We bundled up our belongings, animals, baby, Boys and Ayah and set off for the Mubende road.
Our house, this time, was an ex Italian P.O.W. hut! Just so much old battered corrugated iron, literally thrown together with three outhouses serving as Kitchen, Bathroom, and Toilet. The main hut was divided into three rooms Lounge/Dining room and two Bedrooms. A11 this perched on top of a steep hill.
In Real Estate parlance : Desirable Residence, Elevated with a view. Needs handyman. Handy we had to be to turn this grotty relic into a livable home.
The problem was getting the motorbike up the steep hill to the shack. Any heavy weight in the side car and the front wheel would lift clear off the ground. The whole manoeuvre was fraught with danger for the rider and passenger.
We settled in and again made ourselves as comfortable as possible. Mud and Wattle houses were erected for the 'Boys' and Ayah.
Several of the Boys who had worked with Peter on the Entebbe road now came looking for work.
Juma, a Sudanese Bulldozer driver, was one of these Boys. He greeted me like a long lost friend and said,
"I hear you now have a baby?" When I said "Yes" He wanted to know if it was a Boy or a girl?
"Girl", replied happily, but Juma pulled a wry face and said,
"Mungu Kwisha fanya mbaya!" (God did a bad thing).
When I asked "Why did God do a bad thing?" He replied,
"Because we want a Boy to help the Bwana"
It was obvious to Juma if not to me.
God eventually did two more bad things and gave me two more beautiful daughters spacing them eight years apart each time.
* * *
Our first contact with Siafu (Safari Ants) happened at Mile 14, Mubende Road.
We managed to get ourselves a small Hillman Aerominx car and had driven into Kampala to see Norman and Mavis for the evening. When we got back Beatrice was standing outside with Dail wrapped in nothing but a towel.
My Swahili, under duress, became very eloquent and I let forth but Beatrice, near to tears, said,
"Oh Memsahib, there are Siafu everywhere."
Beatrice had Dail safely out of harms way. Mpishi had Bruce but Phenie was still inside the Shack and they couldn't get her out. She had climbed into the ceiling - which was constructed of Papyrus reeds laid across the rafters - to try and get away from the annoying ants and their vicious bites.
Peter got the broom handle and kept poking it through the reeds as Phenie darted from one spot to another. Finally, very frightened, she gave up and jumped down to me. By now we were all covered in Siafu. They had swarmed everywhere and there was nothing we could do but leave the place.
We ran outside and spent the next ten minutes cavorting around like so many maniacal Disco dancers as the Siafu let their whereabouts be known.
They are no respecters of persons and find their way into the most embarrassing places before taking a mouthful of flesh.
We jumped into the car and went back to Kampala to spend the rest of the night on our friends lounge floor.
Next day we returned to Mile 14 and found all the ants were in their very well ordered columns with 'Soldier' ants lining the side of these columns-all walking away from the house.
These columns of ants if left unmolested will continue their journey, or safari, and will finally leave but should they be disturbed by as much as a dogs paw, they would again Swarm.
We were very careful not to interfere with their orderly retreat and later found that either Kerosene or woodash,placed in an unbroken line around the house, would deter any determined ant from marching through the home, however humble, again.
The country side around us was quite swampy but there were many well worn paths trodden by the locals who had their shambas (gardens) in the area. I often walked down these paths to see where they led or to look for wild flowers.
Peter thought it wasn't safe-there might be a snake or some other danger lurking and he wasn't happy about my walks.
I kept assuring him all was well and if there was danger
I'd know about it and wouldn't go on. I really don't think he believed me until one day when we were returning home, from Kampala on the motor bike, I suddenly had one of my 'panic' feelings. I became very agitated and shouted to Peter,
"Stop!, Stop!, Stop!" Peter thought had gone mad but stopped the bike and asked
"What the the matter?"
"I don't know" I answered, "But I've just had this strong feeling that we're about to part company. I'm sure this side car and 'bike are about to separate." Peter almost laughed and said,
"Don't be silly, it can't happen. Look, there's several things holding it together. First there's this large nut......." He bent down and touched the large nut which immediately came away in his hand.
"I don't believe this," Peter exclaimed "How did you know?"
"I honestly couldn't tell you-call it a premonition or what you will, it's just a feeling-I don't think I could explain it" I said
"We11 don't think we would actually separate but it could have caused an accident," reasoned Peter.
After that Peter never questioned my walks in the Bush.
Some time after this Mavis and Norman spent a weekend with us at the Shack. One evening, after dinner, Mavis walked outside for a breath of fresh air but was soon back shouting, "There's a fire in the Boys compound!" A11 Peters road gang-some 15 or so Boys and their wives and families were housed below us in a large compound together with the fuel store.
Apparently one Boy decided he'd like some Freebee' fuel so, after dark, took his lamp-a naked flame-into the store and started to siphon off Petrol when the whole store ignited. We rushed down to the compound and Peter ordered one Boy to "Fetch the fire extinguisher - Quickly!"
The Boy ran off grabbed the extinguisher from it's place on the side of the hut and promptly threw the whole thing onto the fire! I suppose if one had never seen a fire extinguisher used, either on a fire or in a demonstration, one would have absolutely no idea what to do with the thing.
We were constantly coming up against this kind of ignorance. Cross threading screw topped jars and the like was very easy for someone who hadn't handled such things until they reached adulthood. Returning books, once dusted, to the shelf upside down was always on the cards. How do you know if they are upside down if you don't read?
People born in round houses don't seem to see straight lines - even with templates we could have the white line painted down the middle of the road that looked like a long white wiggly' snake. Anything symmetrical was always out of kilter.
* * *
I was shopping in Kampala one day when I was surprised to see Peter come riding along on his motorbike. His hand was heavily bandaged and he had just come from the hospital where the doctor had attended to his lacerated hand.
It seemed Bruce had been involved in an argument with a shenzi pye-dog-probably an ownerless dog-and was tearing the ear off the mongrel. Peter attempted to intervene but got bitten by the pye-dog for his trouble.
The doctor patched his hand and said,
"You must go back, cut off the dogs head and bring it back to us."
Rabies was the worry, but there was no way Peter could do this. The dog had disappeared once Bruce had released his hold on the ear and I doubt that Peter could cut off the head anyway.
The hand was slow to heal and this was worrying. Peter was prone to Dermatitis and this started on the hand and spread to every part of his body. He was hospitalized for three weeks while various treatments were tried with not a lot of success. The last treatment was a diet of lettuce leaves and marmite!
Our third Wedding anniversary arrived while Peter languished in Hospital and the one bottle of 'Bubbly' that I managed to smuggle in was enjoyed by Peter, his room mate, Frizzy Crossan and myself. It must have helped as Peter was soon out of hospital and back to work after that.
Our road workers and their families came up the hill to Memsahib whenever they required medicine or bandages etc. I found it necessary to keep a stock of 'goodies' in the Red Cross box.
I was always being called upon to dish out Epsom Salts. They were particularly fond of the stuff.
Burns, scrapes, scratches, cuts, splinters and other minor ailments such as prickly heat were attended to regularly.
I wasn't able to help my own Malady however, when I was afflicted with severe headaches and eventually found it difficult to stand up straight.
Being doubled over like an old crone wasn't a bad position for cleaning shoes but not much else could be done from that position. I did try weeding my flower beds which I had planted around the shack, but without much enthusiasm-the headaches saw to that.
At hospital I was asked "To come in for observation". Tests were taken and found negative so fluid was taken from my spine and this was sent to Entebbe for analysis-still no results-so a Doctor there injected himself with the fluid and did himself no good at all. I was later told the Doctor, in question, spent a month with a paralyzed face. He still didn't know what caused my symptoms but called 'Mango Virus'. Mengo is a district of Kampala.
* * *
Peter discovered a disused Soccer field not far from the shack at mile 14 and said,
"I wonder if the Boys would like to play soccer? I could get a ball next time we're in town. They might enjoy a knock about."
The road gang now comprised mostly of Sudanese Boys they seemed to work harder than the locals and being all one tribe this helped with solidarity. They thought all their Christmasses had come at once when Peter mentioned Soccer.
"Ndio, Ndio Bwana" was chorused. They couldn't wait to get started. Most had some idea of the game from their mission school days and very enthusiastically kicked the ball about with their bare feet.
Peter played Right Wing with the team and practices were arranged.
'Our' team eventually played against other teams from the K.A.R. (Kings African Rifles) school Boy and Police teams.
Our first season was a triumph. We played thirteen matches. Won eleven, drew one and lost one.
The reconstruction of the road to mile 14 was completed and we thought our next move would be further along the same road to continue the work of realigning and Tar sealing but the Powers-That-Be work in mysterious ways and our next posting was to Bombo a small township approx 20 mites north of Kampala.
We had to move the gang and their families, all the machinery, the vehicles, the shack and it's outhouses, ourselves and our own Boys, Ayah and animals to Bombo pronto.
Bombo, at the time, was a station where new assistant Police Inspectors from the U.K. came for their initial training before posting. So it was mostly a 'Police Station' with Police personnel and their families. A few Geological Survey Dept people and us - the only P.W.D people there. Never-the-less we were taken into the fold and invited to join the Police Club.
The Police had an empty department house in the Boma (or station) and we were offered this as an alternative to the shack.
Peter re-erected the shack and improved the construction somewhat before handing it over to his Indian Mechanic.
The day we arrived in Bombo we were invited to lunch at one of the Inspectors homes. I tied Phenie to a tree in the garden of our new home before we left, thinking she would be safe. When we returned only her lead was left on the tree. Phenie could not have untied herself - she must have been stolen and we never saw her again. It was an awful blow. She was one of our family and a very sweet member. It was very hard losing her that way.
At this time we discovered Peter had a long lost cousin living in Kenya. Someone he couldn't remember meeting although they must have seen each other as small children. We got in touch and immediately felt a rapport through correspondence.
Our 'Local Leave' was two weeks each year and when our first leave came around we packed up the Hillman and headed for Kenya.
It took two days of gentle motoring to reach Timboroa which is a 9,000 ft above sea level. A beautiful spot with a wonderful climate. We had lovely clear, warm days and cool nights. Log fires were lit in the evenings even though we were in the tropics.
We met cousin Ethel and her husband, Emlyn Vaughan and became firm friends. Their son, Micheal, was the same age as Dail so we immediately had something in common. We spent several happy holidays with them at their home, Buret Sawmills. The mill was situated in the middle of a native and exotic forest and their lovely home was on a hill overlooking the mill. It was a very beautiful place until a few years later when the dreadful Mau-Mau uprising occurred.
That was a terrible time for Kenya and to be so isolated, as Buret was, was very disquietning. One went in fear and trepidation but life had to go on. During this time we went down twice to be with them and so help relieve the constant tension under which they were forced to live. Although nothing untoward happened at Buret the threat was always there.
On one of our visits, we somehow missed the right road through the forest and stopped to ask a native the way. He jumped into the car and showed us but asked to be let out before we reached the sawmill. We described him to Emlyn who said, "That's the chap we've been looking for. He's been administering the filthy oath of Mau-Mau around here!"
* * *
In Bombo we had progressed from Kerosene Hurricane lamps to Tilly pressure lamps for our lighting.
One night when we were in bed, and Peter was about to fall asleep, he saw a faint light on the the bedroom wall.Dreamily he said,
"I thought I had turned that light off.'' And then although still very sleepy, it suddenly dawned on him that light was from a torch beam.
He was immediately awake and aware that someone was in he room shining a torch on us.
I was fast asleep, but was rudely awakened when Peter leapt out of his bed, jumped over my bed and chased the intruder down the back covered, enclosed, verandah. The scoundrel dashed out the back door and locked it from the outside effectively locking us in the house.
Peter dashed back into the bedroom and shouted,
"We've had a thief in the house." Then he jumped out the bedroom window and tried to give chase but the whole episode became like a 'Laurel and Hardy' film as Peter landed, pyjamas and all, smack bang in the middle of a mud puddle!
We never found out who the intruder was. We immediately roused our Boys who were obviously too sleepy to be the culprit.
Bruce was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't barked, making us believe that he must have known the intruder and had gone with him. Bruce returned later and from then on we kept him inside the house at night.
Nothing had been stolen - there hadn't been time. So 'A11's well that ends well', I guess. Just Peters pride was somewhat dented and his pyjamas soaking wet.
The Police Club was the centre of Bombo and with so many young bachelor Policemen on the station one was certain to find partners for Table tennis, Tennis, Squash or Badminton in the evenings. Bridge was also enjoyed.
With so many young single chaps in one place, at one time, high ginks and mad-cap antics could be expected during off duty hours. Groups would dash off to the cinema, or night club, in Kampala. And at-the-drop-of-a-hat someone would suggest a night swim. So then everyone would hone off the extra 20 or so miles to Entebbe which, at the time, had the only pool. Later Kampala could boast two very nice swimming pools when new hotels were built with these, much needed, facilities. Those with large feet could find their oversized shoes being floated across the pool as so many boats and the boat races would be embarked upon.
Madcap parties would still be going at dawn when it would be time for a strong cup of coffee, a change of clothes and off to work.
Such was the 'steam' that young people needed to release but although they played hard, at times, they also worked hard too.
One day,when Peter was working on the road, a native couple came walking by. The woman was very heavily pregnant and as they neared Peter the woman dashed into the bushes. The husband kept on walking up the road and disappeared. Later the woman reappeared carrying her new born infant.
She sat on the side of the road so Peter said,
"I'11 take you to the native hospital where Doctor can check baby and see if everything is OK".
Not many of the native women would bother with hospitals for birthing, so the native Doctor was very pleased when Peter turned up with Mum and new born infant. A11 was well so Peter brought them home to me. Beatrice was very excited and gave all of Dails' milk to the baby thinking that the mother had no milk. Later the husband turned up to claim his family. They left with baby now well fed and wearing some of Dails' baby clothes, Beatrice was a born organizer.
The local native who sold milk at the door agreed to bring us milk daily. After a while, when the milk seemed more than usually watery, I tested it with the hydrometer. Sure enough the liquid was half water. I questioned the Boy next day and he brightly said,
"Ndio, Memsahib" (Yes Madam) "I have to add water. If I don't there's not enough milk to go around".
Water for consumption was boiled and filtered every day but I think the water added to the milk came straight from the nearest swamp.
Mavis and Norman were, by now, living up-country so Mavis came to stay with us to be near Kampala when their third baby was due.
Their son, Ian, was now three years old and he rode his tricycle in our garden. He cycled down our drive and out onto the road without anyone noticing his absence. Bruce, however, had appointed himself 'chief-minder'. He kept dashing around our feet, barking, jumping and generally creating mayhem. Then he darted down the drive-way and back again to us for more barking and jumping. He was behaving very oddly and was obviously agitated so we followed him down the drive-way and out on to the road. There we found Ian peddling furiously up the road-I think he was leaving home-but coming down this long road was a large lorry. Bruce knew the situation was wrong and had given us a timely warning. Brucie was the hero of the day!
* * *
'Frizzy' Crossan, Peter's ward mate and Police Mechanic, was stationed in Bombo when we arrived there, and he introduced us to the other Police personnel. One man, Bill Hussell, became very fond of Dail and later, when he met and married Pam, they called their first daughter Dail. Their second girl they named Kim so when our second daughter came along I thought we should return the compliment so named our daughter Kim.
Over the years the two families kept in touch with the usual cards at Christmastime. Theirs read "Love from Pam, Bill, Dail and Kim." Ours read "Love from Betty, Peter, Dail and Kim". One year a card arrived with another named added. "Dai1, Kim and Maya-Your turn." To which I replied "No Fear", However, the very next year we did have a Maya so the card read "How's that?" and the reply came back "Checkmate", For years we had said just two words to each other but later, regular letters kept us abreast of the girls developments.
We spent almost one year in Bombo, amongst lively people making some very good friends and thoroughly enjoying the station and the work before being posted back to Kampala. Here we were assigned a small house near Makerere College-The University of Uganda-We were back to the outside kitchen and long drop toilet again but at least it was a house, not the 'shack'.
The day of our departure from Bombo arrived and Peter said,
"We'11 have to make two trips with the removal truck. We'l1 load the first lot and you can follow that through to Kampala in the car. That way you can see everything arrives safely-bits and pieces won't be off loaded along the way. Get everything put into the house then send the truck back here. I'11 wait here and come over in the truck with the second load."
This all seemed reasonable. Couldn't let the natives take our belongings without supervision. It might never have arrived in Kampala.
So off we trundled on a bright Saturday Morning and all went well. We arrived at the new home, off loaded everything and I sent the truck back for the second load and Peter.
It was now lunch time and with nothing organized in the place I decided to lock up and have lunch at one of the new Hotels. I figured I had a couple of hours or so before Peter turned up.
I ordered a drink for Dail and myself and had just sat down to enjoy this when I heard someone say,
"He11o Betty, What are you doing here?" looked around and was delighted to see Bunny Otto.
"We've been stationed at Bombo for the past year and we're moving back to Kampala to-day." I said, "I've just arrived with the first load of gear and I've sent the truck back for Peter and the rest of our stuff so I thought we'd come here and have lunch while we wait." Bunny looked aghast and said,
"You won't you know. You're coming home with Ted and me. We'11 make you a curry you can't refuse!"
Apparently Bunny had been stationed up-country and had also been transferred back to Kampala and was sharing a flat with another Police bachelor, Ted Harris. Seeing I had no choice I said, "Fine, we'll follow you."
We got to the flat and Bunny set about preparing his curry which was, as usual, delicious.
Towards the end of the meal I began to feel ill and realized I was coming down with Malaria-again. By the time I started shivering and shaking Bunny and Ted said,
"Right, into bed. We'11 look after Dail and Peter know where you are."
That Saturday was the Police Annual Sports Day. They gave me drinks, quinine, and anything they could to make life more comfortable for me before they took Dail to the sports field. I felt terribly embarrassed as well as very ill, but very grateful to Bunny and Ted.
The first attack of Malaria was bad but subsequent attacks seemed less prolonged although the initial fever each time was utter misery.
The truck had returned to Bombo and Peter had supervised the loading to the last item when he, too, suddenly felt very ill and collapsed. The Boys took a mattress off the truck, put it back into the house and put Peter to bed on this. He also had Malaria!
It was sometime before he felt well enough to get into the truck and let the Boys drive him to Kampala. The timing of our collapses must have been almost simultaneous although we were far apart. This strangely happened on other occasions.
Four or five friends from Bombo had already been transferred to Kampala. 'Frizzy' Crossan, Bill Hussell, Tony Steele, Phyl and Dave Davenport. We still saw a lot of these people socially and life went on much as usual.
One night, when Dail was ready for bed the Ayah brought her outside to say "Goodnight" to Daddy. Peter at the time was hosing the car. He lifted the hose so the jet of water flowed in an arc and dropped just short of Dails' feet. She knew this was a joke and jumped back laughing. Not so Mpishi! Seeing what had happened, Mpishi rushed out of his kitchen - carrot in one hand, knife in the other - he waved them at us and let forth,
"Thats bad! Don't do that! Can't you see she's ready for bed? How can she go off to bed in wet clothes? That's bad!"
He stumped off back into his kitchen not waiting for an answer so we submissively said,
"Ndio, Mpishi" and the Ayah collapsed in a fit of giggles. The old man had put Peter in his place. Mpishi liked his drop of 'Pombe' and had had more than his usual glass or two.
About this time Peter said,
"It's about time got the same consideration as the other Assistant Inspectors. I'm doing the same job, exactly the same work but without the perks offered to everyone else. It's unfair and I'd like that redressed."
Men recruited from the U.K. for the same posts were offered three year contracts with six months leave in England at the completion of the contract. Housing and help to purchase a vehicle under the existing government hire purchase scheme. Their fares-air or sea fares-to and from Uganda paid for by Government.
We, of course, had paid our own way out to East Africa-had eventually paid for a second hand car. We had lived and worked there for over three years. We knew the weather conditions, the Africans-as far as it is possible to know an african without being an African. We spoke swahili and by now a little Lugandan too.
Men, coming straight out from England certainly didn't have this extra knowledge or ability which was necessary for the job as well as technical skills. Peter, therefore, applied for better conditions and the Powers-that-be finally saw his argument and we were offered the same incentives and contract with Crown Agents for the Colonies.
This made life easier, more settled, we were able to purchase a new car and our own second hand, much repaired, Hillman was sold.
Our first 'Home Leave' was due in January 1952.
To help the pennies stretch a little further, and get ready for our leave, I took a job with Dr Dean, a pediatrician studying the nutrition in the native babies.
Many infants died of malnutrition but this was more due to ignorance than lack of food.
It was while I worked with Dr Dean that my own health problem, which had kept me in and out of hospital for months before my marriage, reasserted itself. Dr Dean recognised this and said,
"I think your Thyroid is playing up again. You'll need an 'Op' and this could be done here but you'll need to go home to a cooler climate straight afterwards."
As we were due for 'Home leave' in a few short months time I said,
"I can go back to St Peters Hospital in the U.K. and get done there. They have all my old records."
So after just over four years abroad our first 'Long Leave' came and we sailed on the British India Line ship "MADURA" from Mombassa. A wonderful three weeks journey stopping at Port Sudan, Aden, then through the Suez Canal to Port Said. We stopped at Genoa, in italy and then to Marseilles-again-and finally to Tilbury Docks in London.
My mother was there to meet us and see her first Granddaughter.
With so many people to visit both in England and Scotland - Peter's family were still in Ayr at the time - it wasn't until almost the end of our leave that I got around to organizing my 'Op'. By this time England was in the grip of a heat wave! The Doctors decided,
"We'11 wait until this is over before operating. Don't worry, it won't last long!"
It was a most pleasant summer and the heat wave lasted three weeks during which time I languished in hospital being prepared for a Thyroidectomy. When the Surgeon was ready and I got the 'A11 clear' he visited me and said,
"Do I say 'Jambo' to you?"
It transpired that he had spent some time in Uganda during the war years, and our conversations from then on were conducted in Swahili much to the consternation of the nursing staff.
'Wacha' is the Swahili word for 'leave'. A word very familiar to a two-year old who is constantly told to 'Wacha hii' (Leave this).
One day my mother brought Dail to see me in hospital. I was now one of the 'walking wounded' and I took Dail for a stroll. She dashed around a corner of a building and ran smack into a couple of young men coming the other way. One man, a Londoner, caught Dail as they collided and said,
"What-cher?" meaning, "Hi there". Dail immediately wriggled away and said "Wacha". Both had said a familiar word with very different meanings but neither knew what the other meant.
Finally I was out of hospital and after a few weeks recuperation we sailed back to Mombassa on the Union castle ship 'Kenya Castle' and then, again by train up to Kampala. Mavis and Norman had looked after Bruce for us and Mpishi had been engaged to work for them during our six months leave.
Somehow this wasn't a success. Where as he had always given us good service he played up with Mavis and Norman-a trait often found with the native servants-and they had let him go some months previously. However, the 'grapevine' still worked well and somehow Mpishi knew we would be on that train that pulled into Kampala station on that July day in 1952 and was on the platform to meet us.
Peter had signed our new contract for our second tour of duty with the Crown Agents for the colonies in London and was now an Inspector of Works (Roads).
The tour started in Kampala and we were allocated a flat on Kololo Hill, Kampala.
The assignment was the maintenance of the Hoima road-some 127 mites of unsealed road.
We now had gangs, comprising of 10 men plus one head man, for every five miles along this road to maintain, by hand, the road surface, culverts and drains.
At times we had the use of a Grader for badly shaped sections of the road plus a Dragline machine for swamp area clearing and a Front end loader and trucks for work in the Murram pits.
Murram is an ideal medium of red clay-like soil with a small stone content, when laid and rolled packs down hard to make a reasonable road surface. We therefore had a number of machine operators, truck drivers and their 'Turnie Boys'.
The function of a Turnie Boy was to warn the other motorists-by hand signals-where the driver intended to turn, slow down or stop.
Drivers seem to have their work cut out merely by driving but the Turnie Boys, from their position on the back of the truck, didn't always get it right!
All these Boys had to be inspected and instructed and Peters' safari, to and from, Hoima would take from Monday to Friday most weeks with stop-overs at the P.W.D. rest house-half way ( This was a two roomed building, and outside kitchen and long-drop toilet).
Many weeks Dail and I joined Peter on these safaris and enjoyed watching the wild life-The large Black and White Colobus monkeys as they played and executed great leaps amongst the trees, the pretty yellow weaver birds with their very clever habit of weaving their nests these were always special to us.
On one occasion we were sitting in the car waiting for Peter, who was inspecting the works, when a group of Bagandan women passed by. They stopped when they saw Dail in the car and stood chatting and giggling amongst themselves. They kept looking in our direction and when Dail leant out of the window one woman could contain her curiosity no longer. She marched, determinedly, across the road and stretched out her hand to feel Dails' hair. My daughters' hair was the colour of burnished gold and this fascinated the natives.
As I had no garden at the flat in Kampala I made a vegetable garden at the rest house and the caretakers wife was happy to look after the garden for me when I couldn't be there.
One day we were at the rest house when Dail came from the toilet and said,
"Oh Daddy, there are lots of lizards with no legs poking their tongues out at me."
Peter went to see what she meant and found a nest of Black Mamba snakes emerging from the long-drop.
He got a mixture of Diesel, Petrol and Kerosene-in fact anything he could find-and poured it down the hole. He then put a match to it.
The toilet shed lifted two feet off the ground then settled nicely back in it's place minus the snakes.
On another occasion at the rest house noticed Dail had a cold and after a few sniffles I said,
"Blow your nose, dear".
"I can't, it's the nut." came the reply.
"Don't be silly, dear, blow your nose."
"I can't Mummy, it's the nut!" insisted Dail.
Sure enough it was a nut. Somehow Dail had stuffed half a groundnut or peanut up her left nostril and there was no way I could remove it. It was stuck fast and every time I tried to dislodge the offending nut Dail had hysterics, so we had a long worrying night to get, through before we could travel the 60 odd miles to Hoima and the Hospital.
The Indian doctor in charge anesthetized Dail and, with forceps, managed to extract the nut.
Back at the rest House I noticed the caretaker had what appeared to be, a large lump on top of his foot. The 'Bump' was covered with some sort of leaf and this was stuck-fast-to the skin.
I asked him what was wrong, but without answering he just very carefully peeled back the leaf to reveal a large hole which covered the entire top of his foot. This was stuffed with what looked like chopped grass. Presumably some Medicine Man had attended to the foot. After removing all the grass I bathed the wound with disinfectant then bandaged it after applying some soothing ointment. I instructed the boy to keep up this treatment. The next time I saw the caretaker he had a normal looking foot but I don't know if he resorted to the Medicine Mans' treatment or whether he continued with the more conventional method.
In Kampala Peter had the opportunity again to play Golf and this he did with a great deal of success.
Unfortunately I was not even remotely interested in the game. I did try but it definitely wasn't my game. There was no use in pretending, and the Golf Club was not a friendly place for non-players.
It was, however, Peters 'forte' and he eventually played a 6 handicap.
Our close togetherness with sporting ventures broke down at this time and I found myself a 'Go1f Widow'.
The crime rate rose in Kampala and it was necessary to form a Voluntary Special Constabulary. Peter joined the organization and, with other 'Specials', did vigilante night work whenever possible.
As Peter was now a part-time special Constable this allowed me to join the Police Ladies Rifle Club so while Peter played Golf I managed to shoot my way to the Uganda Miniature Bisley competitions and win the Ladies .22 calibre shoot.
Painting-water colours was another activity I embarked upon and sometimes went to the Golf course to paint landscapes while Peter practised.
I can appreciate the aesthetic qualities of some well laid out Golf course, as I can of any beautifully landscaped Park or Garden, but the game of Golf just leaves me cold and the '19th hole' was a completely foreign place to me. Nothing like the friendly atmosphere of the cosy clubs in smaller stations.
* * *
I took a job for a short time in an Insurance agency and with my first pay packet I bought an African Grey Parrot.
'Kasuku' immediately took a fancy to Peter and there was nothing I could do with him. He was Peters' bird from day one. He went everywhere with Peter. On safari he would sit happily on Peters' shoulder pulling off every button he could reach on Peters' shirt.
One day Peter was driving along the Hoima road with Kasuku in his accustomed place when suddenly the open window looked very inviting to the parrot. He flew straight out and landed heavily on the road. His flight feathers had been clipped so he had no chance of flying away. It all happened so quickly-taking Peter by surprise.
He pulled the car up some distance ahead, got out and went back to look for his pal. There, walking pigeon-toed (or should it be parrot-toed?) down the middle of the road was a very disgruntled bird muttering all the obscenities he had learned.
Kasuku learned to speak both English and Swahili phrases.
"Saa na kwisha" (Time is finished) said in the middle of the day kept the Boys in fits of laughter.
I remember one evening, when we sat down with our late night drink of cocoa, Kasuku perched on the arm of Peters' chair and contentedly drank cocoa from his saucer. This was too much for the cat we had acquired and seeing this bird drinking from the saucer Puss decided to stalk this up-start. The cat crawled his way across the floor on his belly thinking "I'11 get this bird if it's the last thing I do!" Kasuku calmly went on drinking and waited until Puss was beside the chair ready to spring. He then picked up the spoon from Peters' saucer and neatly plonked it onto the cats head.
Having dealt with that situation Kasuku resumed his night-cap and Puss never again questioned who should, or who should not, be drinking from a saucer.
Kasuku learned to copy my voice and would call "Bruce, Bruce, Bruce," which, at times, had the poor dog running around looking for me but I think Bruce eventually got wise to it.
We did more trips down to Timboroa during this tour as the Mau-Mau uprising got under way and the day to day living became very tense for Ethel and Emlyn.
British soldiers were sent to Kenya to help quell the rebellion and later, teams of boxers from the Army were sent to Kampala to fight the K.A.R. boxers.
The British boys were billeted amongst the civilians and we hosted a Welter-weight boxer from the Devonshire Regiment.
Peters' own boxing days were over when he left the Army 'Boys Service' behind but he still retained an interest in the game.
* * *
Police Band concerts were sometimes performed on Sunday afternoons in the Kampala Park and these always drew an appreciative audience of Africans, Indians and Europeans alike. The different races in Uganda were not forcibly segregated but 'Like does attract Like' and people would sit around in ethnic groups to enjoy the music.
Kampala had a lot to offer. We were decently housed. The shops were near as were the Hotels, night-clubs, cinemas and the various sports clubs but somehow I was much happier when we were out on the road, at the rest house, travelling and working. The 'togetherness' then seemed more complete.
Pay days each month for the road Boys were supposed to be like any other weekly safari, i.e. stop over night halfway to Hoima.
With a good deal of money in our care it wasn't prudent to do this. Peter pointed out the danger but his superior simply said,
"We11, lock the pay box to your wrist while you are asleep".
We were in no doubt about the danger to his wrist should a criminal decide he wanted all the money from that box instead of just his share.
A padlock on the wrist would not deter anyone intent on theft,so we paid all the Boys right through to Hoima, emptying the pay-box each time before stopping for the night.
* * *
We quickly made friends with our neighbours in our block of flats. At the time Mike and Stephanie Morgan were very new to the country as were Ken and Jane Bolt but Steve and Mary Stevens were 'old hands'. In fact, Steve was Kenya born and his father was killed by Mau-Mau when they mistook his car for a Police car. A very sad time for Steve and his family. Their daughter, Ann, was about the same age as Dail and we spent many pleasant times together picnicking at Lake Victoria, Entebbe.
Here on the edge of the Lake was a large notice which read:
I don't think the crocodiles ever took much notice of the warning.
In Queen Elizabeth National Park a similar notice read:
Who the hell's going to argue with that? I'm sure it's a foregone conclusion!
* * *
Peters' knee began to give him more trouble than the usual pain and a visit to the Doctor became necessary resulting in X-Rays being taken.
Over the years, since P.O.W. 'Butchery' the knee had behaved badly and this time it was decided the removal of the knee cap would help the problem and possibly avoid more problems in the future.
I waited for Peter in the Hospital waiting room and when he returned Peter said,
"They want to take the knee cap out".
Remembering all the months of ill treatment in P.O.W camps he seemed somewhat shaken.
Just then Dr Darlow rushed into the waiting room and said to me,
"It'11 be quite all right. We're not Butchers here".
Then he rushed out again just as quickly leaving me opened mouthed.
"What was that about?" I asked Peter.
It seemed that when Dr Darlow saw Peters' file and read "Caserta P.O.W. Hospital" bells began to ring. He said he had been an observer in that Hospital as a P.O.W. himself and had remembered Peters' ordeal all those years previously.
The knee cap, or Patella, was removed and Peter thought he would like to keep it as a souvenir. When the nursing sister gave it to me I asked,
"How can I get this thing clean?"
"Boil it." said sister, "And all the grissley bits come off."
I boiled and boiled and boiled that bone but still it remained grissley. I didn't quite get to the stage of making soup but the thought occurred.
Again I asked,
"What shall I try now? It's got to come clean so Peter can keep it."
"Try putting it outside for the ants clean" was the next suggestion.
This sounded a good idea so placed the bone on a ledge outside the backdoor of our flat. Before I could say "Jack Robinson Bruce appeared, took one look at the lovely bone and quickly ran off with his rather delicious find.
I never saw the bone again and Peter never saw it at all.
With his left leg now encased in plaster from hip to ankle,
Peter dragged the leg around the Golf course and won the next competition. Such was his passion for Golf!
* * *
We had been in the flat for a year when we were able buy our first refrigerator. What a thrill!
At last we could stop boiling milk twice a day-at last cold drinks- lovely! The only trouble was money spent on buying the 'fridge meant no money to spend on goodies to put into the 'fridge. Never-the-less after five years of living in a tropical climate I now had my 'fridge and could open and close the door, several times a day, just to look at and admire my lovely second-hand 'Barafu' until the next pay-day arrived and I could stock up.
This beautiful addition to our home was a duel control 'fridge. It was powered by either electricity or kerosene which was useful when we were transferred up-country and, again, had no electric power.
Our radio was also AC/DC-Battery/Mains the same- for the same reason.
I knew of one man in Kenya who drove his landrover car close to the lounge room window and connected his radio to the car battery. The next day he jumped into his vehicle and drove off without first disconnecting the radio and he pulled the whole thing clear through the window!
We were very careful to have a spare battery.
Cine' cameras became the rage in Kampala for a while and many Cine' evenings were held and enjoyed.
"Where did you get that shot?" was the question on most peoples lips and the next weekend everyone would dash off to some remote spot to try and capture, on film, more of the beauties of Uganda. Perhaps scenes of Lake Victoria or the Botanic Gardens at Entebbe. Maybe views from one of Kampalas seven hills. Various waterfalls or rapids or perhaps flowers, birds, butterflies as well as buildings and people.
The Murcheson Falls National Game Park in the Northern Province was another splendid place where the amateur camera man or woman could let rip with a few spools of film.
A trip on the Nile here meant filming Hippos and crocodiles at close quarters in their natural habitat, as well as filming the impressive Murcheson Falls themselves.
We managed another long weekend trip, this time, to this northern game park and spent happy hours again filming Africas' Big game.
Later in the tour we decided to visit the Queen Elizabeth National Game Park in Western Province to do some more filming of big Game and together with some friends, Bob and Monica Astles, we went for a long week-end trip.
It was an all day journey from Kampala to the Park so with only the long week-end in which to do this it meant two days travelling and only one day to drive around the Park and get our much wanted films.
We started out on the Saturday, drove right through to Mweya Safari Lodge in the Park, had dinner and crawled into bed so we would be ready for the next day and Cine' filming.
We arose quite early the next day, had breakfast and started out. We drove and drove on various tracks but somehow the Big Game, or for that matter the Smaller Game too, were nowhere to be seen.
Finally I said to Peter,
"Look, we can't go back to Kampala without some sort of film. Must prove we've been here. There's a large puddle in the middle of the track. Why don't Monica and I get out of the car, you can back up and drive through the puddle. We'11 take a film of the car going through the puddle with water spraying everywhere. At least it will be 'The car in the Park".
Peter said, "O.K.", So Monica and I got out and positioned ourselves near some bushes where we could get a good shot of the car as it did it's stuff through the water, Peter backed the car and shouted,
"Start filming!". Then he drove the car, at speed, through the puddle. Water splashed everywhere and Monica and I got good shots of this. We were winding up our cameras and congratulating ourselves when suddenly we heard Bob shout,
"STAND STILL!".
We looked up and saw a Hippo right in front of us! It was running straight towards us. Monica and I stood like statues! Stand still? I couldn't move! Nothing came to my mind. I was completely wooden. Petrified, might be a better word. Suddenly I heard Bob shout,
"BACK TO THE WOMEN!". It was all very dramatic. heard Peter shouting,
"Keep filming, keep filming". IMPOSSIBLE! I had turned into a rock!
The Hippo saw the car backing and stopped in it's tracks. Peter backed the car between the Hippo and Monica and I so we were able to 'thaw out' and get into the car. It was only then that I could film that animal as it ran off. We watched him and discovered that his water-hole, which he was heading towards, was behind the bushes where Monica and I had stood. Not only was it HIS home but also the home of several or his friends and relations. They were all lurking in that pool unnoticed by us although we were only a few yards away.
From the safety of our car we filmed those large beasties but I never again got out of the car when touring in Game Parks!.
With no fences around the boundaries of these National Parks, animals can walk out of the perimeter any time they wish and quite often do so. Many Elephants wander across the road boundaries at night and then saunter back across the road at dawn.
There was a time when the Elephants came to realize they were safe from the hunted once they had regained the safety of certain areas. Sadly, this is not so today.
I remember one incident which happened at Busungora, just outside the Queen Elizabeth National Game Park in Western Uganda. The verandah of the Busungora Hotel was a pleasant place to rest with a 'Sundowner' and one evening, when several people were thus occupied, a large Bull Elephant suddenly appeared around the corner of the building and made straight for the verandah-no doubt he was in search of food. However, a determined Elephant is not to be dallied with so everybody left the verandah by whatever means they could. Some tumbled through open windows in their effort to get away. This was not the case with the Hotels miniature Dachshund however. Mitzi had also seen the Elephants arrival and became very excited indeed. She ran outside, barking furiously, and commenced to run around and around this large animal. Mitzi kept up this mad antic causing the huge creature to turn in smaller and smaller circles until finally the poor Elephant slipped on the muddy road and crashed, with a sickening thud, to the ground. What a triumph for the little dog! She thought she was very clever and the heroine of the day. She had saved the situation but it was an ignominious end to the Elephants foraging. He eventually got to his feet and wandered back across the road to his safer habitat, shaking his big head as he went.
* * *
During this period Kampala seemed to grow like a weed and was thriving.
Schools offering higher education to Africans sprang up all around the place.
A Technical School, Engineering School, Commercial School and Medical School were built.
At the same time political agitators crawled out of the woodwork and made themselves known.
Uganda was a Protectorate, never a Colony.
European could own as much as a square inch of land so an uprising such as Kenya had experienced was not about to happen but teaching English History and Political Science to people not yet ready-in the masses-for such subjects certainly didn't help them in the long run as subsequent events have shown.
Whi1st in Jinja, on our first tour of duty, Peter had the job of 'pegging out'-(surveying) the road approaches that would lead the main road across the top of the proposed Dam which would be built to provide Hydro-electric power.
The Dam was built and it was completed during our second tour. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 11 and H.R.H. Price Phillip arrived in Uganda for the inauguration.
Other members of the Royal family, Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother together with Princess Margaret paid brief visits.
Several film stars arrived at this time to film, on location, various films about Africa. Not all were sensational, only the 'African Queen' starring Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn has stood the test, of time.
Garden parties were arranged in Kampala for several stars. We were invited to one garden party at the Kabakas' Palace which was in honor of Ava Gardener, Clarke Gable, and the then lesser known star, Grace Kelly.
* * *
With burglaries becoming more and more a common occurrence at this time, it was decided to put Burglar Bars at all windows in the P.W.D. flats.
At first I was furious and said,
"I don't want those ugly things all over my windows".
But Mpishi said, "Oh Memsahib, you must them put up the bars."
To which I replied,
"You don't think Bruce would allow anyone to come and steal, do you?"
"Memsahib, Bruce would just sleep." said Mpishi. "The Burglars put Dowa (Medicine) through the window and it would make Bruce sleep", Then he added, "You must let them put up the bars!"
Eventually eight men arrived to do the job.
One man removed the flyscreens and another lad replaced them later. Two more chaps had to lift the electrical mobile welding plant from window to window so the welder could do his job and weld the iron bars in place. Then there was the painter to touch-up the the bars and, of course, he had his man who held the pot of paint. Finally there was the electrician who just sat around, waiting, in case anything went wrong with the mobile plant and his expertise was needed. It didn't so he wasn't.
Occasionly grand events such as the Garden Party at Government House would happen and we were invited to one of these parties.
Luckily the day remained fine and we all milled around on the lawns of Government House, Entebbe for tea and cakes in our best Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes while H.E. Governor, however, decided to sit in the cool of his verandah with a few African friends and made little attempt to mingle.
* * *
Dail was now 5 years old and she joined Ian Hamilton a small primary school on Kololo Hill, Kampala.
Our second 'Home Leave' was only months away so I, again, took a job with Dr Dean and his Biochemist, Ruth Swhartz, to help with the pennies and get ready for our trip.
One, unseasonably, rainy day Lab was minus one African helper.
The next day Ruth asked,
"Why didn't you come to work yesterday, John?"
"Because it rained, Memsahib". came the reply.
"Don't you have a rain coat, John?"
"Yes Memsahib, do have a rain coat"
"Well, why didn't you put your raincoat on and come to work?"
"Because," said the now exasperated John, "This is not the rainy season!"
There's no answer to that, is there?
We decided to purchase a caravan in England and this would be our accommodation whilst on leave and we would pick up our next car there also. This way we would be mobile for six months. We would be able to visit all our friends and relations but still be independent.
This time, in 1955, we flew home from Entebbe via Khartoum in the Sudan, Rome and London.
Although we had tried to arrange the purchase of the car etc some ten months prior to our departure from Uganda the wheels of bureaucracy turn very slowly and we had to wait several weeks before all the bits of paper were properly assembled and signed.
We finally picked up the car in London and drove to Hull to collect the caravan.
I was delighted to see a dear little Gas Stove and a Formica bench top in pastel colours.
Our kitchens in Uganda were painted either Battleship Grey or Dark Brown half way up the walls - depending on which paint was available - in bulk - to P.W.D. at the time. Either way the colour was very depressing. Bathrooms fared a little better. They, to, were either Grey or Brown half way up the walls. The rest was P.W.D. Buff. At one point we were informed we could paint our bathrooms any colour we liked so long as we repainted them Grey or Brown before we vacated the premises. As one could be 'posted' at any time, this seemed a bit silly and most people didn't bother. So it was a thrill to have the pretty caravan and we thoroughly enjoyed the 'van as we toured England and Scotland catching up with family and friends.
It wasn't long after collecting the van that I realized I was, again, pregnant but unfortunately this didn't work out the way we had hoped.
After a few sickly months I again landed in St Peters' Hospital.
When was discharged it was necessary to rest rather than tour. Luckily, by this time, we had travelled around much of England and most of Scotland. We had met up with the Hussells, who had returned to England sometime previously and the two Dails met. Jane and Ken Bolt were also on leave and living near the Hussells in Devon so we all met and had a 'night on the town'. We saw Mike and Stephanie Morgan and their family when we toured the Lake District. It seemed most of the residents from our block of flats in Kampala were home on long leave at the same time.
Now all we had to do was sell the caravan before returning to Uganda, It was still in good condition despite various mishaps. The worst happened one day near Carlisle when we came to a low bridge. I got out of the car to check the height of the van when I noticed the cable trailing out from behind the van. Peter pulled up beside a small factory and several men came out to give Peter a helping hand to reconnect the cable.
Everything seemed O.k. so we drove off. At the top of the next hill, however, Peter felt the car suddenly leap forward. The next moment we saw the caravan running parallel with us on it's Jockey wheel. It quickly overtook us and careered crazily along it's merry way in front of us on the wrong side of the road. A cyclist coming from the opposite direction leapt over a low wall when he saw the crazy 'van doing it's own thing down the road.
I was now out of the car running, down the middle of the road, after the van although goodness knows what I hoped to do when I caught up with it.
The van eventually took matters into it's own hand and scraped against a brick wall, which slowed it's progress, and finally came to rest on a convenient lampost.
The post now leant at a 45 degree angle and the people came running out of nearby houses to look and stare in utter disbelief.
One family saw what had happened and immediately asked us in to tea. Their concern and hospitality was overwhelming and much appreciated.
Peter, together with a few men in the street, pulled the van off the lampost and with the car bumper Peter managed to push the post upright again.
Apparently, when the factory chaps had helped with the loose brake cable, the tow ball had not been properly tightened hence the separation of car and van.
* * *
We sailed back to east Africa on board the Dutch Ship 'Boschfontain' but before we reached Mombasa our hopes for a successful full term pregnancy dashed and we lost our son.
The company decided I should remain on board and insisted I stay in bed for ten days while the ship remained in Kilidini Harbour, Mombasa.
had to leave with Dail and travelled by road - we had bought the car back from England on the 'Boschfontain'- up to Kampala. He called in at Timboroa on the way to see Ethel and Emlyn and the carried on the next day to Kampala where he found our next posting was up-country to Fort Portal.
Fort Portal was a lovely station in Western Uganda some 240 miles west from Kampala. At 5000ft above sea level Fort Portal had a very nice climate with warm days and cool nights.
When Peter told Mary and Steve Stevens they said,
"Let Dail stay with us. You go up to Fort Portal and arrange everything, job, house etc, and we'll meet Betty when she can travel up from the coast. Then you can come back and pick them up later".
After ten days in Mombasa I was pronounced fit to travel. I took the train up to Kampala spending one night and two days on the journey. I had a lady companion in my compartment, as far as Nairobi, with a stentorian voice. The whole carriage knew she was there and heaved a sigh of relief as we pulled out of Nairobi station and continued our somewhat quieter way on to Uganda. I was not met by Steve however, but by a mutual friend. Steve had been rushed to hospital and was quite unwell by the time I got to Kampala. That night to my joy, Peter arrived back in Kampala and the next day we were together again travelling a long six hour journey on the, as yet, unsealed road to Fort Portal.
