This is a story written down by Granny. It's about a trip that she and her older brother, Michael James, took with their Dad, George. The 'Mum' referred to in the story is Jean van Blerk O'Flynn Madden, Granny's father. George was an inspector on the railroad. Broken Hill and Kafue are in Zambia and, according to Google Maps, it's about a 65 mile trip. Zambia was known as Northern Rhodesia until 1964.
Michael and Joan were excited. It was school holidays and Dad had promised them he would take them on a train trip from Broken Hill, where they lived. down to Kafue, a small town on the Kafue River where he had some inspections to make.
It was fun getting ready. They were each allowed to each take a small suitcase of clothes and a couple of books. The children packed and unpacked their cases a dozen times, remembering to pack their hats.
At last the day came when they were to leave. Mum packed extra food in Dad's scoff box for them to eat on the way; tins of corned beef, homemade bread, (Mum was a good baker) tins of baked beans, eggs, and bacon.
Joan and Michael could hardly contain themselves as Mum drove them to the station. They had been allotted a small compartment on the train next to Dad's caboose. It had a wash basin and two bunks, one about the other, and a rack to put their suitcases on. With much excitement they kissed Mum goodbye and watched as the guard blew his whistle and held his green flag out.
The engine whistled and with a big hiss of steam and a jerk to the carriages, pulled off and out of the station with Michael and Joan leaning out of the window waving to their mom and the rest of the family. They were off and the adventure was on!
Slowly the train pulled out then began to gather speed, chug chug, the whistle blew,whoo whoooooo. Soon it was rocketing along, clickety clack on the lines. The children eagerly looked out of the window hoping to see wild animals as they moved along. The bush was dusty and dry in this area with not too much grass or mahobohobo trees. These trees had big leaves almost like fig leaves, and after the rains had fallen, they produced round, brown fruit on them, about the size of a small egg. The children loved to eat the mahobohobos, popping the rough brown skin to suck the sweet juice off the three large pips the fruit contained. They also loved spitting the pips at each other, much to their mother's disgust!
Night time came and the hot Northern Rhodesian sun went down over the veld. The sky looked on fire with red and orange clouds. The lights came on in the cabin and Majonga, Dad's servant, brought them dinner he had heated up on the coals in the engine driver's cab. It tasted so much better eaten off tin plates on the table that pulled out, down over the wash basin! Majonga then proceeded to make up their beds on the bunks. Dad came in to make sure they were all right and read for bed. Soon Michael and Joan were tucked in and were able to read by the little reading light above each bunk. The clickety clack sound of the wheels on the rails and the rocking motion of the train lulled them and they were soon fast asleep.
It did not seem long before the children heard a key in the door and a small light went on. It was Dad bringing them a warm drink and opening the shutters saying he had seen some buck and would they like to watch with him? Michael and Joan sat up at the window with their blankets wrapped round them. Dad put his arms round them to cuddle them as they watched the sun come up. Silently, Dad pointed over in the distance where the Roan antelope could be seen standing, watching the train go by. Suddenly, the antelope kicked up his heels and galloped off. Then they saw a flock of about fifty guinea fowl feeding in the grass. The birds whirred up as the train went past. How exciting the children found this!
It was not long before they approached the town of Kafue. In the distance they could see the arch of the bridge over the Kafe River. With a hiss and a shoosh, as though it were tired, the train drew into Kafue station. There wasn't much to see, just the railway station and behind it, the sprawling Kafue Hotel with its rondavels and white washed verandah.
The rondavels were round, white-washed brivck with a thatched roof. Michael and Joan were given one of these as their bedroom. They had never slept in a round room before. After they had unpacked their suitcases, Dad came to fetch them to go ont the main verandah to have lunch. It was so exciting as they had never stayed in an hotel before.
Soon, seated at a set table, they examined everything in front of them. Each of the white plates had a drawing of the bridge and the words “Kafue River Hotel” on them. A large black man, dressed in a white suit and wearing a red fez with a black tassel on his head, came to take their order. He asked the small baas (young boy) and the inkosikazi (little girl) would like soup to start with. When the waiter had gone to fetch the soup, Michael and Joan talked about his fez, saying it looked like an upside down flowerpot, but that the man, Silas, looked very smart in it.
Later in the day, Dad took the children on a tour of the hotel grounds, pointing out the various types of trees, bushes, and palms. One of these that interested the children most had leaves like giant fans, and in the centre were hard balls the size of tennis balls. Dad told them that elephants loved to try and eat the out husk of this fruit but the pip was as big as the ball and this, they spat out. These balls that the elephants left were called ‘vegetable ivory’ as it was a hard ball the colour of ivory. The natives collected these balls and carved them into rings and bracelets. Dad bought Michael a carved woggle to wear with his scout scarf and one for his little brother, Donald.
Dad and the children walked down along the railway track to look at the deep flowing Kafue River and the railroad bridge. Dad warned them that it was dangerous to go in the water, even too near the edge, as there were a lot of crocodiles in the area.
As they sat on the verandah that night, one of the farmers came by and stopped to chat, saying to Dad, “George, one of the young boys fishing off some rocks down river has been taken by a large croc. We know you are a hunter and a very good shot. Would you please come and help us get him as he will keep going after the children?” As it was Dad’s day off the next day, he agreed to help and promised Michael and Joan they could go along.
Early next morning, Silas woke them with a warm drink and hot buttered toast. They set off in the back of a large truck. Off they went. Michael just loved bouncing up and down, but Joan wasn’t too sure that it was fun. They branched off down by the riverside, over a dirt road with overhanging trees, just following the winding river. As they went along they could look out over the waters of the Kafue River and were excited to seep hippo floating around. One hippo gave a big yawn as they went by and the children could see its huge teeth. Dad explained that a hippo could knock a boat over in the water so one needed to be very careful around them.
In one area they stopped to look at about a dozen crocodiles sleeping on a sandbar in the middle of the river. There were all sizes of the creatures, the larger ones being very old. Presently the man who was guiding them told them where to turn off to the village.
The village was made up of rondavels which in turn were built in a circle. The huts were made of tree poles and dagga (mud) which they used as sort of plaster to join the poles together. The roofs were thatched with elephant grass. They had no doors or windows, just a low opening to go in by. Chickens and goats were wandering around a group of little piccanins came to stare wide eyed at the truck and the people.
The headman approached and everyone was greeted with a special handshake. The women clapped their hands together and bobbed up and down in a curtsy with words of greeting. The conferred and it was decided they would tether a young goat down by the river to attract the croc. When this was done, Dad asked the children to stay in the village whilst the men lay in wait.
It seemed hours later when they heard two shots and then the black men started singing a song of rejoicing. Dad had shot the killer croc. Michael and Joan were then allowed to go down to the river side with the rest of the village. It was an enormous crocodile, about ten feet long and four feet wide in places. Joan could almost stand in its mouth when they propped it open with a stick. The villagers were happy the children would once more be safe as they went to the river to collect water. The croc would be skinned and the skin tanned to sell to the shoe factory. It was a tired family that drove back to the hotel that night where they had a celebration dinner.
Next day, they boarded the train once more and returned home to tell Mum and the family about their exciting trip.
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