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  • #6387

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    Yurara FamelikiYurara Fameliki
    Participant

      Words from the Cloud prompted me to write a story:

      song stayed act unexpected recall words spears bus learn king expected followed fright hot wore kianda picture walked playing coast dusty

      Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there was a Song that stayed in the hearts of the people. The Song was about an Act of bravery and sacrifice that had taken place many years ago. But one day, an unexpected recall of the Song was issued by the king. He had heard that the Song was not being sung correctly, and he wanted to make sure that the true story was being told. The people were puzzled, as they had learned the Song from their ancestors and had always thought it was accurate. But they followed the king’s orders and set out to learn the correct version of the Song. As they began to recall the words, they realized that there were some discrepancies. They had always sung about the hero wielding a sword, but the true story spoke of him wielding Spears. They were taken aback, but they knew they had to correct the Song. So, they set out on a journey to retrace the hero’s steps.

      As they traveled, they encountered unexpected challenges. They faced a bus that broke down, a coastline that was dusty and treacherous, and even a group of bandits. But they pressed on, determined to learn the truth.

      As they approached the hero’s final battle, they felt a sense of dread. They had heard that the enemy was fierce, and they were not prepared for what they would find. But they followed the path and soon found themselves at the edge of a hot, barren wasteland.

      The heroes wore their Kianda, traditional armor made of woven reeds, and stepped forward, ready for battle. But to their surprise, the enemy was nowhere to be found. Instead, they found a picture etched into the ground, depicting the hero and his enemy locked in a fierce battle.

      The people walked around the picture, marveling at the detail and skill of the artist. And as they looked closer, they saw that the hero was holding Spears, not a sword. They realized that they had learned the true story, and they felt a sense of pride and gratitude.

      With the Song corrected, they returned home, playing the new version for all to hear. And from that day on, the true story of the hero’s bravery and sacrifice was remembered, and the Song stayed in the hearts of the people forevermore.

      #6322

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      EricEric
      Keymaster

        numerous cats fear sounds
        lawrence contents joined sister melbourne
        high african nonsense reported
        andrew dear kianda derbyshire
        black class bucks second

        #6265
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          From Tanganyika with Love

          continued  ~ part 6

          With thanks to Mike Rushby.

          Mchewe 6th June 1937

          Dearest Family,

          Home again! We had an uneventful journey. Kate was as good as gold all the
          way. We stopped for an hour at Bulawayo where we had to change trains but
          everything was simplified for me by a very pleasant man whose wife shared my
          compartment. Not only did he see me through customs but he installed us in our new
          train and his wife turned up to see us off with magazines for me and fruit and sweets for
          Kate. Very, very kind, don’t you think?

          Kate and I shared the compartment with a very pretty and gentle girl called
          Clarice Simpson. She was very worried and upset because she was going home to
          Broken Hill in response to a telegram informing her that her young husband was
          dangerously ill from Blackwater Fever. She was very helpful with Kate whose
          cheerfulness helped Clarice, I think, though I, quite unintentionally was the biggest help
          at the end of our journey. Remember the partial dentures I had had made just before
          leaving Cape Town? I know I shall never get used to the ghastly things, I’ve had them
          two weeks now and they still wobble. Well this day I took them out and wrapped them
          in a handkerchief, but when we were packing up to leave the train I could find the
          handkerchief but no teeth! We searched high and low until the train had slowed down to
          enter Broken Hill station. Then Clarice, lying flat on the floor, spied the teeth in the dark
          corner under the bottom bunk. With much stretching she managed to retrieve the
          dentures covered in grime and fluff. My look of horror, when I saw them, made young
          Clarice laugh. She was met at the station by a very grave elderly couple. I do wonder
          how things turned out for her.

          I stayed overnight with Kate at the Great Northern Hotel, and we set off for
          Mbeya by plane early in the morning. One of our fellow passengers was a young
          mother with a three week old baby. How ideas have changed since Ann was born. This
          time we had a smooth passage and I was the only passenger to get airsick. Although
          there were other women passengers it was a man once again, who came up and
          offered to help. Kate went off with him amiably and he entertained her until we touched
          down at Mbeya.

          George was there to meet us with a wonderful surprise, a little red two seater
          Ford car. She is a bit battered and looks a bit odd because the boot has been
          converted into a large wooden box for carrying raw salt, but she goes like the wind.
          Where did George raise the cash to buy a car? Whilst we were away he found a small
          cave full of bat guano near a large cave which is worked by a man called Bob Sargent.
          As Sargent did not want any competition he bought the contents of the cave from
          George giving him the small car as part payment.

          It was lovely to return to our little home and find everything fresh and tidy and the
          garden full of colour. But it was heartbreaking to go into the bedroom and see George’s
          precious forgotten boots still standing by his empty bed.

          With much love,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe 25th June 1937

          Dearest Family,

          Last Friday George took Kate and me in the little red Ford to visit Mr Sargent’s
          camp on the Songwe River which cuts the Mbeya-Mbosi road. Mr Sargent bought
          Hicky-Wood’s guano deposit and also our small cave and is making a good living out of
          selling the bat guano to the coffee farmers in this province. George went to try to interest
          him in a guano deposit near Kilwa in the Southern Province. Mr Sargent agreed to pay
          25 pounds to cover the cost of the car trip and pegging costs. George will make the trip
          to peg the claim and take samples for analysis. If the quality is sufficiently high, George
          and Mr Sargent will go into partnership. George will work the claim and ship out the
          guano from Kilwa which is on the coast of the Southern Province of Tanganyika. So now
          we are busy building castles in the air once more.

          On Saturday we went to Mbeya where George had to attend a meeting of the
          Trout Association. In the afternoon he played in a cricket match so Kate and I spent the
          whole day with the wife of the new Superintendent of Police. They have a very nice
          new house with lawns and a sunken rose garden. Kate had a lovely romp with Kit, her
          three year old son.

          Mrs Wolten also has two daughters by a previous marriage. The elder girl said to
          me, “Oh Mrs Rushby your husband is exactly like the strong silent type of man I
          expected to see in Africa but he is the only one I have seen. I think he looks exactly like
          those men in the ‘Barney’s Tobacco’ advertisements.”

          I went home with a huge pile of magazines to keep me entertained whilst
          George is away on the Kilwa trip.

          Lots of love,
          Eleanor.

          Mchewe 9th July 1937

          Dearest Family,

          George returned on Monday from his Kilwa safari. He had an entertaining
          tale to tell.

          Before he approached Mr Sargent about going shares in the Kilwa guano
          deposit he first approached a man on the Lupa who had done very well out of a small
          gold reef. This man, however said he was not interested so you can imagine how
          indignant George was when he started on his long trip, to find himself being trailed by
          this very man and a co-driver in a powerful Ford V8 truck. George stopped his car and
          had some heated things to say – awful threats I imagine as to what would happen to
          anyone who staked his claim. Then he climbed back into our ancient little two seater and
          went off like a bullet driving all day and most of the night. As the others took turns in
          driving you can imagine what a feat it was for George to arrive in Kilwa ahead of them.
          When they drove into Kilwa he met them with a bright smile and a bit of bluff –
          quite justifiable under the circumstances I think. He said, you chaps can have a rest now,
          you’re too late.” He then whipped off and pegged the claim. he brought some samples
          of guano back but until it has been analysed he will not know whether the guano will be
          an economic proposition or not. George is not very hopeful. He says there is a good
          deal of sand mixed with the guano and that much of it was damp.

          The trip was pretty eventful for Kianda, our houseboy. The little two seater car
          had been used by its previous owner for carting bags of course salt from his salt pans.
          For this purpose the dicky seat behind the cab had been removed, and a kind of box
          built into the boot of the car. George’s camp kit and provisions were packed into this
          open box and Kianda perched on top to keep an eye on the belongings. George
          travelled so fast on the rough road that at some point during the night Kianda was
          bumped off in the middle of the Game Reserve. George did not notice that he was
          missing until the next morning. He concluded, quite rightly as it happened, that Kianda
          would be picked up by the rival truck so he continued his journey and Kianda rejoined
          him at Kilwa.

          Believe it or not, the same thing happened on the way back but fortunately this
          time George noticed his absence. He stopped the car and had just started back on his
          tracks when Kianda came running down the road still clutching the unlighted storm lamp
          which he was holding in his hand when he fell. The glass was not even cracked.
          We are finding it difficult just now to buy native chickens and eggs. There has
          been an epidemic amongst the poultry and one hesitates to eat the survivors. I have a
          brine tub in which I preserve our surplus meat but I need the chickens for soup.
          I hope George will be home for some months. He has arranged to take a Mr
          Blackburn, a wealthy fruit farmer from Elgin, Cape, on a hunting safari during September
          and October and that should bring in some much needed cash. Lillian Eustace has
          invited Kate and me to spend the whole of October with her in Tukuyu.
          I am so glad that you so much enjoy having Ann and George with you. We miss
          them dreadfully. Kate is a pretty little girl and such a little madam. You should hear the
          imperious way in which she calls the kitchenboy for her meals. “Boy Brekkis, Boy Lunch,
          and Boy Eggy!” are her three calls for the day. She knows no Ki-Swahili.

          Eleanor

          Mchewe 8th October 1937

          Dearest Family,

          I am rapidly becoming as superstitious as our African boys. They say the wild
          animals always know when George is away from home and come down to have their
          revenge on me because he has killed so many.

          I am being besieged at night by a most beastly leopard with a half grown cub. I
          have grown used to hearing leopards grunt as they hunt in the hills at night but never
          before have I had one roaming around literally under the windows. It has been so hot at
          night lately that I have been sleeping with my bedroom door open onto the verandah. I
          felt quite safe because the natives hereabouts are law-abiding and in any case I always
          have a boy armed with a club sleeping in the kitchen just ten yards away. As an added
          precaution I also have a loaded .45 calibre revolver on my bedside table, and Fanny
          our bullterrier, sleeps on the mat by my bed. I am also looking after Barney, a fine
          Airedale dog belonging to the Costers. He slept on a mat by the open bedroom door
          near a dimly burning storm lamp.

          As usual I went to sleep with an easy mind on Monday night, but was awakened
          in the early hours of Tuesday by the sound of a scuffle on the front verandah. The noise
          was followed by a scream of pain from Barney. I jumped out of bed and, grabbing the
          lamp with my left hand and the revolver in my right, I rushed outside just in time to see
          two animal figures roll over the edge of the verandah into the garden below. There they
          engaged in a terrific tug of war. Fortunately I was too concerned for Barney to be
          nervous. I quickly fired two shots from the revolver, which incidentally makes a noise like
          a cannon, and I must have startled the leopard for both animals, still locked together,
          disappeared over the edge of the terrace. I fired two more shots and in a few moments
          heard the leopard making a hurried exit through the dry leaves which lie thick under the
          wild fig tree just beyond the terrace. A few seconds later Barney appeared on the low
          terrace wall. I called his name but he made no move to come but stood with hanging
          head. In desperation I rushed out, felt blood on my hands when I touched him, so I
          picked him up bodily and carried him into the house. As I regained the verandah the boy
          appeared, club in hand, having been roused by the shots. He quickly grasped what had
          happened when he saw my blood saturated nightie. He fetched a bowl of water and a
          clean towel whilst I examined Barney’s wounds. These were severe, the worst being a
          gaping wound in his throat. I washed the gashes with a strong solution of pot permang
          and I am glad to say they are healing remarkably well though they are bound to leave
          scars. Fanny, very prudently, had taken no part in the fighting except for frenzied barking
          which she kept up all night. The shots had of course wakened Kate but she seemed
          more interested than alarmed and kept saying “Fanny bark bark, Mummy bang bang.
          Poor Barney lots of blood.”

          In the morning we inspected the tracks in the garden. There was a shallow furrow
          on the terrace where Barney and the leopard had dragged each other to and fro and
          claw marks on the trunk of the wild fig tree into which the leopard climbed after I fired the
          shots. The affair was of course a drama after the Africans’ hearts and several of our
          shamba boys called to see me next day to make sympathetic noises and discuss the
          affair.

          I went to bed early that night hoping that the leopard had been scared off for
          good but I must confess I shut all windows and doors. Alas for my hopes of a restful
          night. I had hardly turned down the lamp when the leopard started its terrifying grunting
          just under the bedroom windows. If only she would sniff around quietly I should not
          mind, but the noise is ghastly, something like the first sickening notes of a braying
          donkey, amplified here by the hills and the gorge which is only a stones throw from the
          bedroom. Barney was too sick to bark but Fanny barked loud enough for two and the more
          frantic she became the hungrier the leopard sounded. Kate of course woke up and this
          time she was frightened though I assured her that the noise was just a donkey having
          fun. Neither of us slept until dawn when the leopard returned to the hills. When we
          examined the tracks next morning we found that the leopard had been accompanied by
          a fair sized cub and that together they had prowled around the house, kitchen, and out
          houses, visiting especially the places to which the dogs had been during the day.
          As I feel I cannot bear many more of these nights, I am sending a note to the
          District Commissioner, Mbeya by the messenger who takes this letter to the post,
          asking him to send a game scout or an armed policeman to deal with the leopard.
          So don’t worry, for by the time this reaches you I feel sure this particular trouble
          will be over.

          Eleanor.

          Mchewe 17th October 1937

          Dearest Family,

          More about the leopard I fear! My messenger returned from Mbeya to say that
          the District Officer was on safari so he had given the message to the Assistant District
          Officer who also apparently left on safari later without bothering to reply to my note, so
          there was nothing for me to do but to send for the village Nimrod and his muzzle loader
          and offer him a reward if he could frighten away or kill the leopard.

          The hunter, Laza, suggested that he should sleep at the house so I went to bed
          early leaving Laza and his two pals to make themselves comfortable on the living room
          floor by the fire. Laza was armed with a formidable looking muzzle loader, crammed I
          imagine with nuts and bolts and old rusty nails. One of his pals had a spear and the other
          a panga. This fellow was also in charge of the Petromax pressure lamp whose light was
          hidden under a packing case. I left the campaign entirely to Laza’s direction.
          As usual the leopard came at midnight stealing down from the direction of the
          kitchen and announcing its presence and position with its usual ghastly grunts. Suddenly
          pandemonium broke loose on the back verandah. I heard the roar of the muzzle loader
          followed by a vigourous tattoo beaten on an empty paraffin tin and I rushed out hoping
          to find the dead leopard. however nothing of the kind had happened except that the
          noise must have scared the beast because she did not return again that night. Next
          morning Laza solemnly informed me that, though he had shot many leopards in his day,
          this was no ordinary leopard but a “sheitani” (devil) and that as his gun was no good
          against witchcraft he thought he might as well retire from the hunt. Scared I bet, and I
          don’t blame him either.

          You can imagine my relief when a car rolled up that afternoon bringing Messers
          Stewart and Griffiths, two farmers who live about 15 miles away, between here and
          Mbeya. They had a note from the Assistant District Officer asking them to help me and
          they had come to set up a trap gun in the garden. That night the leopard sniffed all
          around the gun and I had the added strain of waiting for the bang and wondering what I
          should do if the beast were only wounded. I conjured up horrible visions of the two little
          totos trotting up the garden path with the early morning milk and being horribly mauled,
          but I needn’t have worried because the leopard was far too wily to be caught that way.
          Two more ghastly nights passed and then I had another visitor, a Dr Jackson of
          the Tsetse Department on safari in the District. He listened sympathetically to my story
          and left his shotgun and some SSG cartridges with me and instructed me to wait until the
          leopard was pretty close and blow its b—– head off. It was good of him to leave his
          gun. George always says there are three things a man should never lend, ‘His wife, his
          gun and his dog.’ (I think in that order!)I felt quite cheered by Dr Jackson’s visit and sent
          once again for Laza last night and arranged a real show down. In the afternoon I draped
          heavy blankets over the living room windows to shut out the light of the pressure lamp
          and the four of us, Laza and his two stooges and I waited up for the leopard. When we
          guessed by her grunts that she was somewhere between the kitchen and the back door
          we all rushed out, first the boy with the panga and the lamp, next Laza with his muzzle
          loader, then me with the shotgun followed closely by the boy with the spear. What a
          farce! The lamp was our undoing. We were blinded by the light and did not even
          glimpse the leopard which made off with a derisive grunt. Laza said smugly that he knew
          it was hopeless to try and now I feel tired and discouraged too.

          This morning I sent a runner to Mbeya to order the hotel taxi for tomorrow and I
          shall go to friends in Mbeya for a day or two and then on to Tukuyu where I shall stay
          with the Eustaces until George returns from Safari.

          Eleanor.

          Mchewe 18th November 1937

          My darling Ann,

          Here we are back in our own home and how lovely it is to have Daddy back from
          safari. Thank you very much for your letter. I hope by now you have got mine telling you
          how very much I liked the beautiful tray cloth you made for my birthday. I bet there are
          not many little girls of five who can embroider as well as you do, darling. The boy,
          Matafari, washes and irons it so carefully and it looks lovely on the tea tray.

          Daddy and I had some fun last night. I was in bed and Daddy was undressing
          when we heard a funny scratching noise on the roof. I thought it was the leopard. Daddy
          quickly loaded his shotgun and ran outside. He had only his shirt on and he looked so
          funny. I grabbed the loaded revolver from the cupboard and ran after Dad in my nightie
          but after all the rush it was only your cat, Winnie, though I don’t know how she managed
          to make such a noise. We felt so silly, we laughed and laughed.

          Kate talks a lot now but in such a funny way you would laugh to her her. She
          hears the houseboys call me Memsahib so sometimes instead of calling me Mummy
          she calls me “Oompaab”. She calls the bedroom a ‘bippon’ and her little behind she
          calls her ‘sittendump’. She loves to watch Mandawi’s cattle go home along the path
          behind the kitchen. Joseph your donkey, always leads the cows. He has a lazy life now.
          I am glad you had such fun on Guy Fawkes Day. You will be sad to leave
          Plumstead but I am sure you will like going to England on the big ship with granny Kate.
          I expect you will start school when you get to England and I am sure you will find that
          fun.

          God bless my dear little girl. Lots of love from Daddy and Kate,
          and Mummy

          Mchewe 18th November 1937

          Hello George Darling,

          Thank you for your lovely drawing of Daddy shooting an elephant. Daddy says
          that the only thing is that you have drawn him a bit too handsome.

          I went onto the verandah a few minutes ago to pick a banana for Kate from the
          bunch hanging there and a big hornet flew out and stung my elbow! There are lots of
          them around now and those stinging flies too. Kate wears thick corduroy dungarees so
          that she will not get her fat little legs bitten. She is two years old now and is a real little
          pickle. She loves running out in the rain so I have ordered a pair of red Wellingtons and a
          tiny umbrella from a Nairobi shop for her Christmas present.

          Fanny’s puppies have their eyes open now and have very sharp little teeth.
          They love to nip each other. We are keeping the fiercest little one whom we call Paddy
          but are giving the others to friends. The coffee bushes are full of lovely white flowers
          and the bees and ants are very busy stealing their honey.

          Yesterday a troop of baboons came down the hill and Dad shot a big one to
          scare the others off. They are a nuisance because they steal the maize and potatoes
          from the native shambas and then there is not enough food for the totos.
          Dad and I are very proud of you for not making a fuss when you went to the
          dentist to have that tooth out.

          Bye bye, my fine little son.
          Three bags full of love from Kate, Dad and Mummy.

          Mchewe 12th February, 1938

          Dearest Family,

          here is some news that will please you. George has been offered and has
          accepted a job as Forester at Mbulu in the Northern Province of Tanganyika. George
          would have preferred a job as Game Ranger, but though the Game Warden, Philip
          Teare, is most anxious to have him in the Game Department, there is no vacancy at
          present. Anyway if one crops up later, George can always transfer from one
          Government Department to another. Poor George, he hates the idea of taking a job. He
          says that hitherto he has always been his own master and he detests the thought of
          being pushed around by anyone.

          Now however he has no choice. Our capitol is almost exhausted and the coffee
          market shows no signs of improving. With three children and another on the way, he
          feels he simply must have a fixed income. I shall be sad to leave this little farm. I love
          our little home and we have been so very happy here, but my heart rejoices at the
          thought of overseas leave every thirty months. Now we shall be able to fetch Ann and
          George from England and in three years time we will all be together in Tanganyika once
          more.

          There is no sale for farms so we will just shut the house and keep on a very small
          labour force just to keep the farm from going derelict. We are eating our hens but will
          take our two dogs, Fanny and Paddy with us.

          One thing I shall be glad to leave is that leopard. She still comes grunting around
          at night but not as badly as she did before. I do not mind at all when George is here but
          until George was accepted for this forestry job I was afraid he might go back to the
          Diggings and I should once more be left alone to be cursed by the leopard’s attentions.
          Knowing how much I dreaded this George was most anxious to shoot the leopard and
          for weeks he kept his shotgun and a powerful torch handy at night.

          One night last week we woke to hear it grunting near the kitchen. We got up very
          quietly and whilst George loaded the shotgun with SSG, I took the torch and got the
          heavy revolver from the cupboard. We crept out onto the dark verandah where George
          whispered to me to not switch on the torch until he had located the leopard. It was pitch
          black outside so all he could do was listen intently. And then of course I spoilt all his
          plans. I trod on the dog’s tin bowl and made a terrific clatter! George ordered me to
          switch on the light but it was too late and the leopard vanished into the long grass of the
          Kalonga, grunting derisively, or so it sounded.

          She never comes into the clearing now but grunts from the hillside just above it.

          Eleanor.

          Mbulu 18th March, 1938

          Dearest Family,

          Journeys end at last. here we are at Mbulu, installed in our new quarters which are
          as different as they possibly could be from our own cosy little home at Mchewe. We
          live now, my dears, in one wing of a sort of ‘Beau Geste’ fort but I’ll tell you more about
          it in my next letter. We only arrived yesterday and have not had time to look around.
          This letter will tell you just about our trip from Mbeya.

          We left the farm in our little red Ford two seater with all our portable goods and
          chattels plus two native servants and the two dogs. Before driving off, George took one
          look at the flattened springs and declared that he would be surprised if we reached
          Mbeya without a breakdown and that we would never make Mbulu with the car so
          overloaded.

          However luck was with us. We reached Mbeya without mishap and at one of the
          local garages saw a sturdy used Ford V8 boxbody car for sale. The garage agreed to
          take our small car as part payment and George drew on our little remaining capitol for the
          rest. We spent that night in the house of the Forest Officer and next morning set out in
          comfort for the Northern Province of Tanganyika.

          I had done the journey from Dodoma to Mbeya seven years before so was
          familiar with the scenery but the road was much improved and the old pole bridges had
          been replaced by modern steel ones. Kate was as good as gold all the way. We
          avoided hotels and camped by the road and she found this great fun.
          The road beyond Dodoma was new to me and very interesting country, flat and
          dry and dusty, as little rain falls there. The trees are mostly thorn trees but here and there
          one sees a giant baobab, weird trees with fantastically thick trunks and fat squat branches
          with meagre foliage. The inhabitants of this area I found interesting though. They are
          called Wagogo and are a primitive people who ape the Masai in dress and customs
          though they are much inferior to the Masai in physique. They are also great herders of
          cattle which, rather surprisingly, appear to thrive in that dry area.

          The scenery alters greatly as one nears Babati, which one approaches by a high
          escarpment from which one has a wonderful view of the Rift Valley. Babati township
          appears to be just a small group of Indian shops and shabby native houses, but I
          believe there are some good farms in the area. Though the little township is squalid,
          there is a beautiful lake and grand mountains to please the eye. We stopped only long
          enough to fill up with petrol and buy some foodstuffs. Beyond Babati there is a tsetse
          fly belt and George warned our two native servants to see that no tsetse flies settled on
          the dogs.

          We stopped for the night in a little rest house on the road about 80 miles from
          Arusha where we were to spend a few days with the Forest Officer before going on to
          Mbulu. I enjoyed this section of the road very much because it runs across wide plains
          which are bounded on the West by the blue mountains of the Rift Valley wall. Here for
          the first time I saw the Masai on their home ground guarding their vast herds of cattle. I
          also saw their strange primitive hovels called Manyattas, with their thorn walled cattle
          bomas and lots of plains game – giraffe, wildebeest, ostriches and antelope. Kate was
          wildly excited and entranced with the game especially the giraffe which stood gazing
          curiously and unafraid of us, often within a few yards of the road.

          Finally we came across the greatest thrill of all, my first view of Mt Meru the extinct
          volcano about 16,000 feet high which towers over Arusha township. The approach to
          Arusha is through flourishing coffee plantations very different alas from our farm at Mchewe. George says that at Arusha coffee growing is still a paying proposition
          because here the yield of berry per acre is much higher than in the Southern highlands
          and here in the North the farmers have not such heavy transport costs as the railway runs
          from Arusha to the port at Tanga.

          We stayed overnight at a rather second rate hotel but the food was good and we
          had hot baths and a good nights rest. Next day Tom Lewis the Forest Officer, fetched
          us and we spent a few days camping in a tent in the Lewis’ garden having meals at their
          home. Both Tom and Lillian Lewis were most friendly. Tom lewis explained to George
          what his work in the Mbulu District was to be, and they took us camping in a Forest
          Reserve where Lillian and her small son David and Kate and I had a lovely lazy time
          amidst beautiful surroundings. Before we left for Mbulu, Lillian took me shopping to buy
          material for curtains for our new home. She described the Forest House at Mbulu to me
          and it sounded delightful but alas, when we reached Mbulu we discovered that the
          Assistant District Officer had moved into the Forest House and we were directed to the
          Fort or Boma. The night before we left Arusha for Mbulu it rained very heavily and the
          road was very treacherous and slippery due to the surface being of ‘black cotton’ soil
          which has the appearance and consistency of chocolate blancmange, after rain. To get to
          Mbulu we had to drive back in the direction of Dodoma for some 70 miles and then turn
          to the right and drive across plains to the Great Rift Valley Wall. The views from this
          escarpment road which climbs this wall are magnificent. At one point one looks down
          upon Lake Manyara with its brilliant white beaches of soda.

          The drive was a most trying one for George. We had no chains for the wheels
          and several times we stuck in the mud and our two houseboys had to put grass and
          branches under the wheels to stop them from spinning. Quite early on in the afternoon
          George gave up all hope of reaching Mbulu that day and planned to spend the night in
          a little bush rest camp at Karatu. However at one point it looked as though we would not
          even reach this resthouse for late afternoon found us properly bogged down in a mess
          of mud at the bottom of a long and very steep hill. In spite of frantic efforts on the part of
          George and the two boys, all now very wet and muddy, the heavy car remained stuck.
          Suddenly five Masai men appeared through the bushes beside the road. They
          were all tall and angular and rather terrifying looking to me. Each wore only a blanket
          knotted over one shoulder and all were armed with spears. They lined up by the side of
          the road and just looked – not hostile but simply aloof and supercilious. George greeted
          them and said in Ki-Swahili, “Help to push and I will reward you.” But they said nothing,
          just drawing back imperceptibly to register disgust at the mere idea of manual labour.
          Their expressions said quite clearly “A Masai is a warrior and does not soil his hands.”
          George then did something which startled them I think, as much as me. He
          plucked their spears from their hands one by one and flung them into the back of the
          boxbody. “Now push!” he said, “And when we are safely out of the mud you shall have
          your spears back.” To my utter astonishment the Masai seemed to applaud George’s
          action. I think they admire courage in a man more than anything else. They pushed with a
          will and soon we were roaring up the long steep slope. “I can’t stop here” quoth George
          as up and up we went. The Masai were in mad pursuit with their blankets streaming
          behind. They took a very steep path which was a shortcut to the top. They are certainly
          amazing athletes and reached the top at the same time as the car. Their route of course
          was shorter but much more steep, yet they came up without any sign of fatigue to claim
          their spears and the money which George handed out with a friendly grin. The Masai
          took the whole episode in good heart and we parted on the most friendly terms.

          After a rather chilly night in the three walled shack, we started on the last lap of our
          journey yesterday morning in bright weather and made the trip to Mbulu without incident.

          Eleanor.

          Mbulu 24th March, 1938

          Dearest Family,

          Mbulu is an attractive station but living in this rather romantic looking fort has many
          disadvantages. Our quarters make up one side of the fort which is built up around a
          hollow square. The buildings are single storied but very tall in the German manner and
          there is a tower on one corner from which the Union Jack flies. The tower room is our
          sitting room, and one has very fine views from the windows of the rolling country side.
          However to reach this room one has to climb a steep flight of cement steps from the
          court yard. Another disadvantage of this tower room is that there is a swarm of bees in
          the roof and the stray ones drift down through holes in the ceiling and buzz angrily
          against the window panes or fly around in a most menacing manner.

          Ours are the only private quarters in the Fort. Two other sides of the Fort are
          used as offices, storerooms and court room and the fourth side is simply a thick wall with
          battlements and loopholes and a huge iron shod double door of enormous thickness
          which is always barred at sunset when the flag is hauled down. Two Police Askari always
          remain in the Fort on guard at night. The effect from outside the whitewashed fort is very
          romantic but inside it is hardly homely and how I miss my garden at Mchewe and the
          grass and trees.

          We have no privacy downstairs because our windows overlook the bare
          courtyard which is filled with Africans patiently waiting to be admitted to the courtroom as
          witnesses or spectators. The outside windows which overlook the valley are heavily
          barred. I can only think that the Germans who built this fort must have been very scared
          of the local natives.

          Our rooms are hardly cosy and are furnished with typical heavy German pieces.
          We have a vast bleak bedroom, a dining room and an enormous gloomy kitchen in
          which meals for the German garrison were cooked. At night this kitchen is alive with
          gigantic rats but fortunately they do not seem to care for the other rooms. To crown
          everything owls hoot and screech at night on the roof.

          On our first day here I wandered outside the fort walls with Kate and came upon a
          neatly fenced plot enclosing the graves of about fifteen South African soldiers killed by
          the Germans in the 1914-18 war. I understand that at least one of theses soldiers died in
          the courtyard here. The story goes, that during the period in the Great War when this fort
          was occupied by a troop of South African Horse, a German named Siedtendorf
          appeared at the great barred door at night and asked to speak to the officer in command
          of the Troop. The officer complied with this request and the small shutter in the door was
          opened so that he could speak with the German. The German, however, had not come
          to speak. When he saw the exposed face of the officer, he fired, killing him, and
          escaped into the dark night. I had this tale on good authority but cannot vouch for it. I do
          know though, that there are two bullet holes in the door beside the shutter. An unhappy
          story to think about when George is away, as he is now, and the moonlight throws queer
          shadows in the court yard and the owls hoot.

          However though I find our quarters depressing, I like Mbulu itself very much. It is
          rolling country, treeless except for the plantations of the Forestry Dept. The land is very
          fertile in the watered valleys but the grass on hills and plains is cropped to the roots by
          the far too numerous cattle and goats. There are very few Europeans on the station, only
          Mr Duncan, the District Officer, whose wife and children recently left for England, the
          Assistant District Officer and his wife, a bachelor Veterinary Officer, a Road Foreman and
          ourselves, and down in the village a German with an American wife and an elderly
          Irishman whom I have not met. The Government officials have a communal vegetable
          garden in the valley below the fort which keeps us well supplied with green stuff. 

          Most afternoons George, Kate and I go for walks after tea. On Fridays there is a
          little ceremony here outside the fort. In the late afternoon a little procession of small
          native schoolboys, headed by a drum and penny whistle band come marching up the
          road to a tune which sounds like ‘Two lovely black eyes”. They form up below our tower
          and as the flag is lowered for the day they play ‘God save the King’, and then march off
          again. It is quite a cheerful little ceremony.

          The local Africans are a skinny lot and, I should say, a poor tribe. They protect
          themselves against the cold by wrapping themselves in cotton blankets or a strip of
          unbleached sheeting. This they drape over their heads, almost covering their faces and
          the rest is wrapped closely round their bodies in the manner of a shroud. A most
          depressing fashion. They live in very primitive comfortless houses. They simply make a
          hollow in the hillside and build a front wall of wattle and daub. Into this rude shelter at night
          go cattle and goats, men, women, and children.

          Mbulu village has the usual mud brick and wattle dukas and wattle and daub
          houses. The chief trader is a Goan who keeps a surprisingly good variety of tinned
          foodstuffs and also sells hardware and soft goods.

          The Europeans here have been friendly but as you will have noted there are
          only two other women on station and no children at all to be companions for Kate.

          Eleanor.

          Mbulu 20th June 1938

          Dearest Family,

          Here we are on Safari with George at Babati where we are occupying a rest
          house on the slopes of Ufiome Mountain. The slopes are a Forest Reserve and
          George is supervising the clearing of firebreaks in preparation for the dry weather. He
          goes off after a very early breakfast and returns home in the late afternoon so Kate and I
          have long lazy days.

          Babati is a pleasant spot and the resthouse is quite comfortable. It is about a mile
          from the village which is just the usual collection of small mud brick and corrugated iron
          Indian Dukas. There are a few settlers in the area growing coffee, or going in for mixed
          farming but I don’t think they are doing very well. The farm adjoining the rest house is
          owned by Lord Lovelace but is run by a manager.

          George says he gets enough exercise clambering about all day on the mountain,
          so Kate and I do our walking in the mornings when George is busy, and we all relax in
          the evenings when George returns from his field work. Kate’s favourite walk is to the big
          block of mtama (sorghum) shambas lower down the hill. There are huge swarms of tiny
          grain eating birds around waiting the chance to plunder the mtama, so the crops are
          watched from sunrise to sunset.

          Crude observation platforms have been erected for this purpose in the centre of
          each field and the women and the young boys of the family concerned, take it in turn to
          occupy the platform and scare the birds. Each watcher has a sling and uses clods of
          earth for ammunition. The clod is placed in the centre of the sling which is then whirled
          around at arms length. Suddenly one end of the sling is released and the clod of earth
          flies out and shatters against the mtama stalks. The sling makes a loud whip like crack and
          the noise is quite startling and very effective in keeping the birds at a safe distance.

          Eleanor.

          Karatu 3rd July 1938

          Dearest Family,

          Still on safari you see! We left Babati ten days ago and passed through Mbulu
          on our way to this spot. We slept out of doors one night beside Lake Tiawa about eight
          miles from Mbulu. It was a peaceful spot and we enjoyed watching the reflection of the
          sunset on the lake and the waterhens and duck and pelicans settling down for the night.
          However it turned piercingly cold after sunset so we had an early supper and then all
          three of us lay down to sleep in the back of the boxbody (station wagon). It was a tight
          fit and a real case of ‘When Dad turns, we all turn.’

          Here at Karatu we are living in a grass hut with only three walls. It is rather sweet
          and looks like the setting for a Nativity Play. Kate and I share the only camp bed and
          George and the dogs sleep on the floor. The air here is very fresh and exhilarating and
          we all feel very fit. George is occupied all day supervising the cutting of firebreaks
          around existing plantations and the forest reserve of indigenous trees. Our camp is on
          the hillside and below us lie the fertile wheat lands of European farmers.

          They are mostly Afrikaners, the descendants of the Boer families who were
          invited by the Germans to settle here after the Boer War. Most of them are pro-British
          now and a few have called in here to chat to George about big game hunting. George
          gets on extremely well with them and recently attended a wedding where he had a
          lively time dancing at the reception. He likes the older people best as most are great
          individualists. One fine old man, surnamed von Rooyen, visited our camp. He is a Boer
          of the General Smuts type with spare figure and bearded face. George tells me he is a
          real patriarch with an enormous family – mainly sons. This old farmer fought against the
          British throughout the Boer War under General Smuts and again against the British in the
          German East Africa campaign when he was a scout and right hand man to Von Lettow. It
          is said that Von Lettow was able to stay in the field until the end of the Great War
          because he listened to the advise given to him by von Rooyen. However his dislike for
          the British does not extend to George as they have a mutual interest in big game
          hunting.

          Kate loves being on safari. She is now so accustomed to having me as her nurse
          and constant companion that I do not know how she will react to paid help. I shall have to
          get someone to look after her during my confinement in the little German Red Cross
          hospital at Oldeani.

          George has obtained permission from the District Commissioner, for Kate and
          me to occupy the Government Rest House at Oldeani from the end of July until the end
          of August when my baby is due. He will have to carry on with his field work but will join
          us at weekends whenever possible.

          Eleanor.

          Karatu 12th July 1938

          Dearest Family,

          Not long now before we leave this camp. We have greatly enjoyed our stay
          here in spite of the very chilly earl mornings and the nights when we sit around in heavy
          overcoats until our early bed time.

          Last Sunday I persuaded George to take Kate and me to the famous Ngoro-
          Ngoro Crater. He was not very keen to do so because the road is very bumpy for
          anyone in my interesting condition but I feel so fit that I was most anxious to take this
          opportunity of seeing the enormous crater. We may never be in this vicinity again and in
          any case safari will not be so simple with a small baby.

          What a wonderful trip it was! The road winds up a steep escarpment from which
          one gets a glorious birds eye view of the plains of the Great Rift Valley far, far below.
          The crater is immense. There is a road which skirts the rim in places and one has quite
          startling views of the floor of the crater about two thousand feet below.

          A camp for tourists has just been built in a clearing in the virgin forest. It is most
          picturesque as the camp buildings are very neatly constructed log cabins with very high
          pitched thatched roofs. We spent about an hour sitting on the grass near the edge of the
          crater enjoying the sunshine and the sharp air and really awe inspiring view. Far below us
          in the middle of the crater was a small lake and we could see large herds of game
          animals grazing there but they were too far away to be impressive, even seen through
          George’s field glasses. Most appeared to be wildebeest and zebra but I also picked
          out buffalo. Much more exciting was my first close view of a wild elephant. George
          pointed him out to me as we approached the rest camp on the inward journey. He
          stood quietly under a tree near the road and did not seem to be disturbed by the car
          though he rolled a wary eye in our direction. On our return journey we saw him again at
          almost uncomfortably close quarters. We rounded a sharp corner and there stood the
          elephant, facing us and slap in the middle of the road. He was busily engaged giving
          himself a dust bath but spared time to give us an irritable look. Fortunately we were on a
          slight slope so George quickly switched off the engine and backed the car quietly round
          the corner. He got out of the car and loaded his rifle, just in case! But after he had finished
          his toilet the elephant moved off the road and we took our chance and passed without
          incident.

          One notices the steepness of the Ngoro-Ngoro road more on the downward
          journey than on the way up. The road is cut into the side of the mountain so that one has
          a steep slope on one hand and a sheer drop on the other. George told me that a lorry
          coming down the mountain was once charged from behind by a rhino. On feeling and
          hearing the bash from behind the panic stricken driver drove off down the mountain as
          fast as he dared and never paused until he reached level ground at the bottom of the
          mountain. There was no sign of the rhino so the driver got out to examine his lorry and
          found the rhino horn embedded in the wooden tail end of the lorry. The horn had been
          wrenched right off!

          Happily no excitement of that kind happened to us. I have yet to see a rhino.

          Eleanor.

          Oldeani. 19th July 1938

          Dearest Family,

          Greetings from a lady in waiting! Kate and I have settled down comfortably in the
          new, solidly built Government Rest House which comprises one large living room and
          one large office with a connecting door. Outside there is a kitchen and a boys quarter.
          There are no resident Government officials here at Oldeani so the office is in use only
          when the District Officer from Mbulu makes his monthly visit. However a large Union
          Jack flies from a flagpole in the front of the building as a gentle reminder to the entirely
          German population of Oldeani that Tanganyika is now under British rule.

          There is quite a large community of German settlers here, most of whom are
          engaged in coffee farming. George has visited several of the farms in connection with his
          forestry work and says the coffee plantations look very promising indeed. There are also
          a few German traders in the village and there is a large boarding school for German
          children and also a very pleasant little hospital where I have arranged to have the baby.
          Right next door to the Rest House is a General Dealers Store run by a couple named
          Schnabbe. The shop is stocked with drapery, hardware, china and foodstuffs all
          imported from Germany and of very good quality. The Schnabbes also sell local farm
          produce, beautiful fresh vegetables, eggs and pure rich milk and farm butter. Our meat
          comes from a German butchery and it is a great treat to get clean, well cut meat. The
          sausages also are marvellous and in great variety.

          The butcher is an entertaining character. When he called round looking for custom I
          expected him to break out in a yodel any minute, as it was obvious from a glance that
          the Alps are his natural background. From under a green Tyrollean hat with feather,
          blooms a round beefy face with sparkling small eyes and such widely spaced teeth that
          one inevitably thinks of a garden rake. Enormous beefy thighs bulge from greasy
          lederhosen which are supported by the traditional embroidered braces. So far the
          butcher is the only cheery German, male or female, whom I have seen, and I have met
          most of the locals at the Schnabbe’s shop. Most of the men seem to have cultivated
          the grim Hitler look. They are all fanatical Nazis and one is usually greeted by a raised
          hand and Heil Hitler! All very theatrical. I always feel like crying in ringing tones ‘God
          Save the King’ or even ‘St George for England’. However the men are all very correct
          and courteous and the women friendly. The women all admire Kate and cry, “Ag, das
          kleine Englander.” She really is a picture with her rosy cheeks and huge grey eyes and
          golden curls. Kate is having a wonderful time playing with Manfried, the Scnabbe’s small
          son. Neither understands a word said by the other but that doesn’t seem to worry them.

          Before he left on safari, George took me to hospital for an examination by the
          nurse, Sister Marianne. She has not been long in the country and knows very little
          English but is determined to learn and carried on an animated, if rather quaint,
          conversation with frequent references to a pocket dictionary. She says I am not to worry
          because there is not doctor here. She is a very experienced midwife and anyway in an
          emergency could call on the old retired Veterinary Surgeon for assistance.
          I asked sister Marianne whether she knew of any German woman or girl who
          would look after Kate whilst I am in hospital and today a very top drawer German,
          bearing a strong likeness to ‘Little Willie’, called and offered the services of his niece who
          is here on a visit from Germany. I was rather taken aback and said, “Oh no Baron, your
          niece would not be the type I had in mind. I’m afraid I cannot pay much for a companion.”
          However the Baron was not to be discouraged. He told me that his niece is seventeen
          but looks twenty, that she is well educated and will make a cheerful companion. Her
          father wishes her to learn to speak English fluently and that is why the Baron wished her
          to come to me as a house daughter. As to pay, a couple of pounds a month for pocket
          money and her keep was all he had in mind. So with some misgivings I agreed to take
          the niece on as a companion as from 1st August.

          Eleanor.

          Oldeani. 10th August 1938

          Dearest Family,

          Never a dull moment since my young companion arrived. She is a striking looking
          girl with a tall boyish figure and very short and very fine dark hair which she wears
          severely slicked back. She wears tweeds, no make up but has shiny rosy cheeks and
          perfect teeth – she also,inevitably, has a man friend and I have an uncomfortable
          suspicion that it is because of him that she was planted upon me. Upon second
          thoughts though, maybe it was because of her excessive vitality, or even because of
          her healthy appetite! The Baroness, I hear is in poor health and I can imagine that such
          abundant health and spirit must have been quite overpowering. The name is Ingeborg,
          but she is called Mouche, which I believe means Mouse. Someone in her family must
          have a sense of humour.

          Her English only needed practice and she now chatters fluently so that I know her
          background and views on life. Mouche’s father is a personal friend of Goering. He was
          once a big noise in the German Airforce but is now connected with the car industry and
          travels frequently and intensively in Europe and America on business. Mouche showed
          me some snap shots of her family and I must say they look prosperous and charming.
          Mouche tells me that her father wants her to learn to speak English fluently so that
          she can get a job with some British diplomat in Cairo. I had immediate thought that I
          might be nursing a future Mata Hari in my bosom, but this was immediately extinguished
          when Mouche remarked that her father would like her to marry an Englishman. However
          it seems that the mere idea revolts her. “Englishmen are degenerates who swill whisky
          all day.” I pointed out that she had met George, who was a true blue Englishman, but
          was nevertheless a fine physical specimen and certainly didn’t drink all day. Mouche
          replied that George is not an Englishman but a hunter, as though that set him apart.
          Mouche is an ardent Hitler fan and an enthusiastic member of the Hitler Youth
          Movement. The house resounds with Hitler youth songs and when she is not singing,
          her gramophone is playing very stirring marching songs. I cannot understand a word,
          which is perhaps as well. Every day she does the most strenuous exercises watched
          with envy by me as my proportions are now those of a circus Big Top. Mouche eats a
          fantastic amount of meat and I feel it is a blessing that she is much admired by our
          Tyrollean butcher who now delivers our meat in person and adds as a token of his
          admiration some extra sausages for Mouche.

          I must confess I find her stimulating company as George is on safari most of the
          time and my evenings otherwise would be lonely. I am a little worried though about
          leaving Kate here with Mouche when I go to hospital. The dogs and Kate have not taken
          to her. I am trying to prepare Kate for the separation but she says, “She’s not my
          mummy. You are my dear mummy, and I want you, I want you.” George has got
          permission from the Provincial Forestry Officer to spend the last week of August here at
          the Rest House with me and I only hope that the baby will be born during that time.
          Kate adores her dad and will be perfectly happy to remain here with him.

          One final paragraph about Mouche. I thought all German girls were domesticated
          but not Mouche. I have Kesho-Kutwa here with me as cook and I have engaged a local
          boy to do the laundry. I however expected Mouche would take over making the
          puddings and pastry but she informed me that she can only bake a chocolate cake and
          absolutely nothing else. She said brightly however that she would do the mending. As
          there is none for her to do, she has rescued a large worn handkerchief of George’s and
          sits with her feet up listening to stirring gramophone records whilst she mends the
          handkerchief with exquisite darning.

          Eleanor.

          Oldeani. 20th August 1938

          Dearest Family,

          Just after I had posted my last letter I received what George calls a demi official
          letter from the District Officer informing me that I would have to move out of the Rest
          House for a few days as the Governor and his hangers on would be visiting Oldeani
          and would require the Rest House. Fortunately George happened to be here for a few
          hours and he arranged for Kate and Mouche and me to spend a few days at the
          German School as borders. So here I am at the school having a pleasant and restful
          time and much entertained by all the goings on.

          The school buildings were built with funds from Germany and the school is run on
          the lines of a contemporary German school. I think the school gets a grant from the
          Tanganyika Government towards running expenses, but I am not sure. The school hall is
          dominated by a more than life sized oil painting of Adolf Hitler which, at present, is
          flanked on one side by the German Flag and on the other by the Union Jack. I cannot
          help feeling that the latter was put up today for the Governor’s visit today.
          The teachers are very amiable. We all meet at mealtimes, and though few of the
          teachers speak English, the ones who do are anxious to chatter. The headmaster is a
          scholarly man but obviously anti-British. He says he cannot understand why so many
          South Africans are loyal to Britain – or rather to England. “They conquered your country
          didn’t they?” I said that that had never occurred to me and that anyway I was mainly of
          Scots descent and that loyalty to the crown was natural to me. “But the English
          conquered the Scots and yet you are loyal to England. That I cannot understand.” “Well I
          love England,” said I firmly, ”and so do all British South Africans.” Since then we have
          stuck to English literature. Shakespeare, Lord Byron and Galsworthy seem to be the
          favourites and all, thank goodness, make safe topics for conversation.
          Mouche is in her element but Kate and I do not enjoy the food which is typically
          German and consists largely of masses of fat pork and sauerkraut and unfamiliar soups. I
          feel sure that the soup at lunch today had blobs of lemon curd in it! I also find most
          disconcerting the way that everyone looks at me and says, “Bon appetite”, with much
          smiling and nodding so I have to fight down my nausea and make a show of enjoying
          the meals.

          The teacher whose room adjoins mine is a pleasant woman and I take my
          afternoon tea with her. She, like all the teachers, has a large framed photo of Hitler on her
          wall flanked by bracket vases of fresh flowers. One simply can’t get away from the man!
          Even in the dormitories each child has a picture of Hitler above the bed. Hitler accepting
          flowers from a small girl, or patting a small boy on the head. Even the children use the
          greeting ‘Heil Hitler’. These German children seem unnaturally prim when compared with
          my cheerful ex-pupils in South Africa but some of them are certainly very lovely to look
          at.

          Tomorrow Mouche, Kate and I return to our quarters in the Rest House and in a
          few days George will join us for a week.

          Eleanor.

          Oldeani Hospital. 9th September 1938

          Dearest Family,

          You will all be delighted to hear that we have a second son, whom we have
          named John. He is a darling, so quaint and good. He looks just like a little old man with a
          high bald forehead fringed around the edges with a light brown fluff. George and I call
          him Johnny Jo because he has a tiny round mouth and a rather big nose and reminds us
          of A.A.Milne’s ‘Jonathan Jo has a mouth like an O’ , but Kate calls him, ‘My brother John’.
          George was not here when he was born on September 5th, just two minutes
          before midnight. He left on safari on the morning of the 4th and, of course, that very night
          the labour pains started. Fortunately Kate was in bed asleep so Mouche walked with
          me up the hill to the hospital where I was cheerfully received by Sister Marianne who
          had everything ready for the confinement. I was lucky to have such an experienced
          midwife because this was a breech birth and sister had to manage single handed. As
          there was no doctor present I was not allowed even a sniff of anaesthetic. Sister slaved
          away by the light of a pressure lamp endeavouring to turn the baby having first shoved
          an inverted baby bath under my hips to raise them.

          What a performance! Sister Marianne was very much afraid that she might not be
          able to save the baby and great was our relief when at last she managed to haul him out
          by the feet. One slap and the baby began to cry without any further attention so Sister
          wrapped him up in a blanket and took Johnny to her room for the night. I got very little
          sleep but was so thankful to have the ordeal over that I did not mind even though I
          heard a hyaena cackling and calling under my window in a most evil way.
          When Sister brought Johnny to me in the early morning I stared in astonishment.
          Instead of dressing him in one of his soft Viyella nighties, she had dressed him in a short
          sleeved vest of knitted cotton with a cotton cloth swayed around his waist sarong
          fashion. When I protested, “But Sister why is the baby not dressed in his own clothes?”
          She answered firmly, “I find it is not allowed. A baby’s clotheses must be boiled and I
          cannot boil clotheses of wool therefore your baby must wear the clotheses of the Red
          Cross.”

          It was the same with the bedding. Poor Johnny lies all day in a deep wicker
          basket with a detachable calico lining. There is no pillow under his head but a vast kind of
          calico covered pillow is his only covering. There is nothing at all cosy and soft round my
          poor baby. I said crossly to the Sister, “As every thing must be so sterile, I wonder you
          don’t boil me too.” This she ignored.

          When my message reached George he dashed back to visit us. Sister took him
          first to see the baby and George was astonished to see the baby basket covered by a
          sheet. “She has the poor little kid covered up like a bloody parrot,” he told me. So I
          asked him to go at once to buy a square of mosquito netting to replace the sheet.
          Kate is quite a problem. She behaves like an Angel when she is here in my
          room but is rebellious when Sister shoos her out. She says she “Hates the Nanny”
          which is what she calls Mouche. Unfortunately it seems that she woke before midnight
          on the night Johnny Jo was born to find me gone and Mouche in my bed. According to
          Mouche, Kate wept all night and certainly when she visited me in the early morning
          Kate’s face was puffy with crying and she clung to me crying “Oh my dear mummy, why
          did you go away?” over and over again. Sister Marianne was touched and suggested
          that Mouche and Kate should come to the hospital as boarders as I am the only patient
          at present and there is plenty of room. Luckily Kate does not seem at all jealous of the
          baby and it is a great relief to have here here under my eye.

          Eleanor.

          #6263
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            From Tanganyika with Love

            continued  ~ part 4

            With thanks to Mike Rushby.

            Mchewe Estate. 31st January 1936

            Dearest Family,

            Life is very quiet just now. Our neighbours have left and I miss them all especially
            Joni who was always a great bearer of news. We also grew fond of his Swedish
            brother-in-law Max, whose loud ‘Hodi’ always brought a glad ‘Karibu’ from us. His wife,
            Marion, I saw less often. She is not strong and seldom went visiting but has always
            been friendly and kind and ready to share her books with me.

            Ann’s birthday is looming ahead and I am getting dreadfully anxious that her
            parcels do not arrive in time. I am delighted that you were able to get a good head for
            her doll, dad, but horrified to hear that it was so expensive. You would love your
            ‘Charming Ann’. She is a most responsible little soul and seems to have outgrown her
            mischievous ways. A pity in a way, I don’t want her to grow too serious. You should see
            how thoroughly Ann baths and towels herself. She is anxious to do Georgie and Kate
            as well.

            I did not mean to teach Ann to write until after her fifth birthday but she has taught
            herself by copying the large print in newspaper headlines. She would draw a letter and
            ask me the name and now I find that at four Ann knows the whole alphabet. The front
            cement steps is her favourite writing spot. She uses bits of white clay we use here for
            whitewashing.

            Coffee prices are still very low and a lot of planters here and at Mbosi are in a
            mess as they can no longer raise mortgages on their farms or get advances from the
            Bank against their crops. We hear many are leaving their farms to try their luck on the
            Diggings.

            George is getting fed up too. The snails are back on the shamba and doing
            frightful damage. Talk of the plagues of Egypt! Once more they are being collected in
            piles and bashed into pulp. The stench on the shamba is frightful! The greybeards in the
            village tell George that the local Chief has put a curse on the farm because he is angry
            that the Government granted George a small extension to the farm two years ago! As
            the Chief was consulted at the time and was agreeable this talk of a curse is nonsense
            but goes to show how the uneducated African put all disasters down to witchcraft.

            With much love,
            Eleanor.

            Mchewe Estate. 9th February 1936

            Dearest Family,

            Ann’s birthday yesterday was not quite the gay occasion we had hoped. The
            seventh was mail day so we sent a runner for the mail, hoping against hope that your
            parcel containing the dolls head had arrived. The runner left for Mbeya at dawn but, as it
            was a very wet day, he did not return with the mail bag until after dark by which time Ann
            was fast asleep. My heart sank when I saw the parcel which contained the dolls new
            head. It was squashed quite flat. I shed a few tears over that shattered head, broken
            quite beyond repair, and George felt as bad about it as I did. The other parcel arrived in
            good shape and Ann loves her little sewing set, especially the thimble, and the nursery
            rhymes are a great success.

            Ann woke early yesterday and began to open her parcels. She said “But
            Mummy, didn’t Barbara’s new head come?” So I had to show her the fragments.
            Instead of shedding the flood of tears I expected, Ann just lifted the glass eyes in her
            hand and said in a tight little voice “Oh poor Barbara.” George saved the situation. as
            usual, by saying in a normal voice,”Come on Ann, get up and lets play your new
            records.” So we had music and sweets before breakfast. Later I removed Barbara’s
            faded old blond wig and gummed on the glossy new brown one and Ann seems quite
            satisfied.

            Last night, after the children were tucked up in bed, we discussed our financial
            situation. The coffee trees that have survived the plagues of borer beetle, mealie bugs
            and snails look strong and fine, but George says it will be years before we make a living
            out of the farm. He says he will simply have to make some money and he is leaving for
            the Lupa on Saturday to have a look around on the Diggings. If he does decide to peg
            a claim and work it he will put up a wattle and daub hut and the children and I will join him
            there. But until such time as he strikes gold I shall have to remain here on the farm and
            ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’.

            Now don’t go and waste pity on me. Women all over the country are having to
            stay at home whilst their husbands search for a livelihood. I am better off than most
            because I have a comfortable little home and loyal servants and we still have enough
            capitol to keep the wolf from the door. Anyway this is the rainy season and hardly the
            best time to drag three small children around the sodden countryside on prospecting
            safaris.

            So I’ll stay here at home and hold thumbs that George makes a lucky strike.

            Heaps of love to all,
            Eleanor.

            Mchewe Estate. 27th February 1936

            Dearest Family,

            Well, George has gone but here we are quite safe and cosy. Kate is asleep and
            Ann and Georgie are sprawled on the couch taking it in turns to enumerate the things
            God has made. Every now and again Ann bothers me with an awkward question. “Did
            God make spiders? Well what for? Did he make weeds? Isn’t He silly, mummy? She is
            becoming a very practical person. She sews surprisingly well for a four year old and has
            twice made cakes in the past week, very sweet and liberally coloured with cochineal and
            much appreciated by Georgie.

            I have been without George for a fortnight and have adapted myself to my new
            life. The children are great company during the day and I have arranged my evenings so
            that they do not seem long. I am determined that when George comes home he will find
            a transformed wife. I read an article entitled ‘Are you the girl he married?’ in a magazine
            last week and took a good look in the mirror and decided that I certainly was not! Hair dry,
            skin dry, and I fear, a faint shadow on the upper lip. So now I have blown the whole of
            your Christmas Money Order on an order to a chemist in Dar es Salaam for hair tonic,
            face cream and hair remover and am anxiously awaiting the parcel.

            In the meantime, after tucking the children into bed at night, I skip on the verandah
            and do the series of exercises recommended in the magazine article. After this exertion I
            have a leisurely bath followed by a light supper and then read or write letters to pass
            the time until Kate’s ten o’clock feed. I have arranged for Janey to sleep in the house.
            She comes in at 9.30 pm and makes up her bed on the living room floor by the fire.

            The days are by no means uneventful. The day before yesterday the biggest
            troop of monkeys I have ever seen came fooling around in the trees and on the grass
            only a few yards from the house. These monkeys were the common grey monkeys
            with black faces. They came in all sizes and were most entertaining to watch. Ann and
            Georgie had a great time copying their antics and pulling faces at the monkeys through
            the bedroom windows which I hastily closed.

            Thomas, our headman, came running up and told me that this troop of monkeys
            had just raided his maize shamba and asked me to shoot some of them. I would not of
            course do this. I still cannot bear to kill any animal, but I fired a couple of shots in the air
            and the monkeys just melted away. It was fantastic, one moment they were there and
            the next they were not. Ann and Georgie thought I had been very unkind to frighten the
            poor monkeys but honestly, when I saw what they had done to my flower garden, I
            almost wished I had hardened my heart and shot one or two.

            The children are all well but Ann gave me a nasty fright last week. I left Ann and
            Georgie at breakfast whilst I fed Fanny, our bull terrier on the back verandah. Suddenly I
            heard a crash and rushed inside to find Ann’s chair lying on its back and Ann beside it on
            the floor perfectly still and with a paper white face. I shouted for Janey to bring water and
            laid Ann flat on the couch and bathed her head and hands. Soon she sat up with a wan
            smile and said “I nearly knocked my head off that time, didn’t I.” She must have been
            standing on the chair and leaning against the back. Our brick floors are so terribly hard that
            she might have been seriously hurt.

            However she was none the worse for the fall, but Heavens, what an anxiety kids
            are.

            Lots of love,
            Eleanor

            Mchewe Estate. 12th March 1936

            Dearest Family,

            It was marvellous of you to send another money order to replace the one I spent
            on cosmetics. With this one I intend to order boots for both children as a protection from
            snake bite, though from my experience this past week the threat seems to be to the
            head rather than the feet. I was sitting on the couch giving Kate her morning milk from a
            cup when a long thin snake fell through the reed ceiling and landed with a thud just behind
            the couch. I shouted “Nyoka, Nyoka!” (Snake,Snake!) and the houseboy rushed in with
            a stick and killed the snake. I then held the cup to Kate’s mouth again but I suppose in
            my agitation I tipped it too much because the baby choked badly. She gasped for
            breath. I quickly gave her a sharp smack on the back and a stream of milk gushed
            through her mouth and nostrils and over me. Janey took Kate from me and carried her
            out into the fresh air on the verandah and as I anxiously followed her through the door,
            another long snake fell from the top of the wall just missing me by an inch or so. Luckily
            the houseboy still had the stick handy and dispatched this snake also.

            The snakes were a pair of ‘boomslangs’, not nice at all, and all day long I have
            had shamba boys coming along to touch hands and say “Poli Memsahib” – “Sorry
            madam”, meaning of course ‘Sorry you had a fright.’

            Apart from that one hectic morning this has been a quiet week. Before George
            left for the Lupa he paid off most of the farm hands as we can now only afford a few
            labourers for the essential work such as keeping the weeds down in the coffee shamba.
            There is now no one to keep the grass on the farm roads cut so we cannot use the pram
            when we go on our afternoon walks. Instead Janey carries Kate in a sling on her back.
            Janey is a very clean slim woman, and her clothes are always spotless, so Kate keeps
            cool and comfortable. Ann and Georgie always wear thick overalls on our walks as a
            protection against thorns and possible snakes. We usually make our way to the
            Mchewe River where Ann and Georgie paddle in the clear cold water and collect shiny
            stones.

            The cosmetics parcel duly arrived by post from Dar es Salaam so now I fill the
            evenings between supper and bed time attending to my face! The much advertised
            cream is pink and thick and feels revolting. I smooth it on before bedtime and keep it on
            all night. Just imagine if George could see me! The advertisements promise me a skin
            like a rose in six weeks. What a surprise there is in store for George!

            You will have been wondering what has happened to George. Well on the Lupa
            he heard rumours of a new gold strike somewhere in the Sumbawanga District. A couple
            of hundred miles from here I think, though I am not sure where it is and have no one to
            ask. You look it up on the map and tell me. John Molteno is also interested in this and
            anxious to have it confirmed so he and George have come to an agreement. John
            Molteno provided the porters for the journey together with prospecting tools and
            supplies but as he cannot leave his claims, or his gold buying business, George is to go
            on foot to the area of the rumoured gold strike and, if the strike looks promising will peg
            claims in both their names.

            The rainy season is now at its height and the whole countryside is under water. All
            roads leading to the area are closed to traffic and, as there are few Europeans who
            would attempt the journey on foot, George proposes to get a head start on them by
            making this uncomfortable safari. I have just had my first letter from George since he left
            on this prospecting trip. It took ages to reach me because it was sent by runner to
            Abercorn in Northern Rhodesia, then on by lorry to Mpika where it was put on a plane
            for Mbeya. George writes the most charming letters which console me a little upon our
            all too frequent separations.

            His letter was cheerful and optimistic, though reading between the lines I should
            say he had a grim time. He has reached Sumbawanga after ‘a hell of a trip’, to find that
            the rumoured strike was at Mpanda and he had a few more days of foot safari ahead.
            He had found the trip from the Lupa even wetter than he had expected. The party had
            three days of wading through swamps sometimes waist deep in water. Of his sixteen
            porters, four deserted an the second day out and five others have had malaria and so
            been unable to carry their loads. He himself is ‘thin but very fit’, and he sounds full of
            beans and writes gaily of the marvellous holiday we will have if he has any decent luck! I
            simply must get that mink and diamonds complexion.

            The frustrating thing is that I cannot write back as I have no idea where George is
            now.

            With heaps of love,
            Eleanor.

            Mchewe Estate. 24th March 1936

            Dearest Family,
            How kind you are. Another parcel from home. Although we are very short
            of labourers I sent a special runner to fetch it as Ann simply couldn’t bear the suspense
            of waiting to see Brenda, “My new little girl with plaits.” Thank goodness Brenda is
            unbreakable. I could not have born another tragedy. She really is an exquisite little doll
            and has hardly been out of Ann’s arms since arrival. She showed Brenda proudly to all
            the staff. The kitchen boy’s face was a study. His eyes fairly came out on sticks when he
            saw the dolls eyes not only opening and shutting, but moving from side to side in that
            incredibly lifelike way. Georgie loves his little model cars which he carries around all day
            and puts under his pillow at night.

            As for me, I am enchanted by my very smart new frock. Janey was so lavish with
            her compliments when I tried the frock on, that in a burst of generosity I gave her that
            rather tartish satin and lace trousseau nighty, and she was positively enthralled. She
            wore it that very night when she appeared as usual to doss down by the fire.
            By the way it was Janey’s turn to have a fright this week. She was in the
            bathroom washing the children’s clothes in an outsize hand basin when it happened. As
            she took Georgie’s overalls from the laundry basket a large centipede ran up her bare
            arm. Luckily she managed to knock the centipede off into the hot water in the hand basin.
            It was a brute, about six inches long of viciousness with a nasty sting. The locals say that
            the bite is much worse than a scorpions so Janey had a lucky escape.

            Kate cut her first two teeth yesterday and will, I hope, sleep better now. I don’t
            feel that pink skin food is getting a fair trial with all those broken nights. There is certainly
            no sign yet of ‘The skin he loves to touch”. Kate, I may say, is rosy and blooming. She
            can pull herself upright providing she has something solid to hold on to. She is so plump
            I have horrible visions of future bow legs so I push her down, but she always bobs up
            again.

            Both Ann and Georgie are mad on books. Their favourites are ‘Barbar and
            Celeste” and, of all things, ‘Struvel Peter’ . They listen with absolute relish to the sad tale
            of Harriet who played with matches.

            I have kept a laugh for the end. I am hoping that it will not be long before George
            comes home and thought it was time to take the next step towards glamour, so last
            Wednesday after lunch I settled the children on their beds and prepared to remove the ,
            to me, obvious down on my upper lip. (George always loyally says that he can’t see
            any.) Well I got out the tube of stuff and carefully followed the directions. I smoothed a
            coating on my upper lip. All this was watched with great interest by the children, including
            the baby, who stood up in her cot for a better view. Having no watch, I had propped
            the bedroom door open so that I could time the operation by the cuckoo clock in the
            living room. All the children’s surprised comments fell on deaf ears. I would neither talk
            nor smile for fear of cracking the hair remover which had set hard. The set time was up
            and I was just about to rinse the remover off when Kate slipped, knocking her head on
            the corner of the cot. I rushed to the rescue and precious seconds ticked off whilst I
            pacified her.

            So, my dears, when I rinsed my lip, not only the plaster and the hair came away
            but the skin as well and now I really did have a Ronald Coleman moustache – a crimson
            one. I bathed it, I creamed it, powdered it but all to no avail. Within half an hour my lip
            had swollen until I looked like one of those Duckbilled West African women. Ann’s
            comments, “Oh Mummy, you do look funny. Georgie, doesn’t Mummy look funny?”
            didn’t help to soothe me and the last straw was that just then there was the sound of a car drawing up outside – the first car I had heard for months. Anyway, thank heaven, it
            was not George, but the representative of a firm which sells agricultural machinery and
            farm implements, looking for orders. He had come from Dar es Salaam and had not
            heard that all the planters from this district had left their farms. Hospitality demanded that I
            should appear and offer tea. I did not mind this man because he was a complete
            stranger and fat, middle aged and comfortable. So I gave him tea, though I didn’t
            attempt to drink any myself, and told him the whole sad tale.

            Fortunately much of the swelling had gone next day and only a brown dryness
            remained. I find myself actually hoping that George is delayed a bit longer. Of one thing
            I am sure. If ever I grow a moustache again, it stays!

            Heaps of love from a sadder but wiser,
            Eleanor

            Mchewe Estate. 3rd April 1936

            Dearest Family,

            Sound the trumpets, beat the drums. George is home again. The safari, I am sad
            to say, was a complete washout in more ways than one. Anyway it was lovely to be
            together again and we don’t yet talk about the future. The home coming was not at all as
            I had planned it. I expected George to return in our old A.C. car which gives ample
            warning of its arrival. I had meant to wear my new frock and make myself as glamourous
            as possible, with our beautiful babe on one arm and our other jewels by my side.
            This however is what actually happened. Last Saturday morning at about 2 am , I
            thought I heard someone whispering my name. I sat up in bed, still half asleep, and
            there was George at the window. He was thin and unshaven and the tiredest looking
            man I have ever seen. The car had bogged down twenty miles back along the old Lupa
            Track, but as George had had no food at all that day, he decided to walk home in the
            bright moonlight.

            This is where I should have served up a tasty hot meal but alas, there was only
            the heal of a loaf and no milk because, before going to bed I had given the remaining
            milk to the dog. However George seemed too hungry to care what he ate. He made a
            meal off a tin of bully, a box of crustless cheese and the bread washed down with cup
            after cup of black tea. Though George was tired we talked for hours and it was dawn
            before we settled down to sleep.

            During those hours of talk George described his nightmarish journey. He started
            up the flooded Rukwa Valley and there were days of wading through swamp and mud
            and several swollen rivers to cross. George is a strong swimmer and the porters who
            were recruited in that area, could also swim. There remained the problem of the stores
            and of Kianda the houseboy who cannot swim. For these they made rough pole rafts
            which they pulled across the rivers with ropes. Kianda told me later that he hopes never
            to make such a journey again. He swears that the raft was submerged most of the time
            and that he was dragged through the rivers underwater! You should see the state of
            George’s clothes which were packed in a supposedly water tight uniform trunk. The
            whole lot are mud stained and mouldy.

            To make matters more trying for George he was obliged to live mostly on
            porters rations, rice and groundnut oil which he detests. As all the district roads were
            closed the little Indian Sores in the remote villages he passed had been unable to
            replenish their stocks of European groceries. George would have been thinner had it not
            been for two Roman Catholic missions enroute where he had good meals and dry
            nights. The Fathers are always wonderfully hospitable to wayfarers irrespective of
            whether or not they are Roman Catholics. George of course is not a Catholic. One finds
            the Roman Catholic missions right out in the ‘Blue’ and often on spots unhealthy to
            Europeans. Most of the Fathers are German or Dutch but they all speak a little English
            and in any case one can always fall back on Ki-Swahili.

            George reached his destination all right but it soon became apparent that reports
            of the richness of the strike had been greatly exaggerated. George had decided that
            prospects were brighter on the Lupa than on the new strike so he returned to the Lupa
            by the way he had come and, having returned the borrowed equipment decided to
            make his way home by the shortest route, the old and now rarely used road which
            passes by the bottom of our farm.

            The old A.C. had been left for safe keeping at the Roman Catholic Galala
            Mission 40 miles away, on George’s outward journey, and in this old car George, and
            the houseboy Kianda , started for home. The road was indescribably awful. There were long stretches that were simply one big puddle, in others all the soil had been washed
            away leaving the road like a rocky river bed. There were also patches where the tall
            grass had sprung up head high in the middle of the road,
            The going was slow because often the car bogged down because George had
            no wheel chains and he and Kianda had the wearisome business of digging her out. It
            was just growing dark when the old A.C. settled down determinedly in the mud for the
            last time. They could not budge her and they were still twenty miles from home. George
            decided to walk home in the moonlight to fetch help leaving Kianda in charge of the car
            and its contents and with George’s shot gun to use if necessary in self defence. Kianda
            was reluctant to stay but also not prepared to go for help whilst George remained with
            the car as lions are plentiful in that area. So George set out unarmed in the moonlight.
            Once he stopped to avoid a pride of lion coming down the road but he circled safely
            around them and came home without any further alarms.

            Kianda said he had a dreadful night in the car, “With lions roaming around the car
            like cattle.” Anyway the lions did not take any notice of the car or of Kianda, and the next
            day George walked back with all our farm boys and dug and pushed the car out of the
            mud. He brought car and Kianda back without further trouble but the labourers on their
            way home were treed by the lions.

            The wet season is definitely the time to stay home.

            Lots and lots of love,
            Eleanor

            Mchewe Estate. 30th April 1936

            Dearest Family,

            Young George’s third birthday passed off very well yesterday. It started early in
            the morning when he brought his pillow slip of presents to our bed. Kate was already
            there and Ann soon joined us. Young George liked all the presents you sent, especially
            the trumpet. It has hardly left his lips since and he is getting quite smart about the finger
            action.

            We had quite a party. Ann and I decorated the table with Christmas tree tinsel
            and hung a bunch of balloons above it. Ann also decorated young George’s chair with
            roses and phlox from the garden. I had made and iced a fruit cake but Ann begged to
            make a plain pink cake. She made it entirely by herself though I stood by to see that
            she measured the ingredients correctly. When the cake was baked I mixed some soft
            icing in a jug and she poured it carefully over the cake smoothing the gaps with her
            fingers!

            During the party we had the gramophone playing and we pulled crackers and
            wore paper hats and altogether had a good time. I forgot for a while that George is
            leaving again for the Lupa tomorrow for an indefinite time. He was marvellous at making
            young George’s party a gay one. You will have noticed the change from Georgie to
            young George. Our son declares that he now wants to be called George, “Like Dad”.
            He an Ann are a devoted couple and I am glad that there is only a fourteen
            months difference in their ages. They play together extremely well and are very
            independent which is just as well for little Kate now demands a lot of my attention. My
            garden is a real cottage garden and looks very gay and colourful. There are hollyhocks
            and Snapdragons, marigolds and phlox and of course the roses and carnations which, as
            you know, are my favourites. The coffee shamba does not look so good because the
            small labour force, which is all we can afford, cannot cope with all the weeds. You have
            no idea how things grow during the wet season in the tropics.

            Nothing alarming ever seems to happen when George is home, so I’m afraid this
            letter is rather dull. I wanted you to know though, that largely due to all your gifts of toys
            and sweets, Georgie’s 3rd birthday party went with a bang.

            Your very affectionate,
            Eleanor

            Mchewe Estate. 17th September 1936

            Dearest Family,

            I am sorry to hear that Mummy worries about me so much. “Poor Eleanor”,
            indeed! I have a quite exceptional husband, three lovely children, a dear little home and
            we are all well.It is true that I am in rather a rut but what else can we do? George comes
            home whenever he can and what excitement there is when he does come. He cannot
            give me any warning because he has to take advantage of chance lifts from the Diggings
            to Mbeya, but now that he is prospecting nearer home he usually comes walking over
            the hills. About 50 miles of rough going. Really and truly I am all right. Although our diet is
            monotonous we have plenty to eat. Eggs and milk are cheap and fruit plentiful and I
            have a good cook so can devote all my time to the children. I think it is because they are
            my constant companions that Ann and Georgie are so grown up for their years.
            I have no ayah at present because Janey has been suffering form rheumatism
            and has gone home for one of her periodic rests. I manage very well without her except
            in the matter of the afternoon walks. The outward journey is all right. George had all the
            grass cut on his last visit so I am able to push the pram whilst Ann, George and Fanny
            the dog run ahead. It is the uphill return trip that is so trying. Our walk back is always the
            same, down the hill to the river where the children love to play and then along the car
            road to the vegetable garden. I never did venture further since the day I saw a leopard
            jump on a calf. I did not tell you at the time as I thought you might worry. The cattle were
            grazing on a small knoll just off our land but near enough for me to have a clear view.
            Suddenly the cattle scattered in all directions and we heard the shouts of the herd boys
            and saw – or rather had the fleeting impression- of a large animal jumping on a calf. I
            heard the herd boy shout “Chui, Chui!” (leopard) and believe me, we turned in our
            tracks and made for home. To hasten things I picked up two sticks and told the children
            that they were horses and they should ride them home which they did with
            commendable speed.

            Ann no longer rides Joseph. He became increasingly bad tempered and a
            nuisance besides. He took to rolling all over my flower beds though I had never seen
            him roll anywhere else. Then one day he kicked Ann in the chest, not very hard but
            enough to send her flying. Now George has given him to the native who sells milk to us
            and he seems quite happy grazing with the cattle.

            With love to you all,
            Eleanor.

            Mchewe Estate. 2nd October 1936

            Dearest Family,

            Since I last wrote George has been home and we had a lovely time as usual.
            Whilst he was here the District Commissioner and his wife called. Mr Pollock told
            George that there is to be a big bush clearing scheme in some part of the Mbeya
            District to drive out Tsetse Fly. The game in the area will have to be exterminated and
            there will probably be a job for George shooting out the buffalo. The pay would be
            good but George says it is a beastly job. Although he is a professional hunter, he hates
            slaughter.

            Mrs P’s real reason for visiting the farm was to invite me to stay at her home in
            Mbeya whilst she and her husband are away in Tukuyu. Her English nanny and her small
            daughter will remain in Mbeya and she thought it might be a pleasant change for us and
            a rest for me as of course Nanny will do the housekeeping. I accepted the invitation and I
            think I will go on from there to Tukuyu and visit my friend Lillian Eustace for a fortnight.
            She has given us an open invitation to visit her at any time.

            I had a letter from Dr Eckhardt last week, telling me that at a meeting of all the
            German Settlers from Mbeya, Tukuyu and Mbosi it had been decided to raise funds to
            build a school at Mbeya. They want the British Settlers to co-operate in this and would
            be glad of a subscription from us. I replied to say that I was unable to afford a
            subscription at present but would probably be applying for a teaching job.
            The Eckhardts are the leaders of the German community here and are ardent
            Nazis. For this reason they are unpopular with the British community but he is the only
            doctor here and I must say they have been very decent to us. Both of them admire
            George. George has still not had any luck on the Lupa and until he makes a really
            promising strike it is unlikely that the children and I will join him. There is no fresh milk there
            and vegetables and fruit are imported from Mbeya and Iringa and are very expensive.
            George says “You wouldn’t be happy on the diggings anyway with a lot of whores and
            their bastards!”

            Time ticks away very pleasantly here. Young George and Kate are blooming
            and I keep well. Only Ann does not look well. She is growing too fast and is listless and
            pale. If I do go to Mbeya next week I shall take her to the doctor to be overhauled.
            We do not go for our afternoon walks now that George has returned to the Lupa.
            That leopard has been around again and has killed Tubbage that cowardly Alsatian. We
            gave him to the village headman some months ago. There is no danger to us from the
            leopard but I am terrified it might get Fanny, who is an excellent little watchdog and
            dearly loved by all of us. Yesterday I sent a note to the Boma asking for a trap gun and
            today the farm boys are building a trap with logs.

            I had a mishap this morning in the garden. I blundered into a nest of hornets and
            got two stings in the left arm above the elbow. Very painful at the time and the place is
            still red and swollen.

            Much love to you all,
            Eleanor.

            Mchewe Estate. 10th October 1936

            Dearest Family,

            Well here we are at Mbeya, comfortably installed in the District Commissioner’s
            house. It is one of two oldest houses in Mbeya and is a charming gabled place with tiled
            roof. The garden is perfectly beautiful. I am enjoying the change very much. Nanny
            Baxter is very entertaining. She has a vast fund of highly entertaining tales of the goings
            on amongst the British Aristocracy, gleaned it seems over the nursery teacup in many a
            Stately Home. Ann and Georgie are enjoying the company of other children.
            People are very kind about inviting us out to tea and I gladly accept these
            invitations but I have turned down invitations to dinner and one to a dance at the hotel. It
            is no fun to go out at night without George. There are several grass widows at the pub
            whose husbands are at the diggings. They have no inhibitions about parties.
            I did have one night and day here with George, he got the chance of a lift and
            knowing that we were staying here he thought the chance too good to miss. He was
            also anxious to hear the Doctor’s verdict on Ann. I took Ann to hospital on my second
            day here. Dr Eckhardt said there was nothing specifically wrong but that Ann is a highly
            sensitive type with whom the tropics does not agree. He advised that Ann should
            spend a year in a more temperate climate and that the sooner she goes the better. I felt
            very discouraged to hear this and was most relieved when George turned up
            unexpectedly that evening. He phoo-hood Dr Eckhardt’s recommendation and next
            morning called in Dr Aitkin, the Government Doctor from Chunya and who happened to
            be in Mbeya.

            Unfortunately Dr Aitkin not only confirmed Dr Eckhardt’s opinion but said that he
            thought Ann should stay out of the tropics until she had passed adolescence. I just don’t
            know what to do about Ann. She is a darling child, very sensitive and gentle and a
            lovely companion to me. Also she and young George are inseparable and I just cannot
            picture one without the other. I know that you would be glad to have Ann but how could
            we bear to part with her?

            Your worried but affectionate,
            Eleanor.

            Tukuyu. 23rd October 1936

            Dearest Family,

            As you see we have moved to Tukuyu and we are having a lovely time with
            Lillian Eustace. She gave us such a warm welcome and has put herself out to give us
            every comfort. She is a most capable housekeeper and I find her such a comfortable
            companion because we have the same outlook in life. Both of us are strictly one man
            women and that is rare here. She has a two year old son, Billy, who is enchanted with
            our rolly polly Kate and there are other children on the station with whom Ann and
            Georgie can play. Lillian engaged a temporary ayah for me so I am having a good rest.
            All the children look well and Ann in particular seems to have benefited by the
            change to a cooler climate. She has a good colour and looks so well that people all
            exclaim when I tell them, that two doctors have advised us to send Ann out of the
            country. Perhaps after all, this holiday in Tukuyu will set her up.

            We had a trying journey from Mbeya to Tukuyu in the Post Lorry. The three
            children and I were squeezed together on the front seat between the African driver on
            one side and a vast German on the other. Both men smoked incessantly – the driver
            cigarettes, and the German cheroots. The cab was clouded with a blue haze. Not only
            that! I suddenly felt a smarting sensation on my right thigh. The driver’s cigarette had
            burnt a hole right through that new checked linen frock you sent me last month.
            I had Kate on my lap all the way but Ann and Georgie had to stand against the
            windscreen all the way. The fat German offered to take Ann on his lap but she gave him
            a very cold “No thank you.” Nor did I blame her. I would have greatly enjoyed the drive
            under less crowded conditions. The scenery is gorgeous. One drives through very high
            country crossing lovely clear streams and at one point through rain forest. As it was I
            counted the miles and how thankful I was to see the end of the journey.
            In the days when Tanganyika belonged to the Germans, Tukuyu was the
            administrative centre for the whole of the Southern Highlands Province. The old German
            Fort is still in use as Government offices and there are many fine trees which were
            planted by the Germans. There is a large prosperous native population in this area.
            They go in chiefly for coffee and for bananas which form the basis of their diet.
            There are five British married couples here and Lillian and I go out to tea most
            mornings. In the afternoon there is tennis or golf. The gardens here are beautiful because
            there is rain or at least drizzle all the year round. There are even hedge roses bordering
            some of the district roads. When one walks across the emerald green golf course or
            through the Boma gardens, it is hard to realise that this gentle place is Tropical Africa.
            ‘Such a green and pleasant land’, but I think I prefer our corner of Tanganyika.

            Much love,
            Eleanor.

            Mchewe. 12th November 1936

            Dearest Family,

            We had a lovely holiday but it is so nice to be home again, especially as Laza,
            the local Nimrod, shot that leopard whilst we were away (with his muzzleloader gun). He
            was justly proud of himself, and I gave him a tip so that he could buy some native beer
            for a celebration. I have never seen one of theses parties but can hear the drums and
            sounds of merrymaking, especially on moonlight nights.

            Our house looks so fresh and uncluttered. Whilst I was away, the boys
            whitewashed the house and my houseboy had washed all the curtains, bedspreads,
            and loose covers and watered the garden. If only George were here it would be
            heaven.

            Ann looked so bonny at Tukuyu that I took her to the Government Doctor there
            hoping that he would find her perfectly healthy, but alas he endorsed the finding of the
            other two doctors so, when an opportunity offers, I think I shall have to send Ann down
            to you for a long holiday from the Tropics. Mother-in-law has offered to fetch her next
            year but England seems so far away. With you she will at least be on the same
            continent.

            I left the children for the first time ever, except for my stay in hospital when Kate
            was born, to go on an outing to Lake Masoko in the Tukuyu district, with four friends.
            Masoko is a beautiful, almost circular crater lake and very very deep. A detachment of
            the King’s African Rifles are stationed there and occupy the old German barracks
            overlooking the lake.

            We drove to Masoko by car and spent the afternoon there as guests of two
            British Army Officers. We had a good tea and the others went bathing in the lake but i
            could not as I did not have a costume. The Lake was as beautiful as I had been lead to
            imagine and our hosts were pleasant but I began to grow anxious as the afternoon
            advanced and my friends showed no signs of leaving. I was in agonies when they
            accepted an invitation to stay for a sundowner. We had this in the old German beer
            garden overlooking the Lake. It was beautiful but what did I care. I had promised the
            children that I would be home to give them their supper and put them to bed. When I
            did at length return to Lillian’s house I found the situation as I had expected. Ann, with her
            imagination had come to the conclusion that I never would return. She had sobbed
            herself into a state of exhaustion. Kate was screaming in sympathy and George 2 was
            very truculent. He wouldn’t even speak to me. Poor Lillian had had a trying time.
            We did not return to Mbeya by the Mail Lorry. Bill and Lillian drove us across to
            Mbeya in their new Ford V8 car. The children chattered happily in the back of the car
            eating chocolate and bananas all the way. I might have known what would happen! Ann
            was dreadfully and messily car sick.

            I engaged the Mbeya Hotel taxi to drive us out to the farm the same afternoon
            and I expect it will be a long time before we leave the farm again.

            Lots and lots of love to all,
            Eleanor.

            Chunya 27th November 1936

            Dearest Family,

            You will be surprised to hear that we are all together now on the Lupa goldfields.
            I have still not recovered from my own astonishment at being here. Until last Saturday
            night I never dreamed of this move. At about ten o’clock I was crouched in the inglenook
            blowing on the embers to make a fire so that I could heat some milk for Kate who is
            cutting teeth and was very restless. Suddenly I heard a car outside. I knew it must be
            George and rushed outside storm lamp in hand. Sure enough, there was George
            standing by a strange car, and beaming all over his face. “Something for you my love,”
            he said placing a little bundle in my hand. It was a knotted handkerchief and inside was a
            fine gold nugget.

            George had that fire going in no time, Kate was given the milk and half an aspirin
            and settles down to sleep, whilst George and I sat around for an hour chatting over our
            tea. He told me that he had borrowed the car from John Molteno and had come to fetch
            me and the children to join him on the diggings for a while. It seems that John, who has a
            camp at Itewe, a couple of miles outside the township of Chunya, the new
            Administrative Centre of the diggings, was off to the Cape to visit his family for a few
            months. John had asked George to run his claims in his absence and had given us the
            loan of his camp and his car.

            George had found the nugget on his own claim but he is not too elated because
            he says that one good month on the diggings is often followed by several months of
            dead loss. However, I feel hopeful, we have had such a run of bad luck that surely it is
            time for the tide to change. George spent Sunday going over the farm with Thomas, the
            headman, and giving him instructions about future work whilst I packed clothes and
            kitchen equipment. I have brought our ex-kitchenboy Kesho Kutwa with me as cook and
            also Janey, who heard that we were off to the Lupa and came to offer her services once
            more as ayah. Janey’s ex-husband Abel is now cook to one of the more successful
            diggers and I think she is hoping to team up with him again.

            The trip over the Mbeya-Chunya pass was new to me and I enjoyed it very
            much indeed. The road winds over the mountains along a very high escarpment and
            one looks down on the vast Usangu flats stretching far away to the horizon. At the
            highest point the road rises to about 7000 feet, and this was too much for Ann who was
            leaning against the back of my seat. She was very thoroughly sick, all over my hair.
            This camp of John Molteno’s is very comfortable. It consists of two wattle and
            daub buildings built end to end in a clearing in the miombo bush. The main building
            consists of a large living room, a store and an office, and the other of one large bedroom
            and a small one separated by an area for bathing. Both buildings are thatched. There are
            no doors, and there are no windows, but these are not necessary because one wall of
            each building is built up only a couple of feet leaving a six foot space for light and air. As
            this is the dry season the weather is pleasant. The air is fresh and dry but not nearly so
            hot as I expected.

            Water is a problem and must be carried long distances in kerosene tins.
            vegetables and fresh butter are brought in a van from Iringa and Mbeya Districts about
            once a fortnight. I have not yet visited Chunya but I believe it is as good a shopping
            centre as Mbeya so we will be able to buy all the non perishable food stuffs we need.
            What I do miss is the fresh milk. The children are accustomed to drinking at least a pint of
            milk each per day but they do not care for the tinned variety.

            Ann and young George love being here. The camp is surrounded by old
            prospecting trenches and they spend hours each day searching for gold in the heaps of gravel. Sometimes they find quartz pitted with little spots of glitter and they bring them
            to me in great excitement. Alas it is only Mica. We have two neighbours. The one is a
            bearded Frenchman and the other an Australian. I have not yet met any women.
            George looks very sunburnt and extremely fit and the children also look well.
            George and I have decided that we will keep Ann with us until my Mother-in-law comes
            out next year. George says that in spite of what the doctors have said, he thinks that the
            shock to Ann of being separated from her family will do her more harm than good. She
            and young George are inseparable and George thinks it would be best if both
            George and Ann return to England with my Mother-in-law for a couple of years. I try not
            to think at all about the breaking up of the family.

            Much love to all,
            Eleanor.

             

            #6262
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              From Tanganyika with Love

              continued  ~ part 3

              With thanks to Mike Rushby.

              Mchewe Estate. 22nd March 1935

              Dearest Family,

              I am feeling much better now that I am five months pregnant and have quite got
              my appetite back. Once again I go out with “the Mchewe Hunt” which is what George
              calls the procession made up of the donkey boy and donkey with Ann confidently riding
              astride, me beside the donkey with Georgie behind riding the stick which he much
              prefers to the donkey. The Alsatian pup, whom Ann for some unknown reason named
              ‘Tubbage’, and the two cats bring up the rear though sometimes Tubbage rushes
              ahead and nearly knocks me off my feet. He is not the loveable pet that Kelly was.
              It is just as well that I have recovered my health because my mother-in-law has
              decided to fly out from England to look after Ann and George when I am in hospital. I am
              very grateful for there is no one lse to whom I can turn. Kath Hickson-Wood is seldom on
              their farm because Hicky is working a guano claim and is making quite a good thing out of
              selling bat guano to the coffee farmers at Mbosi. They camp out at the claim, a series of
              caves in the hills across the valley and visit the farm only occasionally. Anne Molteno is
              off to Cape Town to have her baby at her mothers home and there are no women in
              Mbeya I know well. The few women are Government Officials wives and they come
              and go. I make so few trips to the little town that there is no chance to get on really
              friendly terms with them.

              Janey, the ayah, is turning into a treasure. She washes and irons well and keeps
              the children’s clothes cupboard beautifully neat. Ann and George however are still
              reluctant to go for walks with her. They find her dull because, like all African ayahs, she
              has no imagination and cannot play with them. She should however be able to help with
              the baby. Ann is very excited about the new baby. She so loves all little things.
              Yesterday she went into ecstasies over ten newly hatched chicks.

              She wants a little sister and perhaps it would be a good thing. Georgie is so very
              active and full of mischief that I feel another wild little boy might be more than I can
              manage. Although Ann is older, it is Georgie who always thinks up the mischief. They
              have just been having a fight. Georgie with the cooks umbrella versus Ann with her frilly
              pink sunshade with the inevitable result that the sunshade now has four broken ribs.
              Any way I never feel lonely now during the long hours George is busy on the
              shamba. The children keep me on my toes and I have plenty of sewing to do for the
              baby. George is very good about amusing the children before their bedtime and on
              Sundays. In the afternoons when it is not wet I take Ann and Georgie for a walk down
              the hill. George meets us at the bottom and helps me on the homeward journey. He
              grabs one child in each hand by the slack of their dungarees and they do a sort of giant
              stride up the hill, half walking half riding.

              Very much love,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 14th June 1935

              Dearest Family,

              A great flap here. We had a letter yesterday to say that mother-in-law will be
              arriving in four days time! George is very amused at my frantic efforts at spring cleaning
              but he has told me before that she is very house proud so I feel I must make the best
              of what we have.

              George is very busy building a store for the coffee which will soon be ripening.
              This time he is doing the bricklaying himself. It is quite a big building on the far end of the
              farm and close to the river. He is also making trays of chicken wire nailed to wooden
              frames with cheap calico stretched over the wire.

              Mother will have to sleep in the verandah room which leads off the bedroom
              which we share with the children. George will have to sleep in the outside spare room as
              there is no door between the bedroom and the verandah room. I am sewing frantically
              to make rose coloured curtains and bedspread out of material mother-in-law sent for
              Christmas and will have to make a curtain for the doorway. The kitchen badly needs
              whitewashing but George says he cannot spare the labour so I hope mother won’t look.
              To complicate matters, George has been invited to lunch with the Governor on the day
              of Mother’s arrival. After lunch they are to visit the newly stocked trout streams in the
              Mporotos. I hope he gets back to Mbeya in good time to meet mother’s plane.
              Ann has been off colour for a week. She looks very pale and her pretty fair hair,
              normally so shiny, is dull and lifeless. It is such a pity that mother should see her like this
              because first impressions do count so much and I am looking to the children to attract
              attention from me. I am the size of a circus tent and hardly a dream daughter-in-law.
              Georgie, thank goodness, is blooming but he has suddenly developed a disgusting
              habit of spitting on the floor in the manner of the natives. I feel he might say “Gran, look
              how far I can spit and give an enthusiastic demonstration.

              Just hold thumbs that all goes well.

              your loving but anxious,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 28th June 1935

              Dearest Family,

              Mother-in-law duly arrived in the District Commissioner’s car. George did not dare
              to use the A.C. as she is being very temperamental just now. They also brought the
              mail bag which contained a parcel of lovely baby clothes from you. Thank you very
              much. Mother-in-law is very put out because the large parcel she posted by surface
              mail has not yet arrived.

              Mother arrived looking very smart in an ankle length afternoon frock of golden
              brown crepe and smart hat, and wearing some very good rings. She is a very
              handsome woman with the very fair complexion that goes with red hair. The hair, once
              Titan, must now be grey but it has been very successfully tinted and set. I of course,
              was shapeless in a cotton maternity frock and no credit to you. However, so far, motherin-
              law has been uncritical and friendly and charmed with the children who have taken to
              her. Mother does not think that the children resemble me in any way. Ann resembles her
              family the Purdys and Georgie is a Morley, her mother’s family. She says they had the
              same dark eyes and rather full mouths. I say feebly, “But Georgie has my colouring”, but
              mother won’t hear of it. So now you know! Ann is a Purdy and Georgie a Morley.
              Perhaps number three will be a Leslie.

              What a scramble I had getting ready for mother. Her little room really looks pretty
              and fresh, but the locally woven grass mats arrived only minutes before mother did. I
              also frantically overhauled our clothes and it a good thing that I did so because mother
              has been going through all the cupboards looking for mending. Mother is kept so busy
              in her own home that I think she finds time hangs on her hands here. She is very good at
              entertaining the children and has even tried her hand at picking coffee a couple of times.
              Mother cannot get used to the native boy servants but likes Janey, so Janey keeps her
              room in order. Mother prefers to wash and iron her own clothes.

              I almost lost our cook through mother’s surplus energy! Abel our previous cook
              took a new wife last month and, as the new wife, and Janey the old, were daggers
              drawn, Abel moved off to a job on the Lupa leaving Janey and her daughter here.
              The new cook is capable, but he is a fearsome looking individual called Alfani. He has a
              thick fuzz of hair which he wears long, sometimes hidden by a dingy turban, and he
              wears big brass earrings. I think he must be part Somali because he has a hawk nose
              and a real Brigand look. His kitchen is never really clean but he is an excellent cook and
              as cooks are hard to come by here I just keep away from the kitchen. Not so mother!
              A few days after her arrival she suggested kindly that I should lie down after lunch
              so I rested with the children whilst mother, unknown to me, went out to the kitchen and
              not only scrubbed the table and shelves but took the old iron stove to pieces and
              cleaned that. Unfortunately in her zeal she poked a hole through the stove pipe.
              Had I known of these activities I would have foreseen the cook’s reaction when
              he returned that evening to cook the supper. he was furious and wished to leave on the
              spot and demanded his wages forthwith. The old Memsahib had insulted him by
              scrubbing his already spotless kitchen and had broken his stove and made it impossible
              for him to cook. This tirade was accompanied by such waving of hands and rolling of
              eyes that I longed to sack him on the spot. However I dared not as I might not get
              another cook for weeks. So I smoothed him down and he patched up the stove pipe
              with a bit of tin and some wire and produced a good meal. I am wondering what
              transformations will be worked when I am in hospital.

              Our food is really good but mother just pecks at it. No wonder really, because
              she has had some shocks. One day she found the kitchen boy diligently scrubbing the box lavatory seat with a scrubbing brush which he dipped into one of my best large
              saucepans! No one can foresee what these boys will do. In these remote areas house
              servants are usually recruited from the ranks of the very primitive farm labourers, who first
              come to the farm as naked savages, and their notions of hygiene simply don’t exist.
              One day I said to mother in George’s presence “When we were newly married,
              mother, George used to brag about your cooking and say that you would run a home
              like this yourself with perhaps one ‘toto’. Mother replied tartly, “That was very bad of
              George and not true. If my husband had brought me out here I would not have stayed a
              month. I think you manage very well.” Which reply made me warm to mother a lot.
              To complicate things we have a new pup, a little white bull terrier bitch whom
              George has named Fanny. She is tiny and not yet house trained but seems a plucky
              and attractive little animal though there is no denying that she does look like a piglet.

              Very much love to all,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 3rd August 1935

              Dearest Family,

              Here I am in hospital, comfortably in bed with our new daughter in her basket
              beside me. She is a lovely little thing, very plump and cuddly and pink and white and
              her head is covered with tiny curls the colour of Golden Syrup. We meant to call her
              Margery Kate, after our Marj and my mother-in-law whose name is Catherine.
              I am enjoying the rest, knowing that George and mother will be coping
              successfully on the farm. My room is full of flowers, particularly with the roses and
              carnations which grow so well here. Kate was not due until August 5th but the doctor
              wanted me to come in good time in view of my tiresome early pregnancy.

              For weeks beforehand George had tinkered with the A.C. and we started for
              Mbeya gaily enough on the twenty ninth, however, after going like a dream for a couple
              of miles, she simply collapsed from exhaustion at the foot of a hill and all the efforts of
              the farm boys who had been sent ahead for such an emergency failed to start her. So
              George sent back to the farm for the machila and I sat in the shade of a tree, wondering
              what would happen if I had the baby there and then, whilst George went on tinkering
              with the car. Suddenly she sprang into life and we roared up that hill and all the way into
              Mbeya. The doctor welcomed us pleasantly and we had tea with his family before I
              settled into my room. Later he examined me and said that it was unlikely that the baby
              would be born for several days. The new and efficient German nurse said, “Thank
              goodness for that.” There was a man in hospital dying from a stomach cancer and she
              had not had a decent nights sleep for three nights.

              Kate however had other plans. I woke in the early morning with labour pains but
              anxious not to disturb the nurse, I lay and read or tried to read a book, hoping that I
              would not have to call the nurse until daybreak. However at four a.m., I went out into the
              wind which was howling along the open verandah and knocked on the nurse’s door. She
              got up and very crossly informed me that I was imagining things and should get back to
              bed at once. She said “It cannot be so. The Doctor has said it.” I said “Of course it is,”
              and then and there the water broke and clinched my argument. She then went into a flat
              spin. “But the bed is not ready and my instruments are not ready,” and she flew around
              to rectify this and also sent an African orderly to call the doctor. I paced the floor saying
              warningly “Hurry up with that bed. I am going to have the baby now!” She shrieked
              “Take off your dressing gown.” But I was passed caring. I flung myself on the bed and
              there was Kate. The nurse had done all that was necessary by the time the doctor
              arrived.

              A funny thing was, that whilst Kate was being born on the bed, a black cat had
              kittens under it! The doctor was furious with the nurse but the poor thing must have crept
              in out of the cold wind when I went to call the nurse. A happy omen I feel for the baby’s
              future. George had no anxiety this time. He stayed at the hospital with me until ten
              o’clock when he went down to the hotel to sleep and he received the news in a note
              from me with his early morning tea. He went to the farm next morning but will return on
              the sixth to fetch me home.

              I do feel so happy. A very special husband and three lovely children. What
              more could anyone possibly want.

              Lots and lots of love,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 20th August 1935

              Dearest Family,

              Well here we are back at home and all is very well. The new baby is very placid
              and so pretty. Mother is delighted with her and Ann loved her at sight but Georgie is not
              so sure. At first he said, “Your baby is no good. Chuck her in the kalonga.” The kalonga
              being the ravine beside the house , where, I regret to say, much of the kitchen refuse is
              dumped. he is very jealous when I carry Kate around or feed her but is ready to admire
              her when she is lying alone in her basket.

              George walked all the way from the farm to fetch us home. He hired a car and
              native driver from the hotel, but drove us home himself going with such care over ruts
              and bumps. We had a great welcome from mother who had had the whole house
              spring cleaned. However George loyally says it looks just as nice when I am in charge.
              Mother obviously, had had more than enough of the back of beyond and
              decided to stay on only one week after my return home. She had gone into the kitchen
              one day just in time to see the houseboy scooping the custard he had spilt on the table
              back into the jug with the side of his hand. No doubt it would have been served up
              without a word. On another occasion she had walked in on the cook’s daily ablutions. He
              was standing in a small bowl of water in the centre of the kitchen, absolutely naked,
              enjoying a slipper bath. She left last Wednesday and gave us a big laugh before she
              left. She never got over her horror of eating food prepared by our cook and used to
              push it around her plate. Well, when the time came for mother to leave for the plane, she
              put on the very smart frock in which she had arrived, and then came into the sitting room
              exclaiming in dismay “Just look what has happened, I must have lost a stone!’ We
              looked, and sure enough, the dress which had been ankle deep before, now touched
              the floor. “Good show mother.” said George unfeelingly. “You ought to be jolly grateful,
              you needed to lose weight and it would have cost you the earth at a beauty parlour to
              get that sylph-like figure.”

              When mother left she took, in a perforated matchbox, one of the frilly mantis that
              live on our roses. She means to keep it in a goldfish bowl in her dining room at home.
              Georgie and Ann filled another matchbox with dead flies for food for the mantis on the
              journey.

              Now that mother has left, Georgie and Ann attach themselves to me and firmly
              refuse to have anything to do with the ayah,Janey. She in any case now wishes to have
              a rest. Mother tipped her well and gave her several cotton frocks so I suspect she wants
              to go back to her hometown in Northern Rhodesia to show off a bit.
              Georgie has just sidled up with a very roguish look. He asked “You like your
              baby?” I said “Yes indeed I do.” He said “I’ll prick your baby with a velly big thorn.”

              Who would be a mother!
              Eleanor

              Mchewe Estate. 20th September 1935

              Dearest Family,

              I have been rather in the wars with toothache and as there is still no dentist at
              Mbeya to do the fillings, I had to have four molars extracted at the hospital. George
              says it is fascinating to watch me at mealtimes these days because there is such a gleam
              of satisfaction in my eye when I do manage to get two teeth to meet on a mouthful.
              About those scissors Marj sent Ann. It was not such a good idea. First she cut off tufts of
              George’s hair so that he now looks like a bad case of ringworm and then she cut a scalp
              lock, a whole fist full of her own shining hair, which George so loves. George scolded
              Ann and she burst into floods of tears. Such a thing as a scolding from her darling daddy
              had never happened before. George immediately made a long drooping moustache
              out of the shorn lock and soon had her smiling again. George is always very gentle with
              Ann. One has to be , because she is frightfully sensitive to criticism.

              I am kept pretty busy these days, Janey has left and my houseboy has been ill
              with pneumonia. I now have to wash all the children’s things and my own, (the cook does
              George’s clothes) and look after the three children. Believe me, I can hardly keep awake
              for Kate’s ten o’clock feed.

              I do hope I shall get some new servants next month because I also got George
              to give notice to the cook. I intercepted him last week as he was storming down the hill
              with my large kitchen knife in his hand. “Where are you going with my knife?” I asked.
              “I’m going to kill a man!” said Alfani, rolling his eyes and looking extremely ferocious. “He
              has taken my wife.” “Not with my knife”, said I reaching for it. So off Alfani went, bent on
              vengeance and I returned the knife to the kitchen. Dinner was served and I made no
              enquiries but I feel that I need someone more restful in the kitchen than our brigand
              Alfani.

              George has been working on the car and has now fitted yet another radiator. This
              is a lorry one and much too tall to be covered by the A.C.’s elegant bonnet which is
              secured by an old strap. The poor old A.C. now looks like an ancient shoe with a turned
              up toe. It only needs me in it with the children to make a fine illustration to the old rhyme!
              Ann and Georgie are going through a climbing phase. They practically live in
              trees. I rushed out this morning to investigate loud screams and found Georgie hanging
              from a fork in a tree by one ankle, whilst Ann stood below on tiptoe with hands stretched
              upwards to support his head.

              Do I sound as though I have straws in my hair? I have.
              Lots of love,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 11th October 1935

              Dearest Family,

              Thank goodness! I have a new ayah name Mary. I had heard that there was a
              good ayah out of work at Tukuyu 60 miles away so sent a messenger to fetch her. She
              arrived after dark wearing a bright dress and a cheerful smile and looked very suitable by
              the light of a storm lamp. I was horrified next morning to see her in daylight. She was
              dressed all in black and had a rather sinister look. She reminds me rather of your old maid
              Candace who overheard me laughing a few days before Ann was born and croaked
              “Yes , Miss Eleanor, today you laugh but next week you might be dead.” Remember
              how livid you were, dad?

              I think Mary has the same grim philosophy. Ann took one look at her and said,
              “What a horrible old lady, mummy.” Georgie just said “Go away”, both in English and Ki-
              Swahili. Anyway Mary’s references are good so I shall keep her on to help with Kate
              who is thriving and bonny and placid.

              Thank you for the offer of toys for Christmas but, if you don’t mind, I’d rather have
              some clothing for the children. Ann is quite contented with her dolls Barbara and Yvonne.
              Barbara’s once beautiful face is now pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle having come
              into contact with Georgie’s ever busy hammer. However Ann says she will love her for
              ever and she doesn’t want another doll. Yvonne’s hay day is over too. She
              disappeared for weeks and we think Fanny, the pup, was the culprit. Ann discovered
              Yvonne one morning in some long wet weeds. Poor Yvonne is now a ghost of her
              former self. All the sophisticated make up was washed off her papier-mâché face and
              her hair is decidedly bedraggled, but Ann was radiant as she tucked her back into bed
              and Yvonne is as precious to Ann as she ever was.

              Georgie simply does not care for toys. His paint box, hammer and the trenching
              hoe George gave him for his second birthday are all he wants or needs. Both children
              love books but I sometimes wonder whether they stimulate Ann’s imagination too much.
              The characters all become friends of hers and she makes up stories about them to tell
              Georgie. She adores that illustrated children’s Bible Mummy sent her but you would be
              astonished at the yarns she spins about “me and my friend Jesus.” She also will call
              Moses “Old Noses”, and looking at a picture of Jacob’s dream, with the shining angels
              on the ladder between heaven and earth, she said “Georgie, if you see an angel, don’t
              touch it, it’s hot.”

              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 17th October 1935

              Dearest Family,

              I take back the disparaging things I said about my new Ayah, because she has
              proved her worth in an unexpected way. On Wednesday morning I settled Kate in he
              cot after her ten o’clock feed and sat sewing at the dining room table with Ann and
              Georgie opposite me, both absorbed in painting pictures in identical seed catalogues.
              Suddenly there was a terrific bang on the back door, followed by an even heavier blow.
              The door was just behind me and I got up and opened it. There, almost filling the door
              frame, stood a huge native with staring eyes and his teeth showing in a mad grimace. In
              his hand he held a rolled umbrella by the ferrule, the shaft I noticed was unusually long
              and thick and the handle was a big round knob.

              I was terrified as you can imagine, especially as, through the gap under the
              native’s raised arm, I could see the new cook and the kitchen boy running away down to
              the shamba! I hastily tried to shut and lock the door but the man just brushed me aside.
              For a moment he stood over me with the umbrella raised as though to strike. Rather
              fortunately, I now think, I was too petrified to say a word. The children never moved but
              Tubbage, the Alsatian, got up and jumped out of the window!

              Then the native turned away and still with the same fixed stare and grimace,
              began to attack the furniture with his umbrella. Tables and chairs were overturned and
              books and ornaments scattered on the floor. When the madman had his back turned and
              was busily bashing the couch, I slipped round the dining room table, took Ann and
              Georgie by the hand and fled through the front door to the garage where I hid the
              children in the car. All this took several minutes because naturally the children were
              terrified. I was worried to death about the baby left alone in the bedroom and as soon
              as I had Ann and Georgie settled I ran back to the house.

              I reached the now open front door just as Kianda the houseboy opened the back
              door of the lounge. He had been away at the river washing clothes but, on hearing of the
              madman from the kitchen boy he had armed himself with a stout stick and very pluckily,
              because he is not a robust boy, had returned to the house to eject the intruder. He
              rushed to attack immediately and I heard a terrific exchange of blows behind me as I
              opened our bedroom door. You can imagine what my feelings were when I was
              confronted by an empty cot! Just then there was an uproar inside as all the farm
              labourers armed with hoes and pangas and sticks, streamed into the living room from the
              shamba whence they had been summoned by the cook. In no time at all the huge
              native was hustled out of the house, flung down the front steps, and securely tied up
              with strips of cloth.

              In the lull that followed I heard a frightened voice calling from the bathroom.
              ”Memsahib is that you? The child is here with me.” I hastily opened the bathroom door
              to find Mary couched in a corner by the bath, shielding Kate with her body. Mary had
              seen the big native enter the house and her first thought had been for her charge. I
              thanked her and promised her a reward for her loyalty, and quickly returned to the garage
              to reassure Ann and Georgie. I met George who looked white and exhausted as well
              he might having run up hill all the way from the coffee store. The kitchen boy had led him
              to expect the worst and he was most relieved to find us all unhurt if a bit shaken.
              We returned to the house by the back way whilst George went to the front and
              ordered our labourers to take their prisoner and lock him up in the store. George then
              discussed the whole affair with his Headman and all the labourers after which he reported
              to me. “The boys say that the bastard is an ex-Askari from Nyasaland. He is not mad as
              you thought but he smokes bhang and has these attacks. I suppose I should take him to
              Mbeya and have him up in court. But if I do that you’ll have to give evidence and that will be a nuisance as the car won’t go and there is also the baby to consider.”

              Eventually we decided to leave the man to sleep off the effects of the Bhang
              until evening when he would be tried before an impromptu court consisting of George,
              the local Jumbe(Headman) and village Elders, and our own farm boys and any other
              interested spectators. It was not long before I knew the verdict because I heard the
              sound of lashes. I was not sorry at all because I felt the man deserved his punishment
              and so did all the Africans. They love children and despise anyone who harms or
              frightens them. With great enthusiasm they frog-marched him off our land, and I sincerely
              hope that that is the last we see or him. Ann and Georgie don’t seem to brood over this
              affair at all. The man was naughty and he was spanked, a quite reasonable state of
              affairs. This morning they hid away in the small thatched chicken house. This is a little brick
              building about four feet square which Ann covets as a dolls house. They came back
              covered in stick fleas which I had to remove with paraffin. My hens are laying well but
              they all have the ‘gapes’! I wouldn’t run a chicken farm for anything, hens are such fussy,
              squawking things.

              Now don’t go worrying about my experience with the native. Such things
              happen only once in a lifetime. We are all very well and happy, and life, apart from the
              children’s pranks is very tranquil.

              Lots and lots of love,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 25th October 1935

              Dearest Family,

              The hot winds have dried up the shamba alarmingly and we hope every day for
              rain. The prices for coffee, on the London market, continue to be low and the local
              planters are very depressed. Coffee grows well enough here but we are over 400
              miles from the railway and transport to the railhead by lorry is very expensive. Then, as
              there is no East African Marketing Board, the coffee must be shipped to England for
              sale. Unless the coffee fetches at least 90 pounds a ton it simply doesn’t pay to grow it.
              When we started planting in 1931 coffee was fetching as much as 115 pounds a ton but
              prices this year were between 45 and 55 pounds. We have practically exhausted our
              capitol and so have all our neighbours. The Hickson -Woods have been keeping their
              pot boiling by selling bat guano to the coffee farmers at Mbosi but now everyone is
              broke and there is not a market for fertilisers. They are offering their farm for sale at a very
              low price.

              Major Jones has got a job working on the district roads and Max Coster talks of
              returning to his work as a geologist. George says he will have to go gold digging on the
              Lupa unless there is a big improvement in the market. Luckily we can live quite cheaply
              here. We have a good vegetable garden, milk is cheap and we have plenty of fruit.
              There are mulberries, pawpaws, grenadillas, peaches, and wine berries. The wine
              berries are very pretty but insipid though Ann and Georgie love them. Each morning,
              before breakfast, the old garden boy brings berries for Ann and Georgie. With a thorn
              the old man pins a large leaf from a wild fig tree into a cone which he fills with scarlet wine
              berries. There is always a cone for each child and they wait eagerly outside for the daily
              ceremony of presentation.

              The rats are being a nuisance again. Both our cats, Skinny Winnie and Blackboy
              disappeared a few weeks ago. We think they made a meal for a leopard. I wrote last
              week to our grocer at Mbalizi asking him whether he could let us have a couple of kittens
              as I have often seen cats in his store. The messenger returned with a nailed down box.
              The kitchen boy was called to prize up the lid and the children stood by in eager
              anticipation. Out jumped two snarling and spitting creatures. One rushed into the kalonga
              and the other into the house and before they were captured they had drawn blood from
              several boys. I told the boys to replace the cats in the box as I intended to return them
              forthwith. They had the colouring, stripes and dispositions of wild cats and I certainly
              didn’t want them as pets, but before the boys could replace the lid the cats escaped
              once more into the undergrowth in the kalonga. George fetched his shotgun and said he
              would shoot the cats on sight or they would kill our chickens. This was more easily said
              than done because the cats could not be found. However during the night the cats
              climbed up into the loft af the house and we could hear them moving around on the reed
              ceiling.

              I said to George,”Oh leave the poor things. At least they might frighten the rats
              away.” That afternoon as we were having tea a thin stream of liquid filtered through the
              ceiling on George’s head. Oh dear!!! That of course was the end. Some raw meat was
              put on the lawn for bait and yesterday George shot both cats.

              I regret to end with the sad story of Mary, heroine in my last letter and outcast in
              this. She came to work quite drunk two days running and I simply had to get rid of her. I
              have heard since from Kath Wood that Mary lost her last job at Tukuyu for the same
              reason. She was ayah to twin girls and one day set their pram on fire.

              So once again my hands are more than full with three lively children. I did say
              didn’t I, when Ann was born that I wanted six children?

              Very much love from us all, Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 8th November 1935

              Dearest Family,

              To set your minds at rest I must tell you that the native who so frightened me and
              the children is now in jail for attacking a Greek at Mbalizi. I hear he is to be sent back to
              Rhodesia when he has finished his sentence.

              Yesterday we had one of our rare trips to Mbeya. George managed to get a couple of
              second hand tyres for the old car and had again got her to work so we are celebrating our
              wedding anniversary by going on an outing. I wore the green and fawn striped silk dress
              mother bought me and the hat and shoes you sent for my birthday and felt like a million
              dollars, for a change. The children all wore new clothes too and I felt very proud of them.
              Ann is still very fair and with her refined little features and straight silky hair she
              looks like Alice in Wonderland. Georgie is dark and sturdy and looks best in khaki shirt
              and shorts and sun helmet. Kate is a pink and gold baby and looks good enough to eat.
              We went straight to the hotel at Mbeya and had the usual warm welcome from
              Ken and Aunty May Menzies. Aunty May wears her hair cut short like a mans and
              usually wears shirt and tie and riding breeches and boots. She always looks ready to go
              on safari at a moments notice as indeed she is. She is often called out to a case of illness
              at some remote spot.

              There were lots of people at the hotel from farms in the district and from the
              diggings. I met women I had not seen for four years. One, a Mrs Masters from Tukuyu,
              said in the lounge, “My God! Last time I saw you , you were just a girl and here you are
              now with two children.” To which I replied with pride, “There is another one in a pram on
              the verandah if you care to look!” Great hilarity in the lounge. The people from the
              diggings seem to have plenty of money to throw around. There was a big party on the
              go in the bar.

              One of our shamba boys died last Friday and all his fellow workers and our
              house boys had the day off to attend the funeral. From what I can gather the local
              funerals are quite cheery affairs. The corpse is dressed in his best clothes and laid
              outside his hut and all who are interested may view the body and pay their respects.
              The heir then calls upon anyone who had a grudge against the dead man to say his say
              and thereafter hold his tongue forever. Then all the friends pay tribute to the dead man
              after which he is buried to the accompaniment of what sounds from a distance, very
              cheerful keening.

              Most of our workmen are pagans though there is a Lutheran Mission nearby and
              a big Roman Catholic Mission in the area too. My present cook, however, claims to be
              a Christian. He certainly went to a mission school and can read and write and also sing
              hymns in Ki-Swahili. When I first engaged him I used to find a large open Bible
              prominently displayed on the kitchen table. The cook is middle aged and arrived here
              with a sensible matronly wife. To my surprise one day he brought along a young girl,
              very plump and giggly and announced proudly that she was his new wife, I said,”But I
              thought you were a Christian Jeremiah? Christians don’t have two wives.” To which he
              replied, “Oh Memsahib, God won’t mind. He knows an African needs two wives – one
              to go with him when he goes away to work and one to stay behind at home to cultivate
              the shamba.

              Needles to say, it is the old wife who has gone to till the family plot.

              With love to all,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 21st November 1935

              Dearest Family,

              The drought has broken with a bang. We had a heavy storm in the hills behind
              the house. Hail fell thick and fast. So nice for all the tiny new berries on the coffee! The
              kids loved the excitement and three times Ann and Georgie ran out for a shower under
              the eaves and had to be changed. After the third time I was fed up and made them both
              lie on their beds whilst George and I had lunch in peace. I told Ann to keep the
              casement shut as otherwise the rain would drive in on her bed. Half way through lunch I
              heard delighted squeals from Georgie and went into the bedroom to investigate. Ann
              was standing on the outer sill in the rain but had shut the window as ordered. “Well
              Mummy , you didn’t say I mustn’t stand on the window sill, and I did shut the window.”
              George is working so hard on the farm. I have a horrible feeling however that it is
              what the Africans call ‘Kazi buri’ (waste of effort) as there seems no chance of the price of
              coffee improving as long as this world depression continues. The worry is that our capitol
              is nearly exhausted. Food is becoming difficult now that our neighbours have left. I used
              to buy delicious butter from Kath Hickson-Wood and an African butcher used to kill a
              beast once a week. Now that we are his only European customers he very rarely kills
              anything larger than a goat, and though we do eat goat, believe me it is not from choice.
              We have of course got plenty to eat, but our diet is very monotonous. I was
              delighted when George shot a large bushbuck last week. What we could not use I cut
              into strips and the salted strips are now hanging in the open garage to dry.

              With love to all,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 6th December 1935

              Dearest Family,

              We have had a lot of rain and the countryside is lovely and green. Last week
              George went to Mbeya taking Ann with him. This was a big adventure for Ann because
              never before had she been anywhere without me. She was in a most blissful state as
              she drove off in the old car clutching a little basket containing sandwiches and half a bottle
              of milk. She looked so pretty in a new blue frock and with her tiny plaits tied with
              matching blue ribbons. When Ann is animated she looks charming because her normally
              pale cheeks become rosy and she shows her pretty dimples.

              As I am still without an ayah I rather looked forward to a quiet morning with only
              Georgie and Margery Kate to care for, but Georgie found it dull without Ann and wanted
              to be entertained and even the normally placid baby was peevish. Then in mid morning
              the rain came down in torrents, the result of a cloudburst in the hills directly behind our
              house. The ravine next to our house was a terrifying sight. It appeared to be a great
              muddy, roaring waterfall reaching from the very top of the hill to a point about 30 yards
              behind our house and then the stream rushed on down the gorge in an angry brown
              flood. The roar of the water was so great that we had to yell at one another to be heard.
              By lunch time the rain had stopped and I anxiously awaited the return of Ann and
              George. They returned on foot, drenched and hungry at about 2.30pm . George had
              had to abandon the car on the main road as the Mchewe River had overflowed and
              turned the road into a muddy lake. The lower part of the shamba had also been flooded
              and the water receded leaving branches and driftwood amongst the coffee. This was my
              first experience of a real tropical storm. I am afraid that after the battering the coffee has
              had there is little hope of a decent crop next year.

              Anyway Christmas is coming so we don’t dwell on these mishaps. The children
              have already chosen their tree from amongst the young cypresses in the vegetable
              garden. We all send our love and hope that you too will have a Happy Christmas.

              Eleanor

              Mchewe Estate. 22nd December 1935

              Dearest Family,

              I’ve been in the wars with my staff. The cook has been away ill for ten days but is
              back today though shaky and full of self pity. The houseboy, who really has been a brick
              during the cooks absence has now taken to his bed and I feel like taking to Mine! The
              children however have the Christmas spirit and are making weird and wonderful paper
              decorations. George’s contribution was to have the house whitewashed throughout and
              it looks beautifully fresh.

              My best bit of news is that my old ayah Janey has been to see me and would
              like to start working here again on Jan 1st. We are all very well. We meant to give
              ourselves an outing to Mbeya as a Christmas treat but here there is an outbreak of
              enteric fever there so will now not go. We have had two visitors from the Diggings this
              week. The children see so few strangers that they were fascinated and hung around
              staring. Ann sat down on the arm of the couch beside one and studied his profile.
              Suddenly she announced in her clear voice, “Mummy do you know, this man has got
              wax in his ears!” Very awkward pause in the conversation. By the way when I was
              cleaning out little Kate’s ears with a swab of cotton wool a few days ago, Ann asked
              “Mummy, do bees have wax in their ears? Well, where do you get beeswax from
              then?”

              I meant to keep your Christmas parcel unopened until Christmas Eve but could
              not resist peeping today. What lovely things! Ann so loves pretties and will be
              delighted with her frocks. My dress is just right and I love Georgie’s manly little flannel
              shorts and blue shirt. We have bought them each a watering can. I suppose I shall
              regret this later. One of your most welcome gifts is the album of nursery rhyme records. I
              am so fed up with those that we have. Both children love singing. I put a record on the
              gramophone geared to slow and off they go . Georgie sings more slowly than Ann but
              much more tunefully. Ann sings in a flat monotone but Georgie with great expression.
              You ought to hear him render ‘Sing a song of sixpence’. He cannot pronounce an R or
              an S. Mother has sent a large home made Christmas pudding and a fine Christmas
              cake and George will shoot some partridges for Christmas dinner.
              Think of us as I shall certainly think of you.

              Your very loving,
              Eleanor.

              Mchewe Estate. 2nd January 1936

              Dearest Family,

              Christmas was fun! The tree looked very gay with its load of tinsel, candles and
              red crackers and the coloured balloons you sent. All the children got plenty of toys
              thanks to Grandparents and Aunts. George made Ann a large doll’s bed and I made
              some elegant bedding, Barbara, the big doll is now permanently bed ridden. Her poor
              shattered head has come all unstuck and though I have pieced it together again it is a sad
              sight. If you have not yet chosen a present for her birthday next month would you
              please get a new head from the Handy House. I enclose measurements. Ann does so
              love the doll. She always calls her, “My little girl”, and she keeps the doll’s bed beside
              her own and never fails to kiss her goodnight.

              We had no guests for Christmas this year but we were quite festive. Ann
              decorated the dinner table with small pink roses and forget-me-knots and tinsel and the
              crackers from the tree. It was a wet day but we played the new records and both
              George and I worked hard to make it a really happy day for the children. The children
              were hugely delighted when George made himself a revolting set of false teeth out of
              plasticine and a moustache and beard of paper straw from a chocolate box. “Oh Daddy
              you look exactly like Father Christmas!” cried an enthralled Ann. Before bedtime we lit
              all the candles on the tree and sang ‘Away in a Manger’, and then we opened the box of
              starlights you sent and Ann and Georgie had their first experience of fireworks.
              After the children went to bed things deteriorated. First George went for his bath
              and found and killed a large black snake in the bathroom. It must have been in the
              bathroom when I bathed the children earlier in the evening. Then I developed bad
              toothache which kept me awake all night and was agonising next day. Unfortunately the
              bridge between the farm and Mbeya had been washed away and the water was too
              deep for the car to ford until the 30th when at last I was able to take my poor swollen
              face to Mbeya. There is now a young German woman dentist working at the hospital.
              She pulled out the offending molar which had a large abscess attached to it.
              Whilst the dentist attended to me, Ann and Georgie played happily with the
              doctor’s children. I wish they could play more often with other children. Dr Eckhardt was
              very pleased with Margery Kate who at seven months weighs 17 lbs and has lovely
              rosy cheeks. He admired Ann and told her that she looked just like a German girl. “No I
              don’t”, cried Ann indignantly, “I’m English!”

              We were caught in a rain storm going home and as the old car still has no
              windscreen or side curtains we all got soaked except for the baby who was snugly
              wrapped in my raincoat. The kids thought it great fun. Ann is growing up fast now. She
              likes to ‘help mummy’. She is a perfectionist at four years old which is rather trying. She
              gets so discouraged when things do not turn out as well as she means them to. Sewing
              is constantly being unpicked and paintings torn up. She is a very sensitive child.
              Georgie is quite different. He is a man of action, but not silent. He talks incessantly
              but lisps and stumbles over some words. At one time Ann and Georgie often
              conversed in Ki-Swahili but they now scorn to do so. If either forgets and uses a Swahili
              word, the other points a scornful finger and shouts “You black toto”.

              With love to all,
              Eleanor.

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