Dateline: June 8th 1978 22:00. Nairobi, Kenya
Route: Niagara Falls, Rhodesia - Harare, Chipinge, Kazungula Ferry, Zambia, Gabarones, Botswana
I am starting from here: 1977, September 30th. Municipal Camp Ground, Victoria Falls, Rhodesia
Homeless Traveller
Annie has departed. I know she has all the smarts needed to cope and succeed, but I still worry about her.
Currently, I do not worry about me. That will come later
I am in my tent in the centre of Victoria Falls at the municipal camp ground
I am alone again after about 18 months of a hectic, tragi comic, intense, unbearable, torrid incredible love affair.
Highs and lows and goodbyes
It's not too bad, for a while
I take in the sights of Victoria Falls.
The falls, the tourist spots, but of course soon, it all begins to pall, and on my own, its a bit empty.
I seem to remember Annie took the train to Bulawayo, then up to Salisbury.
I follow.
Incredible as it seems now, in 2020, that back when Whitey was still giving the blacks a fair crack of the whip, the country not only ran perfectly, but, and I must admit, if you were white only, the class of everything was top of the line.
The rail carriage I got to Bulawayo was really in the first class. department.
Beautiful oak and mahogany finish and really well kept comfortable seats. Truly immaculate steam engines and, again being white, great service everywhere
I don't think there was any colour restrictions like apartheid in SA, but even as a cheapskate traveller, it was not expensive
I arrive in Bulawayo after lunch and wander around, eventually finding a pub not far from the train station that would not have been out of place in Virginia Water, complete with their own home made beer. This pint was, in the heat, a truly magnificent brew
It was a truly fantastic place.
I assume I carried on living on camp sites, don't remember much of Bulawayo, but do have fond memories of the Great Zimbabwe ruins.
I camped there, in a huge park where, probably due to the threat of "terrorism" by "freedom fighters", I was the only one camping.
There were a lot of folks with hand guns and rifles around.
I chatted up the local car hire lady at the hotel, thinking I might try my luck, but I'm afraid she was such a substitute for a woman, I couldn't bring myself to inviting her out (why not come back to my tent for a drink? Hah!)
In the (empty) bar that night, (on a Friday), I met I believe a PhD student doing his thesis on the Great Zim structure, and the director of the ruins. I'm invited to a guided tour next day.
Totally fascinating. We even went up to the top most area an the student told me they had found a "Zimbabwe Bird" on the outer brickworks.
Apparently it was used as a kind of sacred Oracle regarding the future, and was actually being used to divine the future when the British army took the tower, ways back. Probably eviserating the natives and the sacrifice in turn
I think its true, he certainly believed it
Again, the trek up to Salisbury is long lost as being too uneventful or recorded in photo's to remember, it was certainly all hitch hiking, this being very easy in Rhodesia at the time,.
I do remember the Monomatapa hotel in Salisbury, the park surrounding it, the incredible "malts" aka milk shares at a store in the middle of the city, and my incredible sense of loss and aching for Annie.
I am a true basket case, and move into the youth hostel there
I know Leslie and Tom, my mates from London are working here and I contact Leslie in a desperate attempt to see Annie again.
Eventually, I beg and cajole and finally get to see her. It's not very successful, but I stay a few nights at her horse farm and stables in Umwinsidale. about 20 Kms outside of Salisbury and we catch up to some degree.
The witch of a horsey owner she's working for is not impressed with me. Understandably so I'm sure.
Everything in this age is via letters and in person, so it's only later I know the Richard is working here on a coffee plantation.
I hang around Salisbury, staying at the Youth Hostel and, with an electrics degree, being white, get a pretty well paid job pretty easily. Good pay too
While I'm here, I meet several others hanging out here, both Rhodesian and foreigners. We go around places and check out the "Terrs spoor" (aka crap) we find at the lake. Yep, diminish the supposed fighters to simple animals, and you are half way there
I think I last 3 - 4 weeks. The boss really doesn't like the way I organise myself, so I'm out, but actually made quite a lot of money, which I'm paid on the way out. It's only useful south of the Zambian border, but what the hell?
I look for another job. They are easy to get, but even in my near suicidal outlook, I turn down the offer of running a farm in the outback where the last manager was assasinated 6 weeks before.
Instead, I head down to see Richard in Chipinge, a fairly "hot" area as it borders Mozambique where the "Freedom Fighters" have many bases. Richards farm is actually on the border with Mozambique.
Most of the places in the North of Rhodesia were, at that time pretty safe. The Zambian border was the Zambezi, and the Zambians knew they would get absolutely plastered by the tiny Rhodesian Air Force. South Africa was very supportive, and Botswana was practical and essentially neutral.
So the main threat was from Mozambique, which is where I was heading right into it.
First, I head up to Nyanga and camp in the forest. There's a troop of boy scouts out for the weekend camping here too. Not sure how much of a death wish this might have been, hmmmmm
It was huge forest, or at least a tree plantation, free to camp, and as you can see, I was not assassinated there either.
Just above Umtali, there is, or was, a little site for construction, for some reason, I camped here for a few days probably waiting for the armed convoy, and got to know another wayward guy who lived here in his tiny caravan. He had a tiny pension from the Rhodesian Railways, and had to cope. We were a fine pair, I think I had more cash than he did. I only mention it because, his life seemed so confined and limited, compared to me, even in my state, I saw that there was still great hope for me and any future I could contemplate
I eventually got to the convoy, and as all the cars and trucks were full, I was given the seat on a machine gun trailer, attached to an army truck. The gun was there, but no ammunition. Hmmm, probably quite a target, so I just kept swivelling around as the front was totally cannon proof, but zero metal behind me.
Well, I didn't get shot anyway
I guess Richard came and picked me up. I expect he was told I was waiting for him, and I settled into a life of assistant Assistant Manager, intern as we call it these days
He worked on a coffee farm that also harvested wattle. The tea plantation was run by a different company and it was located between the central farm and the border.
The farm had a couple of scooters and once or twice, we headed to the border and put our feet into Mozambique. Of course it was all mined, but do you see me limping?
I think I was there for maybe a month. I got to know a lot about coffee, terrorists, watttle, tea and mercenaries. There were no terrorist outrages while I was there, so it all became a bit of a joke to me
The army did not often patrol down here. I think there were 2 sort of soldiers (mercenaries) on the tea plantation, and a fairly sophisticated short wave radio set up so that anyone under attack could call for help. It seemed to function, but this was 1977, before it really started to heat up.
There may have been a few scares while I was there, but it was probably after I left and Richard told me about them, many years later.
As the assistant manager was usually a man, with wife and several kids, the benefits package included two buckets of fresh milk EVERY DAY.
We actually managed to get through it all, once, otherwise, the cook turned it into something or distributed it somewhere.
There was a lot of it
Surprisingly, I guess, there was still a lot of actual social life in Chipinge.
Somehow, petrol shortages be damned, there a procession of floats in town celebrating some holiday or other, or maybe just not being shot
Lots of mothers and kids celebrating. It was quite normal for a small close knit town. They certainly weren't going to be intimidated by any security situation
Eventually, I make up my mind what my future can and can't look like.
As ever, I have to follow my heart, gut, or some entrail of note.
I bid Richard adieu and head back to Salisbury. Its been a great break
I'm 28, I've had ups and downs, luxury and poverty, intellectual stimulation like I'd never imagined, lovers, life and success in many ways.
Once more, I'm rolling the dice
I'm not sure how, but my velvet suit from UK is here, maybe by mail from Johannesburg.
Maybe I'm imagining it. No, impossible...
?
Anyway, I know I had a suit. I might even have hired a car.
Yes! Annie has confirmed that I arrived to pick her up in my blue velvet suit. Can you believe?
It's maybe a week before Christmas, maybe less. Actually, a Friday, so December 23rd
I still have a bundle of Rhodesian cash from my previous job, so I'm spending it. It's useless most other places
I think I've phoned Annie and I'm taking her out for a movie (Star Wars can you believe? YES, definitely).
I hire a car, pick her up. Dinner, and dance and.......
Proposal
Ooops.
That didn't work. There's only one thing to do now.
Route: Niagara Falls, Rhodesia - Harare, Chipinge, Kazungula Ferry, Zambia, Gabarones, Botswana
I am starting from here: 1977, September 30th. Municipal Camp Ground, Victoria Falls, Rhodesia
Homeless Traveller
 |
|
Currently, I do not worry about me. That will come later
I am in my tent in the centre of Victoria Falls at the municipal camp ground
I am alone again after about 18 months of a hectic, tragi comic, intense, unbearable, torrid incredible love affair.
Highs and lows and goodbyes
 |
| Vic Falls back when it actually had a full flow |
I take in the sights of Victoria Falls.
The falls, the tourist spots, but of course soon, it all begins to pall, and on my own, its a bit empty.
 |
| A friendly native outside a tourist spot |
 | |
| Good old David Livingstone. |
 |
| Can you imagine this today? Nope! |
I seem to remember Annie took the train to Bulawayo, then up to Salisbury.
I follow.
Incredible as it seems now, in 2020, that back when Whitey was still giving the blacks a fair crack of the whip, the country not only ran perfectly, but, and I must admit, if you were white only, the class of everything was top of the line.
 | |
| I arrived in Bulawayo just as the Jacaranda were blossoming Magic, I've never forgotten it |
Beautiful oak and mahogany finish and really well kept comfortable seats. Truly immaculate steam engines and, again being white, great service everywhere
I don't think there was any colour restrictions like apartheid in SA, but even as a cheapskate traveller, it was not expensive
I arrive in Bulawayo after lunch and wander around, eventually finding a pub not far from the train station that would not have been out of place in Virginia Water, complete with their own home made beer. This pint was, in the heat, a truly magnificent brew
 |
| This is it, the great central complex |
 |
| The Great Zim researcher is in front, director and sharp shooter (see rifle) behind |
 |
|
I assume I carried on living on camp sites, don't remember much of Bulawayo, but do have fond memories of the Great Zimbabwe ruins.
I camped there, in a huge park where, probably due to the threat of "terrorism" by "freedom fighters", I was the only one camping.
There were a lot of folks with hand guns and rifles around.
I chatted up the local car hire lady at the hotel, thinking I might try my luck, but I'm afraid she was such a substitute for a woman, I couldn't bring myself to inviting her out (why not come back to my tent for a drink? Hah!)In the (empty) bar that night, (on a Friday), I met I believe a PhD student doing his thesis on the Great Zim structure, and the director of the ruins. I'm invited to a guided tour next day.
Totally fascinating. We even went up to the top most area an the student told me they had found a "Zimbabwe Bird" on the outer brickworks.
Apparently it was used as a kind of sacred Oracle regarding the future, and was actually being used to divine the future when the British army took the tower, ways back. Probably eviserating the natives and the sacrifice in turn
I think its true, he certainly believed it
Again, the trek up to Salisbury is long lost as being too uneventful or recorded in photo's to remember, it was certainly all hitch hiking, this being very easy in Rhodesia at the time,.
I do remember the Monomatapa hotel in Salisbury, the park surrounding it, the incredible "malts" aka milk shares at a store in the middle of the city, and my incredible sense of loss and aching for Annie.
I am a true basket case, and move into the youth hostel there
 |
| Annies new home about 20Km's from Salisbury |
I know Leslie and Tom, my mates from London are working here and I contact Leslie in a desperate attempt to see Annie again.
 |
| The view from the local Kopje in Salisbury. C1977 It eventually became too dangerous to go even here |
The witch of a horsey owner she's working for is not impressed with me. Understandably so I'm sure.
Everything in this age is via letters and in person, so it's only later I know the Richard is working here on a coffee plantation.
I hang around Salisbury, staying at the Youth Hostel and, with an electrics degree, being white, get a pretty well paid job pretty easily. Good pay too
While I'm here, I meet several others hanging out here, both Rhodesian and foreigners. We go around places and check out the "Terrs spoor" (aka crap) we find at the lake. Yep, diminish the supposed fighters to simple animals, and you are half way there
 |
| The forming of a convoy from Umtali, now Mutare to Chipinge |
I think I last 3 - 4 weeks. The boss really doesn't like the way I organise myself, so I'm out, but actually made quite a lot of money, which I'm paid on the way out. It's only useful south of the Zambian border, but what the hell?
I look for another job. They are easy to get, but even in my near suicidal outlook, I turn down the offer of running a farm in the outback where the last manager was assasinated 6 weeks before.
 |
| The Chimanimani mountains. The Mozambique order |
Most of the places in the North of Rhodesia were, at that time pretty safe. The Zambian border was the Zambezi, and the Zambians knew they would get absolutely plastered by the tiny Rhodesian Air Force. South Africa was very supportive, and Botswana was practical and essentially neutral.
So the main threat was from Mozambique, which is where I was heading right into it.
First, I head up to Nyanga and camp in the forest. There's a troop of boy scouts out for the weekend camping here too. Not sure how much of a death wish this might have been, hmmmmm
It was huge forest, or at least a tree plantation, free to camp, and as you can see, I was not assassinated there either.
 | |
| Richards "Assistant Manager's" house. 3 bedrooms and 2 buckets of fresh milk every day |
 |
| Wattle. A huge cash crop for export. Right on the Mozambican border |
 |
| Tea. Guess what? A huge cash crop for export. Right on the Mozambican border |
Well, I didn't get shot anyway
I guess Richard came and picked me up. I expect he was told I was waiting for him, and I settled into a life of assistant Assistant Manager, intern as we call it these days
He worked on a coffee farm that also harvested wattle. The tea plantation was run by a different company and it was located between the central farm and the border.
 |
| More Tea. Lots of it. A nice easy target |
The farm had a couple of scooters and once or twice, we headed to the border and put our feet into Mozambique. Of course it was all mined, but do you see me limping?
I think I was there for maybe a month. I got to know a lot about coffee, terrorists, watttle, tea and mercenaries. There were no terrorist outrages while I was there, so it all became a bit of a joke to me
 | |
| Actually on the border. The bad guys had real guns. A damn sight bigger than Richards 45 |
There may have been a few scares while I was there, but it was probably after I left and Richard told me about them, many years later.
As the assistant manager was usually a man, with wife and several kids, the benefits package included two buckets of fresh milk EVERY DAY.
 |
| Your correspondent, suitable protected against being shot |
There was a lot of it
Surprisingly, I guess, there was still a lot of actual social life in Chipinge.
Somehow, petrol shortages be damned, there a procession of floats in town celebrating some holiday or other, or maybe just not being shot
 |
| War, terrorists? Not for me thanks |
Eventually, I make up my mind what my future can and can't look like.
As ever, I have to follow my heart, gut, or some entrail of note.
I bid Richard adieu and head back to Salisbury. Its been a great break
 |
| The workers paradise village on the farm. Where the labourers lived, and eventually, died |
Once more, I'm rolling the dice
I'm not sure how, but my velvet suit from UK is here, maybe by mail from Johannesburg.
Maybe I'm imagining it. No, impossible...
?
Anyway, I know I had a suit. I might even have hired a car.
Yes! Annie has confirmed that I arrived to pick her up in my blue velvet suit. Can you believe?
It's maybe a week before Christmas, maybe less. Actually, a Friday, so December 23rd
I still have a bundle of Rhodesian cash from my previous job, so I'm spending it. It's useless most other places
I think I've phoned Annie and I'm taking her out for a movie (Star Wars can you believe? YES, definitely).
I hire a car, pick her up. Dinner, and dance and.......
 |
| Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye..... |
Ooops.
That didn't work. There's only one thing to do now.
Leave.
So, not since my girlfriend in England was pregnant back in 1973 had I felt so low.
I believe I left Salisbury on Christmas day, heading for Gabarones to change my passport at the embassy. I hope I can get into Zambia with a new one and a visa from the Zambian consul we'd got in our old passports before we left Johannesburg
I'm heading for Nairobi again. I guess I could have got my job back in Johannesburg, but to be quite honest, I didn't even think about going back
I think I took the overnight train from Bulawayo.
That still remains one of the most appalling memories of my life.
On the train, I'm settling down to sleep. There's a 6ft 2inch Australian in the compartment. Next compartment is full of schoolgirls heading home or whatever.
About 8PM, the Aussie gets up, opens the girls compartment and kicks out all the schoolgirls except one.
I did nothing.
I'm still deeply ashamed that I went to sleep. He was much bigger than me, and I didn't even think about a guard to get him involved.
I'm still disgusted with myself even now.
In Gabarones, between Christmas and New Year, I catch up with some Sunday Times at the embassy. The ambassador signs my photograph as there's no one here to verify that its actually me. I catch up with all the free inoculations provided at a tiny little shack near the centre, and with a hope, a wing and a prayer, head north to Francistown, then to Kasane
At the border.....
Ooooops, that didn't work.
Turned back at the Zambian border with the wrong details for a visa into the country. It didn't work.
Woah. This is strangely familiar and I feel a bit rough. Definitely character building begins here.
In a desperate state, I settle down to think at my favourite rejects spot. Chobe.
I'd hidden here after I was rejected from Rhodesia nearly 2 years ago.
I think I'll hang around for a few days.
It's Saturday, new years eve and all the local government employees received their pay and get totally pissed at the lodge.
At about 10PM. because I'm still writing letters, the drunken cops get the idea that I'm a spy, I know, but this is Africa.
They (two of them), invade my tent and read my letters.
So, not since my girlfriend in England was pregnant back in 1973 had I felt so low.
I believe I left Salisbury on Christmas day, heading for Gabarones to change my passport at the embassy. I hope I can get into Zambia with a new one and a visa from the Zambian consul we'd got in our old passports before we left Johannesburg
I'm heading for Nairobi again. I guess I could have got my job back in Johannesburg, but to be quite honest, I didn't even think about going back
I think I took the overnight train from Bulawayo.
That still remains one of the most appalling memories of my life.
On the train, I'm settling down to sleep. There's a 6ft 2inch Australian in the compartment. Next compartment is full of schoolgirls heading home or whatever.
 |
| Hitching, just outside of Francistown, C1978 |
About 8PM, the Aussie gets up, opens the girls compartment and kicks out all the schoolgirls except one.
I did nothing.
I'm still deeply ashamed that I went to sleep. He was much bigger than me, and I didn't even think about a guard to get him involved.
I'm still disgusted with myself even now.
In Gabarones, between Christmas and New Year, I catch up with some Sunday Times at the embassy. The ambassador signs my photograph as there's no one here to verify that its actually me. I catch up with all the free inoculations provided at a tiny little shack near the centre, and with a hope, a wing and a prayer, head north to Francistown, then to Kasane
 |
| The road north (and South) to / From Kasane. Trucks were about the only option Note "Pandamatenga" (Rhodesia border) on sign |
Ooooops, that didn't work.
Turned back at the Zambian border with the wrong details for a visa into the country. It didn't work.
Woah. This is strangely familiar and I feel a bit rough. Definitely character building begins here.
In a desperate state, I settle down to think at my favourite rejects spot. Chobe.
I'd hidden here after I was rejected from Rhodesia nearly 2 years ago.
 |
| Camping is cheap here. I pass the time reading and writing letters and being accused of being a spy |
It's Saturday, new years eve and all the local government employees received their pay and get totally pissed at the lodge.
At about 10PM. because I'm still writing letters, the drunken cops get the idea that I'm a spy, I know, but this is Africa.
They (two of them), invade my tent and read my letters.
I know enough about Africa to know that I could be dragged off to jail at any minute
I've had enough of this place and look for someone with a car leaving soon.
I find a couple who are leaving early next morning. Like dawn. The cops will be hungover for a while yet
Exit pursued by drunken, hungover cops....
I start hiking back to Gaborone.
I've had enough of this place and look for someone with a car leaving soon.
I find a couple who are leaving early next morning. Like dawn. The cops will be hungover for a while yet
 |
| Look familiar? The road South from Kasane. |
Exit pursued by drunken, hungover cops....
I start hiking back to Gaborone.
Heading back in Gabarones, there is only one exit North. Looks like I'm heading back to Nairobi by a different route
I decide to flash the cash and get a flight to Malawi. They have no problem with South Africa or Rhodesia stamps in your passport. Tanzania, definitely, but thats down the road, both metaphorically and physically
I guess I book a flight through a travel agent. Back then, Gabarones was only a tiny square which had 2 banks, the British embassy a restaurant or two. Maybe a travel shop. Who knows. It was pretty basic and, tiny
Just to be sure, I look down a lot as I pass through immigration, keeping my coiff off of my shoulders.
It works, and I'm a tourist again with a maybe viable escape route to Nairobi
Judging by the pix of the wing, I left close to sunset so expect I stayed in Lilongwe for a day or two.
My route was to Monkey Bay for the Illala, the Lake Malawi ferry, which apparently is still running today
The ferry has a flexible timetable, and while I wait, I remember for several, maybe 5 days, there's a massive storm, so I'm totally derelict by the time the ferry arrives
There's almost nothing here, can't remember if it was a national park back then, but about the only item of civilisation was a medical clinic.
I have a gas stove and have a regular hot meal everyday. Just vegetarian, but that's fine.
In the rain, I usually cook just outside of the tent. The overhang gives me just enough cover to let me cook, and I always avoid setting the tent on fire. As I remember, I had a stock of Magi soup mixes, which was my flavour to the veg.
The rest of the day was usually off of street vendors. It was all pretty basic, but each day was an adventure.
Zero aggravation with the authorities here, unlike Botswana. This in itself was quite a treat
I guess I book a flight through a travel agent. Back then, Gabarones was only a tiny square which had 2 banks, the British embassy a restaurant or two. Maybe a travel shop. Who knows. It was pretty basic and, tiny
Route: Gabarones, Botswana - Nairobi, Kenya
I think I must have had a haircut as Malawi didn't want hippies and deviants which by definition, was anyone with long hair, and my still around but dreadfully tattered inoculation tracking book, shows that I got a few boosters (all sponsored by the UN, so completely free) at the tiny shack just out of town
 |
| Boarding at Gabarones airport, C1978 |
Just to be sure, I look down a lot as I pass through immigration, keeping my coiff off of my shoulders.
It works, and I'm a tourist again with a maybe viable escape route to Nairobi
 |
| Probably Lilongwe. I can only remember that it rained, a LOT here |
 |
| Fresh fruit & veg everyday in the marketplace |
 | |
| Lots of fresh food at the markets. Very happy and friendly people |
My route was to Monkey Bay for the Illala, the Lake Malawi ferry, which apparently is still running today
The ferry has a flexible timetable, and while I wait, I remember for several, maybe 5 days, there's a massive storm, so I'm totally derelict by the time the ferry arrives
There's almost nothing here, can't remember if it was a national park back then, but about the only item of civilisation was a medical clinic.
I have a gas stove and have a regular hot meal everyday. Just vegetarian, but that's fine.
In the rain, I usually cook just outside of the tent. The overhang gives me just enough cover to let me cook, and I always avoid setting the tent on fire. As I remember, I had a stock of Magi soup mixes, which was my flavour to the veg.
The rest of the day was usually off of street vendors. It was all pretty basic, but each day was an adventure.
 |
| Note hair, puddles and various damp things. I even had a beard |
 |
| Market day on my way to Monkey Bay |
Zero aggravation with the authorities here, unlike Botswana. This in itself was quite a treat
 |
| Nkhata Bay harbour |
Welcome to Africa
Everyone is very good natured about this of course. Forget timetables etc out here.
There's an old white guy here at the dock with what looks like a 12 year old girl who is obviously his floosie. She's not at all sure of much, but knows where her next meal is coming from, but probably not what to do with the baby
 |
| An advantage of no fixed timetable. Just relax. Nkotakhota beach C1978 |
I look skeptically at him (he really does say "dirty
old man"), and he tells me that Malawi laws are such that a girl is a
woman as soon as she menstruates, so, yep, menstruating 12 year olds are
not jail bait
There is a tariff posted on the ship. It appears to be based on distance travelled, so as the first stop is Cipoka across the bay, only about 40Kms away. Its very cheap for first class
I book one of the two the first class cabins as it will be overnight and breakfast time by the time we leave, even by the timetable.
There are no other takers, or whites come to that
It's very cheap for a luxury night on board, in fact its cheaper for this first class, with shower, clean sheets, a real bed and breakfast I seem to remember, than the rest of the trip in third class, which is another day and a half with the locals
 |
| My new friends. I had zero issues with anyone I met as long as they weren't officials. Everyone was incredibly friendly |
We haven't even left by the morning, so I luxuriate in first for a few more hours until our first stop.
 |
| Some new friends waiting for me in the morning |
But it is free and the lake is fresh water. Easy
I buy some fish from the local lads, and settle in for the night
I can remember several bus trips, but not days long, so assume that I only went inland once. Mzuzu sounds familiar
It may have been there that I had to live on raw cassava for a day or two as that was the only food available. Not even a bakery open. But that was probably Livingstonia or on route between.
Cassava's are actually poisonous unless you clean and cook them properly before you eat them.
Just like TB with fresh cows milk, or contracting dreadful dysentry by eating disgusting rasins, what did I know?
Can't remember any problems, but I was glad to get a bun when the bakeries opened again
 |
| I remember a lot of mud and clapped out busses. Also, one of the most (even with a baby) beautiful woman I've ever seen |
After a few days, I arrive at Nkhata Bay.
Its still raining a lot of the time
For a country that doesn't want hippies and deviants, this is just about the ideal place for us.
Lots of dope, really cheap too.
No one cares
Back then, there was only one hostel in town
It was wonderful. Cheap, great food and incredibly friendly.
The owner cooked a really mean plantain pancake. See him in action.
There's four of us here.
I think these were the only whites I met in Malawi actually.
Eventually, even the halcyon life with unlimited cheap dope began to become mundane.
For a country that doesn't want hippies and deviants, this is just about the ideal place for us.
Lots of dope, really cheap too.
No one cares
Back then, there was only one hostel in town
It was wonderful. Cheap, great food and incredibly friendly.
The owner cooked a really mean plantain pancake. See him in action.
 |
| Wow! I think his second wifes name was Jesse. Maybe that was his name. Thats her here with us residents |
There's four of us here.
 |
| Nkata Bay |
 |
| Did I mention how cheap the dope was here? |
 |
| The hostels team, owner, first, second wife and kids |
 | |
| Owner and head cook. He was rich enough for two wives |
 |
| The kitchen |
Eventually, even the halcyon life with unlimited cheap dope began to become mundane.
I'm still missing Annie, but I'm beginning to function like a normal Hippy again
Off to Mzuzu, then up to Livingstonia for the final leg to Tanzania.
I assume nothing much else happened on this trek in Malawi
I do remember hiring a huge Malawi guy to lug my backpack about 5 Km's to the Tanzanian border. I think the deal was, all my remaining spare Malawian money (about 50 cents I think, something else, maybe a T shirt and a darning needle. This was the clincher.
He was a surley guy, and I was glad to see him leave.
I am stamped out of Malawi and approach the Tanzanian border hut.
Immigration Agent: "Wear ar yu coming from?"
Your Correspondent: "Botswana" (true)
Agent: "What were you doing there?
Your Correspondent: " I worked there in a quarry and building materials mine for 2 years" (total lie)
Agent: "Did you ever go to South Afrika?"
Your Correspondent: (shyly as in confession), "Yes, I did. I went to visit a friend in Johannesburg for two weeks before I left Botswana"
Agent: (Beaming): "Welcome to Tanzania". Stamp, stamp. "Enjoy your visit", still beaming
I depart thanking the border agent and various gods
For anyone wondering how you manage for money, it was fairly easy to get local cash. There was always a functioning shop or general store of some kind in any town with a largish population.
If you were lucky, you would find a Lebanese, but typically, these folks were only in the bigger cities. Usually, without fail, back then before they were all run out of town, there would be an Asian, typically Indian who is only too pleased to get their hands on some real money. The much celebrated Duka Wallahs.
They had been brought to Africa in bulk to be labour for building the railway. They usually stayed, and their kids etc being far more entrepreneurial than the local population, eventually became the middle classes in these countries.
Once the British left the colonies to the local population, they knew their days were numbered so everyone tried to stash away as much foreign cash as they could find.
Hence, instant local currency
All you needed to do was walk around their shop inspecting the wares, and as soon as no one else was in the shop, you were invited to exchange whatever you had at a much better rate than the bank would offer, and of course, zero commission.
Totally illegal, but easy, quick and very effective
It's (probably) a banal trip north to Arusha, but exciting in parts as the border with Kenya is closed.
Hey! I'm white. It will be fine.
I meet a guy in the hostel who has got a visa waiver from the District Commissioner to cross. He tells me you need a good reason to get across.
He is off tomorrow. I ask him if he can send me a telegram from Nairobi. Sure he says, I give him enough money, and 2 days later, I received my telegram
"FAMILY ARRIVING NAIROBI FEB 11. SEE YOU THERE"
What an investment. Thanks again
By 11 AM I have my piece of paper that's a Visa waiver (complete with "coming back" stamped on it), and next day I'm in Nairobi
"God! How I love Africa"
"If I wanted money I would go to Saudi Arabia"
Erwin takes us both to the airport. I watch Annie head through emigration and out of my life again. I will not see her again for over 30 years.
Eventually, the day of my departure for my new life comes. Erwin and his girlfriend take me to Jan Smuts. I have survived a baren South Africa and the ever near presence of Annie, almost within touching distance for 3 months.
Big deep breath. Now exhale
Off to Mzuzu, then up to Livingstonia for the final leg to Tanzania.
I assume nothing much else happened on this trek in Malawi
 |
| Probably the Mzuzu fish market |
I do remember hiring a huge Malawi guy to lug my backpack about 5 Km's to the Tanzanian border. I think the deal was, all my remaining spare Malawian money (about 50 cents I think, something else, maybe a T shirt and a darning needle. This was the clincher.
He was a surley guy, and I was glad to see him leave.
 |
| Believe it or not, this is the only photo of Livingstonia |
 |
| Using my whitey charm and authority, I hired this guy to lug my backpack to Tanzania |
Your Correspondent: "Botswana" (true)
Agent: "What were you doing there?
Your Correspondent: " I worked there in a quarry and building materials mine for 2 years" (total lie)
Agent: "Did you ever go to South Afrika?"
Your Correspondent: (shyly as in confession), "Yes, I did. I went to visit a friend in Johannesburg for two weeks before I left Botswana"
Agent: (Beaming): "Welcome to Tanzania". Stamp, stamp. "Enjoy your visit", still beaming
I depart thanking the border agent and various gods
 |
| First stop in Tanzania. Waiting (interminably of course) for the next bus |
They had been brought to Africa in bulk to be labour for building the railway. They usually stayed, and their kids etc being far more entrepreneurial than the local population, eventually became the middle classes in these countries.
Once the British left the colonies to the local population, they knew their days were numbered so everyone tried to stash away as much foreign cash as they could find.
Hence, instant local currency
 |
| Kilima N'jaro, from Arusha Note huge glaciers. C1977 |
Totally illegal, but easy, quick and very effective
It's (probably) a banal trip north to Arusha, but exciting in parts as the border with Kenya is closed.
Hey! I'm white. It will be fine.
I meet a guy in the hostel who has got a visa waiver from the District Commissioner to cross. He tells me you need a good reason to get across.
He is off tomorrow. I ask him if he can send me a telegram from Nairobi. Sure he says, I give him enough money, and 2 days later, I received my telegram
"FAMILY ARRIVING NAIROBI FEB 11. SEE YOU THERE"
What an investment. Thanks again
 |
| Arusha market. I wait for my telegram from Nairobi |
"God! How I love Africa"
"If I wanted money I would go to Saudi Arabia"
"I love Africa and want to stay here"
All totally true of course, but this is to the Managing Director and executives at BML, a sort of electronics and computer sales place in Nairobi that I've lucked into via a friend of Redmonds
They are all delighted with this information. It's exactly what the MD wants to hear
I found out later that that was exactly what the last guy in this position did.
Alternately, too many expensively head hunted and imported ex pats and their families have come here only to leave after 6 weeks
I don't even know how wonderful these working conditions are yet, but know enough not to look incredibly surprised at the starting salary, let alone piles of benefits like company car, free hotels as standard benefits and accomodation all thrown it.
Only catch? I have to sponsor myself with my money for 3 months of courses back in Johannesburg undergoing training courses.
If I ever turn up again in Nairobi, I have a job for 2 years and 3 months of backpay in the bank
There's some deity thingy up there laughing at me.
I'll be fully reimbursed upon my return. It's obviously a good business move on their part, and I can do it. It turned out to be a fantastic investment for me.
I had spend a full month in Nairobi. Shirl takes me to various places and I hope, I'm not too big a pain to put up with, even though I know I always am.
I am still desperately missing Annie.
 |
| First real leopard, in captivity, but it's still real |
They are all delighted with this information. It's exactly what the MD wants to hear
I found out later that that was exactly what the last guy in this position did.
Alternately, too many expensively head hunted and imported ex pats and their families have come here only to leave after 6 weeks
I don't even know how wonderful these working conditions are yet, but know enough not to look incredibly surprised at the starting salary, let alone piles of benefits like company car, free hotels as standard benefits and accomodation all thrown it.
 |
| Wild dog, but in the Nairobi Park Zoo |
If I ever turn up again in Nairobi, I have a job for 2 years and 3 months of backpay in the bank
There's some deity thingy up there laughing at me.
 |
| Nairobi park: Always a few Rhino's here |
I had spend a full month in Nairobi. Shirl takes me to various places and I hope, I'm not too big a pain to put up with, even though I know I always am.
I am still desperately missing Annie.
I indulge in various uppers and downers for my withdrawal from my previous love, but eventually, one day I get up and toss all of them into the bin. I need to grow up and live again, but first Joburg.
I fly down to Jo'burg in about 5 hours. It's a perfect cloudless day and from up here, something that took 2 month each way weeks and years ago just glides by.
I feels strange as I look down on Africa where I've been walking through so recently.
After laid back Nairobi, Jan Smuts airport suddenly feels like there's a prickly angry aggressive atmosphere. Ah yes, That's South Africa . Its actually physically palpable, even in the airport arrivals
There's no surviving photo's of this return to SA. no idea if there ever were any.
It's hard with Annie just up the road in Zim, (well it's 1978, so it is a ways away) and don't really have close mates here anymore except Erwin, a Swiss guy from one of the courses years back.
Quite a dark time for me, and the training shows me what crap products I'll be repairing. One of them is a glorified sewing machine for gods sake.
The training is dreadful. I long to see Annie, but am grown up enough to know that getting together again is never going to happen. She's found her new world, I need to find mine. This too shall pass, but not yet
Oh well.
A car is essential, I get one.
I rent various pads in Hillbrow, and finally move back into the Cuckoo's nest.
Richard, Junior comes for a few days when I'm still in Hillbrow. He's been severely shot and is on recuperation leave in South Africa. Annie I think mentioned it in passing. I'm shocked.
I meet up with some old friends. Chips is still here and I do a roaring trade in exchanged US $ travellers cheques for local Rand at about 20% bonus
It really is a hardship posting down here, having so many ghosts to live with. A really tough time, but I do have an ex-pat lifestyle to look forward to in Nairobi
Time drags, training is competant, but the actual products I'm being trained to fix are truly dreadful. I sincerely hope I don't have to fix this rubbish in Kenya.
Before we left Joburg an age ago (actually, only last year, about 8 months - for me, a lifetime), we had both started trying to hang glide. Travels got in the way, but I return and take up the second half of trying to fly.
I have one fairly serious crash, hurt but not broken, and decide that hang gliding is not my sport at all
I have sent Annie a return air ticket, and she has come down for my last week here. It's great to see her again, and this time we get to say a more civilised goodbye. We also head out to Junes for one more weekend gallop over the Veldt complete with braii and booze. My time in Joburg is almost up although I'm still hopeful that Annie will consider coming to Nairobi.
Shirl, my representative in Nairobi, has found Annie a job in Nairobi looking after a stable. I show her Shirls letter, but she's not so sure about what some of the things Shirl has written means.
I take it that this is really a way of saying "Thanks, but no Thanks". Well, this was just a way to get through 3 months as best I could without getting too depressed. There's only a few days of my tour down here left, so, it looks like I'm going to actually make it
The offer remained until various ladies started appearing in my bed in my fantastic pad (more on this later) not long after I arrive back in Nairobi
I fly down to Jo'burg in about 5 hours. It's a perfect cloudless day and from up here, something that took 2 month each way weeks and years ago just glides by.
I feels strange as I look down on Africa where I've been walking through so recently.
After laid back Nairobi, Jan Smuts airport suddenly feels like there's a prickly angry aggressive atmosphere. Ah yes, That's South Africa . Its actually physically palpable, even in the airport arrivals
There's no surviving photo's of this return to SA. no idea if there ever were any.
It's hard with Annie just up the road in Zim, (well it's 1978, so it is a ways away) and don't really have close mates here anymore except Erwin, a Swiss guy from one of the courses years back.
Quite a dark time for me, and the training shows me what crap products I'll be repairing. One of them is a glorified sewing machine for gods sake.
The training is dreadful. I long to see Annie, but am grown up enough to know that getting together again is never going to happen. She's found her new world, I need to find mine. This too shall pass, but not yet
Oh well.
A car is essential, I get one.
I rent various pads in Hillbrow, and finally move back into the Cuckoo's nest.
Richard, Junior comes for a few days when I'm still in Hillbrow. He's been severely shot and is on recuperation leave in South Africa. Annie I think mentioned it in passing. I'm shocked.
I meet up with some old friends. Chips is still here and I do a roaring trade in exchanged US $ travellers cheques for local Rand at about 20% bonus
It really is a hardship posting down here, having so many ghosts to live with. A really tough time, but I do have an ex-pat lifestyle to look forward to in Nairobi
Time drags, training is competant, but the actual products I'm being trained to fix are truly dreadful. I sincerely hope I don't have to fix this rubbish in Kenya.
Before we left Joburg an age ago (actually, only last year, about 8 months - for me, a lifetime), we had both started trying to hang glide. Travels got in the way, but I return and take up the second half of trying to fly.
I have one fairly serious crash, hurt but not broken, and decide that hang gliding is not my sport at all
I have sent Annie a return air ticket, and she has come down for my last week here. It's great to see her again, and this time we get to say a more civilised goodbye. We also head out to Junes for one more weekend gallop over the Veldt complete with braii and booze. My time in Joburg is almost up although I'm still hopeful that Annie will consider coming to Nairobi.
Shirl, my representative in Nairobi, has found Annie a job in Nairobi looking after a stable. I show her Shirls letter, but she's not so sure about what some of the things Shirl has written means.
I take it that this is really a way of saying "Thanks, but no Thanks". Well, this was just a way to get through 3 months as best I could without getting too depressed. There's only a few days of my tour down here left, so, it looks like I'm going to actually make it
The offer remained until various ladies started appearing in my bed in my fantastic pad (more on this later) not long after I arrive back in Nairobi
Erwin takes us both to the airport. I watch Annie head through emigration and out of my life again. I will not see her again for over 30 years.
Eventually, the day of my departure for my new life comes. Erwin and his girlfriend take me to Jan Smuts. I have survived a baren South Africa and the ever near presence of Annie, almost within touching distance for 3 months.
Big deep breath. Now exhale
I settle down in the plane
I arrive in Nairobi: Jomo Kenyatta airport about 10PM on June 8th 1978.
Redmond, god bless him, beats his way into the arrivals hall (you could do that back then, especially if you are white) with my work permit approval in hand and waits while I head towards immigration
Stamp, stamp. "Welcome to Kenya" with a truly welcoming smile from immigration
I have a whole old life behind me (big sigh), and a whole new life ahead of me. Again!
I know that I'm certainly not going to regret any of this
I arrive in Nairobi: Jomo Kenyatta airport about 10PM on June 8th 1978.
Redmond, god bless him, beats his way into the arrivals hall (you could do that back then, especially if you are white) with my work permit approval in hand and waits while I head towards immigration
Stamp, stamp. "Welcome to Kenya" with a truly welcoming smile from immigration
I have a whole old life behind me (big sigh), and a whole new life ahead of me. Again!
I know that I'm certainly not going to regret any of this