Alan

For some reason I have my cousin Alan on my mind today. Alan was a month older than me, he passed away after a motor vehicle accident just outside Perth in Western Australia in about 1984. As kids we were as close as brothers when growing up. We were in the same class at school, did similar trades, went to college together and of course got up to mischief together.

Alan's father Joe and my mother Nellie were brother and sister and they were pretty close. My earliest recollections are that we all along with their sister Rita and family, lived in Waterford an outer suburb of Bulawayo in Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Mom's oldest brother Danie and his family lived in Queens Park while mom's youngest brother Ben lived at home with their parents Dan and Phoebe in Kenilworth.

When my dad was transferred to Wankie (he was a telegraphist on the railways) I recall that uncle Joe and the family moved in next door to us in Motherwell Street. I have no idea what the circumstances were but I remember we had a ball as we went on camping and fishing trips along the banks of the Zambezi river, we were aged about 6. Uncle Joe and family moved back to Bulawayo in about 1962 and we were to follow in 1964 when my youngest brother was born.

We moved to Queens Park and Alan and his family lived in Sauerstown just a block off Hugh Beadle School. Initially I was enrolled in Newmansford School but I was homesick for my friends in Wankie so I was moved into Hugh Beadle because Alan was my age and he was there - we were in standard two. I recall being raised as a Jehovah's Witness and listening to long discussions between my dad and uncle Joe as my dad tried to convert him to the "Truth". My mom was not a "JW" but she never openly opposed my dad. These discussions went on for years.

When I was about 11 or 12 we were living in Sauerstown diagonally opposite Skippers Garage in the "Olds" old hotel on Marula Ave when something dramatic occured and uncle Joe lost his job as a Coachbuilder (Carpenter/Joiner making carriages) with a private company. I don't recall the circumstances but uncle Joe opted for a change in career and took on a role as a salesman. Times were tough, we had space in the old hotel and the family moved in with us. The complex was large with separate living area's so it was more than adequate with 14 bedrooms and common area's that we could have put 8 lounge suite's in.

We went to Northlea school and were in the same class there too as we took the same subjects, as thick as thieves we were. I was a lazy little bugger and once copied Alan's homework, an English essay which got us both into a lot of bother at school. This was unusual for Alan but not for me. I was always in trouble at school with more energy than you could poke a stick at - for all the wrong things but as lazy as they come when it came to homework. Alan was no saint though, he knew that I was not flavour of the month and used this to misbehave. I would say that I had the most punctured posterior in the school from Alan's compass - that thing spent more time in my rear end than it did in it's case and I was always in trouble for disrupting the class with my anguished bellows. Alan would sink that darned thing in to the hilt when he could.

It was actually Alan who planted the seed to take Mrs Adams exasperation with me to the next level. You see I refused to do homework for several of my teachers and Mrs Adams in particular. First thing in Mrs Adams Class was to present homework and for this we were to line up alphabetically by our surname and it became customary to send me to the back of the line because invariably I had nothing to present in my homework book. I would finally arrive at Mrs Adams desk and present my brand new never used homework book whereby Mrs Adams would scribble out a note for Mr Eddington the Deputy Head, to inflict six of his best on my posterior (corporal punishment was alive and well and it did me no harm). We had science after break so Alan wondered what Mrs Adams might do if I presented a note from Mr Eddington thus saving her the trouble of sending me from class. Alan suggested that this would save time and I might actually get to participate in some of the cool experiments. So I did precisely that during the next days break, Mr Eddington smiled, shook his head and called me a "cheeky sod" as he granted my request for 6 of the best and a note for Mrs Adams.

Well the result was a little unexpected, actually I'm not sure what I expected but as we lined up and I was being dispatched to the back of the line I called out - "My homework book is not empty today Ms Adams." What a transformation, Mrs Adams was positively glowing with a grin from ear to ear as she beckoned me forth with her hand gesturing frantically, she bubbled "Come along, do show me!" I handed my book over and she opened it expectantly .... and there she found Mr Eddington's note "Six of the best for failing to complete science homework." I never would have believed that something so bright could become so dark, so quickly as Mrs Adams face flushed with every colour under the sun until it finally became a deep purple "GET OUT!" she spluttered, "OUT OF MY CLASSROOM!" she screamed pointing at the door. I swear I could see steam coming from her ears as I exited hastily and stood outside. This was where Mr Eddington found me as he was doing the rounds, he smiled, punched me on the shoulder with enough force to rock me but never said a word as he went along his way.  Needless to say, Alan thought the whole thing was hysterical and he paid out on me for years over that "Priceless piece of entertainment", as he put it.

Isn't it funny how things turn out, my dad "fell away from the truth" - the term used when one becomes an ex-JW and uncle Joe and his family "came into the truth" - the term used when one becomes a JW. When we would visit which was frequently I would hear the age old arguments but now it was uncle Joe trying to convert my dad. Alan and I were now at college, we were doing our apprenticeships, visiting with our grandfather who had a shop 'Nulife Batteries' right across the road from Bulawayo Tech. We were 15-16 and Bubbles (Oupa's receptionist) would be teasing and embarrassing the heck out of us. We lived on fried chips which we ate as we went shopping for trade tools at 'Vivien & Watson'. Uncle Joe always advised us on the best brands and we would get into debates with sales staff as we haggled over the price of tools.

My favourite group was CCR and Alan's was Queen (Alan and Freddy Mercury could have passed off as brothers they looked so alike) Alan would tease me at college when things weren't going my way by singing "I see a bad moon arising" but he would substitute "mood" for "moon" and this would always brighten my day.

As time went on Alan went to jail as a religious objector and I went to do National Service at the same time. I married first but Alan wasn't long behind me. The country was going okay as we transitioned from Rhodesia to Zimbabwe-Rhodesia for what would inevitably become a moderate majority government of the people providing the rest of the world left us to work at it. Alan was less optimistic than I and he migrated to Australia with his wife Purna. He finally persuaded me to move my family to a safer environment when the British with the backing of the west decided that Comrade Mr Robert Mugabe was the solution to the Rhodesian problem. We accepted Alan's offer of assistance on the eve of Mugabe's Fifth Brigade's attempted genocide. With the country in the hands of a mad left wing extremist racist, this was no place to try and raise a family so we made our applications and were finally accepted by Australia. 

Alan picked us up from the airport in Perth at 04:30 March 27, 1982 and helped us settle and assimilate in this new land before he was tragically taken from us the day after one of our lengthy discussions as he tried to convince me to "return to the truth". We may not believe in the same doctrine but we do worship the same God. 

RIP Alan you are missed and definitely not forgotten.

The Car Jacking

This has been on my mind for quite a while as a lot of my old memories are returning to the fore and today I posted up a few photo's from my National Service days 73/74 to the Rhodesian Military Group for a little help with the guys names. While I can remember the guys quite well it is their names that I have difficulty with. I've included them here.

Not long after I finished my twelve months of National Service I was car jacked one Friday or Saturday night whilst returning to a nightclub after dropping some friends/relatives home (I think to meet their curfew's) as this was around midnight. Anyway before I get into the details of this incident there are a few things that you should know apart from the fact that I was a bit of an idiot (putting it politely) in my teenage years.

I had obtained my Motorcycle Drivers Licence (Class 3) at the age of 16 and had a good knowledge of the road rules and I had my Military Drivers Licence for all classes but...... a big BUT.... I didn't have a "Light Motor Vehicle (Goods/Passengers), (Class 4) Civilian Licence.

 

1979 a duplicate license issued with Classes 3,4,5

Regimental number removed for security purposes.

Of course all this was very well until I purchased on HP (Hire Purchase) a 'brand new', second hand MG 1100 - my very first credit account (2 years) at 40% of my wage, 50% went on Board and Lodging leaving me with 10%, seemed like a good idea at the time. 

I had owned a couple of cars in the past a Vauxhall Victor (age 16) which I bought from my Grandfather "Oupa Hoffman" and sold to my cousin Gary for the same amount which I think was $300.00 without having actually driven it, Dad had though. I then bought an old rusted out Morris Minor 500 side valve station wagon for $50.00 (age 17) which I rebuilt with the help of my 'muccas' in the photo's above during my National Service, before giving it to my brother Guy.

Well I had possession of my MG for all of six weeks and Dad was on my case to get licensed he was dead against me driving any car till I was licensed, Mom just wanted me off the bike's (Motorcycles) I had written of three by this time and broken almost everything on the left side of my body from knee to collar bone. An interesting fact here is that I never wore a helmet and never hit my head once and trust me I came off those bikes a lot more than three times. I had a number of ridiculous accidents, usually when members of the opposite sex were in close proximity, but these are stories for another time.

As with a lot of teenagers I argued, what could possibly go wrong? I was licensed albeit not for this class but I knew what I was doing, yeah right! Thought I was the bees knees with my fast little new ride which was pretty awesome and of course I never gave a thought to the possible dangers while running my friends and family all over the place ... until that fateful night.

We (my friends/family and I) had all been to the "Zoo" as we referred to the popular Grey Street nightclub that evening (Electric Circus/Talk of the Town were a couple of it's formal names as it changed hands frequently). I think someone had a curfew (most of the girls did in those days) and so I volunteered to take them home, any excuse to go for a ride, funny that I still love driving to this day even though a good portion of my life was spent night driving for a living. I was going to then go on home like most of the people I was hanging out with but changed my mind and decided to go back to the Zoo after all I could probably get back in, since I had done so before.

I was driving up Main Street since I was coming from Kenilworth and around about 5th Ave as I was passing a group of African fellows they started gesturing and pointing at what I thought was my car. Becoming concerned that there may be a problem with my new car I pulled over a little way up the street, got out and was inspecting the car for damage when these five guys caught up to me and began demanding my wallet, watch and keys for the car whilst threatening me with bottles. A couple of them were a little drunk but I was not confident that I could survive an altercation and this is when it dawned on me that I was about to lose my car (unlikely to ever be recovered but certainly if recovered it would be a burned out shell - no insurance since I was not licensed and 23 months to run on my HP) What a bloody horrible time to find out that Dad was actually smarter than I. 

How the heck was I going to get out of this in one piece and keep my car? I thought. Perhaps I could reason with them and maybe an opportunity would present itself in due course. So while I handed over my wallet and watch, they argued amongst themselves at to my fate. A couple were in favour of killing me by bashing my head in whilst others just wanted to take my stuff and disappear. During their argument I tried to ascertain who the leader was and attempted to befriend him by suggesting that I would make an excellent taxi driver after all I wanted to party as much as they did. This amused the fellow who saw me as his personal plaything and perhaps an additional source of income for the night which frightened the hell out of me but not enough to let them take my car, as I convinced myself that an opportunity would present the drunker that they became. The most vocal for killing me stormed off toward York's as the rest piled into the car and instructed me to drive down 6th Ave extension into the Western suburbs - "Good, one down" I thought.

Well we certainly did go to a number of party's where I became the life of the party at the insistence of my new found "friend" (I'm being facetious) - This was totally unexpected as I was really, really afraid of being sold for sex and I have to say that this was in the forefront of my mind. Instead I was offered as a punch bag for anyone who would pay for the privilege of hitting an "Mkiwa" ... and there were many. It seemed that my new 'friend' didn't much care if they did beat me to death as long as they made it worth his while either financially or with alcohol. Any opportunity to flee with my car was fast slipping away as I became more and more disorientated from the beatings which went on until sunrise as we went from one party to the next. To this day I have no idea how I managed to retain my position as driver because it is this that was actually instrumental in saving my life. 

Whilst I had a lot of assistance driving with multiple hands on the wheel and gear crunching (I later realised that the fellow who initially wanted to bash my head in was probably the only one who knew how to drive but he had stormed off - one of life's left turns I guess). Suddenly there was a sign "POLICE >" I thought "Yes! at last" as I stomped the accelerator to the floor, unfortunately I was not the only one who saw the sign and all hell broke loose in the car as I fought to gain control.

There were legs and feet between mine as we accelerated, the handbrake was being pulled as there were hands it seemed everywhere, .... on the steering, in my face, an arm around my throat.... yelling, screaming "Kill the Mkiwa", I struggled with the desperation borne of the realisation and certainty that I was about to die. It was absolute bedlam in that little car which held about six or seven of us at that time..... blank!

The next thing I remember was hearing someone screaming "Bullala lo Mkiwa"(Kill the Whitey) or words to that effect with a lot of expletives thrown in but there was certainly no mistaking the boot that I saw descending into my face before losing consciousness again. From this point on things became very sketchy, as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I recall a policeman rolling me onto my side so that I wouldn't drown in my own blood he was saying something about an ambulance on the way and that everyone (there were apparently spectators) thought I was dead from the severe kicking I had taken. I recall parts of the Ambulance drive as paramedics worked on me, I recall a little from the operating theatre as I tried to sit up but its very sketchy with quite a few brief snippets but I have no recollection of the pain.

I had survived, the car had not - The left side of my head had been crushed, two vertebra in my neck were broken (they fused together limiting my movement) seventeen vertebra in my spine had broken or shattered process (various) and my left shoulder-blade had shattered. Dr Taylor of Bulawayo performed the re-constructive surgery and did a marvellous job although his bedside manner left a lot to be desired. I was able to eat solids within eighteen months much to the delight of my family, especially my Mom. There had been extensive nerve damage which I learned to control over time for the most part, there are still rare occasions that I have to use all my willpower not to rip my left eye from it's socket.

When my children were growing up they were fascinated by the markings on my back and the fact that they could bury needles in it without my knowledge - one of life's right turns I suppose.

Till next time, God Bless.

Beech Ave

This blog is a bit of a follow on from my last Blog. We had moved from Wankie to Queens Park West in Bulawayo. Within a couple of days of moving in to Dane Road my second youngest brother Shane had an horrendous accident, certainly one of the worst our family and especially Shane have had to date.

For some reason we boys all take after my Dad when it comes to a love of climbing and heights. Dad lost the sight in his right eye whilst climbing a tree as a child and Shane (aged 5/6) fell out of this tree at Dane Road from about 10 -12 feet off the ground (I'm old school so if you want the metric conversion - it was about roof height) and landed very badly.

Scattered around the yard usually under trees were home made planters. These planters were made from old 44 gallon drums that had been roughly cut in half and when I say "roughly", I mean precisely that. Shane landed face first on the rough rusting edge of one of these planters and slashed his face through his upper and lower lips, both sets of gums where he knocked out several teeth. Fortunately Dad was home (Mom didn't drive and we only had one car) and we all rushed Shane up to the hospital where they did a marvellous job of putting him back together.

I don't recall how long we lived in Dane Road but it would have been a year or so. I recall Mom often sending me up to the Butcher with a 10 bob note to buy meat for dinner and a couple of packs of smokes from the corner store. The shops were in a sort of semi circle and all next to one another at the QPW round about.

Not long after changing schools from Newmansford to Hugh Beadle we moved to 21 Beech Avenue in Sauerstown. This was the smallest house we lived in but it had a big yard for us kids to play in and it had a lot of colonial charm. I'll never forget whilst we were moving in my Uncle Joe brought in our very first TV and of course we were all so excited to have a radiogram with pictures. As uncle Joe put it down on the cement floor the front legs which were rather spindly, did the splits and the TV fell flat on it's face with a rather shattering sound but there was no glass on the floor so we kids hoped that it would be fine but alas it was not meant to be, however the TV was replaced a few days later and the very first show I saw on our beautiful massive 15 inch black and white TV features a cowboy with a mask across his eyes and the theme music was Rossini's William Tell Overture. Instantly the Lone Ranger was my hero with his sidekick Tonto and his horse Silver. The next day I made my mask and relived my hero's actions. I still love Rossini's William Tell Overture.

The house had it's back to the street and was actually a rondavel (round house) with everything else added on as an afterthought. There was only one bedroom but it did have a large kitchen and a small dining room so the dining room could accommodate a couple of bunk beds and that became Shane and Dan's bedroom. Another set of bunk beds was put at the "foyer" entrance for Guy and myself, there was just enough room for an adult to squeeze through. We had no running water but the well was only about six feet from the back door and it was fitted with a state of the art hand pump that the smallest of children could use. We had a beautiful massive cast iron coal/wood stove with ball and claw feet and the ornate brass trim was a delightful green colour. I can't remember the names of our neighbours in front of us (between us and the Umguza River, down a short lane way but I recall the day that they took delivery of their new electric stove, everyone came out to have a look at this modern wonder.

A lot of the mod cons had been around for a while but people on this side of town were mainly single income families so we were a bit behind the times.

My Mom's sister used to visit every Thursday. While sick with malaria I dreamt that my youngest brother Dan had wandered onto the Road (Beech Ave) through a personnel gate that we never used - I dreamt that Dan was run over by the Sauserstown Omnibus whilst I was running after him as my Aunt drove up the street. The dream was so vivid that I woke and went to check on the gate at about 2am - it was open, I closed it. (Several years later I would be chasing after my best friend as the Sauerstown Omnibus ran over him on that very street in the exact same location - strange hey).

I found a few old photos from the old days, I'll leave you with those.

37 Spreckley Road North End 1970-1977

28 Marula Avenue - there was no fence till Dad and I put one up. 1966-1970

I bought this R4 from Dad in 1977 - the year Ronnie and I married.

Mom in the front yard 28 Maruala Ave about 1967

Mom and Dad's house 130 Borrow Street 1978 - 1981

21 Beech Ave 1965 note the hot water system next to the well (left) which is not visible from this angle.

Till next time, God Bless.

Queens Park West

I have been working pretty hard on the family tree, gathering and sorting information and of course cross checking. Don't you just love it when you have conflicting records, I have a copy of the church record of my great grandfathers birth and baptism 1n 1870, I also have a copy of his death certificate with his birth recorded in 1876, different dates, different months and different years I can hear the protests already - a different person? I doubt it since the parents names are identical, that would be two sets of 3 people in the same parish, astronomical odds - literally.

Anyway I needed to take a break from this brain scrambling stuff and so continued with a little more work on my Project_2/2014 (An artistic/photographic project that I am working on and getting a huge amount of satisfaction from.) While working on this I kept thinking of my new blog-pal (friend) Ron who lives in Sauerstown, a suburb in my hometown of Bulawayo. He sent me a few more photo's that I'll include at the end of this blog. I can't help but remember my cousin Alan who was a couple of months older than me. We spent most of our school life in the same class, we even did similar trades, went to Bulaway Tech together, learned to drive together and were as close as brothers but as similar as chalk and cheese.

My earliest memories of Alan are from a fishing trip that was made to the Zambezi when I was about five years old. I have a few old family photo's that I have posted on my Facebook page which include some from this particular trip which would have been taken in (about) 1960. Alan was the eldest of my Mom's brother Joe and his wife Jill's children. We were living in Wankie at the time and we had moved there after Dad's posting by the Rhodesia Railways. I believe that Uncle Joe and his family had moved to Wankie as well for a very short period and I recall that they were in the house next door.

Side note : My memory is not the best for this period but is improving for some odd reason. I found that quite a huge portion of my childhood memories were quite badly effected following severe head trauma at the age of 18/19 where I had been beaten and left for dead following a car jacking. A story for another time though.

When I was about eight years old Dad was transferred back to Bulawayo and we lived at the corner of Dane and Victoria Roads in Queens Park West. The majority of the houses built in Queens Park East and West were made of Mud Brick and plastered with Mud. They were built during the second world war as housing for the Rhodesian and Royal Air Force as this was where a lot of the training took place. The Air Base itself would later become a race track and then a depot for the Second Battalion Rhodesia Regiment. An interesting point about these homes is that the bottom two feet of the external walls were painted a dark reddish brown so that when it rained and portions of the mud plaster gave way it wouldn't be quite so unsightly. All external paint was lead based glossy enamel to protect the Mud on these temporary homes. Quite a large number of those temporary home still stand today, some 70+ years later a testament to the skill of the tradesmen who built them.

I started school at Newmansford Primary School, I remember the corrugated iron walls of the classroom block that I was assigned to in Standard 2a. I remember the porcelain ink wells, the ink nibs on the wooden stems that had replaced the quill and of course the blotting paper which was to keep our work and our uniforms smudge free. I do recall that we managed to keep our uniforms in very good order considering. We were a very proud and patriotic lot who took a huge amount of pride in our school's and our uniforms. I guess the school rules, standards and cane had a lot to do with that.

My eldest cousin Gary attended the school with his best friend Keith and they were two or three years ahead of me so I didn't get to hang out, younger kids were usually a pain in the rear. My cousin Alan was going to school at Hugh Beadle and lived on Hurrell Road which was a lot closer but I would have to negotiate the drift in order to get to school and Mom and Dad were not too keen on the idea but they capitulated and I started school at Hugh Beadle shortly after the end of the CAF (Central African Federation) I recall vaguely a big to-do in relation to the lowering of one flag and the raising of the new flag whilst in assembly at Newmansford School.

Red=Our Home, Yellow=Alan's Home, Blue Line=Drift, Green=Newmansford, D/Blue=Hugh Beadle

My friend Hugh used to live here in 1965

The old  "OLD"S HOTEL" where I lived 1966 - 1970 (It was condemned in 1960)

My Great Aunt Lettie's house where her son Timothy built a Gyro-copter.

 Till Next time - God Bless.

Family Tree

Well I have had a huge few months with the family tree, amazing. I am however quite disappointed at the lack of interest by my closer relatives. I have so far sent 47 invitations to the family tree online with 'My Heritage', a great research site and inexpensive (free doesn't cost much). Of the 47, 7 are complete strangers who are distant relatives researching their own trees and regular visitors to ours for that purpose. 10 are relatives known to me but I wouldn't call them close and 30 are close relatives.

3 of the 40 have popped onto the site so see what the link was about. Contributor's = NIL, Researchers = NIL. That's okay though we all have busy lives and our own interests and I understand that but what I don't understand is the lack of curiosity about our heritage. 

Yes a lot of it is boring and a little mundane but there are some interesting gems such as a Scottish Castle, a Bank, Persecution, Gold Mines, Vineyards of international acclaim, Farmers, Miners, Infidelity, Betrayal,  Reunion, Mysterious deaths, Presidents, Murder, Military Medals, Officers, NCO's, POW's, Concentration Camps, Hunters, Explorers, Executioners, Thieves, Con Artists, Memorabilia, Writers, Publishers, Fortunes won and lost, Rare works and Heroes from around the globe. 

Lombard - ours is a heritage that dates back to the tribes of the Long beards "Longobards" around 600-400BC. That is a lot of history. I have included a short excerpt from one of the sources is Wiki but I must point out that there is some dispute.

The first mention of the Lombards occurred between AD 9 and 16, by the Roman court historian Velleius Paterculus, who accompanied a Roman expedition as prefect of the cavalry.^[17] Paterculus says that under Tiberius the "power of the Langobardi was broken, a race surpassing even the Germans in savagery".^[18]
From the combined testimony of Strabo (AD 20) and Tacitus (AD 117), the Lombards dwelt near the mouth of the Elbe shortly after the beginning of the Christian era, next to the Chauci.^[17] Strabo states that the Lombards dwelt on both sides of the Elbe.^[19] He treats them as a branch of the Suebi, and states that

Now as for the tribe of the Suebi, it is the largest, for it extends from the Rhenus to the Albis; and a part of them even dwell on the far side of the Albis, as, for instance, the Hermondori and the Langobardi; and at the present time these latter, at least, have, to the last man, been driven in flight out of their country into the land on the far side of the river.^[20]

The German archaeologist Willi Wegewitz defined several Iron Age burial sites at the lower Elbe as Langobardic.^[21] The burial sites are crematorial and are usually dated from the 6th century BC through the 3rd century AD, so a settlement breakoff seems unlikely.^[22] The lands of the lower Elbe fall into the zone of the Jastorf Culture and became Elbe-Germanic, differing from the lands between Rhine, Weser, and the North Sea.^[23] Archaeological finds show that the Lombards were an agricultural people.^[24]
Tacitus also counted the Lombards as a remote and aggressive Suebian tribe, one of those united in worship of the deity Nerthus, who he referred to as "Mother Earth", and also as subjects of Marobod the King of the Marcomanni.^[25] Marobod had made peace with the Romans, and that is why the Lombards were not part of the Germanic confederacy under Arminius at the Battle of Teutoburg Forest in AD 9. In AD 17, war broke out between Arminius and Marobod.

Other little known facts that are pertinent today:- There are now three generations of Lombard in Australia, I was one of the 13th Generation of Lombard in Africa. Our family were in Africa before the current ruling tribes of Southern Africa and I've only mentioned 1 of the 500+ families whose heritage we are linked to and that I've been recording.

I have only this month started to uncover another branch of the family and I have to say what a find. My Great Aunt (GA) Marie's family are scattered far and wide but are still in contact with one another. In a previous blog I spoke of GA Joey, the Matriarch of our family, well it seems that a lot of the recorded information that she cherished and which I thought had been lost has actually been in safe keeping with this branch of the family. I received several emails from at least three members of this particular branch who have provided me with a huge amount of data, much of which I had but had not been able to connect chronologically. Having the information is one thing but knowing how they fit and interact is quite another. Verification is vital and impossible without accurate names, dates and places so to know how it all fits is absolutely imperative.

I can only hope that more of the younger generation develop an interest in our history and heritage. My Daughter and Son-in-law have an interest in our family heritage and so I have named them as beneficiary's of my research and memorabilia so that it will not be lost.

Till next time, God Bless.

Sauerstown

Today I received a number of photo's from a friend, I'm not sure what the politically correct term would be but back in the day we called them "Pen-Pals" so I guess "Blog_Pal" would be the accepted term, I shall simply refer to him as my friend Ron. Anyway the photo's are of one of the old neighbourhoods that I used to live in - Sauerstown.

Sauerstown is north east of Kenilworth and Rowena in Bulawayo and west of Queens Park. I lived there between the age of nine and fourteen. My grandparents on my mothers side lived in Kenilworth on Irene Ave. Oupa Dan and Granny Phoebie's was the first house built in the area, long before the siding and the shops, oh how I loved that old house with the stable kitchen door, Oupa's sheds under the Syringa Tree. I can still smell the dank musky smell of dust, mud, linseed oil and rust that assailed one's nostrils upon entering those dark cavernous sheds. The promise of mystery since they were always locked up tight and it was a rare occasion to accompany Oupa into one of those dark and slightly eerie sheds.

I remember the old black car ramp which would become the "Star Ship Enterprise" when all of us cousins got together. We were always trying to move the exceptionally heavy steel channels so that the "Star Ship" was just the way we liked it. Funny I don't recall ever fighting over who was to be Capt. Kirk, Cousin Gary was the oldest and so it was a foregone conclusion that he would play that part. What imaginations we had.

I have mentioned Sauerstown and one of the tragedies in a previous blog, the loss of my best friend Mitchell so I'll not go into that again. Whilst living at 28 (I think) Marula Ave, diagonally opposite "Skippers Garage" we had a few tragedies or rather I had a few tragedies but I also had some awesome times there.

A little about Skippers Garage, it was blue and white (a "Caltex" servo with the flying pegasus symbol) and the Pumps were stood in little blue and white ship like platforms with portholes, ropes and anchor's at either end. There was a duck pond and a wishing well on the northern side. We would often make wishes at the well while feeding the ducks. Old Skip loved to give kids those little flattened cardboard garages that would pop up by sliding the top and bottom parts in different directions. I got my first Yoyo from Old Skip too, never did become the whiz I believed that I would be with that thing but I did manage to master "Walking the Dog".

On the opposite side of the street (Sauerstown Road) and the other end of the block was "Thackewray's (Sp) Garage" (a Shell Servo I think) I think Mr Thackewray had three daughters but I do know that I had my first almighty crush on one of the beauties when I was thirteen, of course I didn't stand a chance since I know that I wasn't the only kid feeling that way. I have three wonderful brothers - Oh! young innocent love.

On the topic of brothers, my second youngest brother Shane had a friend who lived in the rather stylish and up market two story house on the corner of Jacaranda Ave and Sauerstown Road, John was his name, sadly deceased far too early. This friendship would see remarkable chapters written into our family and all of our lives but especially Shane's. John at about age 16 was abducted by terrorists and held for over a year in one of Robert Gabriel Mugabe's ("Uncle Bob") camp's in Mozambique ... but that is another book and not for me to write either.

I am a western movie nut and have always been this way, my Mom said I was born in the wrong era and I tend to agree. Well it's not cool for a senior school child to play Cowboys and Indian's which is exactly what I was doing at age thirteen and hoping not to be seen by my class mates who would rag the heck out of me if they saw me. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed since we lived on the corner of Sauerstown Road (Main Street) with the yard visible to all and sundry.

Anyway one fateful day, probably a weekend as Dad was home, it was getting late around 17h00 (5pm) when there was an almighty loud bang, that sounded like an explosion to my left, I got such a fright I froze to the spot for what seemed like an eternity, as (what appeared to be) an angel fell from the sky to land about two meters in front of me. No sooner had this thought shot through my mind when a great big dark object smashed down upon her, bounced off and rolled over... it was a Morris 500 SideValve with a box backie. I realised a moment later that this was no angel, but a very pretty young oriental lady dressed in white, she looked so clean and peaceful with only a little trickle of scarlet running from her left ear. Suddenly! Dad was shaking me..... "Run up to the police station and tell them to come quick with an ambulance - hurry Peter!"

I shot off as though my tail were on fire up to the BSAP Station opposite our Junior School "Hugh Beadle" a block south of us. I told the police that there had been a terrible accident at our home and they called for ambulance and fire brigade.

On my arrival back at the house my mother had covered the lovely lady with a blanket, she was deceased. Mom and Dad were trying to help a young man who was unconscious in the other vehicle, a pale blue Ford Customline if memory serves me correctly. It amazed me that after hitting that Morris so hard that it became airborne, the Ford had taken out our telephone pole, a safety bar over a culvert, our (New) corner fencepost and had only been stopped by a huge Jacaranda tree. What a mess!

My classmates found out that I had been playing cowboys and indians and yes they did rag the heck out of me. They were and still are a great bunch of Northlean's, would'nt mind a bit of that ragging right now :) Eddie in particular had been my personal bully ever since (my) arriving in the neighbourhood, little bugger had even shot me once, .... and no it wasn't an accident, he had missed three times as I tried to outrun him ... but that's a story for another time.

I'll leave you with a few recent photo's, the ravages of time and a lack of maintenance may leave you a little heartbroken too.

Marula Ave - 30 years of neglect

Marula Ave and Sauerstown Road (Nick's old Home next to Thackwray's Garage)

Thackwrays Garagec

Sauerstown Road with Skippers Garage on Left

Bridgewater Road

Bridgewater and Beech Ave (Mitchell died here) bitumen gone now.

Thackwray's Garage from Beech Ave

Thackwray's Garage from Beech Ave

Thackwray's Garage - I remember when upstairs was built and the shop to the left of the courtyard.

Mr Thackwray passed just after completion if I remember correctly

Nick's home (I think Nick was in Guy's class)

There was no wall, gate or razor wire back in the day - what a shame.

If I hadn't been told that this is Skippers Garage I would never have believed it. There was a windmill in the duck pond once.

Matabele Steam Laundry - There were no gates or fences back in my time.

Hugh Beadle I think

This house was the envy of everyone - Jacaranda Ave/ Sauserstown Road

Matabele Steam Laundry in front of the "Drift"

Beech Ave Shops

Till next time, God Bless.