Two Men of Broken Hill

In this series of articles I have been telling you about the work my father and I have done in Zambia with the National Police Aid Convoys. Now I would like to do something a little different, and tell you how it all started; with two men born two hundred thousand years apart. Both were born at Broken Hill in Zambia, and both spent their formative years there, when neither of them wore shoes. One left with a promise to return, the other stayed there for all of his days.

One man is my father, the other could be the father of us all.

The Broken Hill Skull, also known as the Kabwe Cranium, was found in a zinc mine in 1921. It belonged to an adult male, and he belonged to an early species of human called Homo rhodesiensis. Many believe that H. rhodesiensis evolved into modern man. For all his significance to us now, Broken Hill man would have lived simply; eating meat that he hunted with his spear, using tools that he knapped from flint, socialising with his extended family unit and speaking with them using a rudimentary language. He would have known other men who passed through the area on their way into the rest of the world, but he stayed where he was, happy in his home with all that he could need.

Sadly there were many dangers in the life of Broken Hill man. His species spread all over the world, and the remains of another H. rhodesiensis man have been found in Boxgrove Quarry, West Sussex. They were gnawed on by a large carnivore. At this time humans were not the top predator, and while Boxgrove Quarry man was bested by a wolf or a bear, Broken Hill man would have had to deal with ancestral lions, hyenas, and wild dogs, not to mention the dangers of hippos, elephants, mosquitoes and tsetse flies. Disease would have been a constant presence and it is likely that he lost more than one family member before he himself died. His skull shows that ten of his top teeth had cavities in them, and pitting in the bone suggests that he suffered a great infection before he died, either from the infection itself or from starving to death because it was too painful to eat.

Two hundred thousand years later the other man from Broken Hill is returning to the land of his birth, now able to heal the hurt that tooth decay can cause. He is too late for Broken Hill man, but he can help hundreds of others by providing a facility to which anyone may come for help. My father is in the process of furnishing a dental clinic in Lusaka to give something back to the country which gave him so much. 

First published in Southwell Life, June 2015.

July's edition of Southwell Life is published tomorrow. Be sure to take a look at all of its fine articles!

It's that time of year again folks...

June is looming and we are once again gearing up to follow our containers out to Zambia. Since last year the good people of the National Police Aid Convoys (NPAC) have sent twenty-eight shipping containers to seven different countries, four of which went to Zambia full of clothes, books and medical equipment. The primary ethos of NPAC is that nothing gets wasted, even space on the containers. Every inch is crammed full of aid donated by companies and generous individuals. On one memorable occasion an ambulance was loaded in, and then filled with latex gloves, dressings and sanitising hand gel.

This time last year we were heading off into the unknown. I had never been to Africa before, the closest being a holiday to the Canaries, and while Dad was born there he moved away fifty years ago. A lot can happen to a country in fifty years. Independence, the movement to democracy, a slowly growing economy and a steadily growing gulf between rich and poor. The trip with NPAC last year started in Lusaka, launching us right in with a few days of hard work at the Makeni and Mycepa clinics for dentistry and cerebral palsy respectively, before we set out to see exactly what the combined might of NPAC is capable of. Nyimba East Primary School was a delight. The kids were smart and enthusiastic, and the teachers told us how much they love working there with the equipment they’ve received. The children are proud of their uniforms and books and their school choir is winning contests. They let us sit in on a dress rehearsal for an upcoming event and it was a joy to see. Search for Nyimba East School Choir on youtube and you can see the choir for yourself. We left Nyimba on a high, but under no illusions that every school would be so fortunate. As we drove away from the capital we saw a steady decline in living conditions around us until we came to an area ravaged by tsetse flies, where cattle are impossible to keep and crops are trampled by elephants so parents have to choose between feeding their children and sending them to school.

I have often been asked how I dealt with the emotions inherent in such a trip, and while I can’t deny that on occasion tempers ran high, the itinerary was planned so cleverly that we ended the experience tired, determined and hopeful. To view success first meant that we knew what we could achieve and allowed us to keep that in mind while planning how to help struggling communities. It also helped that we were in a great group of people and we kept each other going with humour and comfort when it was needed. I’m excited to see people we met last year and find out how our friends are doing in Nyimba and Mwape.

If you’d like to help, visit www.npac.org.uk to find out more.

First published in Southwell Life, May 2015.

Our Lunch with KK

Last time I wrote about Kenneth Kaunda’s political career. This time I’d like to tell you about the man we met at his home in Lusaka.

KK turned ninety last year, and as he knew David Scott and the work NPAC does in Zambia, we were invited to lunch at his home. We arrived after we’d been reclaiming our luggage at the airport, so all we’d had to change into is the clothing we’d packed in our hand luggage. Fortunately I had all of my clothing in my rucksack, and so I was feeling pretty fresh, but Dad had made a schoolboy error and packed his anti-malarial medicine in his suitcase. Luckily he had a clean dress shirt, tartan tie and his Caledonian Society presidents’ medal. My Dad has great priorities.

When we arrived we could hear music coming from the reception room and entered to find a bit of a jam session in progress. KK frequently has lunches to which he will invite many interesting visitors, and we were in attendance with a German music group who came to Zambia to investigate the possibility of setting up a dedicated music college. It turns out the first president of democratic Zambia has hidden talents. He’d pulled out a guitar and the whole group was singing along to a well known hymn, shortly followed by the Zambian anthem. After the musical interlude was concluded conversation turned to our purposes for visiting Zambia. KK was delighted to learn that Dad was born there, and that they had a Caledonian connection, KK’s father having been an ordained Church of Scotland missionary, and when Dad presented KK with a glass vase he had made in the colours of the saltire it took pride of place on the table in front of him. We have since learned that KK keeps the vase in his bedroom, along with the policeman’s helmet that David Scott had given him on a previous visit.

While we ate KK told us about his wife, Betty, to whom he was married for sixty-six years and who died in 2012. She was a strong woman and a good friend and advisor to KK, who consulted her frequently on affairs of state. It’s clear he misses her desperately, and his personal assistant, Linda told us that he regularly visits her grave in the gardens of his house to sit and talk to her. Dad told KK about my Mum and how they’ve been married only thirty years, and he responded with the advice to “have patience”.

KK came to the front steps to wave us off and sang Good-bye-ee, then this ninety-year-old man who has to walk with a cane ran up to his balcony like a dynamo and waved his trademark handkerchief as we drove away.

You can tell why KK was chosen to bring his country to democracy. He is gracious and commands the attention of a room when he speaks, but he is also humble and has a sense of mischief that belies the gravity of his office. He made us welcome in his home and shared his wisdom with us, while giving his full attention to each person and making it clear that he learns from everyone he meets.

First published in Southwell Life, April 2015.