Letter 049 - Happy Abercorn

Tuesday 13^th April, 2010. ABERCORN.

Dear Jeremy,

So many memories of Abercorn I just don’t know where to begin.

Michael was appointed to the Education office in Abercorn, now called Mbala, and we moved after the Christmas holidays. We looked forward to this and bumped up the corrugated dirt road with expectations and we were not disappointed. Abercorn is on the southern most tip of Lake Tanganika. But was high in the hills at 5,600 feet, Chris tells me. Twenty six miles away dropping down to 3,200 feet is Umpulunga the small port. Here it was much warmer and humid. Early missionaries had abandoned a station down there as the climate was unhealthy and they died, probably of malaria.

The people of Abercorn were not as formal as Kasama and we enjoyed a more varied and friendly social life. Did I tell you, when in Kasama, how I went along to the Tennis Club having made myself a new tennis dress and sat there all afternoon and no one asked me to play? There was a hotel and shops and a church as well as the government offices. The district Commissioner was from New Zealand with little if any pretensions though I did hear rumours of some scandal of an affair but I never knew any details. His wife was a most natural, pleasant lady and their son, John, and Christopher got on very well together during the holidays.

Abercorn was also the centre of Red Locust Control. Pilots flew little planes which sprayed the locust breeding areas and for that time in history the devastation they caused was under control.

We liked our house and from the front window we could see across to the hills on the other side of Lake Tanganika. It was well planned with living rooms on one side of a ‘condi’ a large glassed and netted connecting room ideal for a play place for the children on hot and rainy days. This led to the bedrooms on the opposite side. It was here where I ran a small nursery school for the local children. At the back was a concreted court yard.

The vegetable garden had been raised with brick built walls so one did no have far to bend when gardening.

Abercorn really was a lovely place. It had its own lake called Lake Chila which was free of crocodiles and other nasty parasites. Clean sand had been brought up from Lake Tanganyika and a beach was created along the water’s edge. I think we spent most afternoons down there playing and swimming.

There was a Sailing Club and most people had sailing boats. We only had the canoe but not to be outdone Michael ordered sails for the canoe and joined in the races and had a happy time, but, because of its length and small sails he did having trouble ‘coming about’.

People called Watson lived on our left and they had two daughters who became friendly with Jill. On the other side was a young couple called Rennie. He was a surveyor. Judy and I became good friends and we kept in contact with them for many years. We even visited them in Yorkshire when we came to England in 1977.

There were two mission stations on either side of Abercorn out in the bush. The one was run by an American couple, Virginia and Archie, and they had three children They were Plymouth Brethren and worked on their own amongst the people. Every week they brought me a basket of fresh vegetables. When I offered to pay they would not accept but said that it was ‘ goodwill’. The other station was larger and more organised. A young Canadian couple with two beautiful blonde children were there for a short while but returned to Canada when their third child was born and needed medical attention.

The school teacher was married to one of the Red Locust people called Godfrey and we were friendly with them too. I recall she made the most delicious meringues creamed together with tinned strawberries. The one pilot was from Poland and his wife was a Moslem but she did not wear long dresses and veils. I was told and I have never found out if this is true that Moslem women were considered not to have souls. You can imagine how this horrified me. When asked about this she said she did not mind as it freed her from the responsibility of having a soul.

One of our good friends was Vesey Fitsgerald a wild life specialist and enthusiast. He was particularly interested in snakes and had a pit dug in the front of his house which held snakes. My skin still creeps when I remember peering into it and seeing the writhing bodies. Most bizarre was that part of his décor on the verandah was a glass tank with a live water snake. To me a snake is a snake best to be avoided at all costs.

Vesey’s wife, Octavia, only came out during school holidays with their daughter. One evening she invited us to dinner to meet the younger brother of the author John Robinson who wrote the book "Honest to God". It was an amusing evening. After enjoying her Chinese dish she suddenly jumped out of her chair, she remembered she had forgotten to serve the bamboo shoots. Mr Robinson rose soon after from his chair and wished us all good night as he always went to bed at 9 o’clock.

It was with Vesey and two lady friends from Kew Gardens that Michael went on a tour of the Rukwa Valley. They were all bird watchers and your father completely confused them by making cuckoo calls in the bush. It was out of season for cuckoos to call.

It was a very happy time that tour in Abercorn in the Northern Province.

Love you lots,

Mum

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