Search Results for 'possibly'

Forums Search Search Results for 'possibly'

Viewing 20 results - 1 through 20 (of 85 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #6348
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Wong Sang

     

    Wong Sang was born in China in 1884. In October 1916 he married Alice Stokes in Oxford.

    Alice was the granddaughter of William Stokes of Churchill, Oxfordshire and William was the brother of Thomas Stokes the wheelwright (who was my 3X great grandfather). In other words Alice was my second cousin, three times removed, on my fathers paternal side.

    Wong Sang was an interpreter, according to the baptism registers of his children and the Dreadnought Seamen’s Hospital admission registers in 1930.  The hospital register also notes that he was employed by the Blue Funnel Line, and that his address was 11, Limehouse Causeway, E 14. (London)

    “The Blue Funnel Line offered regular First-Class Passenger and Cargo Services From the UK to South Africa, Malaya, China, Japan, Australia, Java, and America.  Blue Funnel Line was Owned and Operated by Alfred Holt & Co., Liverpool.
    The Blue Funnel Line, so-called because its ships have a blue funnel with a black top, is more appropriately known as the Ocean Steamship Company.”

     

    Wong Sang and Alice’s daughter, Frances Eileen Sang, was born on the 14th July, 1916 and baptised in 1920 at St Stephen in Poplar, Tower Hamlets, London.  The birth date is noted in the 1920 baptism register and would predate their marriage by a few months, although on the death register in 1921 her age at death is four years old and her year of birth is recorded as 1917.

    Charles Ronald Sang was baptised on the same day in May 1920, but his birth is recorded as April of that year.  The family were living on Morant Street, Poplar.

    James William Sang’s birth is recorded on the 1939 census and on the death register in 2000 as being the 8th March 1913.  This definitely would predate the 1916 marriage in Oxford.

    William Norman Sang was born on the 17th October 1922 in Poplar.

    Alice and the three sons were living at 11, Limehouse Causeway on the 1939 census, the same address that Wong Sang was living at when he was admitted to Dreadnought Seamen’s Hospital on the 15th January 1930. Wong Sang died in the hospital on the 8th March of that year at the age of 46.

    Alice married John Patterson in 1933 in Stepney. John was living with Alice and her three sons on Limehouse Causeway on the 1939 census and his occupation was chef.

    Via Old London Photographs:

    “Limehouse Causeway is a street in east London that was the home to the original Chinatown of London. A combination of bomb damage during the Second World War and later redevelopment means that almost nothing is left of the original buildings of the street.”

    Limehouse Causeway in 1925:

    Limehouse Causeway

     

    From The Story of Limehouse’s Lost Chinatown, poplarlondon website:

    “Limehouse was London’s first Chinatown, home to a tightly-knit community who were demonised in popular culture and eventually erased from the cityscape.

    As recounted in the BBC’s ‘Our Greatest Generation’ series, Connie was born to a Chinese father and an English mother in early 1920s Limehouse, where she used to play in the street with other British and British-Chinese children before running inside for teatime at one of their houses. 

    Limehouse was London’s first Chinatown between the 1880s and the 1960s, before the current Chinatown off Shaftesbury Avenue was established in the 1970s by an influx of immigrants from Hong Kong. 

    Connie’s memories of London’s first Chinatown as an “urban village” paint a very different picture to the seedy area portrayed in early twentieth century novels. 

    The pyramid in St Anne’s church marked the entrance to the opium den of Dr Fu Manchu, a criminal mastermind who threatened Western society by plotting world domination in a series of novels by Sax Rohmer. 

    Thomas Burke’s Limehouse Nights cemented stereotypes about prostitution, gambling and violence within the Chinese community, and whipped up anxiety about sexual relationships between Chinese men and white women. 

    Though neither novelist was familiar with the Chinese community, their depictions made Limehouse one of the most notorious areas of London. 

    Travel agent Thomas Cook even organised tours of the area for daring visitors, despite the rector of Limehouse warning that “those who look for the Limehouse of Mr Thomas Burke simply will not find it.”

    All that remains is a handful of Chinese street names, such as Ming Street, Pekin Street, and Canton Street — but what was Limehouse’s chinatown really like, and why did it get swept away?

    Chinese migration to Limehouse 

    Chinese sailors discharged from East India Company ships settled in the docklands from as early as the 1780s.

    By the late nineteenth century, men from Shanghai had settled around Pennyfields Lane, while a Cantonese community lived on Limehouse Causeway. 

    Chinese sailors were often paid less and discriminated against by dock hirers, and so began to diversify their incomes by setting up hand laundry services and restaurants. 

    Old photographs show shopfronts emblazoned with Chinese characters with horse-drawn carts idling outside or Chinese men in suits and hats standing proudly in the doorways. 

    In oral histories collected by Yat Ming Loo, Connie’s husband Leslie doesn’t recall seeing any Chinese women as a child, since male Chinese sailors settled in London alone and married working-class English women. 

    In the 1920s, newspapers fear-mongered about interracial marriages, crime and gambling, and described chinatown as an East End “colony.” 

    Ironically, Chinese opium-smoking was also demonised in the press, despite Britain waging war against China in the mid-nineteenth century for suppressing the opium trade to alleviate addiction amongst its people. 

    The number of Chinese people who settled in Limehouse was also greatly exaggerated, and in reality only totalled around 300. 

    The real Chinatown 

    Although the press sought to characterise Limehouse as a monolithic Chinese community in the East End, Connie remembers seeing people of all nationalities in the shops and community spaces in Limehouse.

    She doesn’t remember feeling discriminated against by other locals, though Connie does recall having her face measured and IQ tested by a member of the British Eugenics Society who was conducting research in the area. 

    Some of Connie’s happiest childhood memories were from her time at Chung-Hua Club, where she learned about Chinese culture and language.

    Why did Chinatown disappear? 

    The caricature of Limehouse’s Chinatown as a den of vice hastened its erasure. 

    Police raids and deportations fuelled by the alarmist media coverage threatened the Chinese population of Limehouse, and slum clearance schemes to redevelop low-income areas dispersed Chinese residents in the 1930s. 

    The Defence of the Realm Act imposed at the beginning of the First World War criminalised opium use, gave the authorities increased powers to deport Chinese people and restricted their ability to work on British ships.

    Dwindling maritime trade during World War II further stripped Chinese sailors of opportunities for employment, and any remnants of Chinatown were destroyed during the Blitz or erased by postwar development schemes.”

     

    Wong Sang 1884-1930

    The year 1918 was a troublesome one for Wong Sang, an interpreter and shipping agent for Blue Funnel Line.  The Sang family were living at 156, Chrisp Street.

    Chrisp Street, Poplar, in 1913 via Old London Photographs:

    Chrisp Street

     

    In February Wong Sang was discharged from a false accusation after defending his home from potential robbers.

    East End News and London Shipping Chronicle – Friday 15 February 1918:

    1918 Wong Sang

     

    In August of that year he was involved in an incident that left him unconscious.

    Faringdon Advertiser and Vale of the White Horse Gazette – Saturday 31 August 1918:

    1918 Wong Sang 2

     

    Wong Sang is mentioned in an 1922 article about “Oriental London”.

    London and China Express – Thursday 09 February 1922:

    1922 Wong Sang

    A photograph of the Chee Kong Tong Chinese Freemason Society mentioned in the above article, via Old London Photographs:

    Chee Kong Tong

     

    Wong Sang was recommended by the London Metropolitan Police in 1928 to assist in a case in Wellingborough, Northampton.

    Difficulty of Getting an Interpreter: Northampton Mercury – Friday 16 March 1928:

    1928 Wong Sang1928 Wong Sang 2

    The difficulty was that “this man speaks the Cantonese language only…the Northeners and the Southerners in China have differing languages and the interpreter seemed to speak one that was in between these two.”

     

    In 1917, Alice Wong Sang was a witness at her sister Harriet Stokes marriage to James William Watts in Southwark, London.  Their father James Stokes occupation on the marriage register is foreman surveyor, but on the census he was a council roadman or labourer. (I initially rejected this as the correct marriage for Harriet because of the discrepancy with the occupations. Alice Wong Sang as a witness confirmed that it was indeed the correct one.)

    1917 Alice Wong Sang

     

     

    James William Sang 1913-2000 was a clock fitter and watch assembler (on the 1939 census). He married Ivy Laura Fenton in 1963 in Sidcup, Kent. James died in Southwark in 2000.

    Charles Ronald Sang 1920-1974  was a draughtsman (1939 census). He married Eileen Burgess in 1947 in Marylebone.  Charles and Eileen had two sons:  Keith born in 1951 and Roger born in 1952.  He died in 1974 in Hertfordshire.

    William Norman Sang 1922-2000 was a clerk and telephone operator (1939 census).  William enlisted in the Royal Artillery in 1942. He married Lily Mullins in 1949 in Bethnal Green, and they had three daughters: Marion born in 1950, Christine in 1953, and Frances in 1959.  He died in Redbridge in 2000.

     

    I then found another two births registered in Poplar by Alice Sang, both daughters.  Doris Winifred Sang was born in 1925, and Patricia Margaret Sang was born in 1933 ~ three years after Wong Sang’s death.  Neither of the these daughters were on the 1939 census with Alice, John Patterson and the three sons.  Margaret had presumably been evacuated because of the war to a family in Taunton, Somerset. Doris would have been fourteen and I have been unable to find her in 1939 (possibly because she died in 2017 and has not had the redaction removed  yet on the 1939 census as only deceased people are viewable).

    Doris Winifred Sang 1925-2017 was a nursing sister. She didn’t marry, and spent a year in USA between 1954 and 1955. She stayed in London, and died at the age of ninety two in 2017.

    Patricia Margaret Sang 1933-1998 was also a nurse. She married Patrick L Nicely in Stepney in 1957.  Patricia and Patrick had five children in London: Sharon born 1959, Donald in 1960, Malcolm was born and died in 1966, Alison was born in 1969 and David in 1971.

     

    I was unable to find a birth registered for Alice’s first son, James William Sang (as he appeared on the 1939 census).  I found Alice Stokes on the 1911 census as a 17 year old live in servant at a tobacconist on Pekin Street, Limehouse, living with Mr Sui Fong from Hong Kong and his wife Sarah Sui Fong from Berlin.  I looked for a birth registered for James William Fong instead of Sang, and found it ~ mothers maiden name Stokes, and his date of birth matched the 1939 census: 8th March, 1913.

    On the 1921 census, Wong Sang is not listed as living with them but it is mentioned that Mr Wong Sang was the person returning the census.  Also living with Alice and her sons James and Charles in 1921 are two visitors:  (Florence) May Stokes, 17 years old, born in Woodstock, and Charles Stokes, aged 14, also born in Woodstock. May and Charles were Alice’s sister and brother.

     

    I found Sharon Nicely on social media and she kindly shared photos of Wong Sang and Alice Stokes:

    Wong Sang

     

    Alice Stokes

    #6343
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum

    William James Stokes

     

    William James Stokes was the first son of Thomas Stokes and Eliza Browning. Oddly, his birth was registered in Witham in Essex, on the 6th September 1841.

    Birth certificate of William James Stokes:

    birth William Stokes

     

    His father Thomas Stokes has not yet been found on the 1841 census, and his mother Eliza was staying with her uncle Thomas Lock in Cirencester in 1841. Eliza’s mother Mary Browning (nee Lock) was staying there too. Thomas and Eliza were married in September 1840 in Hempstead in Gloucestershire.

    It’s a mystery why William was born in Essex but one possibility is that his father Thomas, who later worked with the Chipperfields making circus wagons, was staying with the Chipperfields who were wheelwrights in Witham in 1841. Or perhaps even away with a traveling circus at the time of the census, learning the circus waggon wheelwright trade. But this is a guess and it’s far from clear why Eliza would make the journey to Witham to have the baby when she was staying in Cirencester a few months prior.

    In 1851 Thomas and Eliza, William and four younger siblings were living in Bledington in Oxfordshire.

    William was a 19 year old wheelwright living with his parents in Evesham in 1861. He married Elizabeth Meldrum in December 1867 in Hackney, London. He and his father are both wheelwrights on the marriage register.

    Marriage of William James Stokes and Elizabeth Meldrum in 1867:

    1867 William Stokes

     

    William and Elizabeth had a daughter, Elizabeth Emily Stokes, in 1868 in Shoreditch, London.

    On the 3rd of December 1870, William James Stokes was admitted to Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum. One week later on the 10th of December, he was dead.

    On his death certificate the cause of death was “general paralysis and exhaustion, certified. MD Edgar Sheppard in attendance.” William was just 29 years old.

    Death certificate William James Stokes:

    death William Stokes

     

    I asked on a genealogy forum what could possibly have caused this death at such a young age. A retired pathology professor replied that “in medicine the term General Paralysis is only used in one context – that of Tertiary Syphilis.”
    “Tertiary syphilis is the third and final stage of syphilis, a sexually transmitted disease that unfolds in stages when the individual affected doesn’t receive appropriate treatment.”

    From the article “Looking back: This fascinating and fatal disease” by Jennifer Wallis:

    “……in asylums across Britain in the late 19th century, with hundreds of people receiving the diagnosis of general paralysis of the insane (GPI). The majority of these were men in their 30s and 40s, all exhibiting one or more of the disease’s telltale signs: grandiose delusions, a staggering gait, disturbed reflexes, asymmetrical pupils, tremulous voice, and muscular weakness. Their prognosis was bleak, most dying within months, weeks, or sometimes days of admission.

    The fatal nature of GPI made it of particular concern to asylum superintendents, who became worried that their institutions were full of incurable cases requiring constant care. The social effects of the disease were also significant, attacking men in the prime of life whose admission to the asylum frequently left a wife and children at home. Compounding the problem was the erratic behaviour of the general paralytic, who might get themselves into financial or legal difficulties. Delusions about their vast wealth led some to squander scarce family resources on extravagant purchases – one man’s wife reported he had bought ‘a quantity of hats’ despite their meagre income – and doctors pointed to the frequency of thefts by general paralytics who imagined that everything belonged to them.”

     

    The London Archives hold the records for Colney Hatch, but they informed me that the particular records for the dates that William was admitted and died were in too poor a condition to be accessed without causing further damage.

    Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum gained such notoriety that the name “Colney Hatch” appeared in various terms of abuse associated with the concept of madness. Infamous inmates that were institutionalized at Colney Hatch (later called Friern Hospital) include Jack the Ripper suspect Aaron Kosminski from 1891, and from 1911 the wife of occultist Aleister Crowley. In 1993 the hospital grounds were sold and the exclusive apartment complex called Princess Park Manor was built.

    Colney Hatch:

    Colney Hatch

     

    In 1873 Williams widow married William Hallam in Limehouse in London. Elizabeth died in 1930, apparently unaffected by her first husbands ailment.

    #6303
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    The Hollands of Barton under Needwood

     

    Samuel Warren of Stapenhill married Catherine Holland of Barton under Needwood in 1795.

    I joined a Barton under Needwood History group and found an incredible amount of information on the Holland family, but first I wanted to make absolutely sure that our Catherine Holland was one of them as there were also Hollands in Newhall. Not only that, on the marriage licence it says that Catherine Holland was from Bretby Park Gate, Stapenhill.

    Then I noticed that one of the witnesses on Samuel’s brother Williams marriage to Ann Holland in 1796 was John Hair. Hannah Hair was the wife of Thomas Holland, and they were the Barton under Needwood parents of Catherine. Catherine was born in 1775, and Ann was born in 1767.

    The 1851 census clinched it: Catherine Warren 74 years old, widow and formerly a farmers wife, was living in the household of her son John Warren, and her place of birth is listed as Barton under Needwood. In 1841 Catherine was a 64 year old widow, her husband Samuel having died in 1837, and she was living with her son Samuel, a farmer. The 1841 census did not list place of birth, however. Catherine died on 31 March 1861 and does not appear on the 1861 census.

    Once I had established that our Catherine Holland was from Barton under Needwood, I had another look at the information available on the Barton under Needwood History group, compiled by local historian Steve Gardner.

    Catherine’s parents were Thomas Holland 1737-1828 and Hannah Hair 1739-1822.

    Steve Gardner had posted a long list of the dates, marriages and children of the Holland family. The earliest entries in parish registers were Thomae Holland 1562-1626 and his wife Eunica Edwardes 1565-1632. They married on 10th July 1582. They were born, married and died in Barton under Needwood. They were direct ancestors of Catherine Holland, and as such my direct ancestors too.

    The known history of the Holland family in Barton under Needwood goes back to Richard De Holland. (Thanks once again to Steve Gardner of the Barton under Needwood History group for this information.)

    “Richard de Holland was the first member of the Holland family to become resident in Barton under Needwood (in about 1312) having been granted lands by the Earl of Lancaster (for whom Richard served as Stud and Stock Keeper of the Peak District) The Holland family stemmed from Upholland in Lancashire and had many family connections working for the Earl of Lancaster, who was one of the biggest Barons in England. Lancaster had his own army and lived at Tutbury Castle, from where he ruled over most of the Midlands area. The Earl of Lancaster was one of the main players in the ‘Barons Rebellion’ and the ensuing Battle of Burton Bridge in 1322. Richard de Holland was very much involved in the proceedings which had so angered Englands King. Holland narrowly escaped with his life, unlike the Earl who was executed.
    From the arrival of that first Holland family member, the Hollands were a mainstay family in the community, and were in Barton under Needwood for over 600 years.”

    Continuing with various items of information regarding the Hollands, thanks to Steve Gardner’s Barton under Needwood history pages:

    “PART 6 (Final Part)
    Some mentions of The Manor of Barton in the Ancient Staffordshire Rolls:
    1330. A Grant was made to Herbert de Ferrars, at le Newland in the Manor of Barton.
    1378. The Inquisitio bonorum – Johannis Holand — an interesting Inventory of his goods and their value and his debts.
    1380. View of Frankpledge ; the Jury found that Richard Holland was feloniously murdered by his wife Joan and Thomas Graunger, who fled. The goods of the deceased were valued at iiij/. iijj. xid. ; one-third went to the dead man, one-third to his son, one- third to the Lord for the wife’s share. Compare 1 H. V. Indictments. (1413.)
    That Thomas Graunger of Barton smyth and Joan the wife of Richard de Holond of Barton on the Feast of St. John the Baptist 10 H. II. (1387) had traitorously killed and murdered at night, at Barton, Richard, the husband of the said Joan. (m. 22.)
    The names of various members of the Holland family appear constantly among the listed Jurors on the manorial records printed below : —
    1539. Richard Holland and Richard Holland the younger are on the Muster Roll of Barton
    1583. Thomas Holland and Unica his wife are living at Barton.
    1663-4. Visitations. — Barton under Needword. Disclaimers. William Holland, Senior, William Holland, Junior.
    1609. Richard Holland, Clerk and Alice, his wife.
    1663-4. Disclaimers at the Visitation. William Holland, Senior, William Holland, Junior.”

    I was able to find considerably more information on the Hollands in the book “Some Records of the Holland Family (The Hollands of Barton under Needwood, Staffordshire, and the Hollands in History)” by William Richard Holland. Luckily the full text of this book can be found online.

    William Richard Holland (Died 1915) An early local Historian and author of the book:

    William Richard Holland

     

    ‘Holland House’ taken from the Gardens (sadly demolished in the early 60’s):

    Holland House

     

    Excerpt from the book:

    “The charter, dated 1314, granting Richard rights and privileges in Needwood Forest, reads as follows:

    “Thomas Earl of Lancaster and Leicester, high-steward of England, to whom all these present shall come, greeting: Know ye, that we have given, &c., to Richard Holland of Barton, and his heirs, housboot, heyboot, and fireboot, and common of pasture, in our forest of Needwood, for all his beasts, as well in places fenced as lying open, with 40 hogs, quit of pawnage in our said forest at all times in the year (except hogs only in fence month). All which premises we will warrant, &c. to the said Richard and his heirs against all people for ever”

    “The terms “housboot” “heyboot” and “fireboot” meant that Richard and his heirs were to have the privilege of taking from the Forest, wood needed for house repair and building, hedging material for the repairing of fences, and what was needful for purposes of fuel.”

    Further excerpts from the book:

    “It may here be mentioned that during the renovation of Barton Church, when the stone pillars were being stripped of the plaster which covered them, “William Holland 1617” was found roughly carved on a pillar near to the belfry gallery, obviously the work of a not too devout member of the family, who, seated in the gallery of that time, occupied himself thus during the service. The inscription can still be seen.”

    “The earliest mention of a Holland of Upholland occurs in the reign of John in a Final Concord, made at the Lancashire Assizes, dated November 5th, 1202, in which Uchtred de Chryche, who seems to have had some right in the manor of Upholland, releases his right in fourteen oxgangs* of land to Matthew de Holland, in consideration of the sum of six marks of silver. Thus was planted the Holland Tree, all the early information of which is found in The Victoria County History of Lancaster.

    As time went on, the family acquired more land, and with this, increased position. Thus, in the reign of Edward I, a Robert de Holland, son of Thurstan, son of Robert, became possessed of the manor of Orrell adjoining Upholland and of the lordship of Hale in the parish of Childwall, and, through marriage with Elizabeth de Samlesbury (co-heiress of Sir Wm. de Samlesbury of Samlesbury, Hall, near to Preston), of the moiety of that manor….

    * An oxgang signified the amount of land that could be ploughed by one ox in one day”

    “This Robert de Holland, son of Thurstan, received Knighthood in the reign of Edward I, as did also his brother William, ancestor of that branch of the family which later migrated to Cheshire. Belonging to this branch are such noteworthy personages as Mrs. Gaskell, the talented authoress, her mother being a Holland of this branch, Sir Henry Holland, Physician to Queen Victoria, and his two sons, the first Viscount Knutsford, and Canon Francis Holland ; Sir Henry’s grandson (the present Lord Knutsford), Canon Scott Holland, etc. Captain Frederick Holland, R.N., late of Ashbourne Hall, Derbyshire, may also be mentioned here.*”

    Thanks to the Barton under Needwood history group for the following:

    WALES END FARM:
    In 1509 it was owned and occupied by Mr Johannes Holland De Wallass end who was a well to do Yeoman Farmer (the origin of the areas name – Wales End).  Part of the building dates to 1490 making it probably the oldest building still standing in the Village:

    Wales End Farm

     

    I found records for all of the Holland’s listed on the Barton under Needwood History group and added them to my ancestry tree. The earliest will I found was for Eunica Edwardes, then Eunica Holland, who died in 1632.

    A page from the 1632 will and inventory of Eunica (Unice) Holland:

    Unice Holland

     

    I’d been reading about “pedigree collapse” just before I found out her maiden name of Edwardes. Edwards is my own maiden name.

    “In genealogy, pedigree collapse describes how reproduction between two individuals who knowingly or unknowingly share an ancestor causes the family tree of their offspring to be smaller than it would otherwise be.
    Without pedigree collapse, a person’s ancestor tree is a binary tree, formed by the person, the parents, grandparents, and so on. However, the number of individuals in such a tree grows exponentially and will eventually become impossibly high. For example, a single individual alive today would, over 30 generations going back to the High Middle Ages, have roughly a billion ancestors, more than the total world population at the time. This apparent paradox occurs because the individuals in the binary tree are not distinct: instead, a single individual may occupy multiple places in the binary tree. This typically happens when the parents of an ancestor are cousins (sometimes unbeknownst to themselves). For example, the offspring of two first cousins has at most only six great-grandparents instead of the normal eight. This reduction in the number of ancestors is pedigree collapse. It collapses the binary tree into a directed acyclic graph with two different, directed paths starting from the ancestor who in the binary tree would occupy two places.” via wikipedia

    There is nothing to suggest, however, that Eunica’s family were related to my fathers family, and the only evidence so far in my tree of pedigree collapse are the marriages of Orgill cousins, where two sets of grandparents are repeated.

    A list of Holland ancestors:

    Catherine Holland 1775-1861
    her parents:
    Thomas Holland 1737-1828   Hannah Hair 1739-1832
    Thomas’s parents:
    William Holland 1696-1756   Susannah Whiteing 1715-1752
    William’s parents:
    William Holland 1665-    Elizabeth Higgs 1675-1720
    William’s parents:
    Thomas Holland 1634-1681   Katherine Owen 1634-1728
    Thomas’s parents:
    Thomas Holland 1606-1680   Margaret Belcher 1608-1664
    Thomas’s parents:
    Thomas Holland 1562-1626   Eunice Edwardes 1565- 1632

    #6272
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    The Housley Letters

    The Carringtons

    Carrington Farm, Smalley:

    Carrington Farm

     

    Ellen Carrington was born in 1795. Her father William Carrington 1755-1833 was from Smalley. Her mother Mary Malkin 1765-1838 was from Ellastone, in Staffordshire.  Ellastone is on the Derbyshire border and very close to Ashboure, where Ellen married William Housley.

     

    From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters:

    Ellen’s family was evidently rather prominant in Smalley. Two Carringtons (John and William) served on the Parish Council in 1794. Parish records are full of Carrington marriages and christenings.

    The letters refer to a variety of “uncles” who were probably Ellen’s brothers, but could be her uncles. These include:

    RICHARD

    Probably the youngest Uncle, and certainly the most significant, is Richard. He was a trustee for some of the property which needed to be settled following Ellen’s death. Anne wrote in 1854 that Uncle Richard “has got a new house built” and his daughters are “fine dashing young ladies–the belles of Smalley.” Then she added, “Aunt looks as old as my mother.”

    Richard was born somewhere between 1808 and 1812. Since Richard was a contemporary of the older Housley children, “Aunt,” who was three years younger, should not look so old!

    Richard Carrington and Harriet Faulkner were married in Repton in 1833. A daughter Elizabeth was baptised March 24, 1834. In July 1872, Joseph wrote: Elizabeth is married too and a large family and is living in Uncle Thomas’s house for he is dead.” Elizabeth married Ayres (Eyres) Clayton of Lascoe. His occupation was listed as joiner and shopkeeper. They were married before 1864 since Elizabeth Clayton witnessed her sister’s marriage. Their children in April 1871 were Selina (1863), Agnes Maria (1866) and Elizabeth Ann (1868). A fourth daughter, Alice Augusta, was born in 1872 or 1873, probably by July 1872 to fit Joseph’s description “large family”! A son Charles Richard was born in 1880.

    An Elizabeth Ann Clayton married John Arthur Woodhouse on May 12, 1913. He was a carpenter. His father was a miner. Elizabeth Ann’s father, Ayres, was also a carpenter. John Arthur’s age was given as 25. Elizabeth Ann’s age was given as 33 or 38. However, if she was born in 1868, her age would be 45. Possibly this is another case of a child being named for a deceased sibling. If she were 38 and born in 1875, she would fill the gap between Alice Augusta and Charles Richard.

    Selina Clayton, who would have been 18, is not listed in the household in 1881. She died on June 11, 1914 at age 51. Agnes Maria Clayton died at the age of 25 and was buried March 31, 1891. Charles Richard died at the age of 5 and was buried on February 4, 1886. A Charles James Clayton, 18 months, was buried June 8, 1889 in Heanor.

    Richard Carrington’s second daughter, Selina, born in 1837, married Walker Martin (b.1835) on February 11, 1864 and they were living at Kidsley Park Farm in 1872, according to a letter from Joseph, and, according to the census, were still there in 1881. This 100 acre farm was formerly the home of Daniel Smith and his daughter Elizabeth Davy Barber. Selina and Walker had at least five children: Elizabeth Ann (1865), Harriet Georgianna (1866/7), Alice Marian (September 6, 1868), Philip Richard (1870), and Walker (1873). In December 1972, Joseph mentioned the death of Philip Walker, a farmer of Prospect Farm, Shipley. This was probably Walker Martin’s grandfather, since Walker was born in Shipley. The stock was to be sold the following Monday, but his daughter (Walker’s mother?) died the next day. Walker’s father was named Thomas. An Annie Georgianna Martin age 13 of Shipley died in April of 1859.

    Selina Martin died on October 29, 1906 but her estate was not settled until November 14, 1910. Her gross estate was worth L223.56. Her son Walker and her daughter Harriet Georgiana were her trustees and executers. Walker was to get Selina’s half of Richard’s farm. Harriet Georgiana and Alice Marian were to be allowed to live with him. Philip Richard received L25. Elizabeth Ann was already married to someone named Smith.

    Richard and Harriet may also have had a son George. In 1851 a Harriet Carrington and her three year old son George were living with her step-father John Benniston in Heanor. John may have been recently widowed and needed her help. Or, the Carrington home may have been inadequate since Anne reported a new one was built by 1854. Selina’s second daughter’s name testifies to the presence of a “George” in the family! Could the death of this son account for the haggard appearance Anne described when she wrote: “Aunt looks as old as my mother?”
    Harriet was buried May 19, 1866. She was 55 when she died.

    In 1881, Georgianna then 14, was living with her grandfather and his niece, Zilpah Cooper, age 38–who lived with Richard on his 63 acre farm as early as 1871. A Zilpah, daughter of William and Elizabeth, was christened October 1843. Her brother, William Walter, was christened in 1846 and married Anna Maria Saint in 1873. There are four Selina Coopers–one had a son William Thomas Bartrun Cooper christened in 1864; another had a son William Cooper christened in 1873.

    Our Zilpah was born in Bretley 1843. She died at age 49 and was buried on September 24, 1892. In her will, which was witnessed by Selina Martin, Zilpah’s sister, Frances Elizabeth Cleave, wife of Horatio Cleave of Leicester is mentioned. James Eley and Francis Darwin Huish (Richard’s soliciter) were executers.

    Richard died June 10, 1892, and was buried on June 13. He was 85. As might be expected, Richard’s will was complicated. Harriet Georgiana Martin and Zilpah Cooper were to share his farm. If neither wanted to live there it was to go to Georgiana’s cousin Selina Clayton. However, Zilpah died soon after Richard. Originally, he left his piano, parlor and best bedroom furniture to his daughter Elizabeth Clayton. Then he revoked everything but the piano. He arranged for the payment of £150 which he owed. Later he added a codicil explaining that the debt was paid but he had borrowed £200 from someone else to do it!

    Richard left a good deal of property including: The house and garden in Smalley occupied by Eyres Clayton with four messuages and gardens adjoining and large garden below and three messuages at the south end of the row with the frame work knitters shop and garden adjoining; a dwelling house used as a public house with a close of land; a small cottage and garden and four cottages and shop and gardens.

     

    THOMAS

    In August 1854, Anne wrote “Uncle Thomas is about as usual.” A Thomas Carrington married a Priscilla Walker in 1810.

    Their children were baptised in August 1830 at the same time as the Housley children who at that time ranged in age from 3 to 17. The oldest of Thomas and Priscilla’s children, Henry, was probably at least 17 as he was married by 1836. Their youngest son, William Thomas, born 1830, may have been Mary Ellen Weston’s beau. However, the only Richard whose christening is recorded (1820), was the son of Thomas and Lucy. In 1872 Joseph reported that Richard’s daughter Elizabeth was married and living in Uncle Thomas’s house. In 1851, Alfred Smith lived in house 25, Foulks lived in 26, Thomas and Priscilla lived in 27, Bennetts lived in 28, Allard lived in 29 and Day lived in 30. Thomas and Priscilla do not appear in 1861. In 1871 Elizabeth Ann and Ayres Clayton lived in House 54. None of the families listed as neighbors in 1851 remained. However, Joseph Carrington, who lived in house 19 in 1851, lived in house 51 in 1871.

     

    JOHN

    In August 1854, Anne wrote: “Uncle John is with Will and Frank has been home in a comfortable place in Cotmanhay.” Although John and William are two of the most popular Carrington names, only two John’s have sons named William. John and Rachel Buxton Carrington had a son William christened in 1788. At the time of the letters this John would have been over 100 years old. Their son John and his wife Ann had a son William who was born in 1805. However, this William age 46 was living with his widowed mother in 1851. A Robert Carrington and his wife Ann had a son John born 1n 1805. He would be the right age to be a brother to Francis Carrington discussed below. This John was living with his widowed mother in 1851 and was unmarried. There are no known Williams in this family grouping. A William Carrington of undiscovered parentage was born in 1821. It is also possible that the Will in question was Anne’s brother Will Housley.

    –Two Francis Carringtons appear in the 1841 census both of them aged 35. One is living with Richard and Harriet Carrington. The other is living next door to Samuel and Ellen Carrington Kerry (the trustee for “father’s will”!). The next name in this sequence is John Carrington age 15 who does not seem to live with anyone! but may be part of the Kerry household.

    FRANK (see above)

    While Anne did not preface her mention of the name Frank with an “Uncle,” Joseph referred to Uncle Frank and James Carrington in the same sentence. A James Carrington was born in 1814 and had a wife Sarah. He worked as a framework knitter. James may have been a son of William and Anne Carrington. He lived near Richard according to the 1861 census. Other children of William and Anne are Hannah (1811), William (1815), John (1816), and Ann (1818). An Ann Carrington married a Frank Buxton in 1819. This might be “Uncle Frank.”

    An Ellen Carrington was born to John and Rachel Carrington in 1785. On October 25, 1809, a Samuel Kerry married an Ellen Carrington. However this Samuel Kerry is not the trustee involved in settling Ellen’s estate. John Carrington died July 1815.

    William and Mary Carrington:

    William Carrington

    #6269
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    The Housley Letters 

    From Barbara Housley’s Narrative on the Letters.

     

    William Housley (1781-1848) and Ellen Carrington were married on May 30, 1814 at St. Oswald’s church in Ashbourne. William died in 1848 at the age of 67 of “disease of lungs and general debility”. Ellen died in 1872.

    Marriage of William Housley and Ellen Carrington in Ashbourne in 1814:

    William and Ellen Marriage

     

    Parish records show three children for William and his first wife, Mary, Ellens’ sister, who were married December 29, 1806: Mary Ann, christened in 1808 and mentioned frequently in the letters; Elizabeth, christened in 1810, but never mentioned in any letters; and William, born in 1812, probably referred to as Will in the letters. Mary died in 1813.

    William and Ellen had ten children: John, Samuel, Edward, Anne, Charles, George, Joseph, Robert, Emma, and Joseph. The first Joseph died at the age of four, and the last son was also named Joseph. Anne never married, Charles emigrated to Australia in 1851, and George to USA, also in 1851. The letters are to George, from his sisters and brothers in England.

    The following are excerpts of those letters, including excerpts of Barbara Housley’s “Narrative on Historic Letters”. They are grouped according to who they refer to, rather than chronological order.

     

    ELLEN HOUSLEY 1795-1872

    Joseph wrote that when Emma was married, Ellen “broke up the comfortable home and the things went to Derby and she went to live with them but Derby didn’t agree with her so she left again leaving her things behind and came to live with John in the new house where she died.” Ellen was listed with John’s household in the 1871 census.
    In May 1872, the Ilkeston Pioneer carried this notice: “Mr. Hopkins will sell by auction on Saturday next the eleventh of May 1872 the whole of the useful furniture, sewing machine, etc. nearly new on the premises of the late Mrs. Housley at Smalley near Heanor in the county of Derby. Sale at one o’clock in the afternoon.”

    Ellen’s family was evidently rather prominant in Smalley. Two Carringtons (John and William) served on the Parish Council in 1794. Parish records are full of Carrington marriages and christenings; census records confirm many of the family groupings.

    In June of 1856, Emma wrote: “Mother looks as well as ever and was told by a lady the other day that she looked handsome.” Later she wrote: “Mother is as stout as ever although she sometimes complains of not being able to do as she used to.”

     

    Mary’s children:

    MARY ANN HOUSLEY  1808-1878

    There were hard feelings between Mary Ann and Ellen and her children. Anne wrote: “If you remember we were not very friendly when you left. They never came and nothing was too bad for Mary Ann to say of Mother and me, but when Robert died Mother sent for her to the funeral but she did not think well to come so we took no more notice. She would not allow her children to come either.”

    Mary Ann was unlucky in love! In Anne’s second letter she wrote: “William Carrington is paying Mary Ann great attention. He is living in London but they write to each other….We expect it will be a match.” Apparantly the courtship was stormy for in 1855, Emma wrote: “Mary Ann’s wedding with William Carrington has dropped through after she had prepared everything, dresses and all for the occassion.” Then in 1856, Emma wrote: “William Carrington and Mary Ann are separated. They wore him out with their nonsense.” Whether they ever married is unclear. Joseph wrote in 1872: “Mary Ann was married but her husband has left her. She is in very poor health. She has one daughter and they are living with their mother at Smalley.”

    Regarding William Carrington, Emma supplied this bit of news: “His sister, Mrs. Lily, has eloped with a married man. Is she not a nice person!”

     

    WILLIAM HOUSLEY JR. 1812-1890

    According to a letter from Anne, Will’s two sons and daughter were sent to learn dancing so they would be “fit for any society.” Will’s wife was Dorothy Palfry. They were married in Denby on October 20, 1836 when Will was 24. According to the 1851 census, Will and Dorothy had three sons: Alfred 14, Edwin 12, and William 10. All three boys were born in Denby.

    In his letter of May 30, 1872, after just bemoaning that all of his brothers and sisters are gone except Sam and John, Joseph added: “Will is living still.” In another 1872 letter Joseph wrote, “Will is living at Heanor yet and carrying on his cattle dealing.” The 1871 census listed Will, 59, and his son William, 30, of Lascoe Road, Heanor, as cattle dealers.

     

    Ellen’s children:

    JOHN HOUSLEY  1815-1893

    John married Sarah Baggally in Morely in 1838. They had at least six children. Elizabeth (born 2 May 1838) was “out service” in 1854. In her “third year out,Elizabeth was described by Anne as “a very nice steady girl but quite a woman in appearance.” One of her positions was with a Mrs. Frearson in Heanor. Emma wrote in 1856: Elizabeth is still at Mrs. Frearson. She is such a fine stout girl you would not know her.” Joseph wrote in 1872 that Elizabeth was in service with Mrs. Eliza Sitwell at Derby. (About 1850, Miss Eliza Wilmot-Sitwell provided for a small porch with a handsome Norman doorway at the west end of the St. John the Baptist parish church in Smalley.)

    According to Elizabeth’s birth certificate and the 1841 census, John was a butcher. By 1851, the household included a nurse and a servant, and John was listed as a “victular.” Anne wrote in February 1854, John has left the Public House a year and a half ago. He is living where Plumbs (Ann Plumb witnessed William’s death certificate with her mark) did and Thomas Allen has the land. He has been working at James Eley’s all winter.” In 1861, Ellen lived with John and Sarah and the three boys.

    John sold his share in the inheritance from their mother and disappeared after her death. (He died in Doncaster, Yorkshire, in 1893.) At that time Charles, the youngest would have been 21. Indeed, Joseph wrote in July 1872: John’s children are all grown up”.

    In May 1872, Joseph wrote: “For what do you think, John has sold his share and he has acted very bad since his wife died and at the same time he sold all his furniture. You may guess I have never seen him but once since poor mother’s funeral and he is gone now no one knows where.”

    In February 1874 Joseph wrote: “You want to know what made John go away. Well, I will give you one reason. I think I told you that when his wife died he persuaded me to leave Derby and come to live with him. Well so we did and dear Harriet to keep his house. Well he insulted my wife and offered things to her that was not proper and my dear wife had the power to resist his unmanly conduct. I did not think he could of served me such a dirty trick so that is one thing dear brother. He could not look me in the face when we met. Then after we left him he got a woman in the house and I suppose they lived as man and wife. She caught the small pox and died and there he was by himself like some wild man. Well dear brother I could not go to him again after he had served me and mine as he had and I believe he was greatly in debt too so that he sold his share out of the property and when he received the money at Belper he went away and has never been seen by any of us since but I have heard of him being at Sheffield enquiring for Sam Caldwell. You will remember him. He worked in the Nag’s Head yard but I have heard nothing no more of him.”

    A mention of a John Housley of Heanor in the Nottinghma Journal 1875.  I don’t know for sure if the John mentioned here is the brother John who Joseph describes above as behaving improperly to his wife. John Housley had a son Joseph, born in 1840, and John’s wife Sarah died in 1870.

    John Housley

     

    In 1876, the solicitor wrote to George: “Have you heard of John Housley? He is entitled to Robert’s share and I want him to claim it.”

     

    SAMUEL HOUSLEY 1816-

    Sam married Elizabeth Brookes of Sutton Coldfield, and they had three daughters: Elizabeth, Mary Anne and Catherine.  Elizabeth his wife died in 1849, a few months after Samuel’s father William died in 1848. The particular circumstances relating to these individuals have been discussed in previous chapters; the following are letter excerpts relating to them.

    Death of William Housley 15 Dec 1848, and Elizabeth Housley 5 April 1849, Smalley:

    Housley Deaths

     

    Joseph wrote in December 1872: “I saw one of Sam’s daughters, the youngest Kate, you would remember her a baby I dare say. She is very comfortably married.”

    In the same letter (December 15, 1872), Joseph wrote:  “I think we have now found all out now that is concerned in the matter for there was only Sam that we did not know his whereabouts but I was informed a week ago that he is dead–died about three years ago in Birmingham Union. Poor Sam. He ought to have come to a better end than that….His daughter and her husband went to Brimingham and also to Sutton Coldfield that is where he married his wife from and found out his wife’s brother. It appears he has been there and at Birmingham ever since he went away but ever fond of drink.”

    (Sam, however, was still alive in 1871, living as a lodger at the George and Dragon Inn, Henley in Arden. And no trace of Sam has been found since. It would appear that Sam did not want to be found.)

     

    EDWARD HOUSLEY 1819-1843

    Edward died before George left for USA in 1851, and as such there is no mention of him in the letters.

     

    ANNE HOUSLEY 1821-1856

    Anne wrote two letters to her brother George between February 1854 and her death in 1856. Apparently she suffered from a lung disease for she wrote: “I can say you will be surprised I am still living and better but still cough and spit a deal. Can do nothing but sit and sew.” According to the 1851 census, Anne, then 29, was a seamstress. Their friend, Mrs. Davy, wrote in March 1856: “This I send in a box to my Brother….The pincushion cover and pen wiper are Anne’s work–are for thy wife. She would have made it up had she been able.” Anne was not living at home at the time of the 1841 census. She would have been 19 or 20 and perhaps was “out service.”

    In her second letter Anne wrote: “It is a great trouble now for me to write…as the body weakens so does the mind often. I have been very weak all summer. That I continue is a wonder to all and to spit so much although much better than when you left home.” She also wrote: “You know I had a desire for America years ago. Were I in health and strength, it would be the land of my adoption.”

    In November 1855, Emma wrote, “Anne has been very ill all summer and has not been able to write or do anything.” Their neighbor Mrs. Davy wrote on March 21, 1856: “I fear Anne will not be long without a change.” In a black-edged letter the following June, Emma wrote: “I need not tell you how happy she was and how calmly and peacefully she died. She only kept in bed two days.”

    Certainly Anne was a woman of deep faith and strong religious convictions. When she wrote that they were hoping to hear of Charles’ success on the gold fields she added: “But I would rather hear of him having sought and found the Pearl of great price than all the gold Australia can produce, (For what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his soul?).” Then she asked George: “I should like to learn how it was you were first led to seek pardon and a savior. I do feel truly rejoiced to hear you have been led to seek and find this Pearl through the workings of the Holy Spirit and I do pray that He who has begun this good work in each of us may fulfill it and carry it on even unto the end and I can never doubt the willingness of Jesus who laid down his life for us. He who said whoever that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.”

    Anne’s will was probated October 14, 1856. Mr. William Davy of Kidsley Park appeared for the family. Her estate was valued at under £20. Emma was to receive fancy needlework, a four post bedstead, feather bed and bedding, a mahogany chest of drawers, plates, linen and china. Emma was also to receive Anne’s writing desk. There was a condition that Ellen would have use of these items until her death.

    The money that Anne was to receive from her grandfather, William Carrington, and her father, William Housley was to be distributed one third to Joseph, one third to Emma, and one third to be divided between her four neices: John’s daughter Elizabeth, 18, and Sam’s daughters Elizabeth, 10, Mary Ann, 9 and Catharine, age 7 to be paid by the trustees as they think “most useful and proper.” Emma Lyon and Elizabeth Davy were the witnesses.

    The Carrington Farm:

    Carringtons Farm

     

    CHARLES HOUSLEY 1823-1855

    Charles went to Australia in 1851, and was last heard from in January 1853. According to the solicitor, who wrote to George on June 3, 1874, Charles had received advances on the settlement of their parent’s estate. “Your promissory note with the two signed by your brother Charles for 20 pounds he received from his father and 20 pounds he received from his mother are now in the possession of the court.”

    Charles and George were probably quite close friends. Anne wrote in 1854: “Charles inquired very particularly in both his letters after you.”

    According to Anne, Charles and a friend married two sisters. He and his father-in-law had a farm where they had 130 cows and 60 pigs. Whatever the trade he learned in England, he never worked at it once he reached Australia. While it does not seem that Charles went to Australia because gold had been discovered there, he was soon caught up in “gold fever”. Anne wrote: “I dare say you have heard of the immense gold fields of Australia discovered about the time he went. Thousands have since then emigrated to Australia, both high and low. Such accounts we heard in the papers of people amassing fortunes we could not believe. I asked him when I wrote if it was true. He said this was no exaggeration for people were making their fortune daily and he intended going to the diggings in six weeks for he could stay away no longer so that we are hoping to hear of his success if he is alive.”

    In March 1856, Mrs. Davy wrote: “I am sorry to tell thee they have had a letter from Charles’s wife giving account of Charles’s death of 6 months consumption at the Victoria diggings. He has left 2 children a boy and a girl William and Ellen.” In June of the same year in a black edged letter, Emma wrote: “I think Mrs. Davy mentioned Charles’s death in her note. His wife wrote to us. They have two children Helen and William. Poor dear little things. How much I should like to see them all. She writes very affectionately.”

    In December 1872, Joseph wrote: “I’m told that Charles two daughters has wrote to Smalley post office making inquiries about his share….” In January 1876, the solicitor wrote: “Charles Housley’s children have claimed their father’s share.”

     

    GEORGE HOUSLEY 1824-1877

    George emigrated to the United states in 1851, arriving in July. The solicitor Abraham John Flint referred in a letter to a 15-pound advance which was made to George on June 9, 1851. This certainly was connected to his journey. George settled along the Delaware River in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. The letters from the solicitor were addressed to: Lahaska Post Office, Bucks County, Pennsylvania.

    George married Sarah Ann Hill on May 6, 1854 in Doylestown, Bucks County, Pennsylvania. In her first letter (February 1854), Anne wrote: “We want to know who and what is this Miss Hill you name in your letter. What age is she? Send us all the particulars but I would advise you not to get married until you have sufficient to make a comfortable home.”

    Upon learning of George’s marriage, Anne wrote: “I hope dear brother you may be happy with your wife….I hope you will be as a son to her parents. Mother unites with me in kind love to you both and to your father and mother with best wishes for your health and happiness.” In 1872 (December) Joseph wrote: “I am sorry to hear that sister’s father is so ill. It is what we must all come to some time and hope we shall meet where there is no more trouble.”

    Emma wrote in 1855, “We write in love to your wife and yourself and you must write soon and tell us whether there is a little nephew or niece and what you call them.” In June of 1856, Emma wrote: “We want to see dear Sarah Ann and the dear little boy. We were much pleased with the “bit of news” you sent.” The bit of news was the birth of John Eley Housley, January 11, 1855. Emma concluded her letter “Give our very kindest love to dear sister and dearest Johnnie.”

    In September 1872, Joseph wrote, “I was very sorry to hear that John your oldest had met with such a sad accident but I hope he is got alright again by this time.” In the same letter, Joseph asked: “Now I want to know what sort of a town you are living in or village. How far is it from New York? Now send me all particulars if you please.”

    In March 1873 Harriet asked Sarah Ann: “And will you please send me all the news at the place and what it is like for it seems to me that it is a wild place but you must tell me what it is like….”.  The question of whether she was referring to Bucks County, Pennsylvania or some other place is raised in Joseph’s letter of the same week.
    On March 17, 1873, Joseph wrote: “I was surprised to hear that you had gone so far away west. Now dear brother what ever are you doing there so far away from home and family–looking out for something better I suppose.”

    The solicitor wrote on May 23, 1874: “Lately I have not written because I was not certain of your address and because I doubted I had much interesting news to tell you.” Later, Joseph wrote concerning the problems settling the estate, “You see dear brother there is only me here on our side and I cannot do much. I wish you were here to help me a bit and if you think of going for another summer trip this turn you might as well run over here.”

    Apparently, George had indicated he might return to England for a visit in 1856. Emma wrote concerning the portrait of their mother which had been sent to George: “I hope you like mother’s portrait. I did not see it but I suppose it was not quite perfect about the eyes….Joseph and I intend having ours taken for you when you come over….Do come over before very long.”

    In March 1873, Joseph wrote: “You ask me what I think of you coming to England. I think as you have given the trustee power to sign for you I think you could do no good but I should like to see you once again for all that. I can’t say whether there would be anything amiss if you did come as you say it would be throwing good money after bad.”

    On June 10, 1875, the solicitor wrote: “I have been expecting to hear from you for some time past. Please let me hear what you are doing and where you are living and how I must send you your money.” George’s big news at that time was that on May 3, 1875, he had become a naturalized citizen “renouncing and abjuring all allegiance and fidelity to every foreign prince, potentate, state and sovereignity whatsoever, and particularly to Victoria Queen of Great Britain of whom he was before a subject.”

     

    ROBERT HOUSLEY 1832-1851

    In 1854, Anne wrote: “Poor Robert. He died in August after you left he broke a blood vessel in the lung.”
    From Joseph’s first letter we learn that Robert was 19 when he died: “Dear brother there have been a great many changes in the family since you left us. All is gone except myself and John and Sam–we have heard nothing of him since he left. Robert died first when he was 19 years of age. Then Anne and Charles too died in Australia and then a number of years elapsed before anyone else. Then John lost his wife, then Emma, and last poor dear mother died last January on the 11th.”

    Anne described Robert’s death in this way: “He had thrown up blood many times before in the spring but the last attack weakened him that he only lived a fortnight after. He died at Derby. Mother was with him. Although he suffered much he never uttered a murmur or regret and always a smile on his face for everyone that saw him. He will be regretted by all that knew him”.

    Robert died a resident of St. Peter’s Parish, Derby, but was buried in Smalley on August 16, 1851.
    Apparently Robert was apprenticed to be a joiner for, according to Anne, Joseph took his place: “Joseph wanted to be a joiner. We thought we could do no better than let him take Robert’s place which he did the October after and is there still.”

    In 1876, the solicitor wrote to George: “Have you heard of John Housley? He is entitled to Robert’s share and I want him to claim it.”

     

    EMMA HOUSLEY 1836-1871

    Emma was not mentioned in Anne’s first letter. In the second, Anne wrote that Emma was living at Spondon with two ladies in her “third situation,” and added, “She is grown a bouncing woman.” Anne described her sister well. Emma wrote in her first letter (November 12, 1855): “I must tell you that I am just 21 and we had my pudding last Sunday. I wish I could send you a piece.”

    From Emma’s letters we learn that she was living in Derby from May until November 1855 with Mr. Haywood, an iron merchant. She explained, “He has failed and I have been obliged to leave,” adding, “I expect going to a new situation very soon. It is at Belper.” In 1851 records, William Haywood, age 22, was listed as an iron foundry worker. In the 1857 Derby Directory, James and George were listed as iron and brass founders and ironmongers with an address at 9 Market Place, Derby.

    In June 1856, Emma wrote from “The Cedars, Ashbourne Road” where she was working for Mr. Handysides.
    While she was working for Mr. Handysides, Emma wrote: “Mother is thinking of coming to live at Derby. That will be nice for Joseph and I.”

    Friargate and Ashbourne Road were located in St. Werburgh’s Parish. (In fact, St. Werburgh’s vicarage was at 185 Surrey Street. This clue led to the discovery of the record of Emma’s marriage on May 6, 1858, to Edwin Welch Harvey, son of Samuel Harvey in St. Werburgh’s.)

    In 1872, Joseph wrote: “Our sister Emma, she died at Derby at her own home for she was married. She has left two young children behind. The husband was the son of the man that I went apprentice to and has caused a great deal of trouble to our family and I believe hastened poor Mother’s death….”.   Joseph added that he believed Emma’s “complaint” was consumption and that she was sick a good bit. Joseph wrote: “Mother was living with John when I came home (from Ascension Island around 1867? or to Smalley from Derby around 1870?) for when Emma was married she broke up the comfortable home and the things went to Derby and she went to live with them but Derby did not agree with her so she had to leave it again but left all her things there.”

    Emma Housley and Edwin Welch Harvey wedding, 1858:

    Emma Housley wedding

     

    JOSEPH HOUSLEY 1838-1893

    We first hear of Joseph in a letter from Anne to George in 1854. “Joseph wanted to be a joiner. We thought we could do no better than let him take Robert’s place which he did the October after (probably 1851) and is there still. He is grown as tall as you I think quite a man.” Emma concurred in her first letter: “He is quite a man in his appearance and quite as tall as you.”

    From Emma we learn in 1855: “Joseph has left Mr. Harvey. He had not work to employ him. So mother thought he had better leave his indenture and be at liberty at once than wait for Harvey to be a bankrupt. He has got a very good place of work now and is very steady.” In June of 1856, Emma wrote “Joseph and I intend to have our portraits taken for you when you come over….Mother is thinking of coming to Derby. That will be nice for Joseph and I. Joseph is very hearty I am happy to say.”

    According to Joseph’s letters, he was married to Harriet Ballard. Joseph described their miraculous reunion in this way: “I must tell you that I have been abroad myself to the Island of Ascension. (Elsewhere he wrote that he was on the island when the American civil war broke out). I went as a Royal Marine and worked at my trade and saved a bit of money–enough to buy my discharge and enough to get married with but while I was out on the island who should I meet with there but my dear wife’s sister. (On two occasions Joseph and Harriet sent George the name and address of Harriet’s sister, Mrs. Brooks, in Susquehanna Depot, Pennsylvania, but it is not clear whether this was the same sister.) She was lady’s maid to the captain’s wife. Though I had never seen her before we got to know each other somehow so from that me and my wife recommenced our correspondence and you may be sure I wanted to get home to her. But as soon as I did get home that is to England I was not long before I was married and I have not regretted yet for we are very comfortable as well as circumstances will allow for I am only a journeyman joiner.”

    Proudly, Joseph wrote: “My little family consists of three nice children–John, Joseph and Susy Annie.” On her birth certificate, Susy Ann’s birthdate is listed as 1871. Parish records list a Lucy Annie christened in 1873. The boys were born in Derby, John in 1868 and Joseph in 1869. In his second letter, Joseph repeated: “I have got three nice children, a good wife and I often think is more than I have deserved.” On August 6, 1873, Joseph and Harriet wrote: “We both thank you dear sister for the pieces of money you sent for the children. I don’t know as I have ever see any before.” Joseph ended another letter: “Now I must close with our kindest love to you all and kisses from the children.”

    In Harriet’s letter to Sarah Ann (March 19, 1873), she promised: “I will send you myself and as soon as the weather gets warm as I can take the children to Derby, I will have them taken and send them, but it is too cold yet for we have had a very cold winter and a great deal of rain.” At this time, the children were all under 6 and the baby was not yet two.

    In March 1873 Joseph wrote: “I have been working down at Heanor gate there is a joiner shop there where Kings used to live I have been working there this winter and part of last summer but the wages is very low but it is near home that is one comfort.” (Heanor Gate is about 1/4 mile from Kidsley Grange. There was a school and industrial park there in 1988.) At this time Joseph and his family were living in “the big house–in Old Betty Hanson’s house.” The address in the 1871 census was Smalley Lane.

    A glimpse into Joseph’s personality is revealed by this remark to George in an 1872 letter: “Many thanks for your portrait and will send ours when we can get them taken for I never had but one taken and that was in my old clothes and dear Harriet is not willing to part with that. I tell her she ought to be satisfied with the original.”

    On one occasion Joseph and Harriet both sent seeds. (Marks are still visible on the paper.) Joseph sent “the best cow cabbage seed in the country–Robinson Champion,” and Harriet sent red cabbage–Shaw’s Improved Red. Possibly cow cabbage was also known as ox cabbage: “I hope you will have some good cabbages for the Ox cabbage takes all the prizes here. I suppose you will be taking the prizes out there with them.” Joseph wrote that he would put the name of the seeds by each “but I should think that will not matter. You will tell the difference when they come up.”

    George apparently would have liked Joseph to come to him as early as 1854. Anne wrote: “As to his coming to you that must be left for the present.” In 1872, Joseph wrote: “I have been thinking of making a move from here for some time before I heard from you for it is living from hand to mouth and never certain of a job long either.” Joseph then made plans to come to the United States in the spring of 1873. “For I intend all being well leaving England in the spring. Many thanks for your kind offer but I hope we shall be able to get a comfortable place before we have been out long.” Joseph promised to bring some things George wanted and asked: “What sort of things would be the best to bring out there for I don’t want to bring a lot that is useless.” Joseph’s plans are confirmed in a letter from the solicitor May 23, 1874: “I trust you are prospering and in good health. Joseph seems desirous of coming out to you when this is settled.”

    George must have been reminiscing about gooseberries (Heanor has an annual gooseberry show–one was held July 28, 1872) and Joseph promised to bring cuttings when they came: “Dear Brother, I could not get the gooseberries for they was all gathered when I received your letter but we shall be able to get some seed out the first chance and I shall try to bring some cuttings out along.” In the same letter that he sent the cabbage seeds Joseph wrote: “I have got some gooseberries drying this year for you. They are very fine ones but I have only four as yet but I was promised some more when they were ripe.” In another letter Joseph sent gooseberry seeds and wrote their names: Victoria, Gharibaldi and Globe.

    In September 1872 Joseph wrote; “My wife is anxious to come. I hope it will suit her health for she is not over strong.” Elsewhere Joseph wrote that Harriet was “middling sometimes. She is subject to sick headaches. It knocks her up completely when they come on.” In December 1872 Joseph wrote, “Now dear brother about us coming to America you know we shall have to wait until this affair is settled and if it is not settled and thrown into Chancery I’m afraid we shall have to stay in England for I shall never be able to save money enough to bring me out and my family but I hope of better things.”

    On July 19, 1875 Abraham Flint (the solicitor) wrote: “Joseph Housley has removed from Smalley and is working on some new foundry buildings at Little Chester near Derby. He lives at a village called Little Eaton near Derby. If you address your letter to him as Joseph Housley, carpenter, Little Eaton near Derby that will no doubt find him.”

    George did not save any letters from Joseph after 1874, hopefully he did reach him at Little Eaton. Joseph and his family are not listed in either Little Eaton or Derby on the 1881 census.

    In his last letter (February 11, 1874), Joseph sounded very discouraged and wrote that Harriet’s parents were very poorly and both had been “in bed for a long time.” In addition, Harriet and the children had been ill.
    The move to Little Eaton may indicate that Joseph received his settlement because in August, 1873, he wrote: “I think this is bad news enough and bad luck too, but I have had little else since I came to live at Kiddsley cottages but perhaps it is all for the best if one could only think so. I have begun to think there will be no chance for us coming over to you for I am afraid there will not be so much left as will bring us out without it is settled very shortly but I don’t intend leaving this house until it is settled either one way or the other. “

    Joseph Housley and the Kiddsley cottages:

    Joseph Housley

    #6266
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    From Tanganyika with Love

    continued part 7

    With thanks to Mike Rushby.

    Oldeani Hospital. 19th September 1938

    Dearest Family,

    George arrived today to take us home to Mbulu but Sister Marianne will not allow
    me to travel for another week as I had a bit of a set back after baby’s birth. At first I was
    very fit and on the third day Sister stripped the bed and, dictionary in hand, started me
    off on ante natal exercises. “Now make a bridge Mrs Rushby. So. Up down, up down,’
    whilst I obediently hoisted myself aloft on heels and head. By the sixth day she
    considered it was time for me to be up and about but alas, I soon had to return to bed
    with a temperature and a haemorrhage. I got up and walked outside for the first time this
    morning.

    I have had lots of visitors because the local German settlers seem keen to see
    the first British baby born in the hospital. They have been most kind, sending flowers
    and little German cards of congratulations festooned with cherubs and rather sweet. Most
    of the women, besides being pleasant, are very smart indeed, shattering my illusion that
    German matrons are invariably fat and dowdy. They are all much concerned about the
    Czecko-Slovakian situation, especially Sister Marianne whose home is right on the
    border and has several relations who are Sudentan Germans. She is ant-Nazi and
    keeps on asking me whether I think England will declare war if Hitler invades Czecko-
    Slovakia, as though I had inside information.

    George tells me that he has had a grass ‘banda’ put up for us at Mbulu as we are
    both determined not to return to those prison-like quarters in the Fort. Sister Marianne is
    horrified at the idea of taking a new baby to live in a grass hut. She told George,
    “No,No,Mr Rushby. I find that is not to be allowed!” She is an excellent Sister but rather
    prim and George enjoys teasing her. This morning he asked with mock seriousness,
    “Sister, why has my wife not received her medal?” Sister fluttered her dictionary before
    asking. “What medal Mr Rushby”. “Why,” said George, “The medal that Hitler gives to
    women who have borne four children.” Sister started a long and involved explanation
    about the medal being only for German mothers whilst George looked at me and
    grinned.

    Later. Great Jubilation here. By the noise in Sister Marianne’s sitting room last night it
    sounded as though the whole German population had gathered to listen to the wireless
    news. I heard loud exclamations of joy and then my bedroom door burst open and
    several women rushed in. “Thank God “, they cried, “for Neville Chamberlain. Now there
    will be no war.” They pumped me by the hand as though I were personally responsible
    for the whole thing.

    George on the other hand is disgusted by Chamberlain’s lack of guts. Doesn’t
    know what England is coming to these days. I feel too content to concern myself with
    world affairs. I have a fine husband and four wonderful children and am happy, happy,
    happy.

    Eleanor.

    Mbulu. 30th September 1938

    Dearest Family,

    Here we are, comfortably installed in our little green house made of poles and
    rushes from a nearby swamp. The house has of course, no doors or windows, but
    there are rush blinds which roll up in the day time. There are two rooms and a little porch
    and out at the back there is a small grass kitchen.

    Here we have the privacy which we prize so highly as we are screened on one
    side by a Forest Department plantation and on the other three sides there is nothing but
    the rolling countryside cropped bare by the far too large herds of cattle and goats of the
    Wambulu. I have a lovely lazy time. I still have Kesho-Kutwa and the cook we brought
    with us from the farm. They are both faithful and willing souls though not very good at
    their respective jobs. As one of these Mbeya boys goes on safari with George whose
    job takes him from home for three weeks out of four, I have taken on a local boy to cut
    firewood and heat my bath water and generally make himself useful. His name is Saa,
    which means ‘Clock’

    We had an uneventful but very dusty trip from Oldeani. Johnny Jo travelled in his
    pram in the back of the boxbody and got covered in dust but seems none the worst for
    it. As the baby now takes up much of my time and Kate was showing signs of
    boredom, I have engaged a little African girl to come and play with Kate every morning.
    She is the daughter of the head police Askari and a very attractive and dignified little
    person she is. Her name is Kajyah. She is scrupulously clean, as all Mohammedan
    Africans seem to be. Alas, Kajyah, though beautiful, is a bore. She simply does not
    know how to play, so they just wander around hand in hand.

    There are only two drawbacks to this little house. Mbulu is a very windy spot so
    our little reed house is very draughty. I have made a little tent of sheets in one corner of
    the ‘bedroom’ into which I can retire with Johnny when I wish to bathe or sponge him.
    The other drawback is that many insects are attracted at night by the lamp and make it
    almost impossible to read or sew and they have a revolting habit of falling into the soup.
    There are no dangerous wild animals in this area so I am not at all nervous in this
    flimsy little house when George is on safari. Most nights hyaenas come around looking
    for scraps but our dogs, Fanny and Paddy, soon see them off.

    Eleanor.

    Mbulu. 25th October 1938

    Dearest Family,

    Great news! a vacancy has occurred in the Game Department. George is to
    transfer to it next month. There will be an increase in salary and a brighter prospect for
    the future. It will mean a change of scene and I shall be glad of that. We like Mbulu and
    the people here but the rains have started and our little reed hut is anything but water
    tight.

    Before the rain came we had very unpleasant dust storms. I think I told you that
    this is a treeless area and the grass which normally covers the veldt has been cropped
    to the roots by the hungry native cattle and goats. When the wind blows the dust
    collects in tall black columns which sweep across the country in a most spectacular
    fashion. One such dust devil struck our hut one day whilst we were at lunch. George
    swept Kate up in a second and held her face against his chest whilst I rushed to Johnny
    Jo who was asleep in his pram, and stooped over the pram to protect him. The hut
    groaned and creaked and clouds of dust blew in through the windows and walls covering
    our persons, food, and belongings in a black pall. The dogs food bowls and an empty
    petrol tin outside the hut were whirled up and away. It was all over in a moment but you
    should have seen what a family of sweeps we looked. George looked at our blackened
    Johnny and mimicked in Sister Marianne’s primmest tones, “I find that this is not to be
    allowed.”

    The first rain storm caught me unprepared when George was away on safari. It
    was a terrific thunderstorm. The quite violent thunder and lightening were followed by a
    real tropical downpour. As the hut is on a slight slope, the storm water poured through
    the hut like a river, covering the entire floor, and the roof leaked like a lawn sprinkler.
    Johnny Jo was snug enough in the pram with the hood raised, but Kate and I had a
    damp miserable night. Next morning I had deep drains dug around the hut and when
    George returned from safari he managed to borrow an enormous tarpaulin which is now
    lashed down over the roof.

    It did not rain during the next few days George was home but the very next night
    we were in trouble again. I was awakened by screams from Kate and hurriedly turned up
    the lamp to see that we were in the midst of an invasion of siafu ants. Kate’s bed was
    covered in them. Others appeared to be raining down from the thatch. I quickly stripped
    Kate and carried her across to my bed, whilst I rushed to the pram to see whether
    Johnny Jo was all right. He was fast asleep, bless him, and slept on through all the
    commotion, whilst I struggled to pick all the ants out of Kate’s hair, stopping now and
    again to attend to my own discomfort. These ants have a painful bite and seem to
    choose all the most tender spots. Kate fell asleep eventually but I sat up for the rest of
    the night to make sure that the siafu kept clear of the children. Next morning the servants
    dispersed them by laying hot ash.

    In spite of the dampness of the hut both children are blooming. Kate has rosy
    cheeks and Johnny Jo now has a fuzz of fair hair and has lost his ‘old man’ look. He
    reminds me of Ann at his age.

    Eleanor.

    Iringa. 30th November 1938

    Dearest Family,

    Here we are back in the Southern Highlands and installed on the second floor of
    another German Fort. This one has been modernised however and though not so
    romantic as the Mbulu Fort from the outside, it is much more comfortable.We are all well
    and I am really proud of our two safari babies who stood up splendidly to a most trying
    journey North from Mbulu to Arusha and then South down the Great North Road to
    Iringa where we expect to stay for a month.

    At Arusha George reported to the headquarters of the Game Department and
    was instructed to come on down here on Rinderpest Control. There is a great flap on in
    case the rinderpest spread to Northern Rhodesia and possibly onwards to Southern
    Rhodesia and South Africa. Extra veterinary officers have been sent to this area to
    inoculate all the cattle against the disease whilst George and his African game Scouts will
    comb the bush looking for and destroying diseased game. If the rinderpest spreads,
    George says it may be necessary to shoot out all the game in a wide belt along the
    border between the Southern Highlands of Tanganyika and Northern Rhodesia, to
    prevent the disease spreading South. The very idea of all this destruction sickens us
    both.

    George left on a foot safari the day after our arrival and I expect I shall be lucky if I
    see him occasionally at weekends until this job is over. When rinderpest is under control
    George is to be stationed at a place called Nzassa in the Eastern Province about 18
    miles from Dar es Salaam. George’s orderly, who is a tall, cheerful Game Scout called
    Juma, tells me that he has been stationed at Nzassa and it is a frightful place! However I
    refuse to be depressed. I now have the cheering prospect of leave to England in thirty
    months time when we will be able to fetch Ann and George and be a proper family
    again. Both Ann and George look happy in the snapshots which mother-in-law sends
    frequently. Ann is doing very well at school and loves it.

    To get back to our journey from Mbulu. It really was quite an experience. It
    poured with rain most of the way and the road was very slippery and treacherous the
    120 miles between Mbulu and Arusha. This is a little used earth road and the drains are
    so blocked with silt as to be practically non existent. As usual we started our move with
    the V8 loaded to capacity. I held Johnny on my knee and Kate squeezed in between
    George and me. All our goods and chattels were in wooden boxes stowed in the back
    and the two houseboys and the two dogs had to adjust themselves to the space that
    remained. We soon ran into trouble and it took us all day to travel 47 miles. We stuck
    several times in deep mud and had some most nasty skids. I simply clutched Kate in
    one hand and Johnny Jo in the other and put my trust in George who never, under any
    circumstances, loses his head. Poor Johnny only got his meals when circumstances
    permitted. Unfortunately I had put him on a bottle only a few days before we left Mbulu
    and, as I was unable to buy either a primus stove or Thermos flask there we had to
    make a fire and boil water for each meal. Twice George sat out in the drizzle with a rain
    coat rapped over his head to protect a miserable little fire of wet sticks drenched with
    paraffin. Whilst we waited for the water to boil I pacified John by letting him suck a cube
    of Tate and Lyles sugar held between my rather grubby fingers. Not at all according to
    the book.

    That night George, the children and I slept in the car having dumped our boxes
    and the two servants in a deserted native hut. The rain poured down relentlessly all night
    and by morning the road was more of a morass than ever. We swerved and skidded
    alarmingly till eventually one of the wheel chains broke and had to be tied together with
    string which constantly needed replacing. George was so patient though he was wet
    and muddy and tired and both children were very good. Shortly before reaching the Great North Road we came upon Jack Gowan, the Stock Inspector from Mbulu. His car
    was bogged down to its axles in black mud. He refused George’s offer of help saying
    that he had sent his messenger to a nearby village for help.

    I hoped that conditions would be better on the Great North Road but how over
    optimistic I was. For miles the road runs through a belt of ‘black cotton soil’. which was
    churned up into the consistency of chocolate blancmange by the heavy lorry traffic which
    runs between Dodoma and Arusha. Soon the car was skidding more fantastically than
    ever. Once it skidded around in a complete semi circle so George decided that it would
    be safer for us all to walk whilst he negotiated the very bad patches. You should have
    seen me plodding along in the mud and drizzle with the baby in one arm and Kate
    clinging to the other. I was terrified of slipping with Johnny. Each time George reached
    firm ground he would return on foot to carry Kate and in this way we covered many bad
    patches.We were more fortunate than many other travellers. We passed several lorries
    ditched on the side of the road and one car load of German men, all elegantly dressed in
    lounge suits. One was busy with his camera so will have a record of their plight to laugh
    over in the years to come. We spent another night camping on the road and next day
    set out on the last lap of the journey. That also was tiresome but much better than the
    previous day and we made the haven of the Arusha Hotel before dark. What a picture
    we made as we walked through the hall in our mud splattered clothes! Even Johnny was
    well splashed with mud but no harm was done and both he and Kate are blooming.
    We rested for two days at Arusha and then came South to Iringa. Luckily the sun
    came out and though for the first day the road was muddy it was no longer so slippery
    and the second day found us driving through parched country and along badly
    corrugated roads. The further South we came, the warmer the sun which at times blazed
    through the windscreen and made us all uncomfortably hot. I have described the country
    between Arusha and Dodoma before so I shan’t do it again. We reached Iringa without
    mishap and after a good nights rest all felt full of beans.

    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate, Mbeya. 7th January 1939.

    Dearest Family,

    You will be surprised to note that we are back on the farm! At least the children
    and I are here. George is away near the Rhodesian border somewhere, still on
    Rinderpest control.

    I had a pleasant time at Iringa, lots of invitations to morning tea and Kate had a
    wonderful time enjoying the novelty of playing with children of her own age. She is not
    shy but nevertheless likes me to be within call if not within sight. It was all very suburban
    but pleasant enough. A few days before Christmas George turned up at Iringa and
    suggested that, as he would be working in the Mbeya area, it might be a good idea for
    the children and me to move to the farm. I agreed enthusiastically, completely forgetting
    that after my previous trouble with the leopard I had vowed to myself that I would never
    again live alone on the farm.

    Alas no sooner had we arrived when Thomas, our farm headman, brought the
    news that there were now two leopards terrorising the neighbourhood, and taking dogs,
    goats and sheep and chickens. Traps and poisoned bait had been tried in vain and he
    was sure that the female was the same leopard which had besieged our home before.
    Other leopards said Thomas, came by stealth but this one advertised her whereabouts
    in the most brazen manner.

    George stayed with us on the farm over Christmas and all was quiet at night so I
    cheered up and took the children for walks along the overgrown farm paths. However on
    New Years Eve that darned leopard advertised her presence again with the most blood
    chilling grunts and snarls. Horrible! Fanny and Paddy barked and growled and woke up
    both children. Kate wept and kept saying, “Send it away mummy. I don’t like it.” Johnny
    Jo howled in sympathy. What a picnic. So now the whole performance of bodyguards
    has started again and ‘till George returns we confine our exercise to the garden.
    Our little house is still cosy and sweet but the coffee plantation looks very
    neglected. I wish to goodness we could sell it.

    Eleanor.

    Nzassa 14th February 1939.

    Dearest Family,

    After three months of moving around with two small children it is heavenly to be
    settled in our own home, even though Nzassa is an isolated spot and has the reputation
    of being unhealthy.

    We travelled by car from Mbeya to Dodoma by now a very familiar stretch of
    country, but from Dodoma to Dar es Salaam by train which made a nice change. We
    spent two nights and a day in the Splendid Hotel in Dar es Salaam, George had some
    official visits to make and I did some shopping and we took the children to the beach.
    The bay is so sheltered that the sea is as calm as a pond and the water warm. It is
    wonderful to see the sea once more and to hear tugs hooting and to watch the Arab
    dhows putting out to sea with their oddly shaped sails billowing. I do love the bush, but
    I love the sea best of all, as you know.

    We made an early start for Nzassa on the 3rd. For about four miles we bowled
    along a good road. This brought us to a place called Temeke where George called on
    the District Officer. His house appears to be the only European type house there. The
    road between Temeke and the turn off to Nzassa is quite good, but the six mile stretch
    from the turn off to Nzassa is a very neglected bush road. There is nothing to be seen
    but the impenetrable bush on both sides with here and there a patch of swampy
    ground where rice is planted in the wet season.

    After about six miles of bumpy road we reached Nzassa which is nothing more
    than a sandy clearing in the bush. Our house however is a fine one. It was originally built
    for the District Officer and there is a small court house which is now George’s office. The
    District Officer died of blackwater fever so Nzassa was abandoned as an administrative
    station being considered too unhealthy for Administrative Officers but suitable as
    Headquarters for a Game Ranger. Later a bachelor Game Ranger was stationed here
    but his health also broke down and he has been invalided to England. So now the
    healthy Rushbys are here and we don’t mean to let the place get us down. So don’t
    worry.

    The house consists of three very large and airy rooms with their doors opening
    on to a wide front verandah which we shall use as a living room. There is also a wide
    back verandah with a store room at one end and a bathroom at the other. Both
    verandahs and the end windows of the house are screened my mosquito gauze wire
    and further protected by a trellis work of heavy expanded metal. Hasmani, the Game
    Scout, who has been acting as caretaker, tells me that the expanded metal is very
    necessary because lions often come out of the bush at night and roam around the
    house. Such a comforting thought!

    On our very first evening we discovered how necessary the mosquito gauze is.
    After sunset the air outside is thick with mosquitos from the swamps. About an acre of
    land has been cleared around the house. This is a sandy waste because there is no
    water laid on here and absolutely nothing grows here except a rather revolting milky
    desert bush called ‘Manyara’, and a few acacia trees. A little way from the house there is
    a patch of citrus trees, grape fruit, I think, but whether they ever bear fruit I don’t know.
    The clearing is bordered on three sides by dense dusty thorn bush which is
    ‘lousy with buffalo’ according to George. The open side is the road which leads down to
    George’s office and the huts for the Game Scouts. Only Hasmani and George’s orderly
    Juma and their wives and families live there, and the other huts provide shelter for the
    Game Scouts from the bush who come to Nzassa to collect their pay and for a short
    rest. I can see that my daily walk will always be the same, down the road to the huts and
    back! However I don’t mind because it is far too hot to take much exercise.

    The climate here is really tropical and worse than on the coast because the thick
    bush cuts us off from any sea breeze. George says it will be cooler when the rains start
    but just now we literally drip all day. Kate wears nothing but a cotton sun suit, and Johnny
    a napkin only, but still their little bodies are always moist. I have shorn off all Kate’s lovely
    shoulder length curls and got George to cut my hair very short too.

    We simply must buy a refrigerator. The butter, and even the cheese we bought
    in Dar. simply melted into pools of oil overnight, and all our meat went bad, so we are
    living out of tins. However once we get organised I shall be quite happy here. I like this
    spacious house and I have good servants. The cook, Hamisi Issa, is a Swahili from Lindi
    whom we engaged in Dar es Salaam. He is a very dignified person, and like most
    devout Mohammedan Cooks, keeps both his person and the kitchen spotless. I
    engaged the house boy here. He is rather a timid little body but is very willing and quite
    capable. He has an excessively plain but cheerful wife whom I have taken on as ayah. I
    do not really need help with the children but feel I must have a woman around just in
    case I go down with malaria when George is away on safari.

    Eleanor.

    Nzassa 28th February 1939.

    Dearest Family,

    George’s birthday and we had a special tea party this afternoon which the
    children much enjoyed. We have our frig now so I am able to make jellies and provide
    them with really cool drinks.

    Our very first visitor left this morning after spending only one night here. He is Mr
    Ionides, the Game Ranger from the Southern Province. He acted as stand in here for a
    short while after George’s predecessor left for England on sick leave, and where he has
    since died. Mr Ionides returned here to hand over the range and office formally to
    George. He seems a strange man and is from all accounts a bit of a hermit. He was at
    one time an Officer in the Regular Army but does not look like a soldier, he wears the
    most extraordinary clothes but nevertheless contrives to look top-drawer. He was
    educated at Rugby and Sandhurst and is, I should say, well read. Ionides told us that he
    hated Nzassa, particularly the house which he thinks sinister and says he always slept
    down in the office.

    The house, or at least one bedroom, seems to have the same effect on Kate.
    She has been very nervous at night ever since we arrived. At first the children occupied
    the bedroom which is now George’s. One night, soon after our arrival, Kate woke up
    screaming to say that ‘something’ had looked at her through the mosquito net. She was
    in such a hysterical state that inspite of the heat and discomfort I was obliged to crawl into
    her little bed with her and remained there for the rest of the night.

    Next night I left a night lamp burning but even so I had to sit by her bed until she
    dropped off to sleep. Again I was awakened by ear-splitting screams and this time
    found Kate standing rigid on her bed. I lifted her out and carried her to a chair meaning to
    comfort her but she screeched louder than ever, “Look Mummy it’s under the bed. It’s
    looking at us.” In vain I pointed out that there was nothing at all there. By this time
    George had joined us and he carried Kate off to his bed in the other room whilst I got into
    Kate’s bed thinking she might have been frightened by a rat which might also disturb
    Johnny.

    Next morning our houseboy remarked that he had heard Kate screaming in the
    night from his room behind the kitchen. I explained what had happened and he must
    have told the old Scout Hasmani who waylaid me that afternoon and informed me quite
    seriously that that particular room was haunted by a ‘sheitani’ (devil) who hates children.
    He told me that whilst he was acting as caretaker before our arrival he one night had his
    wife and small daughter in the room to keep him company. He said that his small
    daughter woke up and screamed exactly as Kate had done! Silly coincidence I
    suppose, but such strange things happen in Africa that I decided to move the children
    into our room and George sleeps in solitary state in the haunted room! Kate now sleeps
    peacefully once she goes to sleep but I have to stay with her until she does.

    I like this house and it does not seem at all sinister to me. As I mentioned before,
    the rooms are high ceilinged and airy, and have cool cement floors. We have made one
    end of the enclosed verandah into the living room and the other end is the playroom for
    the children. The space in between is a sort of no-mans land taken over by the dogs as
    their special territory.

    Eleanor.

    Nzassa 25th March 1939.

    Dearest Family,

    George is on safari down in the Rufigi River area. He is away for about three
    weeks in the month on this job. I do hate to see him go and just manage to tick over until
    he comes back. But what fun and excitement when he does come home.
    Usually he returns after dark by which time the children are in bed and I have
    settled down on the verandah with a book. The first warning is usually given by the
    dogs, Fanny and her son Paddy. They stir, sit up, look at each other and then go and sit
    side by side by the door with their noses practically pressed to the mosquito gauze and
    ears pricked. Soon I can hear the hum of the car, and so can Hasmani, the old Game
    Scout who sleeps on the back verandah with rifle and ammunition by his side when
    George is away. When he hears the car he turns up his lamp and hurries out to rouse
    Juma, the houseboy. Juma pokes up the fire and prepares tea which George always
    drinks whist a hot meal is being prepared. In the meantime I hurriedly comb my hair and
    powder my nose so that when the car stops I am ready to rush out and welcome
    George home. The boy and Hasmani and the garden boy appear to help with the
    luggage and to greet George and the cook, who always accompanies George on
    Safari. The home coming is always a lively time with much shouting of greetings.
    ‘Jambo’, and ‘Habari ya safari’, whilst the dogs, beside themselves with excitement,
    rush around like lunatics.

    As though his return were not happiness enough, George usually collects the
    mail on his way home so there is news of Ann and young George and letters from you
    and bundles of newspapers and magazines. On the day following his return home,
    George has to deal with official mail in the office but if the following day is a weekday we
    all, the house servants as well as ourselves, pile into the boxbody and go to Dar es
    Salaam. To us this means a mornings shopping followed by an afternoon on the beach.
    It is a bit cooler now that the rains are on but still very humid. Kate keeps chubby
    and rosy in spite of the climate but Johnny is too pale though sturdy enough. He is such
    a good baby which is just as well because Kate is a very demanding little girl though
    sunny tempered and sweet. I appreciate her company very much when George is
    away because we are so far off the beaten track that no one ever calls.

    Eleanor.

    Nzassa 28th April 1939.

    Dearest Family,

    You all seem to wonder how I can stand the loneliness and monotony of living at
    Nzassa when George is on safari, but really and truly I do not mind. Hamisi the cook
    always goes on safari with George and then the houseboy Juma takes over the cooking
    and I do the lighter housework. the children are great company during the day, and when
    they are settled for the night I sit on the verandah and read or write letters or I just dream.
    The verandah is entirely enclosed with both wire mosquito gauze and a trellis
    work of heavy expanded metal, so I am safe from all intruders be they human, animal, or
    insect. Outside the air is alive with mosquitos and the cicadas keep up their monotonous
    singing all night long. My only companions on the verandah are the pale ghecco lizards
    on the wall and the two dogs. Fanny the white bull terrier, lies always near my feet
    dozing happily, but her son Paddy, who is half Airedale has a less phlegmatic
    disposition. He sits alert and on guard by the metal trellis work door. Often a lion grunts
    from the surrounding bush and then his hackles rise and he stands up stiffly with his nose
    pressed to the door. Old Hasmani from his bedroll on the back verandah, gives a little
    cough just to show he is awake. Sometimes the lions are very close and then I hear the
    click of a rifle bolt as Hasmani loads his rifle – but this is usually much later at night when
    the lights are out. One morning I saw large pug marks between the wall of my bedroom
    and the garage but I do not fear lions like I did that beastly leopard on the farm.
    A great deal of witchcraft is still practiced in the bush villages in the
    neighbourhood. I must tell you about old Hasmani’s baby in connection with this. Last
    week Hasmani came to me in great distress to say that his baby was ‘Ngongwa sana ‘
    (very ill) and he thought it would die. I hurried down to the Game Scouts quarters to see
    whether I could do anything for the child and found the mother squatting in the sun
    outside her hut with the baby on her lap. The mother was a young woman but not an
    attractive one. She appeared sullen and indifferent compared with old Hasmani who
    was very distressed. The child was very feverish and breathing with difficulty and
    seemed to me to be suffering from bronchitis if not pneumonia. I rubbed his back and
    chest with camphorated oil and dosed him with aspirin and liquid quinine. I repeated the
    treatment every four hours, but next day there was no apparent improvement.
    In the afternoon Hasmani begged me to give him that night off duty and asked for
    a loan of ten shillings. He explained to me that it seemed to him that the white man’s
    medicine had failed to cure his child and now he wished to take the child to the local witch
    doctor. “For ten shillings” said Hasmani, “the Maganga will drive the devil out of my
    child.” “How?” asked I. “With drums”, said Hasmani confidently. I did not know what to
    do. I thought the child was too ill to be exposed to the night air, yet I knew that if I
    refused his request and the child were to die, Hasmani and all the other locals would hold
    me responsible. I very reluctantly granted his request. I was so troubled by the matter
    that I sent for George’s office clerk. Daniel, and asked him to accompany Hasmani to the
    ceremony and to report to me the next morning. It started to rain after dark and all night
    long I lay awake in bed listening to the drums and the light rain. Next morning when I
    went out to the kitchen to order breakfast I found a beaming Hasmani awaiting me.
    “Memsahib”, he said. “My child is well, the fever is now quite gone, the Maganga drove
    out the devil just as I told you.” Believe it or not, when I hurried to his quarters after
    breakfast I found the mother suckling a perfectly healthy child! It may be my imagination
    but I thought the mother looked pretty smug.The clerk Daniel told me that after Hasmani
    had presented gifts of money and food to the ‘Maganga’, the naked baby was placed
    on a goat skin near the drums. Most of the time he just lay there but sometimes the witch
    doctor picked him up and danced with the child in his arms. Daniel seemed reluctant to
    talk about it. Whatever mumbo jumbo was used all this happened a week ago and the
    baby has never looked back.

    Eleanor.

    Nzassa 3rd July 1939.

    Dearest Family,

    Did I tell you that one of George’s Game Scouts was murdered last month in the
    Maneromango area towards the Rufigi border. He was on routine patrol, with a porter
    carrying his bedding and food, when they suddenly came across a group of African
    hunters who were busy cutting up a giraffe which they had just killed. These hunters were
    all armed with muzzle loaders, spears and pangas, but as it is illegal to kill giraffe without
    a permit, the Scout went up to the group to take their names. Some argument ensued
    and the Scout was stabbed.

    The District Officer went to the area to investigate and decided to call in the Police
    from Dar es Salaam. A party of police went out to search for the murderers but after
    some days returned without making any arrests. George was on an elephant control
    safari in the Bagamoyo District and on his return through Dar es Salaam he heard of the
    murder. George was furious and distressed to hear the news and called in here for an
    hour on his way to Maneromango to search for the murderers himself.

    After a great deal of strenuous investigation he arrested three poachers, put them
    in jail for the night at Maneromango and then brought them to Dar es Salaam where they
    are all now behind bars. George will now have to prosecute in the Magistrate’s Court
    and try and ‘make a case’ so that the prisoners may be committed to the High Court to
    be tried for murder. George is convinced of their guilt and justifiably proud to have
    succeeded where the police failed.

    George had to borrow handcuffs for the prisoners from the Chief at
    Maneromango and these he brought back to Nzassa after delivering the prisoners to
    Dar es Salaam so that he may return them to the Chief when he revisits the area next
    week.

    I had not seen handcuffs before and picked up a pair to examine them. I said to
    George, engrossed in ‘The Times’, “I bet if you were arrested they’d never get
    handcuffs on your wrist. Not these anyway, they look too small.” “Standard pattern,”
    said George still concentrating on the newspaper, but extending an enormous relaxed
    left wrist. So, my dears, I put a bracelet round his wrist and as there was a wide gap I
    gave a hard squeeze with both hands. There was a sharp click as the handcuff engaged
    in the first notch. George dropped the paper and said, “Now you’ve done it, my love,
    one set of keys are in the Dar es Salaam Police Station, and the others with the Chief at
    Maneromango.” You can imagine how utterly silly I felt but George was an angel about it
    and said as he would have to go to Dar es Salaam we might as well all go.

    So we all piled into the car, George, the children and I in the front, and the cook
    and houseboy, immaculate in snowy khanzus and embroidered white caps, a Game
    Scout and the ayah in the back. George never once complain of the discomfort of the
    handcuff but I was uncomfortably aware that it was much too tight because his arm
    above the cuff looked red and swollen and the hand unnaturally pale. As the road is so
    bad George had to use both hands on the wheel and all the time the dangling handcuff
    clanked against the dashboard in an accusing way.

    We drove straight to the Police Station and I could hear the roars of laughter as
    George explained his predicament. Later I had to put up with a good deal of chaffing
    and congratulations upon putting the handcuffs on George.

    Eleanor.

    Nzassa 5th August 1939

    Dearest Family,

    George made a point of being here for Kate’s fourth birthday last week. Just
    because our children have no playmates George and I always do all we can to make
    birthdays very special occasions. We went to Dar es Salaam the day before the
    birthday and bought Kate a very sturdy tricycle with which she is absolutely delighted.
    You will be glad to know that your parcels arrived just in time and Kate loved all your
    gifts especially the little shop from Dad with all the miniature tins and packets of
    groceries. The tea set was also a great success and is much in use.

    We had a lively party which ended with George and me singing ‘Happy
    Birthday to you’, and ended with a wild game with balloons. Kate wore her frilly white net
    party frock and looked so pretty that it seemed a shame that there was no one but us to
    see her. Anyway it was a good party. I wish so much that you could see the children.
    Kate keeps rosy and has not yet had malaria. Johnny Jo is sturdy but pale. He
    runs a temperature now and again but I am not sure whether this is due to teething or
    malaria. Both children of course take quinine every day as George and I do. George
    quite frequently has malaria in spite of prophylactic quinine but this is not surprising as he
    got the germ thoroughly established in his system in his early elephant hunting days. I
    get it too occasionally but have not been really ill since that first time a month after my
    arrival in the country.

    Johnny is such a good baby. His chief claim to beauty is his head of soft golden
    curls but these are due to come off on his first birthday as George considers them too
    girlish. George left on safari the day after the party and the very next morning our wood
    boy had a most unfortunate accident. He was chopping a rather tough log when a chip
    flew up and split his upper lip clean through from mouth to nostril exposing teeth and
    gums. A truly horrible sight and very bloody. I cleaned up the wound as best I could
    and sent him off to the hospital at Dar es Salaam on the office bicycle. He wobbled
    away wretchedly down the road with a white cloth tied over his mouth to keep off the
    dust. He returned next day with his lip stitched and very swollen and bearing a
    resemblance to my lip that time I used the hair remover.

    Eleanor.

    Splendid Hotel. Dar es Salaam 7th September 1939

    Dearest Family,

    So now another war has started and it has disrupted even our lives. We have left
    Nzassa for good. George is now a Lieutenant in the King’s African Rifles and the children
    and I are to go to a place called Morogoro to await further developments.
    I was glad to read in today’s paper that South Africa has declared war on
    Germany. I would have felt pretty small otherwise in this hotel which is crammed full of
    men who have been called up for service in the Army. George seems exhilarated by
    the prospect of active service. He is bursting out of his uniform ( at the shoulders only!)
    and all too ready for the fray.

    The war came as a complete surprise to me stuck out in the bush as I was without
    wireless or mail. George had been away for a fortnight so you can imagine how
    surprised I was when a messenger arrived on a bicycle with a note from George. The
    note informed me that war had been declared and that George, as a Reserve Officer in
    the KAR had been called up. I was to start packing immediately and be ready by noon
    next day when George would arrive with a lorry for our goods and chattels. I started to
    pack immediately with the help of the houseboy and by the time George arrived with
    the lorry only the frig remained to be packed and this was soon done.

    Throughout the morning Game Scouts had been arriving from outlying parts of
    the District. I don’t think they had the least idea where they were supposed to go or
    whom they were to fight but were ready to fight anybody, anywhere, with George.
    They all looked very smart in well pressed uniforms hung about with water bottles and
    ammunition pouches. The large buffalo badge on their round pill box hats absolutely
    glittered with polish. All of course carried rifles and when George arrived they all lined up
    and they looked most impressive. I took some snaps but unfortunately it was drizzling
    and they may not come out well.

    We left Nzassa without a backward glance. We were pretty fed up with it by
    then. The children and I are spending a few days here with George but our luggage, the
    dogs, and the houseboys have already left by train for Morogoro where a small house
    has been found for the children and me.

    George tells me that all the German males in this Territory were interned without a
    hitch. The whole affair must have been very well organised. In every town and
    settlement special constables were sworn in to do the job. It must have been a rather
    unpleasant one but seems to have gone without incident. There is a big transit camp
    here at Dar for the German men. Later they are to be sent out of the country, possibly to
    Rhodesia.

    The Indian tailors in the town are all terribly busy making Army uniforms, shorts
    and tunics in khaki drill. George swears that they have muddled their orders and he has
    been given the wrong things. Certainly the tunic is far too tight. His hat, a khaki slouch hat
    like you saw the Australians wearing in the last war, is also too small though it is the
    largest they have in stock. We had a laugh over his other equipment which includes a
    small canvas haversack and a whistle on a black cord. George says he feels like he is
    back in his Boy Scouting boyhood.

    George has just come in to say the we will be leaving for Morogoro tomorrow
    afternoon.

    Eleanor.

    Morogoro 14th September 1939

    Dearest Family,

    Morogoro is a complete change from Nzassa. This is a large and sprawling
    township. The native town and all the shops are down on the flat land by the railway but
    all the European houses are away up the slope of the high Uluguru Mountains.
    Morogoro was a flourishing town in the German days and all the streets are lined with
    trees for coolness as is the case in other German towns. These trees are the flamboyant
    acacia which has an umbrella top and throws a wide but light shade.

    Most of the houses have large gardens so they cover a considerable area and it
    is quite a safari for me to visit friends on foot as our house is on the edge of this area and
    the furthest away from the town. Here ones house is in accordance with ones seniority in
    Government service. Ours is a simple affair, just three lofty square rooms opening on to
    a wide enclosed verandah. Mosquitoes are bad here so all doors and windows are
    screened and we will have to carry on with our daily doses of quinine.

    George came up to Morogoro with us on the train. This was fortunate because I
    went down with a sharp attack of malaria at the hotel on the afternoon of our departure
    from Dar es Salaam. George’s drastic cure of vast doses of quinine, a pillow over my
    head, and the bed heaped with blankets soon brought down the temperature so I was
    fit enough to board the train but felt pretty poorly on the trip. However next day I felt
    much better which was a good thing as George had to return to Dar es Salaam after two
    days. His train left late at night so I did not see him off but said good-bye at home
    feeling dreadful but trying to keep the traditional stiff upper lip of the wife seeing her
    husband off to the wars. He hopes to go off to Abyssinia but wrote from Dar es Salaam
    to say that he is being sent down to Rhodesia by road via Mbeya to escort the first
    detachment of Rhodesian white troops.

    First he will have to select suitable camping sites for night stops and arrange for
    supplies of food. I am very pleased as it means he will be safe for a while anyway. We
    are both worried about Ann and George in England and wonder if it would be safer to
    have them sent out.

    Eleanor.

    Morogoro 4th November 1939

    Dearest Family,

    My big news is that George has been released from the Army. He is very
    indignant and disappointed because he hoped to go to Abyssinia but I am terribly,
    terribly glad. The Chief Secretary wrote a very nice letter to George pointing out that he
    would be doing a greater service to his country by his work of elephant control, giving
    crop protection during the war years when foodstuffs are such a vital necessity, than by
    doing a soldiers job. The Government plan to start a huge rice scheme in the Rufiji area,
    and want George to control the elephant and hippo there. First of all though. he must go
    to the Southern Highlands Province where there is another outbreak of Rinderpest, to
    shoot out diseased game especially buffalo, which might spread the disease.

    So off we go again on our travels but this time we are leaving the two dogs
    behind in the care of Daniel, the Game Clerk. Fanny is very pregnant and I hate leaving
    her behind but the clerk has promised to look after her well. We are taking Hamisi, our
    dignified Swahili cook and the houseboy Juma and his wife whom we brought with us
    from Nzassa. The boy is not very good but his wife makes a cheerful and placid ayah
    and adores Johnny.

    Eleanor.

    Iringa 8th December 1939

    Dearest Family,

    The children and I are staying in a small German house leased from the
    Custodian of Enemy Property. I can’t help feeling sorry for the owners who must be in
    concentration camps somewhere.George is away in the bush dealing with the
    Rinderpest emergency and the cook has gone with him. Now I have sent the houseboy
    and the ayah away too. Two days ago my houseboy came and told me that he felt
    very ill and asked me to write a ‘chit’ to the Indian Doctor. In the note I asked the Doctor
    to let me know the nature of his complaint and to my horror I got a note from him to say
    that the houseboy had a bad case of Venereal Disease. Was I horrified! I took it for
    granted that his wife must be infected too and told them both that they would have to
    return to their home in Nzassa. The boy shouted and the ayah wept but I paid them in
    lieu of notice and gave them money for the journey home. So there I was left servant
    less with firewood to chop, a smokey wood burning stove to control, and of course, the
    two children.

    To add to my troubles Johnny had a temperature so I sent for the European
    Doctor. He diagnosed malaria and was astonished at the size of Johnny’s spleen. He
    said that he must have had suppressed malaria over a long period and the poor child
    must now be fed maximum doses of quinine for a long time. The Doctor is a fatherly
    soul, he has been recalled from retirement to do this job as so many of the young
    doctors have been called up for service with the army.

    I told him about my houseboy’s complaint and the way I had sent him off
    immediately, and he was very amused at my haste, saying that it is most unlikely that
    they would have passed the disease onto their employers. Anyway I hated the idea. I
    mean to engage a houseboy locally, but will do without an ayah until we return to
    Morogoro in February.

    Something happened today to cheer me up. A telegram came from Daniel which
    read, “FLANNEL HAS FIVE CUBS.”

    Eleanor.

    Morogoro 10th March 1940

    Dearest Family,

    We are having very heavy rain and the countryside is a most beautiful green. In
    spite of the weather George is away on safari though it must be very wet and
    unpleasant. He does work so hard at his elephant hunting job and has got very thin. I
    suppose this is partly due to those stomach pains he gets and the doctors don’t seem
    to diagnose the trouble.

    Living in Morogoro is much like living in a country town in South Africa, particularly
    as there are several South African women here. I go out quite often to morning teas. We
    all take our war effort knitting, and natter, and are completely suburban.
    I sometimes go and see an elderly couple who have been interred here. They
    are cold shouldered by almost everyone else but I cannot help feeling sorry for them.
    Usually I go by invitation because I know Mrs Ruppel prefers to be prepared and
    always has sandwiches and cake. They both speak English but not fluently and
    conversation is confined to talking about my children and theirs. Their two sons were
    students in Germany when war broke out but are now of course in the German Army.
    Such nice looking chaps from their photographs but I suppose thorough Nazis. As our
    conversation is limited I usually ask to hear a gramophone record or two. They have a
    large collection.

    Janet, the ayah whom I engaged at Mbeya, is proving a great treasure. She is a
    trained hospital ayah and is most dependable and capable. She is, perhaps, a little strict
    but the great thing is that I can trust her with the children out of my sight.
    Last week I went out at night for the first time without George. The occasion was
    a farewell sundowner given by the Commissioner of Prisoners and his wife. I was driven
    home by the District Officer and he stopped his car by the back door in a large puddle.
    Ayah came to the back door, storm lamp in hand, to greet me. My escort prepared to
    drive off but the car stuck. I thought a push from me might help, so without informing the
    driver, I pushed as hard as I could on the back of the car. Unfortunately the driver
    decided on other tactics. He put the engine in reverse and I was knocked flat on my back
    in the puddle. The car drove forward and away without the driver having the least idea of
    what happened. The ayah was in quite a state, lifting me up and scolding me for my
    stupidity as though I were Kate. I was a bit shaken but non the worse and will know
    better next time.

    Eleanor.

    Morogoro 14th July 1940

    Dearest Family,

    How good it was of Dad to send that cable to Mother offering to have Ann and
    George to live with you if they are accepted for inclusion in the list of children to be
    evacuated to South Africa. It would be wonderful to know that they are safely out of the
    war zone and so much nearer to us but I do dread the thought of the long sea voyage
    particularly since we heard the news of the sinking of that liner carrying child evacuees to
    Canada. I worry about them so much particularly as George is so often away on safari.
    He is so comforting and calm and I feel brave and confident when he is home.
    We have had no news from England for five weeks but, when she last wrote,
    mother said the children were very well and that she was sure they would be safe in the
    country with her.

    Kate and John are growing fast. Kate is such a pretty little girl, rosy in spite of the
    rather trying climate. I have allowed her hair to grow again and it hangs on her shoulders
    in shiny waves. John is a more slightly built little boy than young George was, and quite
    different in looks. He has Dad’s high forehead and cleft chin, widely spaced brown eyes
    that are not so dark as mine and hair that is still fair and curly though ayah likes to smooth it
    down with water every time she dresses him. He is a shy child, and although he plays
    happily with Kate, he does not care to play with other children who go in the late
    afternoons to a lawn by the old German ‘boma’.

    Kate has playmates of her own age but still rather clings to me. Whilst she loves
    to have friends here to play with her, she will not go to play at their houses unless I go
    too and stay. She always insists on accompanying me when I go out to morning tea
    and always calls JanetJohn’s ayah”. One morning I went to a knitting session at a
    neighbours house. We are all knitting madly for the troops. As there were several other
    women in the lounge and no other children, I installed Kate in the dining room with a
    colouring book and crayons. My hostess’ black dog was chained to the dining room
    table leg, but as he and Kate are on friendly terms I was not bothered by this.
    Some time afterwards, during a lull in conversation, I heard a strange drumming
    noise coming from the dining room. I went quickly to investigate and, to my horror, found
    Kate lying on her back with the dog chain looped around her neck. The frightened dog
    was straining away from her as far as he could get and the chain was pulled so tightly
    around her throat that she could not scream. The drumming noise came from her heels
    kicking in a panic on the carpet.

    Even now I do not know how Kate got herself into this predicament. Luckily no
    great harm was done but I think I shall do my knitting at home in future.

    Eleanor.

    Morogoro 16th November 1940

    Dearest Family,

    I much prefer our little house on the hillside to the larger one we had down below.
    The only disadvantage is that the garden is on three levels and both children have had
    some tumbles down the steps on the tricycle. John is an extremely stoical child. He
    never cries when he hurts himself.

    I think I have mentioned ‘Morningside’ before. It is a kind of Resthouse high up in
    the Uluguru Mountains above Morogoro. Jess Howe-Browne, who runs the large
    house as a Guest House, is a wonderful woman. Besides running the boarding house
    she also grows vegetables, flowers and fruit for sale in Morogoro and Dar es Salaam.
    Her guests are usually women and children from Dar es Salaam who come in the hot
    season to escape the humidity on the coast. Often the mothers leave their children for
    long periods in Jess Howe-Browne’s care. There is a road of sorts up the mountain side
    to Morningside, but this is so bad that cars do not attempt it and guests are carried up
    the mountain in wicker chairs lashed to poles. Four men carry an adult, and two a child,
    and there are of course always spare bearers and they work in shifts.

    Last week the children and I went to Morningside for the day as guests. John
    rode on my lap in one chair and Kate in a small chair on her own. This did not please
    Kate at all. The poles are carried on the bearers shoulders and one is perched quite high.
    The motion is a peculiar rocking one. The bearers chant as they go and do not seem
    worried by shortness of breath! They are all hillmen of course and are, I suppose, used
    to trotting up and down to the town.

    Morningside is well worth visiting and we spent a delightful day there. The fresh
    cool air is a great change from the heavy air of the valley. A river rushes down the
    mountain in a series of cascades, and the gardens are shady and beautiful. Behind the
    property is a thick indigenous forest which stretches from Morningside to the top of the
    mountain. The house is an old German one, rather in need of repair, but Jess has made
    it comfortable and attractive, with some of her old family treasures including a fine old
    Grandfather clock. We had a wonderful lunch which included large fresh strawberries and
    cream. We made the return journey again in the basket chairs and got home before dark.
    George returned home at the weekend with a baby elephant whom we have
    called Winnie. She was rescued from a mud hole by some African villagers and, as her
    mother had abandoned her, they took her home and George was informed. He went in
    the truck to fetch her having first made arrangements to have her housed in a shed on the
    Agriculture Department Experimental Farm here. He has written to the Game Dept
    Headquarters to inform the Game Warden and I do not know what her future will be, but
    in the meantime she is our pet. George is afraid she will not survive because she has
    had a very trying time. She stands about waist high and is a delightful creature and quite
    docile. Asian and African children as well as Europeans gather to watch her and George
    encourages them to bring fruit for her – especially pawpaws which she loves.
    Whilst we were there yesterday one of the local ladies came, very smartly
    dressed in a linen frock, silk stockings, and high heeled shoes. She watched fascinated
    whilst Winnie neatly split a pawpaw and removed the seeds with her trunk, before
    scooping out the pulp and putting it in her mouth. It was a particularly nice ripe pawpaw
    and Winnie enjoyed it so much that she stretched out her trunk for more. The lady took
    fright and started to run with Winnie after her, sticky trunk outstretched. Quite an
    entertaining sight. George managed to stop Winnie but not before she had left a gooey
    smear down the back of the immaculate frock.

    Eleanor.

     

    #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.

    #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.

    #6261
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    From Tanganyika with Love

    continued

    With thanks to Mike Rushby.

    Mchewe Estate. 11th July 1931.

    Dearest Family,

    You say that you would like to know more about our neighbours. Well there is
    not much to tell. Kath Wood is very good about coming over to see me. I admire her
    very much because she is so capable as well as being attractive. She speaks very
    fluent Ki-Swahili and I envy her the way she can carry on a long conversation with the
    natives. I am very slow in learning the language possibly because Lamek and the
    houseboy both speak basic English.

    I have very little to do with the Africans apart from the house servants, but I do
    run a sort of clinic for the wives and children of our employees. The children suffer chiefly
    from sore eyes and worms, and the older ones often have bad ulcers on their legs. All
    farmers keep a stock of drugs and bandages.

    George also does a bit of surgery and last month sewed up the sole of the foot
    of a boy who had trodden on the blade of a panga, a sort of sword the Africans use for
    hacking down bush. He made an excellent job of it. George tells me that the Africans
    have wonderful powers of recuperation. Once in his bachelor days, one of his men was
    disembowelled by an elephant. George washed his “guts” in a weak solution of
    pot.permang, put them back in the cavity and sewed up the torn flesh and he
    recovered.

    But to get back to the neighbours. We see less of Hicky Wood than of Kath.
    Hicky can be charming but is often moody as I believe Irishmen often are.
    Major Jones is now at home on his shamba, which he leaves from time to time
    for temporary jobs on the district roads. He walks across fairly regularly and we are
    always glad to see him for he is a great bearer of news. In this part of Africa there is no
    knocking or ringing of doorbells. Front doors are always left open and visitors always
    welcome. When a visitor approaches a house he shouts “Hodi”, and the owner of the
    house yells “Karibu”, which I believe means “Come near” or approach, and tea is
    produced in a matter of minutes no matter what hour of the day it is.
    The road that passes all our farms is the only road to the Gold Diggings and
    diggers often drop in on the Woods and Major Jones and bring news of the Goldfields.
    This news is sometimes about gold but quite often about whose wife is living with
    whom. This is a great country for gossip.

    Major Jones now has his brother Llewyllen living with him. I drove across with
    George to be introduced to him. Llewyllen’s health is poor and he looks much older than
    his years and very like the portrait of Trader Horn. He has the same emaciated features,
    burning eyes and long beard. He is proud of his Welsh tenor voice and often bursts into
    song.

    Both brothers are excellent conversationalists and George enjoys walking over
    sometimes on a Sunday for a bit of masculine company. The other day when George
    walked across to visit the Joneses, he found both brothers in the shamba and Llew in a
    great rage. They had been stooping to inspect a water furrow when Llew backed into a
    hornets nest. One furious hornet stung him on the seat and another on the back of his
    neck. Llew leapt forward and somehow his false teeth shot out into the furrow and were
    carried along by the water. When George arrived Llew had retrieved his teeth but
    George swears that, in the commotion, the heavy leather leggings, which Llew always
    wears, had swivelled around on his thin legs and were calves to the front.
    George has heard that Major Jones is to sell pert of his land to his Swedish brother-in-law, Max Coster, so we will soon have another couple in the neighbourhood.

    I’ve had a bit of a pantomime here on the farm. On the day we went to Tukuyu,
    all our washing was stolen from the clothes line and also our new charcoal iron. George
    reported the matter to the police and they sent out a plain clothes policeman. He wears
    the long white Arab gown called a Kanzu much in vogue here amongst the African elite
    but, alas for secrecy, huge black police boots protrude from beneath the Kanzu and, to
    add to this revealing clue, the askari springs to attention and salutes each time I pass by.
    Not much hope of finding out the identity of the thief I fear.

    George’s furrow was entirely successful and we now have water running behind
    the kitchen. Our drinking water we get from a lovely little spring on the farm. We boil and
    filter it for safety’s sake. I don’t think that is necessary. The furrow water is used for
    washing pots and pans and for bath water.

    Lots of love,
    Eleanor

    Mchewe Estate. 8th. August 1931

    Dearest Family,

    I think it is about time I told you that we are going to have a baby. We are both
    thrilled about it. I have not seen a Doctor but feel very well and you are not to worry. I
    looked it up in my handbook for wives and reckon that the baby is due about February
    8th. next year.

    The announcement came from George, not me! I had been feeling queasy for
    days and was waiting for the right moment to tell George. You know. Soft lights and
    music etc. However when I was listlessly poking my food around one lunch time
    George enquired calmly, “When are you going to tell me about the baby?” Not at all
    according to the book! The problem is where to have the baby. February is a very wet
    month and the nearest Doctor is over 50 miles away at Tukuyu. I cannot go to stay at
    Tukuyu because there is no European accommodation at the hospital, no hotel and no
    friend with whom I could stay.

    George thinks I should go South to you but Capetown is so very far away and I
    love my little home here. Also George says he could not come all the way down with
    me as he simply must stay here and get the farm on its feet. He would drive me as far
    as the railway in Northern Rhodesia. It is a difficult decision to take. Write and tell me what
    you think.

    The days tick by quietly here. The servants are very willing but have to be
    supervised and even then a crisis can occur. Last Saturday I was feeling squeamish and
    decided not to have lunch. I lay reading on the couch whilst George sat down to a
    solitary curry lunch. Suddenly he gave an exclamation and pushed back his chair. I
    jumped up to see what was wrong and there, on his plate, gleaming in the curry gravy
    were small bits of broken glass. I hurried to the kitchen to confront Lamek with the plate.
    He explained that he had dropped the new and expensive bottle of curry powder on
    the brick floor of the kitchen. He did not tell me as he thought I would make a “shauri” so
    he simply scooped up the curry powder, removed the larger pieces of glass and used
    part of the powder for seasoning the lunch.

    The weather is getting warmer now. It was very cold in June and July and we had
    fires in the daytime as well as at night. Now that much of the land has been cleared we
    are able to go for pleasant walks in the weekends. My favourite spot is a waterfall on the
    Mchewe River just on the boundary of our land. There is a delightful little pool below the
    waterfall and one day George intends to stock it with trout.

    Now that there are more Europeans around to buy meat the natives find it worth
    their while to kill an occasional beast. Every now and again a native arrives with a large
    bowl of freshly killed beef for sale. One has no way of knowing whether the animal was
    healthy and the meat is often still warm and very bloody. I hated handling it at first but am
    becoming accustomed to it now and have even started a brine tub. There is no other
    way of keeping meat here and it can only be kept in its raw state for a few hours before
    going bad. One of the delicacies is the hump which all African cattle have. When corned
    it is like the best brisket.

    See what a housewife I am becoming.
    With much love,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. Sept.6th. 1931

    Dearest Family,

    I have grown to love the life here and am sad to think I shall be leaving
    Tanganyika soon for several months. Yes I am coming down to have the baby in the
    bosom of the family. George thinks it best and so does the doctor. I didn’t mention it
    before but I have never recovered fully from the effects of that bad bout of malaria and
    so I have been persuaded to leave George and our home and go to the Cape, in the
    hope that I shall come back here as fit as when I first arrived in the country plus a really
    healthy and bouncing baby. I am torn two ways, I long to see you all – but how I would
    love to stay on here.

    George will drive me down to Northern Rhodesia in early October to catch a
    South bound train. I’ll telegraph the date of departure when I know it myself. The road is
    very, very bad and the car has been giving a good deal of trouble so, though the baby
    is not due until early February, George thinks it best to get the journey over soon as
    possible, for the rains break in November and the the roads will then be impassable. It
    may take us five or six days to reach Broken Hill as we will take it slowly. I am looking
    forward to the drive through new country and to camping out at night.
    Our days pass quietly by. George is out on the shamba most of the day. He
    goes out before breakfast on weekdays and spends most of the day working with the
    men – not only supervising but actually working with his hands and beating the labourers
    at their own jobs. He comes to the house for meals and tea breaks. I potter around the
    house and garden, sew, mend and read. Lamek continues to be a treasure. he turns out
    some surprising dishes. One of his specialities is stuffed chicken. He carefully skins the
    chicken removing all bones. He then minces all the chicken meat and adds minced onion
    and potatoes. He then stuffs the chicken skin with the minced meat and carefully sews it
    together again. The resulting dish is very filling because the boned chicken is twice the
    size of a normal one. It lies on its back as round as a football with bloated legs in the air.
    Rather repulsive to look at but Lamek is most proud of his accomplishment.
    The other day he produced another of his masterpieces – a cooked tortoise. It
    was served on a dish covered with parsley and crouched there sans shell but, only too
    obviously, a tortoise. I took one look and fled with heaving diaphragm, but George said
    it tasted quite good. He tells me that he has had queerer dishes produced by former
    cooks. He says that once in his hunting days his cook served up a skinned baby
    monkey with its hands folded on its breast. He says it would take a cannibal to eat that
    dish.

    And now for something sad. Poor old Llew died quite suddenly and it was a sad
    shock to this tiny community. We went across to the funeral and it was a very simple and
    dignified affair. Llew was buried on Joni’s farm in a grave dug by the farm boys. The
    body was wrapped in a blanket and bound to some boards and lowered into the
    ground. There was no service. The men just said “Good-bye Llew.” and “Sleep well
    Llew”, and things like that. Then Joni and his brother-in-law Max, and George shovelled
    soil over the body after which the grave was filled in by Joni’s shamba boys. It was a
    lovely bright afternoon and I thought how simple and sensible a funeral it was.
    I hope you will be glad to have me home. I bet Dad will be holding thumbs that
    the baby will be a girl.

    Very much love,
    Eleanor.

    Note
    “There are no letters to my family during the period of Sept. 1931 to June 1932
    because during these months I was living with my parents and sister in a suburb of
    Cape Town. I had hoped to return to Tanganyika by air with my baby soon after her
    birth in Feb.1932 but the doctor would not permit this.

    A month before my baby was born, a company called Imperial Airways, had
    started the first passenger service between South Africa and England. One of the night
    stops was at Mbeya near my husband’s coffee farm, and it was my intention to take the
    train to Broken Hill in Northern Rhodesia and to fly from there to Mbeya with my month
    old baby. In those days however, commercial flying was still a novelty and the doctor
    was not sure that flying at a high altitude might not have an adverse effect upon a young
    baby.

    He strongly advised me to wait until the baby was four months old and I did this
    though the long wait was very trying to my husband alone on our farm in Tanganyika,
    and to me, cherished though I was in my old home.

    My story, covering those nine long months is soon told. My husband drove me
    down from Mbeya to Broken Hill in NorthernRhodesia. The journey was tedious as the
    weather was very hot and dry and the road sandy and rutted, very different from the
    Great North road as it is today. The wooden wheel spokes of the car became so dry
    that they rattled and George had to bind wet rags around them. We had several
    punctures and with one thing and another I was lucky to catch the train.
    My parents were at Cape Town station to welcome me and I stayed
    comfortably with them, living very quietly, until my baby was born. She arrived exactly
    on the appointed day, Feb.8th.

    I wrote to my husband “Our Charmian Ann is a darling baby. She is very fair and
    rather pale and has the most exquisite hands, with long tapering fingers. Daddy
    absolutely dotes on her and so would you, if you were here. I can’t bear to think that you
    are so terribly far away. Although Ann was born exactly on the day, I was taken quite by
    surprise. It was awfully hot on the night before, and before going to bed I had a fancy for
    some water melon. The result was that when I woke in the early morning with labour
    pains and vomiting I thought it was just an attack of indigestion due to eating too much
    melon. The result was that I did not wake Marjorie until the pains were pretty frequent.
    She called our next door neighbour who, in his pyjamas, drove me to the nursing home
    at breakneck speed. The Matron was very peeved that I had left things so late but all
    went well and by nine o’clock, Mother, positively twittering with delight, was allowed to
    see me and her first granddaughter . She told me that poor Dad was in such a state of
    nerves that he was sick amongst the grapevines. He says that he could not bear to go
    through such an anxious time again, — so we will have to have our next eleven in
    Tanganyika!”

    The next four months passed rapidly as my time was taken up by the demands
    of my new baby. Dr. Trudy King’s method of rearing babies was then the vogue and I
    stuck fanatically to all the rules he laid down, to the intense exasperation of my parents
    who longed to cuddle the child.

    As the time of departure drew near my parents became more and more reluctant
    to allow me to face the journey alone with their adored grandchild, so my brother,
    Graham, very generously offered to escort us on the train to Broken Hill where he could
    put us on the plane for Mbeya.

    Eleanor Rushby

     

    Mchewe Estate. June 15th 1932

    Dearest Family,

    You’ll be glad to know that we arrived quite safe and sound and very, very
    happy to be home.The train Journey was uneventful. Ann slept nearly all the way.
    Graham was very kind and saw to everything. He even sat with the baby whilst I went
    to meals in the dining car.

    We were met at Broken Hill by the Thoms who had arranged accommodation for
    us at the hotel for the night. They also drove us to the aerodrome in the morning where
    the Airways agent told us that Ann is the first baby to travel by air on this section of the
    Cape to England route. The plane trip was very bumpy indeed especially between
    Broken Hill and Mpika. Everyone was ill including poor little Ann who sicked up her milk
    all over the front of my new coat. I arrived at Mbeya looking a sorry caricature of Radiant
    Motherhood. I must have been pale green and the baby was snow white. Under the
    circumstances it was a good thing that George did not meet us. We were met instead
    by Ken Menzies, the owner of the Mbeya Hotel where we spent the night. Ken was
    most fatherly and kind and a good nights rest restored Ann and me to our usual robust
    health.

    Mbeya has greatly changed. The hotel is now finished and can accommodate
    fifty guests. It consists of a large main building housing a large bar and dining room and
    offices and a number of small cottage bedrooms. It even has electric light. There are
    several buildings out at the aerodrome and private houses going up in Mbeya.
    After breakfast Ken Menzies drove us out to the farm where we had a warm
    welcome from George, who looks well but rather thin. The house was spotless and the
    new cook, Abel, had made light scones for tea. George had prepared all sorts of lovely
    surprises. There is a new reed ceiling in the living room and a new dresser gay with
    willow pattern plates which he had ordered from England. There is also a writing table
    and a square table by the door for visitors hats. More personal is a lovely model ship
    which George assembled from one of those Hobbie’s kits. It puts the finishing touch to
    the rather old world air of our living room.

    In the bedroom there is a large double bed which George made himself. It has
    strips of old car tyres nailed to a frame which makes a fine springy mattress and on top
    of this is a thick mattress of kapok.In the kitchen there is a good wood stove which
    George salvaged from a Mission dump. It looks a bit battered but works very well. The
    new cook is excellent. The only blight is that he will wear rubber soled tennis shoes and
    they smell awful. I daren’t hurt his feelings by pointing this out though. Opposite the
    kitchen is a new laundry building containing a forty gallon hot water drum and a sink for
    washing up. Lovely!

    George has been working very hard. He now has forty acres of coffee seedlings
    planted out and has also found time to plant a rose garden and fruit trees. There are
    orange and peach trees, tree tomatoes, paw paws, guavas and berries. He absolutely
    adores Ann who has been very good and does not seem at all unsettled by the long
    journey.

    It is absolutely heavenly to be back and I shall be happier than ever now that I
    have a baby to play with during the long hours when George is busy on the farm,
    Thank you for all your love and care during the many months I was with you. Ann
    sends a special bubble for granddad.

    Your very loving,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate Mbeya July 18th 1932

    Dearest Family,

    Ann at five months is enchanting. She is a very good baby, smiles readily and is
    gaining weight steadily. She doesn’t sleep much during the day but that does not
    matter, because, apart from washing her little things, I have nothing to do but attend to
    her. She sleeps very well at night which is a blessing as George has to get up very
    early to start work on the shamba and needs a good nights rest.
    My nights are not so good, because we are having a plague of rats which frisk
    around in the bedroom at night. Great big ones that come up out of the long grass in the
    gorge beside the house and make cosy homes on our reed ceiling and in the thatch of
    the roof.

    We always have a night light burning so that, if necessary, I can attend to Ann
    with a minimum of fuss, and the things I see in that dim light! There are gaps between
    the reeds and one night I heard, plop! and there, before my horrified gaze, lay a newly
    born hairless baby rat on the floor by the bed, plop, plop! and there lay two more.
    Quite dead, poor things – but what a careless mother.

    I have also seen rats scampering around on the tops of the mosquito nets and
    sometimes we have them on our bed. They have a lovely game. They swarm down
    the cord from which the mosquito net is suspended, leap onto the bed and onto the
    floor. We do not have our net down now the cold season is here and there are few
    mosquitoes.

    Last week a rat crept under Ann’s net which hung to the floor and bit her little
    finger, so now I tuck the net in under the mattress though it makes it difficult for me to
    attend to her at night. We shall have to get a cat somewhere. Ann’s pram has not yet
    arrived so George carries her when we go walking – to her great content.
    The native women around here are most interested in Ann. They come to see
    her, bearing small gifts, and usually bring a child or two with them. They admire my child
    and I admire theirs and there is an exchange of gifts. They produce a couple of eggs or
    a few bananas or perhaps a skinny fowl and I hand over sugar, salt or soap as they
    value these commodities. The most lavish gift went to the wife of Thomas our headman,
    who produced twin daughters in the same week as I had Ann.

    Our neighbours have all been across to welcome me back and to admire the
    baby. These include Marion Coster who came out to join her husband whilst I was in
    South Africa. The two Hickson-Wood children came over on a fat old white donkey.
    They made a pretty picture sitting astride, one behind the other – Maureen with her arms
    around small Michael’s waist. A native toto led the donkey and the children’ s ayah
    walked beside it.

    It is quite cold here now but the sun is bright and the air dry. The whole
    countryside is beautifully green and we are a very happy little family.

    Lots and lots of love,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate August 11th 1932

    Dearest Family,

    George has been very unwell for the past week. He had a nasty gash on his
    knee which went septic. He had a swelling in the groin and a high temperature and could
    not sleep at night for the pain in his leg. Ann was very wakeful too during the same
    period, I think she is teething. I luckily have kept fit though rather harassed. Yesterday the
    leg looked so inflamed that George decided to open up the wound himself. he made
    quite a big cut in exactly the right place. You should have seen the blackish puss
    pouring out.

    After he had thoroughly cleaned the wound George sewed it up himself. he has
    the proper surgical needles and gut. He held the cut together with his left hand and
    pushed the needle through the flesh with his right. I pulled the needle out and passed it
    to George for the next stitch. I doubt whether a surgeon could have made a neater job
    of it. He is still confined to the couch but today his temperature is normal. Some
    husband!

    The previous week was hectic in another way. We had a visit from lions! George
    and I were having supper about 8.30 on Tuesday night when the back verandah was
    suddenly invaded by women and children from the servants quarters behind the kitchen.
    They were all yelling “Simba, Simba.” – simba means lions. The door opened suddenly
    and the houseboy rushed in to say that there were lions at the huts. George got up
    swiftly, fetched gun and ammunition from the bedroom and with the houseboy carrying
    the lamp, went off to investigate. I remained at the table, carrying on with my supper as I
    felt a pioneer’s wife should! Suddenly something big leapt through the open window
    behind me. You can imagine what I thought! I know now that it is quite true to say one’s
    hair rises when one is scared. However it was only Kelly, our huge Irish wolfhound,
    taking cover.

    George returned quite soon to say that apparently the commotion made by the
    women and children had frightened the lions off. He found their tracks in the soft earth
    round the huts and a bag of maize that had been playfully torn open but the lions had
    moved on.

    Next day we heard that they had moved to Hickson-Wood’s shamba. Hicky
    came across to say that the lions had jumped over the wall of his cattle boma and killed
    both his white Muskat riding donkeys.
    He and a friend sat up all next night over the remains but the lions did not return to
    the kill.

    Apart from the little set back last week, Ann is blooming. She has a cap of very
    fine fair hair and clear blue eyes under straight brow. She also has lovely dimples in both
    cheeks. We are very proud of her.

    Our neighbours are picking coffee but the crops are small and the price is low. I
    am amazed that they are so optimistic about the future. No one in these parts ever
    seems to grouse though all are living on capital. They all say “Well if the worst happens
    we can always go up to the Lupa Diggings.”

    Don’t worry about us, we have enough to tide us over for some time yet.

    Much love to all,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. 28th Sept. 1932

    Dearest Family,

    News! News! I’m going to have another baby. George and I are delighted and I
    hope it will be a boy this time. I shall be able to have him at Mbeya because things are
    rapidly changing here. Several German families have moved to Mbeya including a
    German doctor who means to build a hospital there. I expect he will make a very good
    living because there must now be some hundreds of Europeans within a hundred miles
    radius of Mbeya. The Europeans are mostly British or German but there are also
    Greeks and, I believe, several other nationalities are represented on the Lupa Diggings.
    Ann is blooming and developing according to the Book except that she has no
    teeth yet! Kath Hickson-Wood has given her a very nice high chair and now she has
    breakfast and lunch at the table with us. Everything within reach goes on the floor to her
    amusement and my exasperation!

    You ask whether we have any Church of England missionaries in our part. No we
    haven’t though there are Lutheran and Roman Catholic Missions. I have never even
    heard of a visiting Church of England Clergyman to these parts though there are babies
    in plenty who have not been baptised. Jolly good thing I had Ann Christened down
    there.

    The R.C. priests in this area are called White Fathers. They all have beards and
    wear white cassocks and sun helmets. One, called Father Keiling, calls around frequently.
    Though none of us in this area is Catholic we take it in turn to put him up for the night. The
    Catholic Fathers in their turn are most hospitable to travellers regardless of their beliefs.
    Rather a sad thing has happened. Lucas our old chicken-boy is dead. I shall miss
    his toothy smile. George went to the funeral and fired two farewell shots from his rifle
    over the grave – a gesture much appreciated by the locals. Lucas in his day was a good
    hunter.

    Several of the locals own muzzle loading guns but the majority hunt with dogs
    and spears. The dogs wear bells which make an attractive jingle but I cannot bear the
    idea of small antelope being run down until they are exhausted before being clubbed of
    stabbed to death. We seldom eat venison as George does not care to shoot buck.
    Recently though, he shot an eland and Abel rendered down the fat which is excellent for
    cooking and very like beef fat.

    Much love to all,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. P.O.Mbeya 21st November 1932

    Dearest Family,

    George has gone off to the Lupa for a week with John Molteno. John came up
    here with the idea of buying a coffee farm but he has changed his mind and now thinks of
    staking some claims on the diggings and also setting up as a gold buyer.

    Did I tell you about his arrival here? John and George did some elephant hunting
    together in French Equatorial Africa and when John heard that George had married and
    settled in Tanganyika, he also decided to come up here. He drove up from Cape Town
    in a Baby Austin and arrived just as our labourers were going home for the day. The little
    car stopped half way up our hill and John got out to investigate. You should have heard
    the astonished exclamations when John got out – all 6 ft 5 ins. of him! He towered over
    the little car and even to me it seemed impossible for him to have made the long
    journey in so tiny a car.

    Kath Wood has been over several times lately. She is slim and looks so right in
    the shirt and corduroy slacks she almost always wears. She was here yesterday when
    the shamba boy, digging in the front garden, unearthed a large earthenware cooking pot,
    sealed at the top. I was greatly excited and had an instant mental image of fabulous
    wealth. We made the boy bring the pot carefully on to the verandah and opened it in
    happy anticipation. What do you think was inside? Nothing but a grinning skull! Such a
    treat for a pregnant female.

    We have a tree growing here that had lovely straight branches covered by a
    smooth bark. I got the garden boy to cut several of these branches of a uniform size,
    peeled off the bark and have made Ann a playpen with the poles which are much like
    broom sticks. Now I can leave her unattended when I do my chores. The other morning
    after breakfast I put Ann in her playpen on the verandah and gave her a piece of toast
    and honey to keep her quiet whilst I laundered a few of her things. When I looked out a
    little later I was horrified to see a number of bees buzzing around her head whilst she
    placidly concentrated on her toast. I made a rapid foray and rescued her but I still don’t
    know whether that was the thing to do.

    We all send our love,
    Eleanor.

    Mbeya Hospital. April 25th. 1933

    Dearest Family,

    Here I am, installed at the very new hospital, built by Dr Eckhardt, awaiting the
    arrival of the new baby. George has gone back to the farm on foot but will walk in again
    to spend the weekend with us. Ann is with me and enjoys the novelty of playing with
    other children. The Eckhardts have two, a pretty little girl of two and a half and a very fair
    roly poly boy of Ann’s age. Ann at fourteen months is very active. She is quite a little girl
    now with lovely dimples. She walks well but is backward in teething.

    George, Ann and I had a couple of days together at the hotel before I moved in
    here and several of the local women visited me and have promised to visit me in
    hospital. The trip from farm to town was very entertaining if not very comfortable. There
    is ten miles of very rough road between our farm and Utengule Mission and beyond the
    Mission there is a fair thirteen or fourteen mile road to Mbeya.

    As we have no car now the doctor’s wife offered to drive us from the Mission to
    Mbeya but she would not risk her car on the road between the Mission and our farm.
    The upshot was that I rode in the Hickson-Woods machila for that ten mile stretch. The
    machila is a canopied hammock, slung from a bamboo pole, in which I reclined, not too
    comfortably in my unwieldy state, with Ann beside me or sometime straddling me. Four
    of our farm boys carried the machila on their shoulders, two fore and two aft. The relief
    bearers walked on either side. There must have been a dozen in all and they sang a sort
    of sea shanty song as they walked. One man would sing a verse and the others took up
    the chorus. They often improvise as they go. They moaned about my weight (at least
    George said so! I don’t follow Ki-Swahili well yet) and expressed the hope that I would
    have a son and that George would reward them handsomely.

    George and Kelly, the dog, followed close behind the machila and behind
    George came Abel our cook and his wife and small daughter Annalie, all in their best
    attire. The cook wore a palm beach suit, large Terai hat and sunglasses and two colour
    shoes and quite lent a tone to the proceedings! Right at the back came the rag tag and
    bobtail who joined the procession just for fun.

    Mrs Eckhardt was already awaiting us at the Mission when we arrived and we had
    an uneventful trip to the Mbeya Hotel.

    During my last week at the farm I felt very tired and engaged the cook’s small
    daughter, Annalie, to amuse Ann for an hour after lunch so that I could have a rest. They
    played in the small verandah room which adjoins our bedroom and where I keep all my
    sewing materials. One afternoon I was startled by a scream from Ann. I rushed to the
    room and found Ann with blood steaming from her cheek. Annalie knelt beside her,
    looking startled and frightened, with my embroidery scissors in her hand. She had cut off
    half of the long curling golden lashes on one of Ann’s eyelids and, in trying to finish the
    job, had cut off a triangular flap of skin off Ann’s cheek bone.

    I called Abel, the cook, and demanded that he should chastise his daughter there and
    then and I soon heard loud shrieks from behind the kitchen. He spanked her with a
    bamboo switch but I am sure not as well as she deserved. Africans are very tolerant
    towards their children though I have seen husbands and wives fighting furiously.
    I feel very well but long to have the confinement over.

    Very much love,
    Eleanor.

    Mbeya Hospital. 2nd May 1933.

    Dearest Family,

    Little George arrived at 7.30 pm on Saturday evening 29 th. April. George was
    with me at the time as he had walked in from the farm for news, and what a wonderful bit
    of luck that was. The doctor was away on a case on the Diggings and I was bathing Ann
    with George looking on, when the pains started. George dried Ann and gave her
    supper and put her to bed. Afterwards he sat on the steps outside my room and a
    great comfort it was to know that he was there.

    The confinement was short but pretty hectic. The Doctor returned to the Hospital
    just in time to deliver the baby. He is a grand little boy, beautifully proportioned. The
    doctor says he has never seen a better formed baby. He is however rather funny
    looking just now as his head is, very temporarily, egg shaped. He has a shock of black
    silky hair like a gollywog and believe it or not, he has a slight black moustache.
    George came in, looked at the baby, looked at me, and we both burst out
    laughing. The doctor was shocked and said so. He has no sense of humour and couldn’t
    understand that we, though bursting with pride in our son, could never the less laugh at
    him.

    Friends in Mbeya have sent me the most gorgeous flowers and my room is
    transformed with delphiniums, roses and carnations. The room would be very austere
    without the flowers. Curtains, bedspread and enamelware, walls and ceiling are all
    snowy white.

    George hired a car and took Ann home next day. I have little George for
    company during the day but he is removed at night. I am longing to get him home and
    away from the German nurse who feeds him on black tea when he cries. She insists that
    tea is a medicine and good for him.

    Much love from a proud mother of two.
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate 12May 1933

    Dearest Family,

    We are all together at home again and how lovely it feels. Even the house
    servants seem pleased. The boy had decorated the lounge with sprays of
    bougainvillaea and Abel had backed one of his good sponge cakes.

    Ann looked fat and rosy but at first was only moderately interested in me and the
    new baby but she soon thawed. George is good with her and will continue to dress Ann
    in the mornings and put her to bed until I am satisfied with Georgie.

    He, poor mite, has a nasty rash on face and neck. I am sure it is just due to that
    tea the nurse used to give him at night. He has lost his moustache and is fast loosing his
    wild black hair and emerging as quite a handsome babe. He is a very masculine looking
    infant with much more strongly marked eyebrows and a larger nose that Ann had. He is
    very good and lies quietly in his basket even when awake.

    George has been making a hatching box for brown trout ova and has set it up in
    a small clear stream fed by a spring in readiness for the ova which is expected from
    South Africa by next weeks plane. Some keen fishermen from Mbeya and the District
    have clubbed together to buy the ova. The fingerlings are later to be transferred to
    streams in Mbeya and Tukuyu Districts.

    I shall now have my hands full with the two babies and will not have much time for the
    garden, or I fear, for writing very long letters. Remember though, that no matter how
    large my family becomes, I shall always love you as much as ever.

    Your affectionate,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. 14th June 1933

    Dearest Family,

    The four of us are all well but alas we have lost our dear Kelly. He was rather a
    silly dog really, although he grew so big he retained all his puppy ways but we were all
    very fond of him, especially George because Kelly attached himself to George whilst I
    was away having Ann and from that time on he was George’s shadow. I think he had
    some form of biliary fever. He died stretched out on the living room couch late last night,
    with George sitting beside him so that he would not feel alone.

    The children are growing fast. Georgie is a darling. He now has a fluff of pale
    brown hair and his eyes are large and dark brown. Ann is very plump and fair.
    We have had several visitors lately. Apart from neighbours, a car load of diggers
    arrived one night and John Molteno and his bride were here. She is a very attractive girl
    but, I should say, more suited to life in civilisation than in this back of beyond. She has
    gone out to the diggings with her husband and will have to walk a good stretch of the fifty
    or so miles.

    The diggers had to sleep in the living room on the couch and on hastily erected
    camp beds. They arrived late at night and left after breakfast next day. One had half a
    beard, the other side of his face had been forcibly shaved in the bar the night before.

    your affectionate,
    Eleanor

    Mchewe Estate. August 10 th. 1933

    Dearest Family,

    George is away on safari with two Indian Army officers. The money he will get for
    his services will be very welcome because this coffee growing is a slow business, and
    our capitol is rapidly melting away. The job of acting as White Hunter was unexpected
    or George would not have taken on the job of hatching the ova which duly arrived from
    South Africa.

    George and the District Commissioner, David Pollock, went to meet the plane
    by which the ova had been consigned but the pilot knew nothing about the package. It
    came to light in the mail bag with the parcels! However the ova came to no harm. David
    Pollock and George brought the parcel to the farm and carefully transferred the ova to
    the hatching box. It was interesting to watch the tiny fry hatch out – a process which took
    several days. Many died in the process and George removed the dead by sucking
    them up in a glass tube.

    When hatched, the tiny fry were fed on ant eggs collected by the boys. I had to
    take over the job of feeding and removing the dead when George left on safari. The fry
    have to be fed every four hours, like the baby, so each time I have fed Georgie. I hurry
    down to feed the trout.

    The children are very good but keep me busy. Ann can now say several words
    and understands more. She adores Georgie. I long to show them off to you.

    Very much love
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. October 27th 1933

    Dear Family,

    All just over flu. George and Ann were very poorly. I did not fare so badly and
    Georgie came off best. He is on a bottle now.

    There was some excitement here last Wednesday morning. At 6.30 am. I called
    for boiling water to make Georgie’s food. No water arrived but muffled shouting and the
    sound of blows came from the kitchen. I went to investigate and found a fierce fight in
    progress between the house boy and the kitchen boy. In my efforts to make them stop
    fighting I went too close and got a sharp bang on the mouth with the edge of an
    enamelled plate the kitchen boy was using as a weapon. My teeth cut my lip inside and
    the plate cut it outside and blood flowed from mouth to chin. The boys were petrified.
    By the time I had fed Georgie the lip was stiff and swollen. George went in wrath
    to the kitchen and by breakfast time both house boy and kitchen boy had swollen faces
    too. Since then I have a kettle of boiling water to hand almost before the words are out
    of my mouth. I must say that the fight was because the house boy had clouted the
    kitchen boy for keeping me waiting! In this land of piece work it is the job of the kitchen
    boy to light the fire and boil the kettle but the houseboy’s job to carry the kettle to me.
    I have seen little of Kath Wood or Marion Coster for the past two months. Major
    Jones is the neighbour who calls most regularly. He has a wireless set and calls on all of
    us to keep us up to date with world as well as local news. He often brings oranges for
    Ann who adores him. He is a very nice person but no oil painting and makes no effort to
    entertain Ann but she thinks he is fine. Perhaps his monocle appeals to her.

    George has bought a six foot long galvanised bath which is a great improvement
    on the smaller oval one we have used until now. The smaller one had grown battered
    from much use and leaks like a sieve. Fortunately our bathroom has a cement floor,
    because one had to fill the bath to the brim and then bath extremely quickly to avoid
    being left high and dry.

    Lots and lots of love,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. P.O. Mbeya 1st December 1933

    Dearest Family,

    Ann has not been well. We think she has had malaria. She has grown a good
    deal lately and looks much thinner and rather pale. Georgie is thriving and has such
    sparkling brown eyes and a ready smile. He and Ann make a charming pair, one so fair
    and the other dark.

    The Moltenos’ spent a few days here and took Georgie and me to Mbeya so
    that Georgie could be vaccinated. However it was an unsatisfactory trip because the
    doctor had no vaccine.

    George went to the Lupa with the Moltenos and returned to the farm in their Baby
    Austin which they have lent to us for a week. This was to enable me to go to Mbeya to
    have a couple of teeth filled by a visiting dentist.

    We went to Mbeya in the car on Saturday. It was quite a squash with the four of
    us on the front seat of the tiny car. Once George grabbed the babies foot instead of the
    gear knob! We had Georgie vaccinated at the hospital and then went to the hotel where
    the dentist was installed. Mr Dare, the dentist, had few instruments and they were very
    tarnished. I sat uncomfortably on a kitchen chair whilst he tinkered with my teeth. He filled
    three but two of the fillings came out that night. This meant another trip to Mbeya in the
    Baby Austin but this time they seem all right.

    The weather is very hot and dry and the garden a mess. We are having trouble
    with the young coffee trees too. Cut worms are killing off seedlings in the nursery and
    there is a borer beetle in the planted out coffee.

    George bought a large grey donkey from some wandering Masai and we hope
    the children will enjoy riding it later on.

    Very much love,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. 14th February 1934.

    Dearest Family,

    You will be sorry to hear that little Ann has been very ill, indeed we were terribly
    afraid that we were going to lose her. She enjoyed her birthday on the 8th. All the toys
    you, and her English granny, sent were unwrapped with such delight. However next
    day she seemed listless and a bit feverish so I tucked her up in bed after lunch. I dosed
    her with quinine and aspirin and she slept fitfully. At about eleven o’clock I was
    awakened by a strange little cry. I turned up the night light and was horrified to see that
    Ann was in a convulsion. I awakened George who, as always in an emergency, was
    perfectly calm and practical. He filled the small bath with very warm water and emersed
    Ann in it, placing a cold wet cloth on her head. We then wrapped her in blankets and
    gave her an enema and she settled down to sleep. A few hours later we had the same
    thing over again.

    At first light we sent a runner to Mbeya to fetch the doctor but waited all day in
    vain and in the evening the runner returned to say that the doctor had gone to a case on
    the diggings. Ann had been feverish all day with two or three convulsions. Neither
    George or I wished to leave the bedroom, but there was Georgie to consider, and in
    the afternoon I took him out in the garden for a while whilst George sat with Ann.
    That night we both sat up all night and again Ann had those wretched attacks of
    convulsions. George and I were worn out with anxiety by the time the doctor arrived the
    next afternoon. Ann had not been able to keep down any quinine and had had only
    small sips of water since the onset of the attack.

    The doctor at once diagnosed the trouble as malaria aggravated by teething.
    George held Ann whilst the Doctor gave her an injection. At the first attempt the needle
    bent into a bow, George was furious! The second attempt worked and after a few hours
    Ann’s temperature dropped and though she was ill for two days afterwards she is now
    up and about. She has also cut the last of her baby teeth, thank God. She looks thin and
    white, but should soon pick up. It has all been a great strain to both of us. Georgie
    behaved like an angel throughout. He played happily in his cot and did not seem to
    sense any tension as people say, babies do. Our baby was cheerful and not at all
    subdued.

    This is the rainy season and it is a good thing that some work has been done on
    our road or the doctor might not have got through.

    Much love to all,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. 1st October 1934

    Dearest Family,

    We are all well now, thank goodness, but last week Georgie gave us such a
    fright. I was sitting on the verandah, busy with some sewing and not watching Ann and
    Georgie, who were trying to reach a bunch of bananas which hung on a rope from a
    beam of the verandah. Suddenly I heard a crash, Georgie had fallen backward over the
    edge of the verandah and hit the back of his head on the edge of the brick furrow which
    carries away the rainwater. He lay flat on his back with his arms spread out and did not
    move or cry. When I picked him up he gave a little whimper, I carried him to his cot and
    bathed his face and soon he began sitting up and appeared quite normal. The trouble
    began after he had vomited up his lunch. He began to whimper and bang his head
    against the cot.

    George and I were very worried because we have no transport so we could not
    take Georgie to the doctor and we could not bear to go through again what we had gone
    through with Ann earlier in the year. Then, in the late afternoon, a miracle happened. Two
    men George hardly knew, and complete strangers to me, called in on their way from the
    diggings to Mbeya and they kindly drove Georgie and me to the hospital. The Doctor
    allowed me to stay with Georgie and we spent five days there. Luckily he responded to
    treatment and is now as alive as ever. Children do put years on one!

    There is nothing much else to report. We have a new vegetable garden which is
    doing well but the earth here is strange. Gardens seem to do well for two years but by
    that time the soil is exhausted and one must move the garden somewhere else. The
    coffee looks well but it will be another year before we can expect even a few bags of
    coffee and prices are still low. Anyway by next year George should have some good
    return for all his hard work.

    Lots of love,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. November 4th 1934

    Dearest Family,

    George is home from his White Hunting safari looking very sunburnt and well.
    The elderly American, who was his client this time, called in here at the farm to meet me
    and the children. It is amazing what spirit these old lads have! This one looked as though
    he should be thinking in terms of slippers and an armchair but no, he thinks in terms of
    high powered rifles with telescopic sights.

    It is lovely being together again and the children are delighted to have their Dad
    home. Things are always exciting when George is around. The day after his return
    George said at breakfast, “We can’t go on like this. You and the kids never get off the
    shamba. We’ll simply have to get a car.” You should have heard the excitement. “Get a
    car Daddy?’” cried Ann jumping in her chair so that her plaits bounced. “Get a car
    Daddy?” echoed Georgie his brown eyes sparkling. “A car,” said I startled, “However
    can we afford one?”

    “Well,” said George, “on my way back from Safari I heard that a car is to be sold
    this week at the Tukuyu Court, diseased estate or bankruptcy or something, I might get it
    cheap and it is an A.C.” The name meant nothing to me, but George explained that an
    A.C. is first cousin to a Rolls Royce.

    So off he went to the sale and next day the children and I listened all afternoon for
    the sound of an approaching car. We had many false alarms but, towards evening we
    heard what appeared to be the roar of an aeroplane engine. It was the A.C. roaring her
    way up our steep hill with a long plume of steam waving gaily above her radiator.
    Out jumped my beaming husband and in no time at all, he was showing off her
    points to an admiring family. Her lines are faultless and seats though worn are most
    comfortable. She has a most elegant air so what does it matter that the radiator leaks like
    a sieve, her exhaust pipe has broken off, her tyres are worn almost to the canvas and
    she has no windscreen. She goes, and she cost only five pounds.

    Next afternoon George, the kids and I piled into the car and drove along the road
    on lookout for guinea fowl. All went well on the outward journey but on the homeward
    one the poor A.C. simply gasped and died. So I carried the shot gun and George
    carried both children and we trailed sadly home. This morning George went with a bunch
    of farmhands and brought her home. Truly temperamental, she came home literally
    under her own steam.

    George now plans to get a second hand engine and radiator for her but it won’t
    be an A.C. engine. I think she is the only one of her kind in the country.
    I am delighted to hear, dad, that you are sending a bridle for Joseph for
    Christmas. I am busy making a saddle out of an old piece of tent canvas stuffed with
    kapok, some webbing and some old rug straps. A car and a riding donkey! We’re
    definitely carriage folk now.

    Lots of love to all,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. 28th December 1934

    Dearest Family,

    Thank you for the wonderful Christmas parcel. My frock is a splendid fit. George
    declares that no one can knit socks like Mummy and the children love their toys and new
    clothes.

    Joseph, the donkey, took his bit with an air of bored resignation and Ann now
    rides proudly on his back. Joseph is a big strong animal with the looks and disposition of
    a mule. he will not go at all unless a native ‘toto’ walks before him and when he does go
    he wears a pained expression as though he were carrying fourteen stone instead of
    Ann’s fly weight. I walk beside the donkey carrying Georgie and our cat, ‘Skinny Winnie’,
    follows behind. Quite a cavalcade. The other day I got so exasperated with Joseph that
    I took Ann off and I got on. Joseph tottered a few paces and sat down! to the huge
    delight of our farm labourers who were going home from work. Anyway, one good thing,
    the donkey is so lazy that there is little chance of him bolting with Ann.

    The Moltenos spent Christmas with us and left for the Lupa Diggings yesterday.
    They arrived on the 22nd. with gifts for the children and chocolates and beer. That very
    afternoon George and John Molteno left for Ivuna, near Lake Ruckwa, to shoot some
    guinea fowl and perhaps a goose for our Christmas dinner. We expected the menfolk
    back on Christmas Eve and Anne and I spent a busy day making mince pies and
    sausage rolls. Why I don’t know, because I am sure Abel could have made them better.
    We decorated the Christmas tree and sat up very late but no husbands turned up.
    Christmas day passed but still no husbands came. Anne, like me, is expecting a baby
    and we both felt pretty forlorn and cross. Anne was certain that they had been caught up
    in a party somewhere and had forgotten all about us and I must say when Boxing Day
    went by and still George and John did not show up I felt ready to agree with her.
    They turned up towards evening and explained that on the homeward trip the car
    had bogged down in the mud and that they had spent a miserable Christmas. Anne
    refused to believe their story so George, to prove their case, got the game bag and
    tipped the contents on to the dining room table. Out fell several guinea fowl, long past
    being edible, followed by a large goose so high that it was green and blue where all the
    feathers had rotted off.

    The stench was too much for two pregnant girls. I shot out of the front door
    closely followed by Anne and we were both sick in the garden.

    I could not face food that evening but Anne is made of stronger stuff and ate her
    belated Christmas dinner with relish.

    I am looking forward enormously to having Marjorie here with us. She will be able
    to carry back to you an eyewitness account of our home and way of life.

    Much love to you all,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. 5th January 1935

    Dearest Family,

    You cannot imagine how lovely it is to have Marjorie here. She came just in time
    because I have had pernicious vomiting and have lost a great deal of weight and she
    took charge of the children and made me spend three days in hospital having treatment.
    George took me to the hospital on the afternoon of New Years Eve and decided
    to spend the night at the hotel and join in the New Years Eve celebrations. I had several
    visitors at the hospital that evening and George actually managed to get some imported
    grapes for me. He returned to the farm next morning and fetched me from the hospital
    four days later. Of course the old A.C. just had to play up. About half way home the
    back axle gave in and we had to send a passing native some miles back to a place
    called Mbalizi to hire a lorry from a Greek trader to tow us home to the farm.
    The children looked well and were full of beans. I think Marjorie was thankful to
    hand them over to me. She is delighted with Ann’s motherly little ways but Georgie she
    calls “a really wild child”. He isn’t, just has such an astonishing amount of energy and is
    always up to mischief. Marjorie brought us all lovely presents. I am so thrilled with my
    sewing machine. It may be an old model but it sews marvellously. We now have an
    Alsatian pup as well as Joseph the donkey and the two cats.

    Marjorie had a midnight encounter with Joseph which gave her quite a shock but
    we had a good laugh about it next day. Some months ago George replaced our wattle
    and daub outside pit lavatory by a substantial brick one, so large that Joseph is being
    temporarily stabled in it at night. We neglected to warn Marj about this and one night,
    storm lamp in hand, she opened the door and Joseph walked out braying his thanks.
    I am afraid Marjorie is having a quiet time, a shame when the journey from Cape
    Town is so expensive. The doctor has told me to rest as much as I can, so it is
    impossible for us to take Marj on sight seeing trips.

    I hate to think that she will be leaving in ten days time.

    Much love,
    Eleanor.

    Mchewe Estate. 18th February 1935

    Dearest Family,

    You must be able to visualise our life here quite well now that Marj is back and
    has no doubt filled in all the details I forget to mention in my letters. What a journey we
    had in the A.C. when we took her to the plane. George, the children and I sat in front and
    Marj sat behind with numerous four gallon tins of water for the insatiable radiator. It was
    raining and the canvas hood was up but part of the side flaps are missing and as there is
    no glass in the windscreen the rain blew in on us. George got fed up with constantly
    removing the hot radiator cap so simply stuffed a bit of rag in instead. When enough
    steam had built up in the radiator behind the rag it blew out and we started all over again.
    The car still roars like an aeroplane engine and yet has little power so that George sent
    gangs of boys to the steep hills between the farm and the Mission to give us a push if
    necessary. Fortunately this time it was not, and the boys cheered us on our way. We
    needed their help on the homeward journey however.

    George has now bought an old Chev engine which he means to install before I
    have to go to hospital to have my new baby. It will be quite an engineering feet as
    George has few tools.

    I am sorry to say that I am still not well, something to do with kidneys or bladder.
    George bought me some pills from one of the several small shops which have opened
    in Mbeya and Ann is most interested in the result. She said seriously to Kath Wood,
    “Oh my Mummy is a very clever Mummy. She can do blue wee and green wee as well
    as yellow wee.” I simply can no longer manage the children without help and have
    engaged the cook’s wife, Janey, to help. The children are by no means thrilled. I plead in
    vain that I am not well enough to go for walks. Ann says firmly, “Ann doesn’t want to go
    for a walk. Ann will look after you.” Funny, though she speaks well for a three year old,
    she never uses the first person. Georgie say he would much rather walk with
    Keshokutwa, the kitchen boy. His name by the way, means day-after-tomorrow and it
    suits him down to the ground, Kath Wood walks over sometimes with offers of help and Ann will gladly go walking with her but Georgie won’t. He on the other hand will walk with Anne Molteno
    and Ann won’t. They are obstinate kids. Ann has developed a very fertile imagination.
    She has probably been looking at too many of those nice women’s magazines you
    sent. A few days ago she said, “You are sick Mummy, but Ann’s got another Mummy.
    She’s not sick, and my other mummy (very smugly) has lovely golden hair”. This
    morning’ not ten minutes after I had dressed her, she came in with her frock wet and
    muddy. I said in exasperation, “Oh Ann, you are naughty.” To which she instantly
    returned, “My other Mummy doesn’t think I am naughty. She thinks I am very nice.” It
    strikes me I shall have to get better soon so that I can be gay once more and compete
    with that phantom golden haired paragon.

    We had a very heavy storm over the farm last week. There was heavy rain with
    hail which stripped some of the coffee trees and the Mchewe River flooded and the
    water swept through the lower part of the shamba. After the water had receded George
    picked up a fine young trout which had been stranded. This was one of some he had
    put into the river when Georgie was a few months old.

    The trials of a coffee farmer are legion. We now have a plague of snails. They
    ring bark the young trees and leave trails of slime on the glossy leaves. All the ring
    barked trees will have to be cut right back and this is heartbreaking as they are bearing
    berries for the first time. The snails are collected by native children, piled upon the
    ground and bashed to a pulp which gives off a sickening stench. I am sorry for the local
    Africans. Locusts ate up their maize and now they are losing their bean crop to the snails.

    Lots of love, Eleanor

    #6255
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    My Grandparents

    George Samuel Marshall 1903-1995

    Florence Noreen Warren (Nora) 1906-1988

    I always called my grandfather Mop, apparently because I couldn’t say the name Grandpa, but whatever the reason, the name stuck. My younger brother also called him Mop, but our two cousins did not.

    My earliest memories of my grandparents are the picnics.  Grandma and Mop loved going out in the car for a picnic. Favourite spots were the Clee Hills in Shropshire, North Wales, especially Llanbedr, Malvern, and Derbyshire, and closer to home, the caves and silver birch woods at Kinver Edge, Arley by the river Severn, or Bridgnorth, where Grandma’s sister Hildreds family lived.  Stourbridge was on the western edge of the Black Country in the Midlands, so one was quickly in the countryside heading west.  They went north to Derbyshire less, simply because the first part of the trip entailed driving through Wolverhampton and other built up and not particularly pleasant urban areas.  I’m sure they’d have gone there more often, as they were both born in Derbyshire, if not for that initial stage of the journey.

    There was predominantly grey tartan car rug in the car for picnics, and a couple of folding chairs.  There were always a couple of cushions on the back seat, and I fell asleep in the back more times than I can remember, despite intending to look at the scenery.  On the way home Grandma would always sing,  “Show me the way to go home, I’m tired and I want to go to bed, I had a little drink about an hour ago, And it’s gone right to my head.”  I’ve looked online for that song, and have not found it anywhere!

    Grandma didn’t just make sandwiches for picnics, there were extra containers of lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and so on.  I used to love to wash up the picnic plates in the little brook on the Clee Hills, near Cleeton St Mary.  The close cropped grass was ideal for picnics, and Mop and the sheep would Baaa at each other.

    Mop would base the days outting on the weather forcast, but Grandma often used to say he always chose the opposite of what was suggested. She said if you want to go to Derbyshire, tell him you want to go to Wales.  I recall him often saying, on a gloomy day, Look, there’s a bit of clear sky over there.  Mop always did the driving as Grandma never learned to drive. Often she’d dust the dashboard with a tissue as we drove along.

    My brother and I often spent the weekend at our grandparents house, so that our parents could go out on a Saturday night.  They gave us 5 shillings pocket money, which I used to spend on two Ladybird books at 2 shillings and sixpence each.  We had far too many sweets while watching telly in the evening ~ in the dark, as they always turned the lights off to watch television.  The lemonade and pop was Corona, and came in returnable glass bottles.  We had Woodpecker cider too, even though it had a bit of an alcohol content.

    Mop smoked Kensitas and Grandma smoked Sovereign cigarettes, or No6, and the packets came with coupons.  They often let me choose something for myself out of the catalogue when there were enough coupons saved up.

    When I had my first garden, in a rented house a short walk from theirs, they took me to garden nurseries and taught me all about gardening.  In their garden they had berberis across the front of the house under the window, and cotoneaster all along the side of the garage wall. The silver birth tree on the lawn had been purloined as a sapling from Kinver edge, when they first moved into the house.  (they lived in that house on Park Road for more than 60 years).  There were perennials and flowering shrubs along the sides of the back garden, and behind the silver birch, and behind that was the vegeatable garden.  Right at the back was an Anderson shelter turned into a shed, the rhubarb, and the washing line, and the canes for the runner beans in front of those.  There was a little rose covered arch on the path on the left, and privet hedges all around the perimeter.

    My grandfather was a dental technician. He worked for various dentists on their premises over the years, but he always had a little workshop of his own at the back of his garage. His garage was full to the brim of anything that might potentially useful, but it was not chaotic. He knew exactly where to find anything, from the tiniest screw for spectacles to a useful bit of wire. He was “mechanicaly minded” and could always fix things like sewing machines and cars and so on.

    Mop used to let me sit with him in his workshop, and make things out of the pink wax he used for gums to embed the false teeth into prior to making the plaster casts. The porcelain teeth came on cards, and were strung in place by means of little holes on the back end of the teeth. I still have a necklace I made by threading teeth onto a string. There was a foot pedal operated drill in there as well, possibly it was a dentists drill previously, that he used with miniature grinding or polishing attachments. Sometimes I made things out of the pink acrylic used for the final denture, which had a strong smell and used to harden quickly, so you had to work fast. Initially, the workshop was to do the work for Uncle Ralph, Grandmas’s sisters husband, who was a dentist. In later years after Ralph retired, I recall a nice man called Claude used to come in the evening to collect the dentures for another dental laboratory. Mop always called his place of work the laboratory.

    Grandma loved books and was always reading, in her armchair next to the gas fire. I don’t recall seeing Mop reading a book, but he was amazingly well informed about countless topics.
    At family gatherings, Mops favourite topic of conversation after dinner was the atrocities committed over the centuries by organized religion.

    My grandfather played snooker in his younger years at the Conservative club. I recall my father assuming he voted Conservative, and Mop told him in no uncertain terms that he’s always voted Labour. When asked why he played snooker at the Conservative club and not the Labour club, he said with a grin that “it was a better class of people”, but that he’d never vote Conservative because it was of no benefit to the likes of us working people.

    Grandma and her sister in law Marie had a little grocers shop on Brettel Lane in Amblecote for a few years but I have no personal recollection of that as it was during the years we lived in USA. I don’t recall her working other than that. She had a pastry making day once a week, and made Bakewell tart, apple pie, a meat pie, and her own style of pizza. She had an old black hand operated sewing machine, and made curtains and loose covers for the chairs and sofa, but I don’t think she made her own clothes, at least not in later years. I have her sewing machine here in Spain.
    At regular intervals she’d move all the furniture around and change the front room into the living room and the back into the dining room and vice versa. In later years Mop always had the back bedroom (although when I lived with them aged 14, I had the back bedroom, and painted the entire room including the ceiling purple). He had a very lumpy mattress but he said it fit his bad hip perfectly.

    Grandma used to alternate between the tiny bedroom and the big bedroom at the front. (this is in later years, obviously) The wardrobes and chests of drawers never changed, they were oak and substantial, but rather dated in appearance. They had a grandfather clock with a brass face and a grandmother clock. Over the fireplace in the living room was a Utrillo print. The bathroom and lavatory were separate rooms, and the old claw foot bath had wood panels around it to make it look more modern. There was a big hot water geyser above it. Grandma was fond of using stick on Fablon tile effects to try to improve and update the appearance of the bathroom and kitchen. Mop was a generous man, but would not replace household items that continued to function perfectly well. There were electric heaters in all the rooms, of varying designs, and gas fires in living room and dining room. The coal house on the outside wall was later turned into a downstairs shower room, when Mop moved his bedroom downstairs into the front dining room, after Grandma had died and he was getting on.

    Utrillo

    Mop was 91 when he told me he wouldn’t be growing any vegetables that year. He said the sad thing was that he knew he’d never grow vegetables again. He worked part time until he was in his early 80s.

    #6237
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Murder At The Bennistons

    We don’t know exactly what happened immediately after the death of Catherine Housley’s mother in 1849, but by 1850 the two older daughters Elizabeth and Mary Anne were inmates in Belper Workhouse.  Catherine was just six weeks old, so presumably she was with a wet nurse, possibly even prior to her mothers death.  By 1851, according to the census, she was living in Heanor, a small town near to Smalley,  with John Benniston, a framework knitter, and his family. Framework knitters (abbreviated to FWK should you happen to see it on a census) rented a large loom and made stockings and everyone in the family helped. Often the occupation of other household members would be “seamer”: they would stitch the stocking seams together.  Catherine was still living with the Bennistons ten years later in 1861.

    Framework Knitters

     

    I read some chapters of a thesis on the south Derbyshire poor in the 1800s and found some illuminating information about indentured apprenticeship of children especially if one parent died. It was not at all uncommon,  and framework knitters in particular often had indentured apprentices.  It was a way to ensure the child was fed and learned a skill.  Children commonly worked from the age of ten or 12 anyway. They were usually placed walking distance of the family home and maintained contact. The indenture could be paid by the parish poor fund, which cost them slightly less than sending them to the poorhouse, and could be paid off by a parent if circumstances improved to release the child from the apprenticeship.
    A child who was an indentured apprentice would continue a normal life after the term of apprenticeship, usually still in contact with family locally.

    I found a newspaper article titled “Child Murder at Heanor” dated 1858.

    Heanor baby murder

    A 23 year old lodger at the Bennistons, Hannah Cresswell, apparently murdered a new born baby that she gave birth to in the privy, which the midwife took away and had buried as a still birth. The baby was exhumed after an anonymous tip off from a neighbour, citing that it was the 4th such incident. Catherine Housley would have been nine years old at the time.

    Heanor baby murder 2

     

    Subsequent newspaper articles indicate that the case was thrown out, despite the doctors evidence that the baby had been beaten to death.

    In July 1858 the inquest was held in the King of Prussia,  on the Hannah Cresswell baby murder at the Bennistons.

    The King of Prussia, Heanor, in 1860:

    King of Prussia Heanor

    #6225
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    William Marshall’s Parents

    William Marshall  1876-1968, my great grandfather, married Mary Ann Gilman Purdy in Buxton. We assumed that both their families came from Buxton, but this was not the case.  The Marshall’s came from Elton, near Matlock; the Purdy’s from Eastwood, Nottinghamshire.

    William Marshall, seated in centre, with colleagues from the insurance company:

    William Marshall

     

     

    William and all his siblings were born in Fairfield in Buxton. But both Emma Featherstone 1847-1928, his mother, and John Marshall 1842-1930, his father, came from rural Derbyshire. Emma from Ashbourne (or Biggin, Newhaven, or Hartington, depending on what she chose to put on the census, which are all tiny rural places in the same area).

    Emma and John Marshall in the middle, photo says “William Marshall’s parents” on the back:

    Emma and John Marshall

     

    John Marshall was a carter, later a coal carter, and was born in Elton, Derbyshire. Elton is a rural village near to Matlock. He was unable to write (at least at the time of his wedding) but Emma signed her own name.

    In 1851 Emma is 3 or 4 years old living with family at the Jug and Glass Inn, Hartington. In 1861 Emma was a 14 year old servant at a 112 acre farm, Heathcote, but her parents were still living at the Jug and Glass. Emma Featherstone’s parents both died when she was 18, in 1865.
    In 1871 she was a servant at Old House Farm, Nether Hartington Quarter, Ashborne.

    On the census, a female apprentice was listed as a servant, a boy as an apprentice. It seems to have been quite normal, at least that’s what I’ve found so far,  for all teenagers to go and live in another household to learn a trade, to be independent from the parents, and so doesn’t necessarily mean a servant as we would think of it. Often they stayed with family friends, and usually married in their early twenties and had their own household ~ often with a “servant” or teenager from someone else’s family.

    The only marriage I could find for Emma and John was in Manchester in 1873, which didn’t make much sense. If Emma was single on the 1871 census, and her first child James was born in 1873, her marriage had to be between those dates. But the marriage register in Manchester appears to be correct, John was a carter, Emma’s father was Francis Featherstone. But why Manchester?

    Marshall Featherstone marriage

    I noticed that the witnesses to the marriage were Francis and Elizabeth Featherstone. He father was Francis, but who was Elizabeth? Emma’s mother was Sarah. Then I found that Emma’s brother Francis married Elizabeth, and they lived in Manchester on the 1871 census. Henry Street, Ardwick. Emma and John’s address on the marriage register is Emily Street, Ardwick. Both of them at the same address.

    The marriage was in February 1873, and James, the first child was born in July, 1873, in Buxton.

    It would seem that Emma and John had to get married, hence the move to Manchester where her brother was, and then quickly moved to Buxton for the birth of the child.  It was far from uncommon, I’ve found while making notes of dates in registers, for a first child to be born six or 7 months after the wedding.

    Emma died in 1928 at the age of 80, two years before her husband John. She left him a little money in her will! This seems unusual so perhaps she had her own money, possibly from the death of her parents before she married, and perhaps from the sale of the Jug and Glass.

    I found a photo of the Jug and Glass online.  It looks just like the pub I’d seen in my family history meditations on a number of occasions:

    Jug and Glass

    #6222
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    George Gilman Rushby: The Cousin Who Went To Africa

    The portrait of the woman has “mother of Catherine Housley, Smalley” written on the back, and one of the family photographs has “Francis Purdy” written on the back. My first internet search was “Catherine Housley Smalley Francis Purdy”. Easily found was the family tree of George (Mike) Rushby, on one of the genealogy websites. It seemed that it must be our family, but the African lion hunter seemed unlikely until my mother recalled her father had said that he had a cousin who went to Africa. I also noticed that the lion hunter’s middle name was Gilman ~ the name that Catherine Housley’s daughter ~ my great grandmother, Mary Ann Gilman Purdy ~ adopted, from her aunt and uncle who brought her up.

    I tried to contact George (Mike) Rushby via the ancestry website, but got no reply. I searched for his name on Facebook and found a photo of a wildfire in a place called Wardell, in Australia, and he was credited with taking the photograph. A comment on the photo, which was a few years old, got no response, so I found a Wardell Community group on Facebook, and joined it. A very small place, population some 700 or so, and I had an immediate response on the group to my question. They knew Mike, exchanged messages, and we were able to start emailing. I was in the chair at the dentist having an exceptionally long canine root canal at the time that I got the message with his email address, and at that moment the song Down in Africa started playing.

    Mike said it was clever of me to track him down which amused me, coming from the son of an elephant and lion hunter.  He didn’t know why his father’s middle name was Gilman, and was not aware that Catherine Housley’s sister married a Gilman.

    Mike Rushby kindly gave me permission to include his family history research in my book.  This is the story of my grandfather George Marshall’s cousin.  A detailed account of George Gilman Rushby’s years in Africa can be found in another chapter called From Tanganyika With Love; the letters Eleanor wrote to her family.

    George Gilman Rushby:

    George Gilman Rushby

     

    The story of George Gilman Rushby 1900-1969, as told by his son Mike:

    George Gilman Rushby:
    Elephant hunter,poacher, prospector, farmer, forestry officer, game ranger, husband to Eleanor, and father of 6 children who now live around the world.

    George Gilman Rushby was born in Nottingham on 28 Feb 1900 the son of Catherine Purdy and John Henry Payling Rushby. But John Henry died when his son was only one and a half years old, and George shunned his drunken bullying stepfather Frank Freer and was brought up by Gypsies who taught him how to fight and took him on regular poaching trips. His love of adventure and his ability to hunt were nurtured at an early stage of his life.
    The family moved to Eastwood, where his mother Catherine owned and managed The Three Tuns Inn, but when his stepfather died in mysterious circumstances, his mother married a wealthy bookmaker named Gregory Simpson. He could afford to send George to Worksop College and to Rugby School. This was excellent schooling for George, but the boarding school environment, and the lack of a stable home life, contributed to his desire to go out in the world and do his own thing. When he finished school his first job was as a trainee electrician with Oaks & Co at Pye Bridge. He also worked part time as a motor cycle mechanic and as a professional boxer to raise the money for a voyage to South Africa.

    In May 1920 George arrived in Durban destitute and, like many others, living on the beach and dependant upon the Salvation Army for a daily meal. However he soon got work as an electrical mechanic, and after a couple of months had earned enough money to make the next move North. He went to Lourenco Marques where he was appointed shift engineer for the town’s power station. However he was still restless and left the comfort of Lourenco Marques for Beira in August 1921.

    Beira was the start point of the new railway being built from the coast to Nyasaland. George became a professional hunter providing essential meat for the gangs of construction workers building the railway. He was a self employed contractor with his own support crew of African men and began to build up a satisfactory business. However, following an incident where he had to shoot and kill a man who attacked him with a spear in middle of the night whilst he was sleeping, George left the lower Zambezi and took a paddle steamer to Nyasaland (Malawi). On his arrival in Karongo he was encouraged to shoot elephant which had reached plague proportions in the area – wrecking African homes and crops, and threatening the lives of those who opposed them.

    His next move was to travel by canoe the five hundred kilometre length of Lake Nyasa to Tanganyika, where he hunted for a while in the Lake Rukwa area, before walking through Northern Rhodesia (Zambia) to the Congo. Hunting his way he overachieved his quota of ivory resulting in his being charged with trespass, the confiscation of his rifles, and a fine of one thousand francs. He hunted his way through the Congo to Leopoldville then on to the Portuguese enclave, near the mouth of the mighty river, where he worked as a barman in a rough and tough bar until he received a message that his old friend Lumb had found gold at Lupa near Chunya. George set sail on the next boat for Antwerp in Belgium, then crossed to England and spent a few weeks with his family in Jacksdale before returning by sea to Dar es Salaam. Arriving at the gold fields he pegged his claim and almost immediately went down with blackwater fever – an illness that used to kill three out of four within a week.

    When he recovered from his fever, George exchanged his gold lease for a double barrelled .577 elephant rifle and took out a special elephant control licence with the Tanganyika Government. He then headed for the Congo again and poached elephant in Northern Rhodesia from a base in the Congo. He was known by the Africans as “iNyathi”, or the Buffalo, because he was the most dangerous in the long grass. After a profitable hunting expedition in his favourite hunting ground of the Kilombera River he returned to the Congo via Dar es Salaam and Mombassa. He was after the Kabalo district elephant, but hunting was restricted, so he set up his base in The Central African Republic at a place called Obo on the Congo tributary named the M’bomu River. From there he could make poaching raids into the Congo and the Upper Nile regions of the Sudan. He hunted there for two and a half years. He seldom came across other Europeans; hunters kept their own districts and guarded their own territories. But they respected one another and he made good and lasting friendships with members of that small select band of adventurers.

    Leaving for Europe via the Congo, George enjoyed a short holiday in Jacksdale with his mother. On his return trip to East Africa he met his future bride in Cape Town. She was 24 year old Eleanor Dunbar Leslie; a high school teacher and daughter of a magistrate who spent her spare time mountaineering, racing ocean yachts, and riding horses. After a whirlwind romance, they were betrothed within 36 hours.

    On 25 July 1930 George landed back in Dar es Salaam. He went directly to the Mbeya district to find a home. For one hundred pounds he purchased the Waizneker’s farm on the banks of the Mntshewe Stream. Eleanor, who had been delayed due to her contract as a teacher, followed in November. Her ship docked in Dar es Salaam on 7 Nov 1930, and they were married that day. At Mchewe Estate, their newly acquired farm, they lived in a tent whilst George with some help built their first home – a lovely mud-brick cottage with a thatched roof. George and Eleanor set about developing a coffee plantation out of a bush block. It was a very happy time for them. There was no electricity, no radio, and no telephone. Newspapers came from London every two months. There were a couple of neighbours within twenty miles, but visitors were seldom seen. The farm was a haven for wild life including snakes, monkeys and leopards. Eleanor had to go South all the way to Capetown for the birth of her first child Ann, but with the onset of civilisation, their first son George was born at a new German Mission hospital that had opened in Mbeya.

    Occasionally George had to leave the farm in Eleanor’s care whilst he went off hunting to make his living. Having run the coffee plantation for five years with considerable establishment costs and as yet no return, George reluctantly started taking paying clients on hunting safaris as a “white hunter”. This was an occupation George didn’t enjoy. but it brought him an income in the days when social security didn’t exist. Taking wealthy clients on hunting trips to kill animals for trophies and for pleasure didn’t amuse George who hunted for a business and for a way of life. When one of George’s trackers was killed by a leopard that had been wounded by a careless client, George was particularly upset.
    The coffee plantation was approaching the time of its first harvest when it was suddenly attacked by plagues of borer beetles and ring barking snails. At the same time severe hail storms shredded the crop. The pressure of the need for an income forced George back to the Lupa gold fields. He was unlucky in his gold discoveries, but luck came in a different form when he was offered a job with the Forestry Department. The offer had been made in recognition of his initiation and management of Tanganyika’s rainbow trout project. George spent most of his short time with the Forestry Department encouraging the indigenous people to conserve their native forests.

    In November 1938 he transferred to the Game Department as Ranger for the Eastern Province of Tanganyika, and over several years was based at Nzasa near Dar es Salaam, at the old German town of Morogoro, and at lovely Lyamungu on the slopes of Kilimanjaro. Then the call came for him to be transferred to Mbeya in the Southern Province for there was a serious problem in the Njombe district, and George was selected by the Department as the only man who could possibly fix the problem.

    Over a period of several years, people were being attacked and killed by marauding man-eating lions. In the Wagingombe area alone 230 people were listed as having been killed. In the Njombe district, which covered an area about 200 km by 300 km some 1500 people had been killed. Not only was the rural population being decimated, but the morale of the survivors was so low, that many of them believed that the lions were not real. Many thought that evil witch doctors were controlling the lions, or that lion-men were changing form to kill their enemies. Indeed some wichdoctors took advantage of the disarray to settle scores and to kill for reward.

    By hunting down and killing the man-eaters, and by showing the flesh and blood to the doubting tribes people, George was able to instil some confidence into the villagers. However the Africans attributed the return of peace and safety, not to the efforts of George Rushby, but to the reinstallation of their deposed chief Matamula Mangera who had previously been stood down for corruption. It was Matamula , in their eyes, who had called off the lions.

    Soon after this adventure, George was appointed Deputy Game Warden for Tanganyika, and was based in Arusha. He retired in 1956 to the Njombe district where he developed a coffee plantation, and was one of the first in Tanganyika to plant tea as a major crop. However he sensed a swing in the political fortunes of his beloved Tanganyika, and so sold the plantation and settled in a cottage high on a hill overlooking the Navel Base at Simonstown in the Cape. It was whilst he was there that TV Bulpin wrote his biography “The Hunter is Death” and George wrote his book “No More The Tusker”. He died in the Cape, and his youngest son Henry scattered his ashes at the Southern most tip of Africa where the currents of the Atlantic and Indian Oceans meet .

    George Gilman Rushby:

    #6183
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Nora commented favourably on the view, relieved to have been given a clue about what she was supposed to have noticed.  It was a splendid panorama, and Will seemed pleased with her response.  She asked if it was possible to see the old smugglers path from their vantage point, and he pointed to a dirt road in the valley below that disappeared from view behind a stand of eucalyptus trees.  Will indicated a tiny white speck of an old farm ruin, and said the smugglers path went over the hill behind it.

    Shading her eyes from the sun, Nora peered into the distance beyond the hill, wondering how far it was to Clara’s grandfathers house. Of course she knew it was 25 kilometers or so, but wasn’t sure how many hills behind that one, or if the path veered off at some point in another direction.

    Wondering where Clara was reminded Nora that her friend would be waiting for her, and quite possibly worrying that she hadn’t yet arrived.  She sighed, making her mind up to leave first thing the next morning.  She didn’t mention this to Will though, and wondered briefly why she hesitated.  Something about the violent sweep of his arm when she asked about her phone had made her uneasy, such a contrast to his usual easy going grins.

    Then she reminded herself that she had only just met him, and barely knew anything about him at all, despite all the stories they’d shared.  When she thought about it, none of the stories had given her any information ~ they had mostly been anecdotes that had a similarity to her own, and although pleasant, were inconsequential.  And she kept forgetting to ask him about all the statues at his place.

    Wishing she could at least send a text message to Clara, Nora remembered the remote viewing practice they’d done together over the years, and realized she could at least attempt a telepathic communication. Then later, if Clara gave her a hard time about not staying in contact, she could always act surprised and say, Why, didn’t you get the message?

    She found a flat stone to sit on, and focused on the smugglers path below. Then she closed her eyes and said clearly in her mind, “I’ll be there tomorrow evening, Clara. All is well. I am safe.”

    She opened her eyes and saw that Will had started to head back down the path.  “Come on!” he called, “Time for lunch!”

    #6133

    In reply to: Tart Wreck Repackage

    FloveFlove
    Participant

    “Will you look at these prices!” exclaimed one of the middle aged ladies.

    Privately, Tara called them the miserable old bag and the crazy old witch, or Mob and Cow for ease of reference. Anyway, it was Mob who was banging on about the prices.

    “Feel free to take yourself somewhere cheaper to eat,” she snarled.

    “Oh, no, that’s okay, as long as you’re happy paying these outrageous prices.”

    Cow cackled. “I’ve not eaten for a month so bugger the prices! Not that I need to eat, airs good enough for me seeing as I have special powers. Still, a raspberry bun wouldn’t go amiss. Thank you, Ladies!”

    Star sighed heavily and glanced reproachfully at Rosamund.

    “Sorry, I were trying to help,” she said with a shrug.

    Tara scanned the room. The only other people in the cafe were an elderly gentleman reading the newspaper and a bedraggled mother with two noisy snot-bags in tow. Tara shuddered and turned her attention to the elderly man. “Those deep wrinkles and wasted muscles look genuine,” she whispered to Star. “There’s nobody here who could possibly be Vince French. I’m going to go and keep watch by the door.”

    “Good thinking,” said Star, after covertly checking her Lemoon quote of the day app on her phone; she realised uneasily she was increasingly relying on it for guidance. “There’s a sunny seat over there; I’ll grab a coffee and look inconspicuous by doing nothing. I don’t want to blow our cover.”

    Tara glared at her. “I saw you checking your app! What did the oracle say?”

    “Oh, just some crazy stuff.” She laughed nervously. “There is some kind of peace in not feelign like there’s anythign to do.

    “Well that’s not going to get us far, is it now?”

    #5651
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Looking at the exasperated voices of his captors, Barron needn’t know how to speak Spanish to be entirely certain he was in over his head.

    He wondered why the negotiators hadn’t been brought in already; the plan was simple —well, initially. He was to get a cut of the ransom, and disappear with it in some nice sunny resort in the South. Like the extreme South, not Alabama South.

    Someone must have interfered… He could have sworn there was a woman’s voice with a funny accent speaking to them before she hung up on them.

    ¡La chica dice que ya tienen al bebé! :yahoo_on_the_phone:   That much he could understand; an impostor 👶🏻baby now? And who had replaced August in his duties?

    Well, at the moment, he had a group of angry Frenchmen and Mexicans in a smelly rillettes distillery with a useless baby on their hands. He knew too well that if he wanted to keep all his limbs, he’d have to improvise quickly. Good thing they hadn’t removed his eye-watch. By now, as inept as they’d be, the two nannies should have got his GPS coordinates.

    Well… They had trouble spelling their names without typos at times so he’d better not leave that to chance.

    He started to text:SOS - baby in danger at Rillettes Distillery, Alabama

    He added the GPS coordinates, just in case; now, with help possibly on the way, he’d have to prepare that distraction in order to extract himself of his predicament.

    #4868

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    TracyTracy
    Participant

    sorry uncle, whatever wall side leave company
    muttered inspector
    follow thread heat
    sound paused
    places feet
    possibly known months followed morning

    #4826
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Aunt Idle:

    It was good of them to do it I suppose, but you know me and new contraptions, it’s hard to summon up the courage to deal with a new one, no matter how seemingly simple it might be to a mind more attuned to that sort of thing. There were a couple of glaring spelling mistakes the last time I used it, that I know I couldn’t possibly have made, so I suspect the damn thing has gremlins, like all these contraptions seem to have. Always doing inexplicable things.

    At first I was worried about those two women who hadn’t come back out of the old mine yet, and cursed old Sanso for blinking right out like that, but I had the feeling that Sanso was on the case and not to worry. What could I do about it anyway? I reckon one day we’ll hear the story, one way or another.

    I’ve had enough to think about here with Mater’s latest drama.

    #4781

    In reply to: The Stories So Near

    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Newest developments

    POP-IN THREAD (Maeve, Lucinda, Shawn-Paul, Jerk, [Granola])

    Maeve and Shawn-Paul are travelling separately to the Australian bush, and end up together at the Flying Fish Inn where they discover they’ve been given the same coupons. Maeve is suspicious of a mysterious man following her.
    Maeve has an exchange with Arona, and sketches her and the cat for her collection of ideas for new dolls. They discover that Arona has the key from her doll.
    Little is said of what happened after Maeve’s Uncle Fergus appears in dramatic fashion.
    After the collective black-out, all bets are off as to the next steps.

    In Canada, Jerk is killing time at the mall, and Lucinda is possibly taking care of Fabio who might be distressed as he’s peeing the doormat regularly.

    Granola after hopping between threads and realities, detected a psychic blast from the Doctor and while trying to investigate, ended up trapped in a tiny red crystal at the Doctor’s lair.

    FLYING FISH INN THREAD (Mater/Finly, Idle/Coriander/Clove, Devan, Prune, [Tiku])

    After the dramatic arrival of Fergus and the guests, some flirting of Sanso and Idle, Mater’s fashion show, Prune has decided to get back to school after an indigestion of medicinal lizard.

    Some of the guests, namely Connie and Hilda have gone to explore the mines. Possibly with Devan and Bert in tow.

    Fergus has mysteriously disappeared after the black-out.

    DOLINE THREAD (Arona, Sanso/Lottie, Ugo, Albie)

    Arona, Ugo, Albie and Mandrake have left the Australian Inn, after a dramatic chase by unknown assailants, possibly the magpies sent by the Doctor. They reappear in the Doline, in Leörmn’s pool, having managed to get the magpies off their trail.

    NEWSREEL THREAD (Ms Bossy, Hilda/Connie, Sophie, Ricardo)

    The Doctor has managed a psychic event of dramatic proportions. He’s noticed a glowing red crystal that seems to have interfered with his machine. He’s starting to study it, and unravel its secrets.

    Sharon, Gloria and Mavis, the dynamic trio is planning their escape from the nursing home. The psychic blast seems to have alerted Gloria somehow as to the fate of Granola (B), as she somehow guess it’s linked to the Doctor’s experiments (beauty treatments). They plan to go there to investigate (after a fashion).

    LIZ THREAD (Finnley, Liz, Roberto, Godfrey)

    Finnley has disappeared, Liz and Godfrey are to fend for themselves.

    DRAGON 💚 WOOD THREAD (Glynnis, Eleri, Fox/Gorrash, Rukshan)

    Muriel has left the cottage, and our friends are preparing their travel to the Land of Giant, while some tales are told.
    Glynnis is teaching bits to a birds’ choir.

    #4697
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    During summer, activity was slow at the mall in Kelowna, BC, so Jerk had a little more time to check on his other pastimes. Interestingly there seemed to be a lot of unusual activity on the findmydolls group.

    He was also tinkering with a home brewed AI, and launched the program.

    “Trancie are you awake?”
    “Did I fall asleep?” the AI answered back.
    “For a little while, yes. Trancie, analyse logs from findmystuff website, check group findmydolls.”
    “A moment. A moment. A moment. Analysis complete. Activity spike 57.21% increase.”

    This was quite unusual, but he wasn’t sure were to look. He looked at his administrator box, in case another message had required moderation. The filters triggers were not too sensitive, so there wasn’t a lot of messages.

    One in particular had triggered the system.

    “Trancie, read message in moderation queue #5363.”
    You need to come for information. Am sending you tickets and instructions for hotspot, so it won’t cost you a bomb. hashtag flagged for terror threat. D for Destroy, A for Approve.”

    That was obviously amateur work, Jerk thought. Criminals nowadays were much more careful.

    “Trancie, Approve.”

    Another thought crossed his mind.

    “Trancie, plot past month activity by geolocation on mapearth.com”

    It took a few minutes to refine the query so he could check the heatmap, and remove the background noise.

    The last messages all seemed to concentrate in the middle of nowhere in Australia.

    “How odd. So glad I’m not an investigative journalist, that place must be crawling with nasty things, scaly and poisonous and downright deadly.”

    Interestingly, a second point on the map was close to Kelowna. Actually, although it could just be narrowed down to a 5 kilometer radius, it looked ominously close to where he lived.

    Shivers started to run down his spine. Maybe he’d just stumbled onto a dangerous conspiracy. Dolls could be a code word for horrible things, possibly even human trafficking.

    He closed the laptop suddenly, his mind racing. What if they were onto him? He struggled for a moment with the urge to destroy his laptop and burn down the place and disappear off the grid, but he remembered he needed to breathe, so his rational mind could be oxygenated and think properly.

    “I may be a tad on the paranoid side.”
    But it ain’t paranoia, if they are trying to get you.

    He looked around. He was already as close as possible to off-the-grid without vanishing out of society. The place was deserted, and only a janitor was roaming the place mindlessly on his cleaning car. There was zero chance he could be a target.

    Yet.

    “Oh shut up!” he exclaimed out loud.

    He was intrigued by the mystery, but for now, he wanted to let it play out. He needed more data points to have Trancie plot a heuristic pattern. Well, to make sense of it, while he was working on her personality.

Viewing 20 results - 1 through 20 (of 85 total)