Boyhood Memories of Kasama
1950 - 1954
It is hard to believe that it is over fifty years, since I
arrived in Kasama, having made the long bus trip from Broken Hill
on a white Thatcher Hobson bus. My Mum, Margaret, Dad, Tommy
and me, a delightful four year old had spent three days cooped
up in the first class compartment of the bus as it raced
the corrugated Great North Road throwing up an endless cloud of
red dust. The second class compartment was no better and the chickens
penned in their cages along with the luggage and bicycles on
the roof of the bus squaked constantly as the hot African
air ruffled their feathers.
How times have changed in the past half century, the internet,
colour television, cell phones, mans first flight in space and
then to the moon, were merely things of dreams, and yet today
we take them for granted.
My Dad
Dad, was the Prison Officer in charge
of the Kasama Prison and a prison farm which he established at
Malema on the road to Abercorn. He had a passion for boxing and
would build a ring where ever we lived, and invited all comers
to come and share in his pugalistic endeavours. Dr. Eddie
Naylor received a cracked rib, and Barry Ledger a member of the
local constabulary flatulated violently when he was caught by
a left hook to the head.
My Mum
Mum, worked with John Rhodes who was
the local Director of Agriculture. Mum was a talented vocalist,
having sung professionally in Edinburgh. The first time I remember
Mum singing was at a benefit concert held at the Kasama Club,
which raised money for English flood victims, I believe this was
around 1952. She would spend many happy hours at the spring
fed pool, where caravans of houseboys would deliver afternoon
tea, and families would gather for a late afternoon swim
Our First House
Our first house, was a white washed
brick building with an uneven thatched roof. We had no electricty,
our fridge was powered by parrafin, the stove was a huge cast
iron wood burning monster that would the fill the early morning
air in the house with the tantalizing smell of fresh baked
bread. There was a highly polished red stoop where sundowners
were served and we would watch the hot African sun sink gently
on the horizon, to be greeted by a cool evening breeze that carried
the chorus of cicadas and a mulitude of nocturnal insects
as they sang their repetitious melodies.
Water was brought in forty-five gallon drums. An outside
gravity resevoir supplied the wood fired hot water tank and
provided us with water. There was no flush toilet and one had
to walk a short distance to the white washed, thatched roofed
P.K. ( piccannini kia) located a short distance from the
back of the house.
There were no telephones, and neighbours communicated through
notes delivered by the gardenboy ( gardner to be politically correct).
The notes would carry the gossip of the day or invitations for
sundowners or dinner.
Our Second House
Around 1952, we excitedly watched as
our new home was being built, eventually the big day arrived when
we moved into the large white washed house with a tin roof. The
twentieth century had finally arrived in Kasama.
The house had running water, and an indoor toilet, still no electricity
or telephones. Just as he did at the first house , Dad
built a boxing ring in the back yard. Our neighbours to the right
were the Davis's, Dave, Celia and John, a two and a half foot
demolition monster. The Thompson's lived on the other side, Jock,
a doer Scotsman, his wife and Allister who was a couple of years
older than me.
My Pal John
John Davis was to say the least
a hellion, and would terrorize the entire neighbourhood.His parents
were posted to Lagos, Nigeria, and they eventually returned to
Wales, where John found his calling and became a minister !
Fancy Dress
The Kasama Club was the social hub of
the community, and every year there was a childrens fancy
dress party. I always enjoyed these auspicious occassions. At
one party I went as Robinson Crusoe, accompanied by my man Friday
and a baby Goat. My animal skin costume was made in the prison
tailor shop.
Kasama School 1960
Kasama School
Miss A. M. Gamwell. O.B.E., opened the
new Kasama European School January 22, 1952, and I was one
of the proud students who started their scholastic career at this
fine educational institution. On the first day I attended school,
I came home and advised my parents where babies came from. Mrs
Gillian Edwards was the first Headmistress. Prior to the new school
being built a house had been the school. After all these years,
I still have my report cards. Miss Joan J. van Dyke was to replace
Mrs Edwards as Headmistress.
Down on the Farm
The prison farm at Malema was always
a great place to visit, there was a dairy herd and the Prison
supplied the residents of Kasama with fresh milk bottled in Oris
Juice bottles.
Sergeant Bwalya
Sergeant Bwalya, was the senior warder
at the prison, a very proud and dignified man. He had been an
Askari in the army during the First World War. I last saw Sergeant
Bwalya in 1960. Yamba Yamba, was the senior prisoner and did time
for murdering one of his wives. Yamba Yamba came from nobility
in the Bemba tribe, and was highly regarded by all, with the possible
exception of his long departed wife.
The Big Chief
Chitimakulu, was the Paramount Chief
of the Bembas. I visited him on a couple of occassions at his
palace near Malole Mission which was run by the White Fathers.
The great Chief, kindly gave me two chickens who I named Fred
and Sarah. He was, as can be seen in the picture always immaculately
dressed in suits made in the prison tailor shop.
The Hudson
My Dad's official vehicle was an old
brown Hudson vanette. Many trips were made out to Malema,
I always delighted in going along and camping for the day down
along the stream that meandered through the farm. The highlight
would be to help build a fire and have a braai. Brian Ashton-Payne
would at times accompany Dad and me when we went on safari to
the farm.
Malole
The White Fathers, were a common sight
as they raced along the red dusty roads on their motorbikes. They
had a house in Kasama and a mission at Malole.
Chilabula
There was also a mission a Chilabula,
where the had severel large ponds stocked with fish. Life was
a dream when I was allowed to swim in one of the ponds, or to
paddle in a dugout. Dave Davis and his family would often tag
along. The Fathers were always gracious hosts, and enjoyed welcoming
visitors to their missions. Father Hugh Bonar and Father Dan Sherry,
two characters from Glasgow were perhaps my favourites.
Although over three hundred miles from the line of rail at Kapiri
Mposhi, world events still affected the inhabitants of Kasama.
When King George VI died in 1952, I recall the sombre tones of
the BBC announcer declaring the death of the King. A solomn memorial
was held at the Boma, where the prison warders and police officers
paraded, smartly dressed in their khaki uniforms with black arm
bands . Then in 1953 there was great jubilation, when we heard
that Hillary and Tensing had conqured Everest, and then there
was Queen Elizsabeth's Coronation. Another parade was held at
the Boma, however , this time it was more festive.
Many people touched me as I started to grow, Fathers Bonar and
Sherry, my hero Uncle Johnny Green who also hailed from Glasgow,
worked as a mechanic for Thatcher Hobsons and taught me how to
swim, Uncle Bob and Auntie Nancy Sorbee, a wee Scottish couple.
Uncle Bob would make the world's best crisps. Uncle Barry Ledger
the affable police officer with a large handle bar moustache and
his wife Jean. The Davis's, Watkins,and many others. Ah that first
kiss with Joannie Fredendal ......
Without a doubt, Mum and Dad were the greatest influence during
my formative years, and although both have passed on, I thank
them for the many wonderful experiences they gave me as a
young boy growing up in Kasama.