hella Hella. She drank in all the new stuff she learnt from Barry on his very special natural heritage site in the valley and on the high grasslands on top of the Hella Hella mountain.

Just as she’d do with me and birds, Aitch was always an investigative reporter-type of learner: “Are you sure? How do you know? What are the points that make it that? What else could it be?” Jeeesh! Of course every now and then her questioning would wake you to the fact that, actually, you had it wrong, and then together you’d come up with the correct identification. Oh boy, and she loved that: “See!? Better watch it, boy!” she’d say triumphantly. To me or Barry.

Lots of bum-in-the-air photography (frogs in this case):

PtShepstone2

Hella Hella Barry's Flora.jpg
A few of Barry’s pics of Hella Hella flora

~~~oo0oo~~~

Barry Porter and Aitch got on famously and spent many a happy hour ‘botanising’ on Game Valley Estates (GVE), Barry and Lyn’s game farm in the Umkomaas river valley. GVE encompassed a lovely tract of land on both banks of the river valley below the Hella Hella kop, and a beautiful, special, rare patch of highland grasslands above.

Barry loved having an interested and knowledgeable companion who didn’t think him weird when he spoke Latin! Aitch was fascinated by plants and her tuition by Ian Whitton the cardio-thoracic surgeon botanist; Geoff Nichols, indigenous plant guru; Enver Buchus at Silverton Nursery; and her part-time work at Geoff Caruth’s Geoff’s Jungle indigenous nursery (“Bring elephants back into your garden, plant a marula”), all paid off on her trips to Hella Hella. She drank in all the new stuff she learnt from Barry on his very special natural heritage site in the valley and on the high grasslands on top of the Hella Hella mountain.

Just as she’d do with me and birds, Aitch was always an investigative reporter-type of learner: “Are you sure? How do you know? What are the points that make it that? What else could it be?” Jeeesh! Of course every now and then her questioning would wake you to the fact that, actually, you had it wrong, and then together you’d come up with the correct identification. Oh boy, and she loved that: “See!? Better watch it, boy!” she’d say triumphantly. To me or Barry.

Lots of bum-in-the-air photography (frogs in this case):

Years later Barry gave her a CD and penned this little note with it.

Dear Trish,
In memory of past pleasant hours spent botanising on Game Valley; and in appreciation of your enthusiastic company and assistance on numerous trips up to Highover.
I hope you enjoy the CD ROM. It’s unfortunate that my scanner can’t scan 35mm slides, I have a far larger collection of slides and many are of better quality than the photos used in this presentation.
Just enjoy! Some of the identifications may be a little off the mark but don’t let that worry you.
Love, Barry

Hella Hella birding collage
– Highover grassland with Brunsvigia grandiflora; Our kombi halfway up the Hella Hella –

We’d see Blue Swallows, Grass Owls and Broad-tailed Warblers (now Fan-tailed Grassbird) in that Highover grassland! The rare blue swallows nest in aardvark holes and Barry monitored them every year.

Also oribi, beautiful little antelope.

Hella Hella Highover.jpg
– internet pics –

And Red-necked Spurfowl:

Red-necked Spurfowl.jpg

On the farm we met Barry’s brother Roger Porter, an ecologist with Ezemvelo KZN Wildlife, and his wife Ingrid Weiersbye, an amazing bird artist. On the quiet and as a (big) surprise, Aitch bought me two of her paintings: A Natal Robin (now Red-capped Robin-Chat) and a Wood Owl. Stunning.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Urgent Phone Call at Work

I’ve left the kids alone at home, so when the ladies at work say, “He says it’s urgent!” I take it.

It’s Tom.

Dad! We need to get a lamb roast and rosemary and garlic and small-cut vegetables to roast. It’s a slow roast and we don’t have any rice or lamb stock in the pantry!

OK Tom, we’ll go straight to the shops when I get home.
My 12yr-old has been watching a cooking show on the box.

Tom chef.jpg

~~oo0oo~~

Terry wrote:

Oh that is super funny!! Alone as in NO adults at all?

Me:

None. Cecelia on leave. Tobias is only Mon Wed Thurs.

So far they have been boringly safe and haven’t set anything on fire. It’ll come . . .

Under a previous regime I’d have been in trouble . .

As I would have been for Tom losing lots of skin and getting a huge heat rash when he fished topless all day the first day at Happy Wanderers. Aitch put more sunblock on them in a week than I have in 2,5 years.

Terry:

Hey its not cool to be too black, I hear!! Loads of sunscreen or she will haunt you!!

Me:
We’re all so aware of that, but remembering to do it . . .

Tito Mboweni’s son got picked up by the cops for being too black! I imagine that happens all the time. We’re very aware of that, too!

Kids are watching old Bill Cosby DVD’s (over & over until they know all the words OBH!)
Quite striking how they have chosen all the actors in it to be light-skinned – some to the point of whiteness! Bill himself is by far the darkest of the “Huxtable family”!

The funny thing is I “met” Bill Cosby in 1969 when an exchange student from upstate New York came to Harrismith. He brought a vinyl LP with him:

cosby LP.jpg

Here I am 45yrs later listening to my kids listening to Cosby.

Terry:

And my kids and I always said Bill Cosby was just a dark Pete Swanepoel 😀

~~oo0oo~~

2018:
This was 2014. Now all our Cosby stuff has been destroyed before discarding it. Sad, but he’s history in our books

Jessie, and Jaynee’s Fairies

Jess saw fairies in Jayne Janetsky’s Gauteng country garden way back around 2005. Jayne had little fairies and fairy lights among the fascinating boulders hidden in an indigenous forest copse. Also hanging from the branches and around the pond. Jess has always remembered them and still refers to them from time to time, years later. So it was a lovely surprise to get this email from Jayne – now living in Mocambique:

2017/05/26, Jayne Janetzky wrote: Thought Jess may like to look through a book I wrote for grandson Tyler – it’s about the faeries she remembers.

Talented daughter-in-law Ansobel did the illustrations!

Jayne Faeries Book_2

Wonderful! I replied. And the best part of all – It’s ALL TRUE! I was there, I saw it! The great big rocks, the pond, the fairies themselves! The lights! Jess will love it.

I found an aerial view of Jayne’s cottage and its magical garden.

Jayne's The rock

Here I arrowed the cottage with the (really, genuinely) magic adult veranda where liquid flowed and wondrous meals were served. The popping of champagne corks was an everyday sound here – now that is truly magical!

Also 1. The flat rocks which made such an interesting feature in the front garden; 2. The magical forest with a trail through it past high boulders and a pond, every nook and cranny with fairies and fairy lights and candles! Jaynee knows how to do theatre!

jaynes-the-rock_2

Adults who do things that kids never forget are magic adults.

McCord’s Zulu Hospital

McCord’s Zulu Hospital is a well-known institution in Durban. It was started in 1909 by Dr James B. McCord, who had studied medicine at Northwestern University in Illinois, qualifying in 1891.

McCord James B.JPG

McCord joined the Student Volunteer Missionary Movement at Oberlin College in Ohio and there met his future wife, Margaret Mellen, who was born in Natal when her parents had been missionaries there. She and James fell in love and decided to go to Africa as missionaries.

In 1899 he was sent to Adams Mission in Amanzimtoti as a medical missionary. Medical services for Africans in Natal at the beginning of the twentieth century were meagre at best and at worst non-existent.

So, right at the start of the Anglo-Boer War, James and Margaret, accompanied by two young daughters, travelled to South Africa in a troop ship carrying British soldiers! In 1902 he became a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and a licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians in London. He then moved to Durban where he remained for the rest of his working life. Initially he opened a clinic and a dispensary. To establish his hospital for Zulus in a fashionable part of Durban Dr McCord had to battle ingrained prejudice and unfounded fears. In time McCord’s Zulu Hospital became a well-known institution in Durban, gaining a reputation for excellence both in its treatment of patients and for its teaching and research. Predictably some whiteys agitated for it to be removed from the Berea to a ‘black area’ but – not predictably – they didn’t get their way.

McCords Hospital
See the book ‘The People’s Hospital’ – link below
Katie Makanya
Excellent nurse and leader Katie Makanya (right)

It was here that the McCords trained the first African women to become nurses, and fought for them to become registered by the nursing profession overcoming suspicion and the deadweight of bureaucracy. They received great help from Katie Makanya, whose knowledge of isiZulu and allround capabilities were essential to their success. At first he was assisted by two doctors who worked part-time and one trained nurse. His wife Margaret served as nurse and business manager. Much later the hospital staff expanded to include nine doctors, and 150 nursing sisters and trainees.

By the time of Dr. McCord’s retirement in 1940 at age 70, African female nurses were being licensed for the first time. His dream of establishing a medical school to educate and qualify African doctors was realized in 1947, three years before he died, when the University of Natal in Durban brought into being a Faculty of Medicine for black students, now named after Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela.

Here’s a fascinating look at McCords and Durban from an American visitor’s point of view in 1946. He was here as a cowboy looking after horses and cattle sourced by the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration and Brethren Service Committee’s seagoing cowboy program.

~~oo0oo~~

Our own dealings with McCords were all good. My friend Pat Bean – a lovely man – was the resident ophthalmologist there for years, and when Trish’s Mom Iona was well in her eighties the orthopod there advised her to rather not risk a hip replacement. Sound advice we thought. She was comfortable and safe in a wheelchair.

In 2014 the Provincial Government of KwaZulu Natal took over the McCord’s Zulu Hospital and converted it into a specialist eye hospital, McCord’s Provincial Eye Hospital. I now readily refer people without medical insurance to McCords these days for cataract and other eye surgery. They get great treatment there.

~~oo0oo~~

Dr. McCord wrote his autobiography My Patients Were Zulus (Rinehart & Co., New York, 1946); His daughter Margaret wrote The Calling of Katie Makanya (John Wiley & Sons, New York, 1995) about McCord’s first translator, theatre nurse and ward supervisor, who worked with him for over 40 years.

~~oo0oo~~

From a paper by Prof Dennis Luck of Oberlin College Ohio, sent to Bruce Soutar. Bruce and Heather took Dennis – who grew up in Durban – and his wife to see Ohlange Institute at Inanda, a high school founded in 1900 by Rev Dr John Langalibalele Dube and his first wife Nokutula. It was the first educational institution in South Africa to be founded by a black person. Like Dr McCord and Prof Luck, Dube had studied at Oberlin, and was a founder of the ANC. Nelson Mandela cast his first free democratic vote in 1994 at Ohlange school.

~~oo0oo~~

Pics from Hugh Bland’s great Natal-History-Saving site KZNPR. Go and have a look at it.

~~oo0oo~~

Do go and look at a new book The People’s Hospital by Julie Parle & Vanessa Noble is available free to download online. Wonderful old photos like this one in a spacious ward:

McCords Ward 1918

~~oo0oo~~

Bruce Soutar sent this blogpost to his connection in the USA, who replied:

From: Prof Dennis Luck – Sent: Thursday, February 8, 2018

Dear Bruce,

Many thanks for sharing with me comments from various people who have read the “one-pager” on James B. McCord. It seems that they found it interesting and informative.

I’ll never forget the day, some years back, when I stumbled across McCord’s autobiography, My Patients Were Zulus, in a second-hand bookshop in Oberlin that was going out of business. What a lovely connection between Durban, where I was born and grew up, and Oberlin, where I taught at the College for 33 years before retiring in 2005. I never knew that James McCord was a graduate of Oberlin College until that time!

John Dube, by the way, was not a graduate of Oberlin College: he attended the College for only two years,1888-1890 (thus overlapping with James McCord), before returning to South Africa. On a return visit to the US in 1897 he studied at the Union Missionary Seminary in Brooklyn, New York, for two years: in 1899 he was ordained as a priest thus becoming the Rev. John Dube. Finally, in 1936 he was awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of South Africa, becoming Dr. John Dube.   Oberlin College is very proud of him, and claims him as one of their own!

Another by- the- way: my field was biochemistry, not microbiology.   Sorry to be so pedantic – I guess it comes from being an academic!!

All best wishes, Dennis

~~oo0oo~

DIY Bush Wedding

I don’t do DIY. I was going to say except for our wedding, but on reflection, I also did that the way I do everything: Stand back and watch as others do it all, encouraging and applauding while trying to save money.

So Andre Hawarden did the invites:

What I did do was buy the booze and fill Mike Lello’s Isuzu Trooper and trailer with it and drive it out to Barry and Lyn’s farm Game Valley Estates at the foot of the well-known Hella Hella kop on the Friday. Lots of rain, muddy roads, the four wheel drive was needed. It had been a wet summer following the huge September 1987 flood.

Wedding Hella Hella Isuzu Trooper.jpg

Like most bachelors when they do fall, I headed off cheerfully to meet my fate, all my own advice forgotten, marching singing to the gallows!

I always sing ‘The robots change when I go thru, the clouds dissolve and the skies turn blue, and EVERYBODY loves me baby – – – what’s the matter with you!?‘

And the clouds did dissolve . . It got Sunny. Then Hot. Then Scorching, Humid and Sultry. It felt like all the rain of the big flood was trying to get back up into the clouds as steam.

And when I say ‘BUSH’ – Lyn and Barry’s beautiful game farm Game Valley Estates is truly in the bush that they have preserved, but their home has all the amenities one needs and they laid on even more for the occasion. So don’t think we roughed it; we had everything we needed as, with Aitch, they arranged everything – flowers, cake, tent, table n chairs, accommodation, food, spitbraai, animals to braai – the works!

Wedding Hella Hella (4)

Barry’s big old 4X4 Ford F150 gave people a tug up slippery Hella Hella Pass so they could get to their lodgings at the nearby Qunu Falls Lodge. The Brauers, the du Plessis, the Reeds, the Schoemans, the Stoutes, the Stewarts. The Hills live nearby. Family stayed in the concrete A-frame lodge on the farm.

Wedding Hella Hella.jpg

The sauna was pitched on the lawn under the Hella Hella mountain.

The beautiful Hella Hella Kop

The Porters were linked up to ESKOM but just because ESKOM has arrived does not mean that when you throw a switch with a flourish that anything will happen. And so it was on our wedding day that ESKOM was feeling a bit off that day and we were without krag, power, lights and fridges.

Enter David Hurle Hill !! He roared off to his farm Melrose a hundred km away in his bakkie and fetched a huge diesel generator on a trailer. David is a Drrrillerr and will drill you a borehole. In fact his company motto is ‘On The Hole Our Work Is Boring.’ He linked up and threw a switch with a flourish. And nothing happened.

She was not wekking, as David Hurle Hill would say.

Enter Enea Spaggiari !! All the way from Italy via Kenya and Petit outside Benoni. He climbed up onto and over and under the trailer and fiddled with wires and threw a switch with a flourish and Let There Be Light! Music! and Cold Beers! That’s Italian vernuf for ya! Or competenza, as they would say.

Wedding Hella Hella (3)

Iona coaches her daughter: Make all the big decisions, but make him think he made them . . . Aitch: Ha Ha I already do that . . .

Wedding Hella Hella (7).jpg
– plotting –

Then the usual stuff, the ominous music from Jaws: Tun Tun Ta Da!; Tun Tun Ta Da! What? Oh, the wedding march. The father of the bride looks like he’s having having second thoughts; Guys are thinking hm hm hm who’d a thunk this day would arrive?; Ladies are smiling – they seem to enjoy weddings; Aitch saying – ‘Honour? OK; – Obey? Are you mad!?’ and so on. The usual kak.

Wedding Hella Hella-001.jpg

Then the cake, made by Lyn’s talented friend with two beautiful frogs – probly a strongylopus and an arthtroleptis. In the heat they keeled over. We should have got a pic, but something like this, just green frogs in white dress and black tuxedo – and not from alcohol – from heat fatigue:

– frog cake –

Then The Lies! You just can’t trust some people. Ten years prior to this I had done a very good job being his best man and if he had paid attention he’d have learned something. Like, to stick to the flattering truth and not tell scurrilous alternative truths that nobody wants to hear. At least nobody called the object of your attentions wants to hear them . . .

Brauer spinning yarns

That speech was followed by The Truth! plain and unvarnished. By me:

Wedding 1988 speech.jpg

At last, we could change into shorts and relax and party. Some in the background (We saw you Jeff!) had cleverly not changed out of their shorts throughout.

Later came The Getaway:

Wedding Hella Hella Getaway Car.jpg

Which took a while, handicapped as we were. We wore getaway kit appropriate for our intrepid honeymoon. We were headed for Deepest Darkest America.

~~~oo0oo~~~

On the Monday friend Allie Peter flew over Hella Hella in a helicopter and took pics of Rapid No.5&6 looking downstream and then back upstream:

~~~oo0oo~~~

Twenty Five Years Later – 28 Feb 2013 – I wrote to friends:

Crazy, innit! 25yrs ago today Aitch and I got hitched down in the Hella Hella valley in a fun DIY game farm wedding.
She made it to 23yrs of married bliss (OK, she might have had something to say at this point . . ) and one month short of 26yrs together. We celebrated that 25yrs-together milestone in August 2010.

Thinking of all you good peeps that made our wedding so memorable – that’s the bachelor days before, the day itself, and the 25yrs since!

Cheers!

Lotsa love – Pete – and now Jessica & Tommy!

BTW, Lyn and Barry Porter of Hella Hella also died in 2011:
Lyn in January – also breast cancer; Barry in April – hospital infection; And then Aitch in July.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Dave Hill: I remember it well – I ‘nipped’ home to fetch my generator when the power went off.

Pete Stoute: Remember the week-end like yesterday! Struggling up the other side of Hella Hella to the Qunu Falls hotel in the mud and rain – Dave Hill saving the day with a BIG generator. Will have an extra glass of vino this evening – great mates and good times.

Sheila Swanepoel: Those pics are great. What a wonderful record of a very special day.
I remember the incredible heat and how you, Pierre and Pete sneaked off and changed into shorts straight after the ceremony. And how the phone kept ringing in the middle of the ceremony in the house.
Linda was flower girl, Robbie was so proud of his brand new red “tight”

Wedding 1988 Linda Robbie (1).jpg

. . and Jeff kept putting off going to change, saying that he was charge of the antelope on the spit – he dithered for so long that there was no time to change and that pleased him no end.
Bess & I sneaked down to the pool for a kaalgat swim and found Iona had beaten us to it!

Steve Reed: Will always remember the weekend; a great occasion. I think it was thanks to Mike and Yvonne in the 4×4 that we traveled safely back through the mud to our lodgings. Fond memories – raising a glass tonight to all of you!

I remember Brauer chasing a tight deadline speech writing – wise.

Pete Brauer: Damn. Been holding my breath during this stroll thru memory lane hoping that no-one noticed at the time or that no-one would still remember that poor last-minute effort.

Terry Brauer: Steve nothing has changed! PB has his own website called lastminute.com

Steve Reed: Speech was excellent. Not many can compose a wedding speech while putting on a tie with the other hand. Besides, Swannie probably tasked Brauer with the job as he was getting dressed himself.

Terry Brauer: Yip Brauer remains an orator of note and Swanepoel continues to notify me he is coming to stay usually on the day when he lands in Pretoria – 😀 Those old dogs ain’t gonna learn new tricks but love them both! T

Pete Swanie: I had prepared well in advance.

Wedding Hella Hella Groom scribbles truth.jpg

Brauer procrastinated and ignored my two rules: Keep it short; and NO LIES.

Wedding Hella Hella Brauer scribbles lies.jpg

Pete Brauer: If I stuck to the latter rule the first would have fallen into place quite easily.

Tanza Crouch: Thinking of you, Aitch, Tommy and Jessy at this time. My spider days at Hella Hella are very special to me and Aitch, Barry and Lyn were very special people.

~~~oo0oo~~~

The old paper album has been scrapped, but here it is in pixels:

vernuf – skill; expertise; competenza!

Writing A Book

I think people should write down their stories. In particular I thought Charles Mason should write his as he has paddled one particular crazy-ass canoe marathon every summer for fifty years in a row! Insanity like that should be noted and recorded for posterity. Psychologists should be looking into it.

I mean he won the Dusi twice, paddled one Berg – and coined the now well-known law “Anyone Doing The Berg More Than Once Is Certifiable;” Charles started, then won, the very first Umko river canoe marathon; He paddled all the other river races and multi-day marathons, sailed to Seychelles and wrecked the yacht on the beach, got a 1st-class degree, married a lovely lady and raised two sons. And some other stuff. But notably, amazingly and astonishingly, he made the Umkomaas River Canoe Marathon – the most feared of all South Africa’s river races – his own. As far as we’ve been able to establish, he is the first Saffer to do one of the big known endurance events fifty times.

Here he is doing what some paddlers call ‘Taming the Umko.’ He’s in front wearing the yellow helmet:

Umko Dutton pics 2005 (594)

…

Ah! There it is, a pale yellow helmet:

Charlie Geoff.gif

So I said ‘Listen, you should write your story. Your kids may not read it but your grandkids will.’ So Charles said/asked ‘Ja?’ in that quizzical, half-serious half-amused way of his and suggested we meet for tea at Rosie’s Tearoom. Which made me think it was actually now quite urgent that his story get written. Charles Mason thinking ‘meet for a drink’ meant ‘meet at Rosie’s Tearoom’ got me worried. He was obviously getting old. The project had taken on some real urgency.

At Rosie’s doiley-covered tea table his very first sentence was ‘You Know Peter, this is Quite Opportune. Next Year is the Fiftieth Umko,’ and promptly turned the focus away from himself and on to the iconic race which he had been instrumental in reconnoitering, starting, winning, keeping going and participating in. Did I mention every single one of them for fifty one years IN-A-ROW? He broke his boat and walked out in one of them, so fifty finishes in fifty one starts.

So the book title changed from Charlie Mason Fuckin WildWater Endurance SuperHero to ‘UMKO 50 years‘ and he became the font of Umko knowledge and wisdom and proofreader extraordinaire. So although I am responsible for all mistakes, I didn’t really know what I was doing, so we should actually blame him. Except we can’t – he didn’t get to proofread everything. Damn.

So we wrote a book, me and Charlie. Charles in longhand! On paper made from gumtrees by both Sappi and Mondi. He made a copy typist out of me. No wonder I made some mistakes. I took typing as a matric subject in Apache Oklahoma in 1973 and peaked at a blistering nineteen words a minute with ten mistakes. Also, while Charles has done fifty, and ten other okes have done over thirty, with 42 and 39 finishes being the next craziest after Charles, this half of the author-duo had done one. ONE. One Umko. So I did need some help in knowing what I was on about.

In my defence, I wrote the bloody thing cos it NEEDED DOING. Somebody had to do this! Anyway, between Charles and I we’ve done 51 Umkos and experience like that is not to be sneezed at. Also, I think Chas may be just a teeny bit envious of my 100% finish record. Started one, finished one. Whereas he’s down at 98.15% – 53 out of 54.

The way we did it was to ask all paddlers who have ever paddled the Umko to send in their stories. Then we asked them again. And again. The emptiness of my inbox was deafening. An American paddling scribe – and paddling scribes are, in Charlie’s own description of rarity, As Rare As Rocking Horse Shit – wrote ‘paddlers are notoriously lax at recording their adventures.’ Correct. Bill Barron used to say ‘ka-rreck.’

So I had to go out like a roving reporter and fetch the stories that were not being sent in.

With Paul Chalupsky it was coffee in Durban North. After a wary start and quite a few questions, the floodgates opened. Five hours later I left with notes scribbled in my notebook, on the till slip, and on my phone. When I wrote him seeking clarity I got the usual ‘I’m not-so-email’ response. Thank goodness his new wife jumped in and sent clarifications and some lovely new tales.

With Herve de Rauville it was two quarts of beer and two bottles of quota red wine from his estate in the winelands. He’s not anti-quotas, our Herve. Seven hours later we had done the Umko plenty times with much steering back away from the inevitable topic if you’re talking to SA paddlers: The Dusi!

I nailed down Pete Peacock by going to PMB and meeting him at Owen Hemingway’s Pope’s Canoe Centre. Owen himself was a fountain of info and scandal! At that stage I was relieved to meet a paddler with verbal diarrhoea, instead of the communicative constipation I had been experiencing! While I pumped him for Umko info he sold me a boat. A beautiful orange plastic Fluid Detox. I must paddle it one day.

Like many, Kenny Reynolds agreed absolutely that he would write. Every time I saw him at KCC he would FOR SURE be sending me some stories. Soon. But it was only when I was with him scribbling in longhand that I got any scandal. Same with Ballie Roets and Tony Botes. I had to go to Crusaders – the drinking club with a canoeing problem – clubhouse for their tales. It looked like a bowling club. No?

I began to think this was a multi-year project for a patient, persistent saint, of which I am none of the above. Then a breakthrough! Some ancient pre-rinderpest okes had been forced to learn email from being in Australia. So Robbie Stewart and Rory Lynsky sent stirring tales. Their endeavours were re-doubled when a Viking character entered the fray and goaded them into having to defend their honour. Now we were cooking thanks to Rowan Rasmussen! Ally Maynard had to set the record straight, Porky Paul got his secretary to write, Rob Bourne-Lange had Leslye fire off his missives. Geoff Caruth was slow, but he has written a lot about the Umko over many years, so I could plunder his early writings, scanning the old Umko programs, then editing the OCR errors, then copy and paste.

Now the accusations started flying thick and fast. Especially thick. Everyone was the hero of their story and the furious howls of ‘That’s MY story you’re telling!‘ got the creative juices flowing. The introduction now needed the caution ‘Please take all the stories with a hefty pinch of iodised cerebos.’ The reason for the hyperbole, of course, is the river itself. The palpable fear before a race causes great excitement and nervousness – and garrulous relief afterwards. Charles summed it up pithily many years ago with another famous truth: ‘There’s No Better Laxative Than A Full Umkomaas!‘

Kingfisher heavies contributed aplenty. From the outset the project had the backing of the club. Travis Wilkinson, Terry Drummond and Ross Poacher helped out. Rob Davey actually saw that the idea became a reality. We all spoke and wrote; Rob brought the money in. Ernie Alder didn’t say no, but fokol forthcame until I met him at Circus Circus for a lengthy meal when his floodgates opened. He was no typist, our Ernie.

Rumblings from behind the boerewors curtain erupted and colourful lava spewed forth once Bruce Clarke, Brian Longley, Meyer Steyn and Colin Wilson started lying singing. These interlopers regard the Umko as their own and some Umkos there have actually been more Vaalies than modest, well-behaved paddlers! We may in fact need to look at the Donald Trump solution to keeping them out with a wall at van Reenen. Spoiling a good story with the truth is not their style. Swims which had been Natal-long became epic swims lasting ‘months underwater,’ and even this was topped by ‘eons holding my breath.’ Nicknames are a big thing in the hinterland, so I liked that and tried to get nicknames for as many paddlers as I could. Hopefully a few guys were annoyed at seeing their worst, most forgettable name in print. I decided from the outset not to censor any submissions. Customary Paddling Language was used as spoken, but even I chose not to put some unsavoury nicknames in the book!

I wanted recognition for the ladies who have quietly and without fuss done what us okes did. Much serious shaking of male heads kept the ladies out for years, in the sure knowledge that no woman could – and then, OK, should – ever do a race as challenging as ‘our Umko’ and anyway, out of the kindness of our hearts we shouldn’t let them into our remote valley. For their own good. Also, how would they possibly handle having to sleep in the big marquee with all the guys? By telling better fart jokes than the guys, it turned out. As far as I could tell, Colleen Whitton was the first lady to paddle in an Umko and Marlene Boshoff and sis Jenny were the first to finish one without a male in the boat. They were followed in random order by Antje Manfroni, Patricia Stannard, Lorna Oliver, Debbie Whitton-Germiquet, Diana Rietz. What’s more they wrote good stories and sent them in on time and electronically. Thanks ladies!

The breakthrough with the ladies came via Hugh Raw. His terrific MCP stories (he wrote of paddling with TWO ladies and making them carry the boat) needed responding to and challenging. And the ladies did just that.

PROCESS

Back and forth, checking and re-checking. Re-writing causes layout headaches, all well handled by Rob Davey and Jon Ivins, paddler, photographer and book putter-together-er. All the while badgering okes to send in their stories, with mixed success. To their credit every one of the paddlers I phoned cheerfully agreed to send their tale. Then they didn’t. Amazingly, some okes can win the race multiple times but writing a story defeats them. If I had a story about them, especially if controversial, I would send that to them and that often elicited a response, but not always. At least Robbie Herreveld was a great help with the results. He kept records and helped us complete the list of winners.

AT LAST!

The proofs arrived! We checked through half-size black-and-white proofs then the full-size, full-colour proofs:

20160223_154420.jpg

Then the books themselves arrived, happy day! Just in time for the race, where Rob Davey handed them out to paddlers in 2016’s goodie bags! They were pretty well received, I thought, warts and all!

Umko 50_2016 (1).jpg
– Nigel Briggs also wrote for the book – he wrote a book of his own on That Other Race –

The UMKO 50 years – The Story Of A River Race And The People Who Made It Happen can be read here. Don’t tell me of any errors, thank you! Actually, do. We’ll build your bulldust into UMKO 60 years.

~o0o~

Oddballs Palm Island Luxury Lodge

Getting into Botswana’s Okavango Delta can be awfully expensive.

A cheaper way is to fly in to Oddballs Palm Island Luxury Lodge, get on a mokoro and disappear off into the wild with a guide who – unlike you – knows where he’s going and what he’s doing. In 1993 Aitch and I did just that, spending a night at Oddballs, where you are given a little dome tent to pitch on the hard-baked earth under the palm trees.

You get visitors:

The name is ironic, see (“contrary to what is expected, and typically causing wry amusement because of this” – I made a quick check; don’t want to get ‘ironic’ wrong). While in camp you stock up on the meagre supplies available in their shop, like potatoes and onions; a tent, a braai grid; add it to the 10kg you’re allowed to bring in on the high-wing Cessna 206’s and you’re away! 10kg doesn’t go far when you’re a books, binocs and spotting scope junkie!

The next morning we pushed off in our gentles S-shaped tree trunk mokoro to enjoy six nights out on the water in the care of a wonderful man named Thaba Kamanakao. He rigged up the seats so they were really comfy, the backrests enabling you to fall asleep at times!

Thaba said we could choose where we wanted to camp – anywhere. Soon after lunch we saw a magnificent Jackalberry tree on an island and said ‘there!’ – my guess is he knew that! We set up camp – our tent and two deckchairs and a ready-made campfire spot which he’d likely used many times before. The rest of the day was given to lurking, loafing, listening, lazing. Thaba set his gill nets, gathered firewood, pitched his smaller tent and set his chair at the fire. We were all quiet most of the time, listening and loving as night fell. After we’d eaten we sat talking and listening some more. Then Thaba played his mbira – his ‘thumb harp’ – and sang to us; I’ll never forget his introduction as we switched on our tape recorder: ‘My name is Thaba; Thaba Kamanakao; Kamanakao is surname;‘

– shady jackalberry camp – Thaba and Aitch organise –

We chose not to move camp each day, electing to sleep three nights under a Jackalberry and three nights under an African Mangosteen, both giving welcome shade and birdlife. We had little food, but Thaba provided us with the fish he caught in his gill net.

I ate the barbel and he and Aitch the bream. Lucky me, it was delicious! He also loved barbel, but his lifestyle advisor – a sangoma? a shaman? a nutritionist? – had told him he wasn’t allowed it! So a myth robbed a man of a tasty and useful source of protein. The first night we were joined by newly-qualified Pommy doctors Louise and Richard and their guide “BT.”

When we moved camp from the camp Aitch named Jackalberry Camp, to her new chosen Mangosteen or Squirrel Camp, we decided we needed a bath on the way, so Thaba took us to a stunning clear lagoon, carefully checked for big things that could bite and then stood guard on the mokoro while we swam and rinsed – no soap, please! Anyone going to this beautiful inland delta: Pack some small swimming goggles and an underwater camera if you can. The clarity of that water is awesome.

Beautiful underwater pic by David Doubilet – to show the clarity.

OddballsOkavango Camp

Squirrel Camp nights were again spent cooking and sitting around the fire; talking and listening to Thaba playing his mbira and singing;

Days were spent birding the camp, hiking the island and an daily foray in the mokoro. Once we we were ‘moved off’ by an impatient ele, Aitch getting mildly reprimanded for turning round to get a fuzzy picture as we retreated. Another time Thaba – scouting ahead – spooked a herd of buffalo, who thundered in a tight mass towards us. We climbed the nearby termite mound – Thaba had told us to stay next to or on it – and they thundered all around us;

– our ‘buffalo hide’ termite mound –

We would sally out daily on short mokoro trips,

– colourful dragonflies, lilies and reed frogs at eye level –

Back before the sun got too high so we could loaf in our shady camp, where the squirrels and birds kept us entertained for hours. Six lazy, wonderful, awesome days.

One night a herd of eles moved in and we lay listening to their tummy rumbles. We kept dead quiet and just peered at them in the moonlight through the tent flap, as they had a little baby with them and we didn’t want to upset mama.

Botswana Oddballs Savuti (2 small)
– still life with Sausage Tree flowers & leaves – Aitch saw the beauty at her feet –

Then we headed back reluctantly for a last night at Oddballs. Warm showers under the open sky; cold beer & gin’n’tonics on the deck, ice tinkling in the glass; watching spotted-necked otters in the lagoon, lounging in comfy chairs. Topped off that evening by a big hearty hot meal prepared for us and plonked onto a table on the deck. We ate watching the sunset turn the water red.

And suddenly it dawned on us that, even though we did have to pitch our own tent again, Oddballs really IS a Luxury Lodge!

Oddballs (5)
– chandeliers of sausage tree flowers hang over the lagoon –

Then we flew east, to the Savuti.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Oddballs is fancier nowadays.

mokoro – dugout canoe; one mokoro, two mekoro, three mekoro, FOUR

sangoma – shaman? traditional healer? medicine man? says he communes with the ancestors; gives advice

mbira – thumb piano or thumb harp musical instrument

~~~oo0oo~~~

postscript 2018: This post was found by Thaba’s son, who informed me in the comments below that Thaba the legend had passed away. Damn!

R.I.P Thaba Kamanakao; You made our trip unforgettable.

~~oo0oo~~

Read an account of another 1993 trip to the Okavango Delta – Delta Camp right next to Oddballs) by Bill Keller, a US journalist for the NY Times based in Joburg.

~~~oo0oo~~~

(Here’s Trish’s 1993 photo album. I have copied, posted it here and discarded the album in my downsizing while selling our home in 2021)

~~o00o~~

Hacks, Shifts and Contrivances

The internet is full of ‘hacks’: Simple and – sometimes – effective solutions to everyday problems (or ‘problems’). Often quirky or inelegant. Sometimes satirised. Here’s a typical geek hack:

dirty dishes

I found some camping hacks – these are a bit more real: a handy tent floor; a shoe-holder kitchen; eggs in a bottle; a toilet paper jar; pre-made sangria; etc.

camping hacks

But here’s what really got me going: An 1872 book on ‘hacks’ for going on a long expedition into Darkest Africa called The Art of Travel, or Shifts and Contrivances Available in Wild Countries by Francis Galton, grandson of the famous Erasmus Darwin and cousin of the even more famous Charles Darwin.

The first edition was written in 1855. It provides detailed instructions on ‘wagons and boats, horses and oxen, tents and firearms, hunting and fishing, observing and collecting, carpentry and metal-working, camping requisites, bush cuisine, medical improvisation, the best ways to cross rivers, how to move heavy objects and how to build huts.’ Handy everyday stuff.

– 1855 edition – Galton book – The Art of Travel – Shifts and Contrivances – My reprint –

Now, let me tell ya: If you have traveled before reading this book you didn’t know what you were doing. You took a big chance! Read this sound advice and find out what you SHOULD have done:

Money – Travelers must be healthy, adventurous, and have ‘at least a moderate fortune.’ If your fortune isn’t quite large enough, shoot elephants for their ivory or collect insects, birds and plants and sell them to fund your travels. Galton himself had inherited enough loot from his family that he had no need to make any more. He could travel without collecting beetles, and he could leave the occasional elephant with its teeth intact!

Washing Clothes – Here’s how to wash your clothes after you have worn them night and day for six weeks: Kill an animal – any animal – take its gall bladder and add it to boiling water full of ash from the fire. Peel off your greasy clothes and soak them in this mess overnight. Next morning, take them to water and wash and beat them with a flat piece of wood. To get rid of the vermin with which you are infested by now, take half an ounce of mercury, mix it with old tea leaves reduced to pulp by mastication and add saliva (not water) to make a paste. Infuse this into a string which you hang around your neck. The lice will be sure to bite at the bait, swell, become red and die. See. Easy. And you now almost smelling of roses.

Making Soap – Save up the fat from the cooking of the animals you have killed till you have half a bucket-full. Collect as much wood as you can and wood ashes from plants whose ashes taste acrid. Correct, taste the ashes. Get a man to make two very large clay pots, ‘which is a very easy thing to do when proper clay can be obtained.’ In one pot place the ashes. In the other, under which a fire has been lit, place the fat. Now employ a Damara of sedentary disposition to supervise the process to the end, he or she simply having to keep the fire going under the grease-pot night and day, and from time to time ladle into it a spoonful of the ash-water or lye. This ash-water is sucked up by the grease and in only ten days of constant attendance the stuff is transformed into good white soap. See. Easy. 

Make a Boat – If you need to cross a river with your belongings, a make-shift boat is useful: Kill two bulls – or in Africa, maybe buffaloes; (attentive readers will have noted by now that Step One is usually Kill an Animal). Skin them and sew the skins together. Cut down ten small willow trees, fourteen feet long. Lash the willow poles as shown, wrap the skins around them. Two men can make this craft in a mere two days.

Galton shift boat

Easy. Assuming, of course, that the buffaloes cooperate.

– uncooperative buffalo pic from Jock of the Bushveld –

Theory of Loads and Distances – and Women – You (well, your porters) need to schlep a lot of stuff along, so Galton works out how much you can get animals and men to carry. He does this ‘partly by theory and partly by experiment’!

“Let d be the distance the beast or man could travel daily if unburdened; Let b be the burden which would just suffice to prevent an animal from moving a step; Let b’ be some burden less than b and let d’ be the distance he could travel daily when carrying b’.”

He comes to a magic formula b’d² = b(d – d’)² which ‘proves’ the pack animal can carry 4/9 of his maximum staggering load! From this he works out that a man can carry 119lbs a distance of 11 miles a day. By this he means of course, ‘some other man,’ not himself. A bit like the definition of minor surgery: Minor surgery is surgery on someone else.

He also confidently states that – unlike many travelers – he believes taking women along is an asset, ‘for they work hard and can carry double the load men can.’ Mind you, this is the man who once used his expertise in trigonometry to discreetly measure the posterior development (her bum) of a South African woman at a distance. Ahem, proper English gentleman, he was.

Taking along the wives of the hired hands ‘gives great life to a party,’ and they can endure a long journey ‘nearly as well as a man, and certainly better than a horse or a bullock.’ Women were also ‘invaluable in picking up and retailing information and hearsay gossip’ which the traveler might otherwise miss. Plus, they are cheap to run, as Samuel Hearne of the Hudson’s Bay Company had pointed out: ‘Women were made for labor, and though they do everything, they are maintained at a trifling expense, for, as they always cook, the very licking of their fingers, in scarce times, is sufficient for their subsistence.’

Noisy Donkeys? – Just tie a heavy stone around the ass’s tail. ‘When an ass wants to bray, he elevates his tail, and, if his tail be weighted down, he has not the heart to bray.’

Solitary Travel – ‘Neither sleepy nor deaf men should think of traveling alone.’ What’s that!?

On Being Held Up by Brigands – When the robber orders you to lie down, draw your own gun and yell, ‘If this were loaded, you should not treat me thus!’ Then lie on the ground as ordered. As the robber approaches to relieve you of your belongings, ‘aim quickly and shoot him dead – the pistol being really loaded all the time. It’s a trick that has been practiced in most countries, from England to Peru.’  – Right. Although one supposes that dramatic speech might work better if uttered in a local tongue understood by the brigand involved? Say, Damara if uttered in South West Africa?

Supplies – After giving long lists of necessities per day and per person and per six months, he comes to a final rough formula for ‘Stores for Individual Use’: You need 7lbs a month for every white man and 3lbs a month for every black man. – ‘Cos, you know . . .

– useful chunder feather source –

Medicine – You need to take aperient, cordial, quinine, camphor, carbolic acid, Warburg’s fever drops, glycerine, mustard paper, and emetic. Or, for an emetic you could use a charge of gunpowder in a tumblerful of warm water, then tickle your throat with a feather. A bustard feather works best.

Boots Pinching? ‘A raw egg broken into the boot before putting it on, greatly softens the leather.’ – Probly also stops your toes being trodden on, as companions retreat from crowding around you?

Bedding – Your bedding must be warm and windproof, but not airtight, as ‘sleeping clothes that are absolutely impervious to the passage of the wind necessarily retain the cutaneous excretions. These poison the sleeper, acting upon his blood through his skin, and materially weaken his power of emitting vital heat: the fire of his life burns more languidly.’ He also advises you to sleep outside: ‘a tent is too much like home.’ – And anyway, how the hyenas gonna get you in that tent?

Always Keep a Diary – Keep a daily travelogue: ‘It appears impossible to a traveler, at the close of his journey, to believe he will ever forget its events, however trivial. They seem branded into his memory. But this is not the case – the crowds of new impressions during a few months of civilised life will efface the sharpness of the old ones. I have conversed with . . many men . . the greater part of whose experiences in savagedom had passed out of their memories like the events of a dream. So, like I keep telling you: Every day, write up your diary, you ous! All of you.

Galton camp SWA
– Galton’s camp in Damaraland – or savagedom –

To Raise and Move a Heavy Body – When a violent hurricane had driven his eighty ton schooner several hundred yards inland, Mr Williams, a missionary in the South Sea Islands, said, ‘The method by which we raised and moved the vessel was exceedingly simple, and we accomplished the task with great ease.’ They raised her out of the 4ft hole she had worked herself into by levering her out with long levers and stone weights. Then they filled the bog that lay between her and the sea with stones and logs as rollers. Then they used a chain cable and ‘compelled her to take a short voyage upon the land before she floated in her pride on the sea once more.’ It was easy.

Oh, and then he did deign to mention, the ‘great ease with which they accomplished this task’ took ‘the united strength of about 2000 people.’ ‘Twas nothing, I did it myself,’ the missionary reverend murmured modestly .

~~oo0oo~~

What a delightful book of days gone by! I love it! Days of adventure, of knowing everything, including what other men and – especially – women thought, needed and wanted – without ever having to go through the tedious process of asking them! 366 pages of The Good Old Daze indeed.

– just get me to the river and I’ll make a boat of your hide – OK? –

~~oo0oo~~

Another Book Of Advice

Sixteen years later, in 1871 Thomas Baines decided he too, had advice for travelers:

– Shifts and Expedients of Camp Life –

Thomas Baines 1871 book: Shifts and Expedients of Camp Life, Travel & Exploration, written with William Barry Lord, a soldier with the Royal Artillery, built on Galton – and offered even more detail.

Your clothes – have them made. Firstly, shirts: – Have them made to measure from flannel which has been previously well shrunk, of thoroughly good quality, of medium substance, and unobtrusive pattern or colour. It will be well to order them of extra length, both of sleeve and body, so as to allow for the shrinkage which is certain to take place after a few washings, in spite of all precautions. Two breast pockets should be made in each. These are very convenient for holding a variety of small matters when no waistcoat is worn. For outer clothing nothing can surpass good heather-coloured tweed, or Waterford frieze, for ordinary wear; jackets of shooting-coat pattern, made with plenty of pockets, formed from much stronger materials than are usually made use of by tailors for that purpose, will be found most useful for knocking about in.

Your coat: – Take a blue cloth pilot coat, cut long enough to reach just below the knees; have it lined throughout with woollen material; let the pockets be made extra strong, and order the buttons to be large, of black horn, and sewn on with double-waxed thread. The left hand breast pocket should be deep and lined with leather, as it not unfrequently becomes a resting-place for the revolver when you do not wish to make an ostentatious display of it.

Boots and shoes: – For real work these are in no part of the world equal to those made at home, and a thoroughly good stock should be laid in before quitting England; ‘Butcher boots,’ so made as to fit the leg compactly just below the bend of the knee, with low heels, and broad heel seats; several pairs of shooting boots of the regular ankle-jack gamekeeper’s pattern, tipped at toe and heel; A pair or two of high shoes made from soft undressed russet leather will be found very useful to wear instead of slippers, or for camp use when the ground is dry; A pair of Cording’s wading boots will be found invaluable. They occupy little space, are comparatively light, and keep the legs and feet dry and warm when nothing else will; It will be well also to provide two or three pairs of brown leather shooting boots without heels and with single soles, free from nails, and flexible enough to admit of the wearer walking softly and with perfect freedom.

– a velschoen –

Making your own shoes: – Most countries have some form of shoe easily made from materials obtainable upon the spot, and ‘in Africa’ the ‘velschoen’ of untanned leather is the general wear. Sometimes these are very clumsily made, the naked foot is planted on the piece of leather intended for the sole, and the outline is marked out with the point of a knife, the blade being held so far clear as to obviate all danger of cutting the foot, a plan which certainly has the merit of making the shoe sufficiently roomy.

First, you kill a giraffe, eland or buffalo for the soles. Or purchase pieces of their hides large enough for a pair – generally about eighteenpence. These are simply dried, and a native must be hired to beat and soften them, working grease into them as he does so, till they become so soft and supple that, though they are not waterproof in the sense of absolutely repelling the liquid, they may be wetted through and dried again without becoming hard. Sometimes a native will do this for a knife (value ninepence or a shilling) and the grease; but a sharp look-out must be kept upon the latter, or he will rub it into his own skin instead of that which he is employed to soften. An African can no more be trusted with fat than many of our own countrymen with ardent spirits.

What? Only one gun? – To the traveler whose means of transport confine him to the possession of only one gun, we say without hesitation, purchase a plain, strong, muzzle-loading, double-barrelled smooth bore of 11 or 12 gauge. Length of barrel, 2ft. 6in, weight 8½lb. without the ramrod, a front action bar, side locks, and ramrod pipes large enough to carry a rod of extra large size and power. Two pairs of spare nipples, and one pair of fitted main springs, in addition to those in the locks.

Bullets – A bell-metal or iron spherical bullet mould must be selected with the greatest care, as it by no means follows that because the figure 12 or 11 is stamped on it, that, like a wadding punch, it is calculated for a gun of the same gauge.

And so on and on – I have given here only 130 words of Baines’ 4628 words on guns!

To know what you’re doing, get the book!

Sketching – For persons wishing to employ their leisure in pleasing mementoes of the scenes they visit, perhaps the following brief list—amplified, should they desire it—will afford sufficient guidance; and they will also do well to choose one or more of the shilling handbooks published by Rowney and Co., or Winsor and Newton.

A sketching portfolio, with folding tin frame to confine the paper while in use, and pocket for spare paper—quarto size.

A good strong havresac of canvas, with leather slings for each folio. Stout canvas is almost waterproof. This should have pockets for colour box, water bottle, pencils, and penknife.

Half quire Whatman’s drawing paper (white). Some of it should be cut to the size of the folio.

Half quire sketching cartridge for less finished work.

Half quire tinted drawing paper (pearl, light drab, cool and warm greys).

A proportion of all these papers should be cut to the size of the sketch book when purchased; but a few sheets should be kept whole, as a larger drawing may be required.

Two dozen drawing pencils—eight HH, twelve H and four HB. In practice, it will be found HB is black enough, and it should be used sparingly, as, unless a drawing is fixed immediately, the deep shades are very apt to smear when the backs of other sketches are packed against them.

Two single bladed penknives.

Very compact sketching boxes with assorted colours in cakes, in porcelain pans, or in collapsible tubes, are provided; and the amateur can hardly do better than select one of these with any number of colours.

One tube of sepia and a cake of Chinese white. With these we should advise three brown sable pencils in flat German silver ferrules—Nos. 1, 3, and 6. With the addition to these of the three primitive colours—red, blue, and yellow—a considerable range of subjects may be painted; indeed could we obtain these in perfect purity, we should require no other. But, as this is impossible, we subjoin a list of colours, placing first in order those that we have found most useful:—

  • Indian yellow, Carmine, French blue, Yellow ochre, Light red, Prussian blue, Gamboge, Rose madder (perhaps in cake), Cobalt, Raw sienna (cake), burnt sienna, Indigo, Yellow lake, Mars orange, Payne’s grey, Vermilion (cake), Vandyke brown, Emerald green, Scarlet lake (cake), Crimson lake, Purple lake, Cadmium yellow (cake), Brown madder (cake), Purple madder (cake).

With these, the whole set from 1 to 6 of the sables in flat albata will be needed, and we advise two each of 1, 2, and 3, as well as one or two large swans’ quills for washing in the sky or flat tints. A tripod sketching stool folding to the size of a special’s staff would be useful, but the rivet should be strong and well clinched. Let the watercolour box have divisions on the edge of the palette for every colour it contains. If you take an easel, let the joint be brass. – (Note: Here I give you 516  of Baines’ 1677 words. Being an artist, this subject would have been close to his heart).

The Traveler’s Library:

I used to schlep along rather a lot of books, but of course far less now that my phone and laptop and the internet have the rest, not to mention maps and GPS, wikipedia, etc! Baines suggested these 32 books, handily giving their price in shillings and pence:

Astronomy: – Outlines of Astronomy. Sir J. Herschel, Bart (Longman and Co. 1858) 11s. – Astronomy and General Physics. W. Whewell (W. Pickering. 1857) 4s. – Illustrated London Astronomy. J. R. Hind (Ingram and Co. 1853) 1s. 6d. – Handbook—Descriptive and Practical Astronomy. G. F. Chambers (J. Murray. 1861) 10s. – Elements of Plane Astronomy. J. Brinkley, D.D (Hodges and Smith. 1845) 6s. – Orbs of Heaven; Planetary and Stellar Worlds. O. M. Mitchell (N. Cooke. 1856) 2s. 3d.

Navigation: – Navigation and Nautical Astronomy. Rev. J. Inman (Rivingtons. 1862) 6s. 3d. – Complete Epitome of Practical Navigation (J. W. Norie. 1864) 14s. [N.B. The latest edition should be asked for.] – Lunar Time Tables. J. Gordon (Imray. 1853) 7s. – Handbook for the Stars. H. W. Jeans (Levey, Robson, and Co. 1848) 3s. 6d.

Mathematics, Trigonometry, and Spherics: – Manual of Mathematical Tables. Galbraith and Houghton (Longman and Co. 1860) 2s. – Mathematical Tracts. G. B. Airy (J. W. Parker. 1842) 9s. 6d. – Treatise on Practical Mensuration. A. Nesbit (Longman and Co. 1864) 5s. 4d. – Practical Introduction to Spherics and Nautical Astronomy. P. Kelly, LL.D (Baldwin and Co. 1822) 7s. – Treatise on Trigonometry. G. B. Airy (Griffin and Co. 1855) 2s. 3d.

For Travellers: – What to Observe; or, Travelling Remembrancer. Col. Jackson. Revised by Dr. Norton Shaw (Houlston and Wright. 1861) 9s. 6d. – Geodesy and Surveying, Military, Nautical, and Land Surveying. – Treatise on Military Surveying. Lieut. Col. Jackson (Allen and Co. 1860) 12s. – Outline of Method of conducting a Trigonometrical Survey. Col. Frome (Weale. 1862) 10s. 6d. – Practical Geodesy. J. W. Williams (Parker and Son. 1835) 7s. 6d. – Trigonometrical Surveying, Levelling, and Engineering. W. Galbraith (Blackwood and Son. 1842) 6s. 9d. – Engineering Field Notes on Parish and Railway Surveying and Levelling. H. J. Castle (Simpkin and Co. 1847) 8s. – Practice of Engineering Field Work. W. D. Haskoll (Atchley and Co. 1858) 17s. 6d. – Treatise on Nautical Surveyings. Com. Belcher (Richardson. 1835) 12s.

Weights and Measures: – Weights and Measures of All Nations. W. Woolhouse (Virtue Bros. 1863) 1s. 6d. – Foreign Measures and their English Values. R. C. Carrington (Potter. 1864)

Construction of Maps: – Manual of Map-making. A. Jamieson (Fullarton. 1846) 2s. – Manual of Topographical Drawing. Lieut. R. Smith (J. Wiley. 1854) 5s. – Projection of the Sphere. – Projection and Calculation of the Sphere. S. M. Saxby (Longman and Co. 1861) 4s. 3d.

Use of Instruments: – Treatise on Principal Mathematical and Drawing Instruments. F. Williams (Weale. 1857) 3s. 2d. – The Sextant and its Applications. Simms (Troughton and Simms. 1858) 4s. 6d. – Treatise on Mathematical Instruments. J. Heather (Virtue Bros. 1863) 1s.

Geography: – Geography Generalised. R. Sullivan (Longman and Co. 1863) 2s.

In addition to these, every one ought to possess the Admiralty Manual of Scientific Enquiry, which is a series of papers written for the direction of explorers by men of the highest standing in various sciences; and no better general work can be recommended.

– my book box for a trip to Botswana – mammals missing! –

Off we go then: – Let’s twenty one of us decide on an eighteen month expedition. C’mon! We would need – among other stuff – the following:

The Commander (that would be me!), an Assistant (you), a Geologist, an Artist and Storekeeper, a Surgeon and Naturalist (me too), a Botanist, a Collector, Natural History, &c., an Overseer, a Farrier and Smith; a Harness-maker; Stockmen and Shepherds (you could be one of these too).

As we won’t be popping in to any Boxer or Choppies stores, load up! Provisions, &c. for 18 months —17,000lb. flour, 5000lb. salt pork, 2000lb. bacon, 2000lb. preserved fresh meat in 6lb. tins, 2800lb. rice, 2500lb. sugar, 400lb. tea, 350lb. tobacco, 350lb. soap, 50lb. pepper, 500lb. salt, 100 galls. vinegar, 300 sheep, 200lb. sago, 640 pints peas, 2 cwt. coffee, 500lb. lime juice, 6 galls. lamp oil, 1lb. cotton wick, 3 cwt. preserved potatoes.

Land Conveyance —50 horses, 35 pack saddles, 15 riding saddles, 50 horse blankets, 800 fathoms tether rope 1½in. and 2in., 20 horse bells with straps, 100 pair hobbles, 3 light horse drays; 3 sets harness, 3 horses each; 50 spare girths, 50yds. strong girth web, 50 bridles, 10 pair holster bags, 10 pair stirrup leathers, 5 pair stirrup irons, 40 pair canvas pack-saddle bags, 100 straps, 200 buckles, 4 leather water bags, 20 pair spurs, 150lb. leather for repairs, 600 horseshoes and nails, 240 provision bags, 300 yds. canvas, 20lb. sewing twine, 100 needles, 6 palms, 24 saddler’s awls, 48 balls hemp, ½lb. bristles, 6lb. resin, 6lb. beeswax, 12 hanks small cord, 6 currycombs and brushes, 25 tether swivels.

Arms and Ammunition —16 double guns, 4 rifles, 10 revolvers, 10 pistols, 200lb. gunpowder, 1000lb. shot and lead, 30,000 percussion caps, 20 belts and pouches, 15 gun buckets, straps, locks, spare nipples, moulds, punches, 4 ladles, powder flasks, shot pouches, &c., for each gun.

Camp Furniture —5 tents 8ft. square calico, 150 yds. calico, 12 camp kettles (½ to 3 galls.), 6 doz. pannikins, 4 doz. tin dishes (small), 1 doz. large, 4 doz. knives and forks, 4 doz. iron spoons, 6 frying pans, 6 leather buckets, 6 water kegs (6, 4, and 2 galls.), 6 spades, 4 socket shovels, 4 pickaxes, 2 spring balances (25 and 50lb.), 1 steelyard (150lb.), 1 sheep net (150 yds.). And I’d also need a deckchair, Mr Baines – one of those that tilt back, with a footrest. 

Instruments —2 sextants (5in. and 6in.), 2 box do., 2 artificial horizons, 10lb. mercury in 2 iron bottles, 4 prismatic compasses, 11 pocket compasses, spare cards and glasses for compasses, 3 aneroid barometers, 4 thermometers to 180°, 2 telescopes, 1 duplex watch, 1 lever watch, 1 case drawing instruments; 2 pocket cases, pillar compass, and protractor; surveying chain and arrows, 2 measuring tapes, 1 drawing board (30 × 40 inches), 2 pocket lenses.

Stationery and Nautical Tables.

Tools —1 portable forge, 1 anvil (½ cwt.), 2 hammers and set of tongs, 10lb. cast steel, 11lb. blister steel, 100lb. bar and rod iron, 3 smiths’ files, 3 large axes (American), 6 small do.; 1 large tool chest.

Clothing —120 pair moleskin trowsers, 120 serge shirts, 120 cotton shirts, 60 pair boots, 40 oiled calico capes, 40 hats (Manilla), 40 blankets. And I’d take a pair of shorts.

Artists’ Materials – See Baines’ needs above. Can’t improve on that!

Miscellaneous —5 yds. mosquito net, green; 500 fish-hooks, 25 fishing-lines, 2 gross matches, 1 gross tobacco-pipes; 2 strong cases, or instruments, stationery, &c.; 8 doz. pocket-knives, 8 doz. pocket-combs, 20 yds. red serge for presents to blacks, 20lb. iron wire, 5lb. brass ditto, grindstone and spindle, coffee-mill, 3 iron saucepans, 2 iron kettles, 6 galls. linseed oil, 6 pints olive oil, 2lb. red lead, 23lb. alum, 1lb. borax. Sure 144 tobacco-pipes will be enough for 21 of us for eighteen months?

Forage for Horses and Sheep from Moreton Bay to Victoria River, 2200 miles, at 14lb. per diem —13 tons pressed hay, 9 tons bran, 200 bushels maize or barley, 500 bushels corn for horses after landing.

Medical Chest for 2 years and 20 men. One oke better stay healthy.

Naturalists’ Stores – a long list

I can’t help noticing – who else noticed? – he has forgotten the fridge and the beer!! This puts the rest of the book’s authority in some doubt, no?

~~oo0oo~~

Sometimes Baines would offer a simple solution. I like his blanket tent – this is a bit more like a Harrismith he-man traveling light !

~~oo0oo~~

I have given here about ten pages of information. The book is 831 pages! Just on Boats, Rafts and Make-Shift Floats, Baines and Lord write 36 786 words! And I’ve not even got to communication in the days before satellite phones. This incomplete snippet will have to suffice: To leave a message, you build a stone cairn; you dig a deep hole ten feet north of it; in the hole you leave instructions written on a lead sheet made from three melted bullets . . .

~~oo0oo~~

You can read it online at gutenberg.org – After the 831 pages, there are useful advertisements for shops that can supply your needs, including gun shops where you can buy your muzzle loader; In a general store you’ll find ladies waterproofs and portable boats are in the same department . . .

What a WONDERFUL book!

~~oo0oo~~

Time Scurries

Hate it, but it’s true: Things fade. A month late on our annual tribute. Six years now. Don’t worry, you still do occasionally cause changes to the way we do things, and “But Mom said . . ” is still used to some effect!

Jess still regularly asks if there wasn’t more we could have done to save or cure Mom. When she hears of a new treatment for some or other disease she’ll ask “Why didn’t they do this for Mom?” I explain the difference between bacteria and viruses and cancer to her each time.

Here’s what she wrote to you this Mothers Day:

Jess Mom's Day 2017 (1)

Jess Mom's Day 2017 (2)

Yeah, I cried . . .

She was on her Bhejane field guide course up north of Hluhluwe and lonely as anything. Her selfie was taken in the little wooden Wendy hut she stayed in. I love the brave smile.

~~oo0oo~~

 

Mother Mary Methodist

Tue 2nd May 2017 –

I got a phone call at work from a good friend of the folks who had just visited Mom and Dad – “Your Mom was saying strange things and was not herself, I think you should visit”, said Keith Griffiths. I phoned sister Sheila, who phoned other sister Barbara, and then drove to Maritzburg.

Mom was physically fine, but a bit confused and – tragically – with marked short-term memory loss. Trying hard to be alright, she asked me ‘How’s Trish?’ Trish who died six years ago. Dear old Mom has had a ‘turn’ leading to sudden short-term memory loss. Tragic. She has always been so sharp and organised. Luckily her long-term memory and sharp sense of humour is unaffected.

DAMN!! Probably a transient ischaemic attack (TIA) or “mini stroke”.

~~~oo0oo~~~

TIA – caused by a temporary disruption in the blood supply to part of the brain. The disruption in blood supply results in a lack of oxygen. This can cause sudden symptoms similar to a stroke, such as speech and visual disturbance, and numbness or weakness in the face, arms and legs. However, a TIA doesn’t last as long as a stroke. The effects often only last for a few minutes or hours and fully resolve within 24 hours.

But Mom’s memory loss is still apparent a week later.

She blames a bad fall she had when she banged her head hard on a corner near the kitchen door.

~~~oo0oo~~~

I phoned them the next morning:

Dad says he told Mom to stay in bed till the sun came up but she didn’t. He thinks she should see an audiologist as she doesn’t listen! He’s as deaf as a post and her hearing is great, making the joke all the better.

~~~oo0oo~~~

Mom says she prays for Tom n Jessie every day that they’ll understand their lessons and pass their tests.

I asked her in mock-worry if that wasn’t cheating?! Mary Methodist immediately saw the joke and hosed herself. Slightly cautiously, though. She was raised not to tempt fate. No, she didn’t think asking for divine intervention was cheating on their behalf, she chuckled.

~~~oo0oo~~~

In the midst of a big cleanup, Sheila found a photo. On the back is written:

Marjory, Pat and Peggy – Harrismith 1938 – Signed DC Reed

*** pic here ***

So she phoned Mum for more info:

Marjory was Farquhar – her younger sister was Dossie, who was Mum’s great mate and bridesmaid, She now lives in an old age home in Bethlehem and she and Mum chat quite often. Pat was Bland, Mom’s older sister. Peggy was Hastings – Michael’s sister – she had a lovely sense of humour – she had three kids and then her husband walked out on her. So she came back to Harrismith and married Bert Starkey – her kids were Barbara, Stuart and AN Other.

~~~oo0oo~~~

The “DC Reed” Mum thinks was Peggy’s cousin Daphne, whom they called Dodo – Mum says she was lovely and they all loved her.

It’s really a gorgeous pic and Pat looks so full of fun and nonsense, which she usually was!

So now you know. Love Sheila

~~~oo0oo~~~

More Mom Memories:

One day, before Mum started school, Brenda Longbottom came to play. She lived across the road in Stuart Street and was much older – a full eighteen months older. Mum very proudly told Brenda about a book she was reading – all about a little girl called Lucky.

When Brenda saw the book she told Mum in a withering tone that the little girl’s name was Lucy, pronounced Loosie, not Lukkie! Mum was devastated.

(Years later I was also teased for getting hard and soft ‘c”s mixed when I said Sir-Sum-Fur-Rinse for circumference. Hey, we read phonetically ‘by our own selves’, so this happens!).

~~~oo0oo~~~

Mary’s niece Frankie Cowie married and became a McCarthy. She named her sons Patrick and Henry. When a grandchild was born she phoned Mary with the good news and asked if she could help with a name. ‘A name that goes with McCarthy.’ Well, Mom knew not to suggest Gert, even though that was the granpa’s name, so she immediately asked: ‘Have you thought about Benni?’

Benni McCarthy was South Africa’s ‘bad boy’ star striker in the national soccer team and was very much in the news at the time. A real character, he marches to his own drum and has even been a rap artist! Now he’s a coach and father of four daughters.

I can just imagine Frankie throwing her head back and HOSING herself at Auntie Mary’s suggestion!

~~~oo0oo~~~

Two years on, 2019: Went to the farm for boxing day as Mom had suffered 3 or 4 TIA’s starting early xmas morning. Very distressing. Couldn’t remember if she’d had xmas or not, and could not at all remember opening pressies with the great grandkids.

She recovered well and was fine later, but weak – and often worried about what she was thinking or saying. “Ooh”, she said, “I almost asked you, How’s Trish? but she died, didn’t she?” Hey, well done for catching yourself in time!

Meantime, of the ten people staying there, seven fell prey to the collywobbles and some vomiting. Talk about Jingled Bowels.

Also, due to complaints from the intolerant, one poor farm rooster got shot due to excessive enthusiasm on xmas morning. Poor bugger was probably just singing a desperate poultry carol, praying that by being pious he wouldn’t be the one invited to the festive table! Maybe Jungle Fowls, Jungle Fowls, ?

~~oo0oo~~

As Good Books Go

Talking about ‘fuck’ – I read a wonderful book ‘Duzi Fever’ by an entertaining old bugger Rob Gouldie who did the 1955 Dusi. I once heard him give a hilarious talk at Kingfisher. He told a lo-ong story of hardship, paddling, dragging canoes, breaking boats, chopping one up and stuffing it into the other, lunch breaks and – eventually – settling down for the night in the darkness on their own after a long and stressful day – ‘we were at sewerage farm!’ That brought the house down, as usually one passes sewerage farm within an hour of the start!

Rob Gouldie has since shuffled off down his final rapid.

– straight-talking book –

Excerpts:

On portaging on the Duzi – “Negotiating barbed wire fences was a ball ache second to none . . . you had to pry open the strands so your partner could squeeze himself and the the canoe through without hooking his nuts“.

Winning the Dusi one year his partner “blew” and said “Rob, I’m fucked, can I just trail my paddle behind me and pretend I’m steering?”

He asked for leave from his job at a bank to do the Dusi and his manager refused. He writes: “I never knew how important I was as a junior clerk and felt quite proud that the bank would grind to a halt without my services”. Anyway he went AWOL, wrote a letter of resignation “should the shit hit the fan”. It did. He expressed great relief at no longer working for them.

On the race his partner “developed a severe chafe due to sand in his underpants” so he threw away his pants and underpants and “went Beau Brummel”. When they got to Umfula Trading Store the owner kicked him out. His wife was serving in the shop and Rob thinks the owner “was upset that she might be able to compare notes”. After Rob explained and his partner demonstrated, the owner took pity on his partner and gave him a roll of plaster “to wrap around the emaciated-looking Percy”.

In shooting a rapid: ” . . where we nearly saw our rings . . “

They were lying second one Dusi, 44mins behind the leaders who were “obviously cocksure of their lead, not knowing we had caught up to them and could almost smell their farts”.

On a trip down the Umkomaas he bought and drank way too many raspberry-flavoured milk drinks at a remote valley trading store, got bilious . . . and “hurled the most spectacular pink cat”. His mate caught the moment on film:

Trip Rob Gouldie Umko shoots pink cat

And on in that vein.
I thoroughly enjoyed it! My kind of book! I was delighted to read his full and free use of ‘English as she is spoken on riverbanks’ and determined not to censor Customary Paddling Language in the Umko 50 book. Someone proofreading suggested I use f___ or f__k instead of fuck. Not.

Or: Fuck That!

~~~oo0oo~~~

Mfolosi Memory

Jess and I took Trish’s old Cape Town friend Val Excell and her brother Paul Gaillard to Mfolosi for a night. We finally got to stay in Mpila camp. We’ve been wanting to stay at Mpila as it is better situated for the drives in the southwest of the park along the Black Mfolosi river, but it has always been booked up for weekends. This was Thursday night, so easy to book at short notice.

mfolosi-feb-2017-97

Val is losing her short-term memory so is battling a bit with day-to-day stuff but her lovely sense of humour is intact and anyway our memories with her go back years and she remembers that stuff well. Her brother Paul Gaillard was involved in the establishment of safari companies like Afro Ventures (which had taken me on my first trip to Botswana in 1985) so we had lots to talk about.

Here’s Val and Paul with Jessie:

Mfolosi Feb 2017 (86).JPG
mfolosi-feb17-15
mfolosi-feb17-1
mfolosi-feb-2017-51