Chapter 22 - Mr Rumsey

When we were stocking up at the local stores, which were then The African Lakes Corporation - a semi- missionary organisation from Glasgow originally, we were asked as is the custom, to drop off some goods at a ranch we would be passing (within a mile or two). This ranch was the largest in the territory and had some really good cattle which were a rarity in these parts. The owner Fred Rumsey was an old man who had lived there since he was young and had seen the country open up around him, to Govt. and it's attendant benefits, and he was known to be impatient with 'specialists' whom he might meet, talking learnedly about one particular aspect of African life and how to change it. He had acquired over the years a large family and these he housed around his house and sent away to school when they were ready, or started off in business, but at this time his private life was not acknowledged and he knew it and asked nothing of society in case of rebuff.

We drew up in front of his large bungalow and on presenting his stores to him, he asked us in for refreshment, which we were very glad to accept. Around his red-stoeped veranda were lions skulls of all sizes and he told us he had over the years killed at least three hundred. his cattle were endangered by them and their numbers had to be kept down. He was a charming little man, quiet spoken and gentle and looking more suited to a retirement in a provincial suburb than in this vast lion ridden ranch. His cap was the kind often seen at football matches, and his carpet slippers suggested a warm little kitchen in the midlands of England. He had supplied all the meat for the army passing through the area during the was, and it was known that he would never ask a price above the normal one or profit in any way because of the war. He told us of his friend Thornton who was once his partner. Near the end of the war (the first world war it must have been) he had been in the bush and came upon the Germans who were making towards Kasama to surrender, but he had not known their purpose and remained hidden until they had gone, only discovering some weeks later that the war was over.

When we called he had with him a friend, one Captain Langham who had been for many years an elephant control officer. He was a neat dapper man who wore immaculate breeches and carried an elephant tail fly switch. He also was very interesting to listen to and we thoroughly enjoyed out visit, promising to come again when we were nearby. Mr Rumsey had presented us with a large leg of beef but unfortunately it was not put in our vanette and got left behind, so we were very surprised and pleased a day or two after returning to camp, to find a boy on a bicycle with our parcel of meat and a letter from Mr Rumsey saying 'Here is your meat which we omitted to put on your van. I hope you will enjoy it. Don't pay the boy for bringing it as I have already done so'. This was typical of his generosity and thoughtfulness.

Rumsey was a fascinating character, so gentle and charming in his demeanour but obviously physically tough to have survived what he had. He was very pleasant company socially, but one evening when we were with him a call came from one of his boys that a lion was in the cattle kraal. He excused himself and cycled two miles to the kraal, shot his 300th lion, cycled back and continued with the evening after apologising for the interruption.

Captain Langham was also a fascinating person. After the first war he became an elephant control officer shooting thousands of elephant as required to prevent them destroying the natives gardens. He was also allowed to shoot a certain number of elephant on his own account and sell the ivory. This was his downfall as he would shoot in the Luangwa Valley entirely on his own for up to six months and then at the beginning of the rainy season would return to 'civilisation', sell his ivory and go on an enormous alcoholic binge until he got D.T's. This had gone on for years until Rumsey took him in and agreed to look after him provided he kept off the drink. Eventually he did succumb again and Rumsey, true to his word, put him out. Langham died a few years later in an old people's home in Ndola. A dreadful shame for one of the most charming and interesting men I have met.