The snow started falling as we neared Djelfa, some 200ks inland from Algiers, and drifts of snow were 3ft deep 10ks further on.

We were travelling on a a built up road with a deep ditch on either side when we encountered a large diesel truck broken down in the middle of the road. There was no room to pass this truck and no way to move it. The Arabs simply stood around, looking bewildered, with no idea of how to cope.

Joe tried to start the engine but to no avail. Night was almost on us so we had no choice but to bed down in our truck.

Once again we were halted, through no fault of our own, on the desert at last, stuck fast and and freezing! That night was the longest and coldest l've ever endured.

Next morning Joe and Peter lit a fire under the diesels engine to get things 'warmed up' and they managed to shift the vehicle to one side enabling our truck to pass. We continued to travel in snow for 40 miles south of Djelfa.

My mental picture of desert terrain was quite unlike anything I was actually seeing. Snow was the last thing I had imagined but Joe had frocast correctly!

Further on, however, the desert took on the scrubby look I had envisaged with gravel-like stones in one part and larger rocks in other parts. Further south we encountered large rolling dunes and very soft sand while still in other places stones appeared exactly like slate I had seen so many times in our coal bunker back home, and everything was black as far as the eye could see. When we reached the immense rounded rocks and boulders of the Hoggar Mountains on Central Sahara, we found fossilized shells.

So the desert continually sprang surprises as we journeyed almost due south.

We followed vehicle tracks which, at times, were very rutted and at other times almost non-existent. We drove towards stone cairns which marked the route and at other places sand filled oil drums took the place of stone cairns.

Our first voluntary stop was at Laghout for a meal, then we drove another 60 miles to Tilrempht arriving at 10a.m. Here we slept in an Arab compound and for my next surprise Peter and I were offered a double bed. A better nights rest!

The Arabs provided breakfast the next morning of fish, chicken and noodles then we continued our journey to Ghardia and another meal.

The desert was certainly becoming more interesting as we travelled on, through Berrian, a typical oasis, with palm trees, camels, donkeys and, of course as always, plenty of curious Arab children.

We stopped at 11.00p.m. for cocoa then Joe took over the wheel and drove until dawn. We stopped at 6.00a.m. had breakfast and started off again at 9.00a.m. We drove all day arriving at E1 Golea at 5.15p.m.

This was a much larger settlement some 600 miles south of Algiers.

We pitched our tents and Phil and Kay shared ours, as they had on other occasions to save time pitching and striking two tents.

The next day 130 litres of petrol was pumped into our tanks-all by hand.

Peter and I walked around El Golea. We sent post cards home to our parents then I dressed Peters arms which were still refusing to heal. We left E1 Golea at noon and headed for Fort Miribel.

Everyone was in high spirits now and a sing-a-long kept us entertained. We finally arrived Fort Miribel at at 10.30p.m.

A typical French Foreign Legion Fort made of redmud bricks with whitewash facing.

We ate Gazelle stew and were given rooms in the Fort. Ours resembled a rather long tunnel with two small windows at one end. Never-the-less here, at last, was privacy and comfort.

The next day our trip turned very sour indeed. Jack decided he would shoot Gazelle. We really didn't need the meat but Jack needed to shoot. We saw Gazelle in the distance and Jack asked Don if he would drive off the track and chase these rather fine animals for what seemed miles and miles and miles while he tried to 'pot' one from this moving, bouncing, bumping vehicle.

In the back, we were unable to sit in our seats. We were thrown about like so many corks in a rough sea, as we careered over the rough terrain.

The immediate thought of breaking a spring or some mechanical breakdown, so far off the beaten track, worrying.

To use expensive petrol in such a way was maddening and to see the lovely Gazelle being shot, piece by piece, was horrifying to say the least.

I am well able to understand the need to cull animals, to graze and raise animals for slaughter providing this is done as humanely as possible but to shoot for the sheer delight of the kill appals me.

Again, if this is necessary to kill so starvation can be avoided, fair enough but we didn't need meat that badly and the wanton destruction of these creatures left the rest of our party-particularly the women-in almost hysterics. It certainly didn't help relations already somewhat strained amongst us and I'm afraid harsh words were hard to hold back.

After a very bloodthirsty killing Jack managed to 'bag' his gazelle and we retraced our tyre marks onto the track and once more headed south.

Joe again drove through the night and we reached In Salah at dawn where we got a couple of hours sleep in the truck and then we drove into the Fort. After breakfast we walked around the compound of the Headquarters of the French Forgein Legion. Another red mud brick walled building with whitewash facings.

On the following day Jack again chased Gazelle but this time the animals got away. Kept on driving and again drove through the night. We stopped at dawn and made breakfast, stretched our cramped legs as usual and then with a wet face cloth had a 'lick and a promise of better things to come'.

More time was wasted trying to shoot more Gazelle.

This was now getting ridiculous. Some of the party were actually accepting Jacks need to shoot. l'm afraid I just couldn't and never did.

Once again we drove through the night. Sleep, of course was only spasmodic as we bumped along the gravely track.

Finally we arrived at Tamanrasset and we were shown to a campsite by a Tuareg.

These fine looking, nomadic people are darker skinned. The men were completely covered in loose garments made from black or blue material. Their heads were turbaned and veiled with the same cloth. Only eyes showed through a slit. Unlike other Muslim people the women were not veiled.

With the now disgruntled party members there was some dispute about the pitching of tents but Peter and I had disassociated ourselves from the politics of the party and kept to ourselves. We visited the Fort after lunch and were introduced to a Miss Wakefield, and English lady who was studying the Tuareg people.

Apparently, the Tuareg had no written language at the time and Miss Wakefield had spent many years amongst these people and had devised such a written language for them. I still have the Gospel according to St Matthew, written in Tuareg, which she gave me.

We were shown her spare room which was in the process of being built onto her house. It comprised of just four walls. The grass and scrub was growing venturously inside these four palls. No doubt the 'spare room' was eventually finished with a floor, door, ceiling and roof. I sincerely hope so but Miss Wakefield was delighted with the construction as it stood at the time.

We had a much better nights sleep - the best for three nights and this together with a good lie-in the next morning put us all in quite a different temper the next day.

Jack decided the truck engine should have a 'do-coke', so the next three days were spent in Tamanrasset in the middle of the Sahara desert while this was being done.

Actually the engine was fine and really didn't need to be decarbonized but it gave us all a three day rest. Time to sort ourselves out, get clothes washed, hair washed and have a drink or two in the Trans Sahara Bus Company Hotel.

We sold more possessions and swapped an unwanted overcoat for an American wristwatch.

We met the local School Teacher and also Professor Lauriol who showed us the Observatory and also his extensive collection of moss. This had been sent to him from all over the world and he was making an 'in depth' study of the subject of moss.

One afternoon he took us to the local swimming pool. This had been cut out of rock and was some loft deep in the ground. I thoroughly enjoyed my swim in the middle of the Sahara desert even though the water was very cold.

We left Tamanrasset on Friday 30th Jan and the road was fairly rough going at first, then we hit soft sand. I think we used our sand channels 34 times that day! No sooner had we got the truck out of the soft sand and on the move when she dug in and got stuck again. Eventually we said, "When you get out this time, just keep going until you find some solid ground".

Joe took us at our word and almost disappeared over the horizon before he stopped. I think we walked halfway across that desert.

The next three days were spent digging out, pushing and walking, in that order, five or six times a day each day.

The 1st February arrived. Peter's 27th birthday. I think it passed almost unnoticed as we continued to dig, push and walk. Not a lot of mileage was covered over these days across this soft sand now in big drifts.

A strong wind was blowing all day and this, of course, gets sand into everything. Clothes, Kit bags, bedding, food. Nothing escapes. We got used to eating our food by not quite closing our teeth. The grit seemed less annoying this way. No wonder Tuareg males were veiled!

'Comfort' stops were laughable. Molly said, "Stop at the next tree Jack, I need to spend a penny".

In the absence of any tree, bush, rock or outcrop was decided:-

Ladies to the left, Men to the right of the truck for any 'comfort stop'

No one thought of the height of the truck and as we 'bobbed down' we discovered we could wave to each other underneath the truck anyway. Molly was a very modest person and took her spade for a very long walk across the desert until she was no more than a tiny speck in the distance before she got down to the serious business of digging and finally squatted.

We arrived at In Guzam, a small outpost, at noon 2nd Feb and immediately took out our seats from the truck and rearranged them in an attempt to create more space for ourselves. We dumped a petrol tank and a water tank. This made more space and also less weight on the truck. Our remaining tanks were ample for our requirements.

The aluminium petrol tanks under the chassis developed small holes as they had been subjected to a bombardment of stones over gravel sections of the desert and we tried, unsuccessfully, to stop the leaks as they occurred. Nothing seemed to work for long and we continued to spray our expensive petrol all over the Sahara desert.

(At Tamanrasset petrol was One pound Stirling per gallon in 1948)

Finally someone suggested, "Try dates".

We squashed dates and pushed them into the holes. It worked perfectly! We had little trouble with leaks from the on.

We arrived at a small oasis and asked the natives if we could get bread. No problem. Yes, we could have bread.

First grind your grain. This was done between two large flat round stones. (Mo11y and Benny both gave this a go but found it very hard work, the native women, however, soon had the job done). Then make a dough by adding just enough water to shape into a round flat loaf, Place this in hot embers of a fire previously made in the sand, cover dough with more hot embers and cover the lot with sand. Sit around the fire for a social chat until bread is baked then lift out the loaf from embers, bang it to shake off the sand and debris, then eat and enjoy.

The people of this region were darker skinned than their Northern neighbours.

The children had distinctive haircuts. Little boys had their dark, frizzy hair shaved on the sides leaving a strip running from the centre of the forehead straight back over the skull to the back of the head. Little girls have the same strip with extra tufts on either side forming a cross on their heads.

The next day was still bad going in more soft sand and we got stuck six times again.

We encountered a Belgian, his wife and baby son, who were travelling to Algiers from the Belgian Congo, stuck in this soft sand in their Ford Delux car. A most unsuitable vehicle for this journey. They were very happy to see a party of travellers with five men in the group who could help push them out.

This was the only other travelling vehicle we saw on the desert crossing except an abandoned truck left by another party of overlanders when the vehicle broke down.

We said "Au revoir" to the Belgian family wishing them "Bon voyage" and continued our own run of 126 miles that day before stopping by some mud huts for the night to camp out under the stars. This night a Tuareg and his camel had rested with us. We were up the next morning at 5a.m. but the Tuareg had moved out silently some time before.

After the Tamanrasset stop we lent our camp bed to Kay. Sleeping two on one camp bed-even butterfly fashion (head to toe) leaves a lot to be desired. Peter and I opted for the desert and our bedding rolls were placed in shallow hollows scooped out of the sand.

The night sky, seen from this position, where no rocks, dunes, or scrub obstructed the view was immense.

To see the stars in all their splendour from horizon to horizon, north to south, east to west a completely uninterrupted 360 degree view-is an almost unbelievable and certainly unforgettable experience.

* * *

The track was now much better and we made good progress.

Game was more plentiful, Bucks, Wild horses and someOxen in the area. Two more Gazelles were shot!

After a 185 mile run we arrived at Agades and camped just outside the town.

Next morning we went to Trans Sahara Bus Co Hotel for breakfast and a shower. What Bliss!

We did repairs to the roof rack and went for a walk around the town.

Now in Niger so we had our passports stamped and carnet

cleared and we were able to continue on safari.

The next day we passed Camel and Donkey caravans. Saw several Ostrich and many other types of birds including Guinea Fowl. Jack shot 6 of these birds.

The countryside was now changing. We saw more trees and bush.

We passed Rondavels (the round houses of central Africa) and clocked up another 104 miles.

Next day, after travelling 156 mites we arrived at Zinder. We somehow managed a short cut of 60 miles by taking what we thought was a wrong route.

We saw our first Cheetah the next morning. It was sitting on the wall beside our camp but disappeared quickly when Peter moved.

We later discovered it was a pet chained on the other side of the wall. Just as well we had camped on the right side of the wall the previous night. Might have had a Cheetah for a bed pal!

After breakfast we visited the American Mission and got a lot of information on Kano which was our next stop in Nigeria.

Zinder was the largest town since Algiers and we opted for the Hotel dinner and dance that night. Next day brought more unnecessary bother with the officials from the French bus company but we eventually started of and negotiated 40 miles of badly rutted road before entering Nigeria. Here the road improved dramatically and we arrived in Kano at 11.00p.m. We were met by more overlanders waiting there and we were shown to some bungalows where we could stay.

The next 11 days were spent in Kano while, again everyone weighed up their options for onward travel. The local club welcomed visitors and we spent quite a lot of time in the swimming pool. Nigeria was hot and to cool off in the pool was relief.

Peter and I spent several afternoons walking around the walled city of O1d Kano-more red mud walls. The whole place seemed to be red mud. Money was, as ever, very tight so letters home took priority.

With Phil and Kay we visited the mission and also Miss Millar.

This English lady had literally 'walked up from the coast' many years before and was a fund of information.

Our first taste of Bananas and fresh Pineapple since long before the war, left us wanting more. It was a real treat.

We made friends with Miss Millars pet monkey and spent a lot of time playing with this delightful creature.

We also met other 'overlanders' including the people who had abandoned their truck which we had seen in the desert. One man, Bob Kerr, from this unfortunate party joined our party later.

African 'Boys' came looking for work and we now had some rest from the more mundane chores of cooking, washing up and clothes washing.

Joe and Peter looked at prospects for work but it didn't seem a very good idea to remain in Nigeria at the time so after more deliberation Joe decided he would make his own way south. Kay and Phil decided to fly down to Salisbury in Southern Rhodesia.

Peter and I opted to continue and Bob Kerr joined our party.

We said "Good bye" to Miss Millar and the next day, 21st Feb, we again resumed our journey.

It was sad saying "Good bye" to Phil and Kay and Joe. We had got along very well and had some good times with them in adversity as well as untroubled periods.

We had completed the run across the desert which had taken us three weeks and two days including the days spent in Tamanrasset.

The overland truck crossing one of the many ferries on the Congo

The party as we finished in Jinja, from left to right, Peter, Me, Molly, Don, Bob, Jack, Jackie and Benny

Joe and the twins

Don, Kay, Phil, the twins and Peter with a friendly camel, Camel owner in the background

Snow bound in the desert.more snow

Swimming in the middle of the Sahara Desert at Tamanrasset 1948

Veiled Toureq. M Lauriol and the schoolmaster looking down into the swimming pool

Molly and I early morning 'cuppa' with mossie nets still over our beds.

Veiled Toureq.

Two days out of Kano and the 'Petrol' troubles started.

A11 manner of dire things were done to the engine, the tanks and various pipes etc but somehow we couldn't seem to get on top of the petrol stoppages.

We finally arrived in Maidugari - more passport stamping and petrol permit acquired. Jack bought a new petrol tank and thought the 'stoppage trouble' would be over. Not so. Each day we were halted with fuel trouble. In the French Cameroons we found it cooler to ride on top of the truck and eventually Bob, Peter and I put our beds up there also. Bob under his single mosquito net, while Peter and I rigged up our double net.

Don and Mo1ly fixed their nets to the side of the truck and over their camp bed. Molly now had the loan of our camp bed. Jack, Benny and the twins bedded down on the other side the truck.

The day temperatures were very high but the nights were quite cool.

With more and more stops to sort petrol blockages we made slow progress.

Jack managed to bag 10 Guinea Fowl on one of his 'shoots' as we continued towards Fort Lamy.

We crossed several rivers by various ferries and pontoons. Some were several dug-out canoes lashed together to make these pontoons. The natives paddled and sang as we crossed these rivers. It seemed spontaneous singing which we thoroughly enjoyed.

We needed to attend customs in various places for passport, stamping, carnet clearing and sometimes it was the police who would dish out the red tape but we found the French administration was one of non-co-operation.

Peter went to Fort Lamy hospital. The troublesome boils were now carbuncles. One large 'nasty' on his stomach needed attention and he had five injections for this. Three jabs around the carbuncle, one in his arm and one in his seat. The doctor looked very pleased and said,

"That is the end of your troubles I guarantee it".

I only wish he had told the boils that. They didn't seem to hear and kept. up their relentless attack on Peters anatomy.

The day temperatures were now very high and travelling was becoming very uncomfortable. It was decided to rest during the day and continue in the cool of the evenings. This worked very well and we continued to Fort Archanboult.

The French, in French Equatorial Africa, were more helpful with all documentation and we had a mechanic 'blow out' the petrol pipes. But still the Petrol blockages continued with monotonous regularity.

After 10 days of Carburetta clearing, tank renewing, pipe fixing etc, etc, the 11th day proved quite delightful with only one stop. Things were looking up.

Another stop outside Bangi we finally made more passport banging etc.

We swam in the Ubangi river before taking the across into the Belgian Congo.

Mindful of crocodiles, we had several natives splashing and swimming with us hoping the noise and general hubbub would put, off any curious croc. It must have worked.

We were now in dense jungle. Just the thing one thinks of whenever the Belgian Congo is mentioned. Impenetrable jungle! Hot,humid with a smell all of it's own. Lush vegetation and every now and then a clearing for a native village.

Everyone waved to us frantically as we passed through these villages. Excited children ran along side as far as they could.

We would often stop in a seemingly uninhabited spot to 'Brew up' and before we had the primus out dozens of natives would appear, as if by magic, to crowd around and stare at these wild white people.

We made Lebenge by 11.45p.m. on the 4th March and wearily camped down.

Next morning we had to move smartly at 5.30am as the natives seemed agitated. We hadn't realized the previous night just where we had bedded down-right in the middle of the native market! And they wanted it back!

Hospitality in the Belgian Congo from English and Belgian people living there was completely overwhelming. At one stop we were taken over completely by the local commissioner who insisted plying us with chicken, eggs, bread, wine, sweets, cigarettes and finally offering double beds in an empty bungalow. We helped repair the Commissioners car the next day before continuing on to Bumbangi.

Heavy rain had fallen during the night and the built up roads across swamps were somewhat slippery and dangerous.

The following day we arrived at Lisala and again put up in an empty house and were invited to dinner with a Belgian couple.

Unfortunately my first attack of Malaria was about to hit me. I developed a very high fever and could do nothing but crawl into bed just shivering and then sweating.

I remember during the evening someone brought me tea laced with whiskey, I wasn't keen at all and wished they would just let me die quietly.

That night was a nightmare.

I ached in every limb, my head was pounding. I had noises in my head. I never felt so lousy or so alone. Everyone had gone to dinner with our hosts. The fever continued to rage all night but next morning l was expected to arise, all 'ship-shape and Bristol fashion' ready to continue our journey. I could hardly crawl out to the truck but somehow managed, with Peters help, to drag myself there and lie down in the truck still feeling desperately il1. At our next stop for petrol the whole party was invited to tea at the home of an Englishman but, again, l wasn't able to attend. We finally arrived in Bumba and we slept that night in the dinning room of the Sabena Hotel.

Next day I felt a lot better as we continued another day of ferry crossings and chartings.

We drove through Rubber plantations and arrived at Basoko where the Chief of Police invited us for drinks and again we were offered the comfort of a bungalow for the night. It was wonderful being able to get a decent wash after the last few days illness.

Our next river crossing was a big ferry on the Congo river which took two and a half hours to cross.

When we reached the other side we drove into a plantation factory dealing in Palm Oi1 and were immediately invited to lunch by a charming South African chap.

After lunch we were taken to the home of an Eng1ish couple, Mr and Mrs Tennyson, who insisted we stay the night.

A dinner party was arranged for us at another house, the home of M.de Raymond and this was a very lavish affair. A beautifully laid Buffet of cold meats and salads of all kinds were provided together with several desserts and, of course, all manner of drinks.

We felt like Royalty as we were wined and dined. Mr Tennyson drove us back to his house at midnight.

The following day we breakfasted at yet another house, the home of Mr and Mrs Reed Wilson, a very nice English couple. We finally left them at 11.00a.m. and drove on to Yononge, some 90ks from Stanleyville where the Priests invited us to stay the night at their mission. We thought at this rate never leave Belgian Congo!

How different from our previous halts?

In Stanleyville we were to arrange reimbursement of the Bond Phil and Kay had so generously paid, and we went in search of the French Consulate. The only trouble was-No French Consulate! Hadn't been a French Consulate in Stanleyville for quite some time apparently.

Now do you see what I mean about the French administration? They were quite definite back in Algiers. "When you get to Stanleyville just go to the French Consulate and you will retrieve your Bond", they said. Ha! Some hopes.

Jack was I.C. of course and contacted Phil and Kay in Rhodesia but I'm picking it was a long time before they saw the return of their money.

Our planned itinerary from Stanleyville was to travel south and enter Uganda at Kabale but our petrol supply was low, as were funds. We had sold tyres which were bullet- proof, armoured car tyres and we originally carried four spares so we had plenty to come and go on.

We were now running out of things to sell so we decided to travel east and cross Lake Albert entering Uganda at the Northern Township of Butiaba. This was the shorter route.

Bob was the next person to go down with Malaria and, like me, had to travel lying in the truck as we drove for the next three days to Kasenji on the Belgian Congo side of Lake Albert.

We saw African Elephants for the first time in Stanleyville and we saw many different apes and monkeys as we drove through the now thinning jungle.

We finally arrived at Kasenji to find there was no boat scheduled to cross the lake for a few days.

Again the local people came to our aid. The customs officer invited us for drinks and both he and his wife were very anxious for us to stay the night in their house.

It seemed there had been a radio broadcast that day warning of a Tornado approaching the area. This was unbelievable. I remember the day as a lovely warm day with a bright blue sky. It seemed God was in his heaven and all was right with the world. A tornado seemed the last possible thing that could happen. Benny finally agreed to let the twins sleep in the house but the rest of us had already made our beds so we camped, as usual, with Bob, Peter and I on top of the truck.

About 4.00a.m. the next morning Bob woke me and said, "I think we should get down, there's a strong wind blowing up".

I shook Peter and before we had grabbed our bedding and got down from the truck, the Tornado was on us.

Jack and Benny also had enough time to grab their bedding and I recall laughing-although the situation was far from funny-but in flashes of lightening that lit up the area momentarily, I saw Jack rushing around in circles shouting, "Where's my pants? where's my pants?" He was a believer in sleeping raw, I think.

We all rushed for shelter in a nearby Customs shed. A large corrugated iron building. Peter and I sat under our blankets and almost chain-smoked as the building swayed about in the very heavy wind and rain. Matches and flashes of lightening were the only light we had.

The noise was very frightening and not much sleep was had from then on!

At dawn we could see a lot of damage had been done to the native huts in the area. Several were smashed. Apparently one man died.

Our truck and everything in it was awash. A11 our clothes in our kit bags were drenched. That morning the fence was festooned for its full length with our wet gear as we attempted to dry everything we had.

Peter had acquired some Arab slippers in Algiers which were made of red and yellow leather. The colour wasn't fast and everything we owned was now either red or yellow or a mixture of the two.

The Frenchman in charge of Fisheries, Christian, asked us to dinner that night and after dinner he took the men on a crocodile and hippo hunt.

With still two or three days to go before we could cross Lake Albert it was decided to move to a rest house some 20ks away.

We packed the truck and moved out but again met Christian on the way and he insisted we have his guest-house for the duration of our stay in Kasenji.

Peter's turn for Malaria came. Luckily we were now stationary and Christian brought some Quinine but with Malaria and boils Peters misery was twofold.

Knowing Jacks penchant for shooting game-and the bigger the better-Christian arranged a Buffalo hunt for the next day.

Peter was not yet A.1 and I wasn't keen any way. So it was that Bob, Peter and I found ourselves trailing the rest when they set out. Suddenly there was a pinging sound and when I looked around both Peter and Bob were face down on the ground. I hadn't realized the sound I had heard was a shot fired in our direction. The main party had progressed much further than we had thought. They had come around a herd of Buffalo and not realizing we were trailing behind had shot in our direction. That was it! The three of us made our way back to the guest house and Peter crawled back into bed.

Next day was another social visit to Christian in the evening and we talked until midnight. There was no end to the generosity shown to us by these wonderful people and we were very grateful indeed.

The following day we were able to board the SS. "Robert Corydon" for lunch. However the ship wasn't ready for sailing until 5.30am the next day so the Customs officer again invited us to his home and showed us some one day old crocodiles. These babies even at such an early age can give quite a nip as Peter discovered when handling them. Loading the "Robert went on all night and we moved out at 5.30a.m. as scheduled the next day.

We had a very calm nine hour trip across the lake to Uganda, marred only by yet another boil erupting, this time on Peter's thigh which needed attention and bandaging.

After customs clearance we headed for Hoima. Stopped for cigarettes then carried on to a rest house 80 miles from Kampala. This road was to become very familiar to us later in our lives.

We reached Kampala at noon the next day and went to Bothille and Matthesons to look for possible jobs. Not much joy here and everywhere seemed shut so we carried on to Jinja, a small township on Lake Victoria.

The Rippon Falls here in Jinja were discovered by Speke in 1867 and recognised as the source of the Nile.

Peter went to the Public Works Dept (P.W.D.) again job hunting. It was here he met Tom Ball. Tom immediately asked the whole party to stay at his house while we chased jobs.

Jack was now the victim of malaria comfortably to bed in Tom's house where he next three days.

For the next three days, Bob and Peter looked for jobs but the prospects weren't at all promising.

Tom announced he had 'something in the pipeline'. He was contemplating starting a business making hardboard from Papyrus.

We weren't sure if this could be done but Tom was a smooth talker and convinced us it was only three or four months before his venture got under way. He offered Peter work, once he got started but in the meantime Peter would continue to Nairobi, Kenya with the rest of our group to look for work.

Tom and his wife, Peggy, asked me to stay with them while Peter arranged work and accommodation in Nairobi. I was loathe to stay behind, although Tom and Peggy were very kind. I didn't want to be parted from my husband of just seven months.

Peter convinced me it would be the right thing to do and he left with the rest of the party on the evening of 25th March.

They made Kenya border at midnight and slept in the truck. They carried on the next day-Jack again attempting to shoot game the following morning-and finally arrived in Nairobi 2.30a.m. 27th March 1948.

By now Peter had a massive carbuncle on his mastoid bone, behind his ear. His first stop was at the doctors' surgery. The doctor cut and drained the offending lump and then firmly wrapped Peter's head in bandages.

When Peter presented himself to the P.W.D in Nairobi the personnel officer took one look at this red-bearded, Turbaned rather swarthy looking individual and said, "I'm afraid we don't have any vacancies for Asian Staff at the moment".

Horrified, Peter returned to the Hotel where the others had checked in, took off the bandage, shaved off the four months growth of beard, changed from white drill slacks and shirt into a business suit, went back to the P.W.D and got a job!

Bob was a chiropodist and looked for work in Nairobi. Don and Molly considered the Ground Nut Scheme which was operating at the time in Tanganyika and I believe Jack and family continued to Mombasa.

With only 6d (5c) in Peter's pocket our journey, which had been fraught with troubles, had come to an end after four months and twelve days.

A BelgiumCongo Bride Peter with 1 day old crocodiles

Peter and I aboard the "Robert Coryndon" Our first house in Uganda on the Entebbe road

From then On

With his first pay cheque Peter bought my train ticket so I could join him in Nairobi.

It was a very happy reunion when the comfortable overnight EAST AFRICAN RAILWAYS AND HARBOURS train pulled into Nairobi Station, although, at first, I hardly recognised Peter without his beard.

We stayed for several weeks at the Hotel while Peter got more and more bored with his work. The job, in P.W.D. stores, was not rewarding or challenging in any way. It was just plain boring, so much so in fact that Peter had time to read the entire book of 'Forever Amber'.

After three months in Nairobi Peter wrote to Tom in Uganda asking him about the job he had offered and was the offer still open? Tom replied immediately and wanted us to return.

Thinking everything was 'Fu11 steam ahead' with Tom's proposed business we returned to Jinja only to find Tom's dream was only 'Pie in the sky' and there was really no chance of him starting his venture, although in Tom's mind I think he still thought he would do so.

We met and made friends with many people in Jinja and some of these friendships remain to this day. Two brothers, Norman and Gavin Hamilton, and their respective families are firm friends.

After a few weeks spent with Tom and Peggy, Peter realized Tom's dream of his factory was a non-starter so once again he looked for work in Kampala and this time took a job with Mowlem Construction Co who were contracted to Tar-seal the Kampala Entebbe road.

This then was a beginning of our 11 year long, happy love affair with Uganda.

Our first home was a small two roomed native house on the Entebbe road-three miles out of Kampala. The rooms were separated by a small verandah. There was an out house which served as a kitchen and we had a long-drop toilet. Norman Hamilton and his wife Mavis joined the firm shortly afterwards and were also given one of these 'homes'.

We managed to make our 'wee homes'comfy with cane furniture and all the 'bit and bobs'we had brought from England.

Tom and Peggy had given us a puppy Jeepy' and Peter bought me a dear little monkey. A white nosed, red tailed bundle of mischief.

Joe became Josephine or 'Phenie' when we discovered the lack of genitalia necessary for a 'Joe'.

My first 'baby' was wrapped in pink lint nappies - for this was all I had with which to make nappies at the time - and Phenie lived happily with us for two years when the unthinkable happened and she was stolen.

Our bath was a huge galvanized iron affair which our houseboy, Ongea, would drag into our bedroom each night and then fill with hot water. If Phenie saw us dressing after bathing she quickly recognised this as a sign that we would soon be going out and leaving her. Not wanting to be left alone she would immediately jump up and down, all four feet lifting off the bed, mouth wide open screaming at us until she was picked up and tucked away inside Peter's shirt.

Phenie went everywhere with us in this manner and it was quite disconcerting for one opponent to see a small hand appear from the front of Peters shirt and grab the billiard cue as Peter lent over the table to take his shot.

At the cinema two hands would open Peters shirt little and two bright eyes would gaze in wonder at the big screen.

Phenie became an excellent swimmer. She swam with me in the Kabakas lake in Kampala. First sitting on my shoulder, clinging to my hair but after a while she 'took the plunge', dived in the water and swam breast-stroke beautifully.

I later saw this happen in another bath we had, complete with plug and chain. Phenie swam, underwater, breaststroke, from one end of the bath to the other. She climbed up the chain, hand over hand, and let out all her breath in a mighty 'phew'!

Tick fever was very bad indeed for dogs in Uganda - a very quick killer-and Jeepy became a victim of this danger, It was something we had never seen before and sadly we lost Jeepy.

One day Peter was supervising the Bitumen spraying, when a speeding car took little notice of the speed limit sign which clearly read, "By order of the D.P.W. (Director of Public Works.)

Peter rightly stopped the car and informed the driver of the correct speed limit. It wasn't until sometime later that Peter realized he had pulled up and told off the D.P.W. in person.

Riding in Company trucks was frowned upon so we needed our own 'wheels'. There was no public transport near us at the time.

Peter brought a 1932 Morris Minor which was really only scrap, then together with Norman and Clyde Fenner-the Companys' Mechanic, they ripped the little car apart and set about rebuilding it. The engine was made to turn over nicely, the body which was now 'U.S,' was cut in half an rebuilt as an open tourer-very open with no doors.

One day when the body was only partly built 1 took the car for a test drive. A large orange box covered with a towel served as a seat and with no floor board as yet replaced, I drove the 'Bomb' in our compound, The fashion, at the time was Beach Pyjamas with very wide slacks. These suddenly tangled around the exposed prop shaft and my pants were quite literally ripped off me. We came to a shuddering halt - right outside one of the natives huts. The man sitting outside his hut just couldn't believe his eyes. There sat a Memsahib in all her naked glory from the waist down. Wrapping the towel around my middle and untangling my lovely, now ruined new slacks, from the prop shaft I drove back to our hut.

It was quite a long time before drove anything again.

The 'Bomb' was eventually finished and we sprayed her grey with a flit gun-a pump handled Fly Spray gun.

Christmas 1948 arrived and we decided it was time to 'splash out' and have a dinner and dance at the Imperial Hotel, Kampala.

Mavis lent me a long dress for the formal occasion and we drove into the carpark of the Hotel and carefully parked our little grey bomb between two huge motor cars of a much more prestigious type. We had a lovely Christmas dinner and thoroughly enjoyed the dance. We thought all the work on the Bomb was well worth the effort.

We now had our 'wheels'.

Shortly after the New Year, Peter again saw the D.P.W.. when he pulled up beside him on the road and said, "P.W.D. is launching a new scheme of mobile plant units for maintenance and reconstruction of all the main roads throughout Uganda and we'll need overseers and supervisors for these units. lf you need a job when you're finished here come and see me".

When the second coat of Bitumen was completed on the 22 mile Kampala/Entebbe road the Mowlem Construction Companys' work contract was finished and, again, we were looking for work.

Peter remembered office to see if the the D.P.W,'s words and went to his offer was still open?

Yes, the offer still stood and Peter was offered a job as assistant Inspector of works (Roads)

Our first posting was back to Jinja!

We were to take the 'Bomb' over the 55 mites of winding, corrugated, dirt road but it broke down half way there. We had to leave it in a natives Shamba (Garden) and get a lift to Jinja. At the time the natives of Buganda -a province of Uganda which included Kampala were rioting and there were some ugly scenes. In Jinja we were not affected as Jinja is in another province-Busoga-but we had left our car in Buganda and really didn't expect to see anything left of the car when we returned to fetch it some weeks later.

It was, however, completely intact including battery which we felt sure would have been looted and Peter managed to repair the car and drive in to Jinja. It was eventually handed on to a young police bachelor who decided it should be painted black and white stripes!

* * *

With a Government job Government housing was usually provided and a time payment scheme operated whereby a car could be purchased and repayments would be deducted from Salary over a three year period. A car was not a luxury but a necessary item for work.

However, we were 'Locally Employed' and seemingly did not qualify for the same conditions as those recruited from the U.K.

Our first Government house was a Stable! This comprised of three stalls complete with half doors, recently whitewashed and a concrete floor laid. Peter was given a bicycle to get around his jobs.

Although Peters shattered leg from his war injuries was now very much better, a bicycle was not the best vehicle for him. Later he was provided with a Ariel 600cc motor bike and, later still, a coffin like box was added as a passenger side car.

Making a home in a stable was my first job and, although many people who were decently housed in Jinja were aghast at the accommodation, I had no other choice.

The stable was situated at the end of the Golf course which ran along the side of the Nile. Just behind us were several clumps of bamboo.

Each night, after dark, Hippos would come up from the Nile to graze and would find the Stable the best place in the world on which to rub and scratch their hides.

Notes would arrive inviting us out to dinner and these would be addressed to 'Hippo Hall, Bamboo grove, Jinja'!

One night, after we had dinner at a friends house, we were walking back to the Stable when we heard, "Crunch, crunch, crunch." followed by snuffling and shuffling. Realizing there were Hippos around I started to panic as everywhere was pitch black. No moon shone at all and we weren't sure on which side of the path the Hippos were eating. Were we between the Hippos and the water? Or were they on the water side? Suddenly there was a heavy rumbling and we stood absolutely still, holding hands and praying that we weren't being charged.

We heard the noise fade away after a while and realized the animals were running away from us. We hurried back to the Stable. Peter got the motorbike out and drove around to see what was abroad on that very dark night. He very quickly came upon several Hippos grazing contentedly but his bike stalled and he discovered he was surrounded by these large creatures. Peter lost several pounds in weight as he sweated trying to restart that engine.

* * *

My pregnancy was confirmed while we were still living in that Stable.

Both Peter and I were overjoyed at the prospect of becoming parents but there was a certain irony to the situation.

Here I was, Living in a Stable and Pregnant but 1 didn't relish the thought of coping with a babe in that place.

My birthday is Christmas day but l'm not that good.

P.W.D. built several prefabricated houses on a new subdivision and after a few weeks we were allocated a one bedroom 'Pre Fab'

We now had the 'mod cons' and life took on a much all better perspective as we joined the social life of Jinja.

One day an old man arrived at my door and asked for work as an Mpishi (Cook).

I asked him how old he was and he said, "Hapana jua" (I don't know). But he showed me his Baruas (Letters of recommendation) from previous employers and a photograph of one employer. This was an old sepia print of his Bwana dressed in singlet and boxing shorts posing with the typical boxing stance of a bygone era. Mpishi was certainly aged. He joined us in 1949 and was still with us in 1957, but this is another story.

The club was the 'hub' of the community and various Gala nights were arranged for National days etc, Dances were held and thoroughly enjoyed. The close knit community was one of happy memories.

We were asked to look after a friends dog while he was overseas. Bunny Otto was due 'Home Leave' and wanted Susan, his bull terrier,to have a home. Somehow, Bunny forgot to mention that Susan was also pregnant. Of course, Susans' friend, Dusty - the original Shaggy Dog couldn't be parted from Susan so,

"Could we take Dusty, too?"

We already had a replacement for Jeepy-Bitumen-a jet black lady dog of no particular pedigree. But now with animals arriving as lodgers we ended up with 9 dogs including Susans six pups, 2 cats, 1 monkey, 1 parrot, 1 tortoise, 17 ducks and 8 ducklings.

Most of the lodgers or squatters returned to their owners eventually and we found homes for Susans' pups. But we kept the only male pup she produced and 'Bruce' was with us for the rest of the time we spent in Uganda. Bruce was a bull terrier cross Rhodesian Ridgeback, a very strong, sturdy, loyal dog and certainly a great 'Best Friend'

For a very short period I was confined to bed and during this time we had a 'Kitchen Toto' or younger boy to help Mpishi but I wasn't on deck to oversee work etc and Toto decided to sit all day playing his guitar.

After a couple of days of this behavior Peter had a word with him. He became sullen and sulky and the next day instead of tipping some boiling water down the kitchen sink, he decided to throw it out the window and over Bitumens back.

The first I knew of the incident was when the poor dog came crying into my bedroom and crawled under the bed. From that drenching poor Bitumen lost all the hair on her back and a great chunk of skin. The vet was able to help her but the Toto got his marching orders in no uncertain terms. Later when Bitumens back had healed one of Peter's headmen took a fancy to her and finally asked Peter if he could have her when we left Jinja.

Knowing the cruelty some Africans applied to their animals we were reluctant to let her go but it became obvious the headman was fond of her so Peter said,

"Yes, you look after her well".

The Headman was delighted and came to our house on the appointed day with a wooden box firmly tied to the carrier rack of his bicycle. Inside this he had placed a cushion for added comfort and Bitumen jumped into the box and went off happily to her new home.

We saw her several times after that. The first time the headman said

"I'd like her to have pups but she doesn't know what to do". The next time we saw her she had obviously found out and was the proud mother of 5 pups!

* * *

Our bachelor neighbour, Brean Hall, very kindly offered to give me a lift to Kampala in his car when the time came for me to go to the Maternity Hospital but I gaily said.

"Thanks a lot Brean but don't worry everything has been arranged. I'11 go over in plenty of time and wait at the Government Hostels."

Most women, from stations outside Kampala, booked rooms in the Hostel a week or so before babe was due to avoid a panic trip travelling, in some cases, hundreds of miles at the very last moment to the Maternity wing of the European Hospital-since renamed Nakersero Hospital.

Little did I know my daughter had other ideas and three weeks premature decided to make her appearance in this world.

Of course this was late at night.

So at midnight Peter was knocking on Brean's window shouting

"Help"

Poor Brean! That night he had been robbed of all his possessions while he was at dinner in the Ibis Hotel. He had just spent the previous few hours with the Police trying to locate and retrieve his belongings. He had crawled, dog-tired into bed just before Peter knocked on his window. We all huddled into Breans small car and went bumping for 55 mites over that dirt road arriving at the Hospital early on November 10th.

Dail was born at 11.00am that day and for the next 14 days, while we remained in Hospital Peter heroically rode his motorbike to visit us every second day. Cars travelling on that road were shaken about but motorbike was even more jolting, jerking and likely to jump around. So it was a Herculean task he set himself. He would arrive each time looking like a Red Indian completely covered in red dust from head to foot.

The day of our discharge from Hospital Peter borrowed a small car and I anxiously awaited his arrival.

He arrived two hours late explaining he had woken that morning feeling ill and thought he had malaria.

We drove home and that evening Peter was to play Hockey for Jinja.

After a while one of his team mates brought him home looking very groggy indeed and we put him straight to bed.

After a day or so Peter wasn't showing any signs of improvement I called the Doctor who took one look at Peters chest and asked,

"How long has he had these spots?"

"What spots?" I asked, "You don't get spots with malaria!"

Apparently it wasn't malaria but Tick Typhus and by this time his fever was very high. He seemed paralyzed from his waist down so the Doctor picked Peter up like a babe and carried him to his car and thence to Hospital. At the time Jinja had a small Hospital with only two or three beds for Europeans.

From then on I spent my days between a crying babe, needing me at home and my husband who thought he was dying in Hospital.

I tried to placate both parties but with no car I spent most of my time walking the three miles or so to the Hospital to see how Peter was then back again to feed babe.

We were almost on the equator and Jinja was quite hot. Pushing babe in pram during the heat of day wasn't on. Mostly the Ayahs would take the children for their walks early mornings, before breakfast when the dew was still around and the temperature moderate. Also again perhaps, in the late afternoons. So pushing Dail backwards and forwards to the Hospital wasn't on either.

Finally the District Commissioner and his wife came to my rescue.

Their house was situated just behind the Hospital and they insisted Dail and I stayed with them until Peter was well again.

Peter left Hospital after a two week sojourn but was now down from his normal weight of lost to 8 1/2st. This was just before Christmas 1949. My 21st birthday. Christmas and Dails' Christening were celebrated on the 25th December.

One cake with candles, holly and babe in a cradle decoration sufficed for for all three events. Economy was the name of the game in those days.

Doctor thought Peter would need recuperation down at sea level so with Dail now seven weeks old, and Peter still tottery, we took the train down to Mombasa and then by car to Diani Beach, south of Mombasa.

We stayed at Sandy Bay Hotel, Diani Beach which is, I think, one of the most beautiful spots of this world, with its lovely white sand, palms and soft winds.

With good food and a good rest Peter regained much of his weight. Unfortunately, I lost most of my milk although I wasn't aware of this at the time. Dail wasn't too happy. There wasn't anyone to advise us on baby care-no clinics or such. No one checking to see how Mum and new babe were doing. It wasn't until a friend said,

"Try her on Baby formula" That Dail improved, in fact she didn't look back.

It has been said with number one we are only practising, with number two and three we get progressively better!

We got back from Mombasa and were allocated a larger Pre Fab nearer the township of Jinja with two bedrooms. Dail now had her own room.

Shortly before christmas another of Peters headmen asked,

"Would you take on my daughter, Beatrice, as an Ayah for your baby? She's a good girl and would like to work for you".

Beatrice was indeed a good girl and stayed with us for 5 years.

Four months after our return from Mombasa Peter was posted to Mubende road-mile 14- the other side of Kampala. He was to take over from another Assistant Inspector who was due for 'Home Leave'.

Phenie and I Bitumen and Phenie abord Peters Ariel 500 motorbike

Phenie and I on the motorbike outside the stable first P.W.D. Prefab house in Jinja

Dail, Ayah (Beatrice) and I outside No 2 prefab house in Jinja

Bruce second from the right and his sisters

Bruce and Dail both aged 2 years The POW shack Mubende road

The back door of the POW shack Mpishi, House-girl Gracie and Radido

Some of Peters Road gang boys, Juma 5th from rightThe Bombo House

Dail and Peter by the original Equator SignPost Kasuku

The house at Yera, Toro, Western Uganda

A typical Ugandan Road Scene