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!

THE BIG MOVE

There was great excitement in the house.  Dad came home to say he was transferred, they we would be leaving Broken Hill and going to live in Southern Rhodesia in a town called Gwelo.  Joan was especially excited as it meant she would be able to go to day school and not have to leave the family and go to boarding school.


Dad and Mom had a conference and decided that Mom would take the three smaller children, Jeanette, Patricia and Buck, and travel by train with all the household furniture.  Michael, Joan and Donald would drive the 477 miles with Dad in the Ford. 


It was a big job packing up the whole household on to a huge lorry and taking it down to the railway siding and loading it all onto a flatbed for transportation.  Next came the final loading of the Ford.  The children each had a blanket and pillow, and food was packed in Dad's scoff box to eat along the way.  Cold roast chicken, huge red oxheart tomatoes and a large loaf of Mom's homemade bread.  The canvas water bottles were filled and hung on the outside of the car where the movement of the air would keep the water cold.  Donald had two bantam chickens which he had raised almost from the egg.  Dad wasn't too sure how we would take these with us, as really we should not have taken them at all, but Don, who was about nine at the time, promised his Dad faithfully that he would care for them the whole journey.


They set off in the early hours of the morning in the old Ford Tourer, the children wrapped tightly in their blankets.  They weren't too sad at leaving Broken Hill because they were excited about the trip down Africa by car.  At about 5:30 Dad stopped at the side of the road and built a fire to make a warm drink and for the children to have sandwiches for breakfast.  
As they huddled around the fire to keep warm, Dad told them to stop chatting a minute and to listen to the heartbeat of Africa.  They sat quiet for a few minutes and could hear rustlings and crackling in the grass and trees around them.  They drew closer to one another and the fire.  In the distance a lion roared and a laughing hyena cackled.  Dad reassured them that the animals were some distance away.


It began to get light as the sun started to rise and where there had been nothing but blurred outlines before, they saw rocks and crags, huge trees, and elephant grass six feet high.  In the early morning light everything showed up in great clarity and the sky seemed wide and high.  The children were over-awed.


Soon they were on their way again, coming to the Kafue bridge, stopping only for a quick lunch, to refuel the car, and fill the water bags.  As they came closer to the Zambezi they saw many wild animals in the bush and on the side of the road.  Dainty little duiker, only about three feet tall, looking like Bambi. Black and white guinea fowl by the dozen, with their red necks, would fly up at the approach of the car.  Mike's mouth watered at the thought of guinea fowl baked in the old black kaffir pot.  A herd of Eland was seen with their proud horns held high.  An elephant trumpeted in the distance and a rhino was seen chewing at the leave of a low growing bush.


Soon the road was winding downwards to the mighty Zambezi River.  As they approached they could see the massive pontoon made of wooden logs roped together with hawsers that the car would be driven on to and hauled across the river by a crew of African men.  The children were excited and scared at the same time at the thought of only those logs holding the car up in the middle of the deep river.


Dad greeted the men in their own language and paid them to haul the car across.  The children stood on the bank whilst Dad carefully drove the car up the ramps onto the pontoon, then he came back and carefully helped each child back to the car telling them earnestly to hold on to the doors and not go near the edge as the crocodiles in the Zambezi were the biggest in Africa.  The leader of the group of men helping, called to one of the other men who picked up a drum, a hollowed out tree trunk with dried animal skin spread tightly over the opening.  The man began to beat out a message on the drum.  The children saw a group of figures appear on the opposite bank of the river and heard in the distance a man chanting.  It almost sounded like he was saying "ho-ho heave ho" and the men would answer with a shoo-ing sound, as though they were expelling all their breath.  All of a sudden the children felt the pontoon begin to sway.  They held on tightly as slowly the huge pontoon was hauled to the opposite side of the river.  When they finally arrived and the pontoon was tied up, all the men lay about laughing and chatting at a job well done.  Dad gave them some more money, pulled into a pretty place so the children could go to the loo and have some lunch, then off we set climbing up into the mountains called the Zambezi escarpment. 


Night in Africa comes quickly.  There was a beautiful red sunset where everything was bathed in a warm, orange glow, then the next minute it was dark - black dark, with only the headlights breaking through it.  Dad couldn't drive too fast for fear of animals crossing the road.  They would be mesmerized  by the car's lights.  It was eerie driving up the mountainside with only the car lights piercing the almost impenetrable darkness.  Finally the moon came up like a huge, golden ball.


We had been travelling for some time when Dad stopped for a loo break.  He then told us to look back the way we had come.  In the distance we could see flames as a bush fire raged across one of the mountain tops.

Mabel Leivers Breakwell

This post is about your paternal great-grandmother.  Granny loved her mother-in-law dearly and always felt like a true daughter to her.

Mabel was born January 11, 1905 to Florrie Leivers in Long Eaton, Derbyshire.  It is understood her father was a John Davies.  Little is known about him other than he emigrated to Canada and was killed in France during World War 1. 
She married Alfred Clarence Breakwell in October, 1926 and they lived with Florrie Leivers (Nanny) at 20 Clumber Street in Long Eaton, until 1932 when they moved to 87, New Tythe Street in Long Eaton.
Mam, as she was known by her four sons, was a most loving person and one could not wish for a better mother.  As well as being a devoted wife and mother,she contributed to the financial aspects of the family life by working at various jobs.  She worked until her oldest son, John Robert, (Granbob) was born.  She then worked off and on until well into the 1950's.
To the best of my knowledge, she worked at Sharp and Nichols, a biscuit (cookie) manufacturers.
During World War 2 Mam was a cook at Tamworth Road School, and then as a cook for the directors of a firm of food suppliers during the 1950's.
Being a hard worker, she also took in laundry for a lady school teacher, and was a housekeeper for a family called Grainger in Attenborough, just prior to WW2.
In no way did Mam neglect the care of her family and, with the aid of Clarrie, as she called her sweet husband, kept a good, honest and clean home.  In retrospect, the family didn't know how she coped with all this and never suffered any major illness until her later years.
Mam was a very talented lady and was able to knit, crochet, cook, bake and decorate cakes, and even did well at playing the piano until the family was forced to sell it, which put an end to her playing.
Mam loved taking walks down the River Trent and most Sundays, during Spring and Summer, found the family walking down over the fields to the river.  Mam loved flowers of any description in the house and enjoyed seeing the blossoms come into bloom as they walked.
Mam had a fall getting out of bed one night which resulted in a broken hip.  She went into hospital and died August 25, 1987 at aged 82.

Here are some memories I have of my granny.  When I was young, under the age of ten at least, because we were still living in Gwelo at the time, Granny and Grandpa came to visit us.  I remember sitting on the bed at my cousin's house watching my gran open up their suitcases to reveal all the 'exotic' treasures they had brought with them from England.  We considered them exotic because they were treats that we couldn't get in Rhodesia.  Cadbury chocolate, jelly tots, Quality Street, Smarties, Crunchies and best of all, Avon peach powder and Blue Grass for my mom.  My dad would get Nuttle's Mentoes, super spearmint flavored, chewy nuggets of deliciousness.  Granny and Grandpa would also bring us cute dresses, socks and petty coats too.  I have no idea if my brothers received anything, I was too busy enjoying the unexpected Christmas in the middle of the year!
The memories I have of my gran are that she was sweet and kind.  When I was seventeen and our family went to England to be sealed in the London Temple, we obviously stayed with granny and Uncle Dek.  It was my eighteenth birthday whilst we were there and my Uncle Pete and Auntie Chris were having a dinner for me at their house.  We were all getting ready to go over to their house from Granny's and she didn't appear to be getting ready.  When asked why she was not, she replied that she hadn't been invited.  What?  I was a bratty teenager and responded, to my mom and dad of course and not my gran, that did she think she needed a gilt-edged invitation or what?  I reiterate, bratty teenager.  No, Granny didn't need an invitation, she was just big on manners and protocol, and not in a bad way at all.  Granny did come to the dinner.
When I went to the USA in 1980, I stopped in England for two weeks and stayed with my gran and Dek for most of the time.  Granny took wonderful care of me and tried to feed me all the time!  She made the best food, especially pie and custard for dessert ... mmmmmm.  Something else she did, which at first embarrassed the heck out of me, was this.  Gran's house did not have an indoor loo and so we would have potties under our beds in case we needed to go in the middle of the night.  Sure enough, I would have to use the potty in the night and Gran would insist on emptying it in the morning.  I tried, several times, to take care of it, but no, Gran would not let me!
A story that my mom told me about Gran was when she had tried to find out about Gran and her family tree.  Gran had told my mom that she would give the information but never had.  Then when my mom and dad went to England, mom was helping Gran in the kitchen and she asked again about family history.  Mom said that Gran started crying and said she was so embarrassed because her mom was never married to her father.  She was illegitimate.  My mom reassured Gran that didn't make one bit of difference to how we all loved one another as family.  Gran was okay after that.

Donald George O'Flynn Madden

This is a story written by Granny about her younger brother, Donald.  It's who Uncle Don is named after.


Donald George O'Flynn Madden, son of George and Jean van Blerk O'Flynn Madden, was born on October 4, 1934, in Umtali, Southern Rhodesia, now called Mutare, Zimbabwe.  He was about 5'11" tall, slimly built, with dark brown wavy hair which he wore brushed straight back, and his eyes were brown.

Don was a lively youngster and did well in school, being in the academic classes.  He enjoyed playing field hockey and swimming and was always interested in cars and engines.
Don would go out with his dad, George, prospecting for gold.  One year he collected all the samples they brought back and panned them collecting all the traces of gold into a small container.  Dad had it assayed and he had collected 1 ounce and was paid 18 English pounds.  That was the price of gold per ounce in that period of time (approximately 1948-1949).  With this money he bought himself a brand new bike, something he had never had before.  Unfortunately, the bike was stolen a couple of months later.  Don was heartbroken as it had taken hours of hard work collecting the ore, crushing it by hand with a pestle and mortar, panning it and getting just a trace of gold, or not even a trace sometimes.
Don graduated from high school, standard 8, probably the equivalent of grade 11 American. He would have been able to go on to college but chose instead to be apprenticed in the motor trade to Duly and Company, in Gwelo (now called Gweru) where the family was living at the time.  
This was a four-year apprenticeship and Don passed out (graduated) as a journeyman able to work on all aspects of motors. However, he chose not to pursue this and went into the administrative side of the motor trade, finally working up into tractor sales and service for Duly's.  This entailed him traveling many miles out and about the farming districts.  He became well known in the farming community and was very popular being liked and respected by all he came in contact with.  He was known as someone who followed through and kept his word.
Don was very popular with the girls and was always out and about, however, his mother, Jean, was his favourite person.  He would forget to give her his rent for the month but was always doing things to make her happy.  One month he sent people round to put new linoleum in the dining room because he had heard her say it was looking bad and she had no way of replacing it.
The greatest gift he ever gave her was a piano.  I remember well the day this big van from Bothwell's in Bulawayo arrived at the house to deliver this piano. 
        Mum said, "I think you have come to the wrong house, no one here has ordered a piano."  
       They asked, "Are you Jean O'Flynn Madden?"
        "Yes."
        "Well, this piano is for you from your son."
Mum about passed out.  
When the family moved from Northern Rhodesia the move by rail had broken the back of her piano and strained the whole inside so that it was not able to be tuned or used and Mum had been heartbroken as she loved to play her piano.
Mum took great care of Don. Each morning she would take him in a cup of coffee and a slice of her homemade bread before he got up to start the day.  The rest of the family used to say he was spoilt but never resented the fact.  We knew he was Mum's favourite.
Well, he wasn't spared to her for too long.  He was almost 23 when he was driving his blue MG sports car from Gwelo to Salisbury and when passing a car on the dirt road, a rock came up and hit him in the temple.  He was killed instantly.  Mum never got over losing him.  Don never married, though there was a girl named Janet Barnes who loved him dearly and I think, given time, they would have married.

THE TREK TO KENYA IN THE EARLY DAYS by George O'Flynn Madden

In the year 1909, I was then farming with my dad in the Free State.  After a few years of bad luck, my dad decided to emigrate to East Africa.  From Newcastle, we took the train to Durban.  Having a fair amount of sheep and ten good horses, which we intended taking with us, we managed to get berths on a German cargo boat which had been chartered by a number of families also going to Kenya.

After twenty-eight days at sea we eventually arrived at Mombasa.  From there we took the train to Nairobi.  Having had a look around the District, we decided to journey further up country, taking the train from Nairobi to a little station 250 miles away called Londiani.  The town consisted of a small station hotel and several Indian dukas. (Duka is Swahili for shop.)  There, we were told we would have to travel 75 miles by ox wagon to get to what is called the Uasin Gishu Plateau. 

We immediately set about buying some oxen and getting them trained.  After three weeks everything was in readiness and we left Londiani with two wagons and teams, there being no roads, only tracks left by other pioneers.  The road being through dense cedar and bamboo forest with occasional open spaces, we could only do three to four miles a day.  Temporary bridges had to be made over small rivers and camp had to be made early every afternoon.

As the country was teeming with lions, temporary scharms had to be made at every camp for oxen, horses and sheep, with huge fires going all round this all night.  This is the best lion scare, or lanterns stuck up on poles.

There was a tribe of natives called the Wanderobo who used to roam around the bushes and shoot the oxen with poisoned arrows.  After the camp was shifted they would come along and gather the meat. 

After being two months on the road we eventually sighted the Plateau, miles and miles of open, rolling country surrounded by forest and mountains on all sides.  We trekked across the plains for several days until we at last selected a spot for a farm and homestead.

We took two farms, 30 miles apart.  Land at that time could be had from the Government at 1d. (One penny) per acre.  We decided then to go in for mixed farming and were successful for about five years.  Then East Coast Fever broke out and cleaned out nearly the whole District.  Red Water disease hit the sheep and they died off by the dozen.  The horses, which were doing fine, contacted lymphangitis, which is caused by ticks, and they all had to eventually be destroyed.

We then went in for maize and wheat, which was doing particularly well in the District, but that was not a great success as the plains were teeming with game of all descriptions.  We had to have night herd boys around the lands all night.  Herds of sixty and seventy elephants used to pass with 200 yards of our house, trekking from one reserve to the other almost daily.  Lions could be heard and seen daily. 

After nineteen years of not too successful farming we again sold out and went to Rhodesia, much to my regret, as I do not think the scenery of the Kenya Highland can be beaten by any in Africa.

NGURGURU

Dad had been on a long trip, way down to Vila de Manica near the Moçambique border and arrived home early on Saturday morning.  He gently woke the children telling them to hurry and get dressed as he had a special treat for them.  The girls were up in a flash, but Mike and Don dragged their heels a bit, waiting for Dad to come back to them.  They knew his trick of dripping drops of ice water on their faces if they did not more.  They lay with baited breath for him to come in so they could pretend to be surprised and to hop out of bed squealing.  Meantime Mom was packing bread and eggs into Dad’s scoff box and making a couple of thermos flasks of hot tea.  She also took care of Buck, the youngest member of the family.

Soon the children were all snuggled up together in the back of the old Ford Tourer.  It was an exciting drive in the dark.  There were no street lights so all they could see was the car headlights cutting a swathe of brightness through the dark.  After a while they were able to discern the vague outline of trees and the bush.  They went on through the early dawn passing through the sleeping town of Selukwe and were winding up the Wolfshall Pass.  The pass was mountain on one side and a deep drop on the other.  On into the mountains and down the other side, the children loved the windy road even though they could not see much.  Finally they turned off onto a bush road, which consisted of faint outlines of a double path where a car had been before.  Dad had this knack of finding a road no one else could even see.

Finally they came to stop at the bottom of a huge barren rock kopje.  Dad said it was called Ngurguru and that we were going to climb to the top.  Mom stayed behind with Buck and Pat as they were too small to climb far.  The children started climbing up the rock in their leather shoes.  Well, they slipped and slid all over the place and finally Dad said, “Take your shoes off; it will be easier in your socks.”  Just a well Mom wasn’t around to hear that one!

Eventually they reached the top and sat shivering in the grey early morning light.  Dad was pointing out various things to them, different trees and little animals on the mountain, then he told them to look toward the East.  There was a faint pinkish glow, and as they watched a huge, orange sun came up slowly changing the colour of the trees from black and grey to various shades of green.  The children sat quietly, entranced by what they were seeing.  


When they could finally feel the warmth of the sun, Dad said, “Let’s go,” and they slipped and slithered down to where Mom was waiting.  She had made a small fire and had eggs frying in the pan.  We all enjoyed fried egg sandwiches and hot tea from the Thermos.

Soon we were on the way home having been taught once more of the beauty of the bush and God’s creation.  Dad went to bed when he got home as he had been up all night traveling.  He really appreciated the natural things in life and loved to share them with the family.

The Train Journey and Croc Hunt

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.