Posts from John: Colonial boy

I was born in Broken Hill General Hospital during the rainy season. My Father was at work in Mumbwa when he was contacted and set off to collect his wife and first son. The land rover carrying my Mother and me could not cross the floods and had to turn back. They tried again when the water was lower but my Mother still had to wade across the floods which were up to her waist. She wrapped me in a muslin cloth which saved me from malaria but she became ill and this affected her for years afterwards.

 My Dad with me (right) and my brother David (left).

 David and I on the vegetable plot our mother set up to educate and feed the local workers. One man chose to fertilise his tomatoes... personally. They were always the biggest and tastiest!

This was the house we lived in at Gwembe. It was fairly typical for colonial administrators.

Life was tough for a colonial wife but much easier for the men. I remember an idyllic childhood with great adventures and freedom. I did go to school for a short time but most of my early education was by correspondence course.