Chapter 14 - Back in Kasama

During the ten days when our house was being built, we were busy taking stock of our new surroundings and living in our suitcases until we were called for to go on to our new destination. We were staying in the Govt. Rest House which was one of a few houses making up the bush station of Kasama, Govt. H. Q. of the Northern Province of N.R. as it then was. (It was not federated with S. R. and Nyasaland at that time, and was a much wilder, free-er and more interesting place than either of these, we thought.)

There was an African houseboy attached to the Rest House which was available to any traveller. but when we were there we had it to ourselves, and as we looked through our luggage and sorted out what must be opened and which kept closed for our further journey, we found we were being watched by some young boys who were always to be found loafing around any semi-private place, and the Rest House was a very good hunting ground for curious young men. The best way to get rid of them, was to ask them to do something, when they promptly sidled off, so I asked the nearest in a matter of fact tone to 'please carry that box into the dining room for me' and 'will you please give me a hand to move these cases'. He was a plump, happy looking youth and seemed only too pleased to help. and waited around for more instructions, and on the next day he was back again with a proprietary smile. 'What is your name?' I asked, to fill in an awkward silence while he supervised my cooking efforts on the wood stove. 'Unity Sinkamba. I want to go to Kalungu when you go.' Many Africans cannot pronounce 'r' so in most cases they substitute 'l'. 'What can you do, Unity' I asked. 'I am stick and water boy, Madam'.

The 'Madam' and the little curtsey he gave whenever he spoke to me, made him sound like a very well brought up Victorian maiden and Hilda and I were quite intrigued with him. He had no citupa and I did not think he was then in a job, but he was only about 16 and might not yet have had a citupa. 'Well' I said ' I don't know if we will need anyone of indeed anything about the place we'll be living in, but I will ask the Bwana when he comes'.

Unit visited us every day until Alex at last arrived and he persisted until we agreed to take him with us as a stick and water boy or any other odd job that might need doing. His belongings were tied up in a cloth inside a cooking pot and he was happier than a king. We called him Unit as the Unity pronunciation was really Unit-ie, a sort of affectionate addition he gave himself. We also discovered he was married, (in the African sense of the word, which is not a ritual like ours but a matter of paying a lobola (bride price) to the girl's father, and which must be returned by the father if the bride runs away or otherwise fails to please during a reasonable time. He also had a child, but as he afterwards said 'I want my wife to stay in her village because she is not a very good wife and my father chose her for me'. He was to acquire several 'wives' on his travels with us, and I had to threaten to dismiss him if he acquired number five.

My little daughter Hilda and I had spent our waiting days walking out on little forays around Kasama and to the stores to buy some more supplies of tinned goods, flour, sugar, salt, tea, coffee and dried milk powder and similar groceries we would need, and found it very interesting to see the life of Kasama, and not a little embarrasing to be the centre of so much interest from the picanninies and their elders, who didn't hesitate to feel our clothes and push against us like children competing for the privilige of walking with their teacher. Hilda was fourteen then, and quite a rarity, as there were few white children in Kasama. Most of the houses were occupied by bachelors and young couples, and indeed I was often in those days the oldest inhabitant in outlying bush stations !.

We had just returned from the stores one day, with Unit in close attendance carrying a box of groceries and several picannins hopping and jumping around us, when along the dusty road came the vanette, Alex, brown and smiling at the wheel and Roy waving from the side, his fair hair covered with dust. "Come on !. The house is all ready, hot and cold running water and every mod. con.". Everyone seemed pleased - the Rest House boy came out and gave Alex and Roy his ceremonial curtsey, the piccanins chattered and Unit tried to look like one of the family as he put down his load and added his greeting to the others. We all trooped in and over some tea the men told us about the new house until it sounded like a cross between Tarzan's abode in the trees and a smart bungalow in Suburbia. We were longing to see it, and the next few days were spent in Alex's visits to the office, collecting four single iron beds and mattresses, folding tables and camp chairs, and having these and all our luggage piled into a ford truck anong with certain of Alex's needs for the forthcoming bridge. We set off on the third smiling morning, Alex and I in front and Roy and Hilda tucked down behind the cab and grinning through the window at us while Unit, fat with smiles and importance perched on the mattresses as if he was in charge of the whole project.