I visited the doctor today as a consequence of my ongoing involvement with the atrial fibrillation that has afflicted me, and allopathic medicine has obviously kept me going, albeit with complications.

My mother loved anything to do with horses and was forever participating and helping to organise gymkhanas, shows and races. It all helped to provide entertainment to a community of approximately eight thousand whites in a country of approximately four million Africans. My father was less taken with equine activities and I shared his feelings. At the time he loved archery and won quite a few prizes; he taught me to be an archer and I enjoyed that, especially when I hit the gold! The ‘twang’ of the arrow being released and the satisfying ‘thunk’ when the arrow hit it’s target, and the concentration required to aim were all part of the feeling of satisfaction. The walk to collect the arrows (hopefully not too many misses!) was a time to review the performance and always felt good if Dad commented when I had shot a good round.

As kids we loved the stables, because they were full of rats, which lived in cavities in the walls and in the roof; the stables were built with planks of wood which often overlapped and so provided a home for the creatures. Sometimes when we were a little jaded with our usual games and activities we would go to the stables and hunt rats; sounds awful now, but we got quiet a lot of fun doing it, and felt we were doing the world a favour. In reality I think we just had fun hunting them down.

Hilde (My Mother)

Bear in mind that there was no TV or video games; a l lot of the time we used our own ingenuity to entertain ourselves and I think we are better off for it. Going to the cinema was a real treat, and the interval was time to buy a bag of B-B-Q crisps and a bottle of Fanta; my favourite at the time.

We attended a Catholic school (the Catholics were big customers of the business, as they were building schools and churches throughout the country) and my mother often made us ride to school, which didn’t go down very well with me; I guess we sort of enjoyed it at times, but would have preferred to have been driven.

I think I need to introduce my mother and father now. My mother, Hilde, was very attractive, fun-loving and strong-willed I believe, but unhappily died young. I was about 10 or 11 years old at the time, so there is a lot I don’t remember of her. My father, Hans, was a strong, good looking man, 6ft 3in in height who also died young; he was 45 when he died and I was 18. It was about then that we were becoming ‘friends’ I suppose. Of course there is my sister, Helen, who is three years younger than I and has lived in New York for a number of years; still lives there. She has a son, Michael who is married to Elise and they have two children.

My grandmother, ‘Oma’ Abegg  lived right next door to us and we spent a lot of time with her; why wouldn’t we? She spoiled us rotten! Apart from that, she was a lovely, kind and generous lady who loved to see us and had wonderful tales to tell of the early days in Africa when they had a farm in Tanganyika. Tales like the painted baboon and the lion that wouldn’t die. More of that later! I never knew ‘Opa’ Abegg, or at least I don’t remember him.

‘Opa’ Schackert, my mother’s father, and his wife Jean lived a few miles away, I could drive there now but unfortunately don’t recall the name of the place. He used to drive this lovely old black citroen. We loved to visit! His other daughter, Aunt Lilly, lived with her family in Salisbury, Rhodesia. There was Bob, her husband and the children, Terry, Robert and Suzanne. Bob worked for CAA (Central African Airways).

Other, non-human members of the family at that time include Sailor (half ridgeback/half great dane) Crackers (female ridgeback who really was crackers, very unpredictable) a little later on there was Pasha (a handsome alsatian), Simba (a lively boxer), and a Schnauzer (whose name I don’t recall; maybe it will come to me later) as well as a deer, barn owl and a couple of squirrels and over the years there was an assortment of chameleons. There were dogs and cats when we lived in Blantyre but I don’t really remember a lot about them. We even had a little pig for a while; that was rather cool.

Mum & chameleon!

Difficult to remember all the way back then, but I’ll see what I can do. As I write, memories resurface, obscure and inconsequential facts pop into my mind and take me back to a time that I was fortunate enough to have experienced; a very happy time and one that I would return to if it were at all possible. Although in my mind, as I write this, I am going back and reliving some of those moments with mixed feelings, joy because of the wonderful times we had and can now enjoy wonderful memories and sadness too, because we left our parents there, who both died quite young. Feelings both nostalgic and poignant!

Memories! Things like a baboon tethered in our front yard for a few days, similarly a goat, a pet owl that used to sit on the rail of our playpen, me drinking liquid quinine (for some reason I liked the taste), my sister Helen and I picking delicious loquats from a large tree in our front yard, having great games in my grandmothers house, who allowed us to make battleships by moving her furniture and furnishings around to ‘build’ these battleships; the state of emergency and sniffing used tear gas grenades that brought tears to our eyes, so we would know what it was like;  these landed near our house and in our grounds when arrests were made next door by the powers that be; looking forward to when a local African bought around enameled bowls filled with delicious, freshly harvested, wild honeycomb; haven’t had anything like it since! The Africans would come selling eggs which we put in a bowl of water to make sure they were fresh, great big green mangos with bright orange flesh, that tasted better than anything we can buy now, or maybe that’s just how we remember it; I guess there is nothing like eating something that has just been picked fresh from the tree only a few hours before! Riding a hippo! Being charged by a lion!

I believe my family came to Nyasaland from Tanganyika (now Tanzania) to escape a possible conflict there between the German and British forces there. Not sure of the date.

As children, we spent a lot of time with a nanny so we learned to speak the local language, chinyanja. I think our mother was busy although I don’t remember at what; maybe that will come back? We sometimes ate with our servants; sudsa and beans or vegetables or boiled dried fish!

It was my grandmother and grandfather who established a business there, J.Abegg Ltd, and from memory the business, in the beginning, was primarily involved in produce; exporting and importing beans & maize and the like. Tobacco was a big export item, and still is, although our business was not involved in that. The business then developed into a hardware shop, builder’s merchant, timber, glazing and motor vehicle windscreens for which there was a big demand as so many of the roads were unsurfaced, and of course flying stones from passing vehicles did their work.

My Grandmother and Father standing at the front of the Limbe shop!

Hans Abegg (Opa – My Grandfather)

Dora Abegg (Oma – My grandmother)

We, that is my sister and I, and occasionally friends,used to have a wonderful time climbing over the mountains of sacks of produce in the sheds, of which there were four if my memory serves me correctly. They were stored prior to being loaded onto the train or trucks  for distribution or they were brought there for export. The train came to our siding, whistle sounding and steam and smoke issuing from the metal monster, albeit a small monster, as it was a shunting locomotive! On the odd occasion we were able to ride in the driver’s cabin, allowed to toot the whistle and throw a few coals into the firebox. The heat from the firebox, the hiss of steam, the ‘choo, choo’ sound, accompanied by the smoke billowing from the funnel and the gradual gathering of the momentum of the train was quite an experience for us, although I’m not sure my sister was quite as enamored by it all as I was! Nevertheless at  our age that was so exciting, we drove our elders potty retelling our experiences over and over again. The only problem was that the adventure never lasted long enough, as they were only prepared to move up and down the siding. This was a little before the time the coal fired locomotives were replaced by diesel, but the soothing clackity, clack of the train passing over the joins in the rails remains. In some ways this was sad because there was an air of charm and romanticism about steam trains. Although they were dirty, or rather sooty, and after a trip one felt a little grimy! The collars of one’s shirt certainly were evidence of that!

Blantyre shop!

We loved playing on the railway lines (I don’t think my father knew what we were upto) and putting small stones and coins (when we had one to spare) on the rails and watch to see what happened to the item after a train had run over it. Maybe, perversely, deep down inside, we thought we could bring the train to a standstill or at least derail it! We also used to put our ears to the rails to see if we could hear when a train was coming; I don’t remember if we were successful or not. Maybe when we listened there were no trains due.

Glazing, being part of our business also meant we received shipments of glass from Pilkington Glass; cases and cases of 18oz, 24oz, 32oz, drawn-sheet plate glass, georgian-wired cast, arctic, coloured, etc including windshields. These all came to our siding by train and were unloaded with quite a bit of brawn accompanied by chants of 1,2,3 heave in the local language, and a forklift. The chanting, when the Aricans were working, was quite empowering!

It needs to be remembered, that I am doing this from memory, so my recollections may be incomplete, or seen through the eyes of a child, and therefore remembered as a child sometimes remembers. Things and situations seem bigger or impact more than they normally would. The early history of the family and the business may be incomplete or a little inaccurate (although accuracy is the intention), but it is written with the intent of projecting a lifestyle and time that is now gone, but that had a magic and simplicity to it, that would be hard to find today in our materialistic and pressure filled society.

I hope you enjoy the journey and are able to capture some of the essence of that time. I consider myself very fortunate to have experienced it!

Here's the fams

Don’t know how much I should say and what to talk about? Will I be hurting anyone? Am I going to give away too much about myself as I have always kept ‘the shutters’ down and kept people at arms length? Am I being a ‘big girl’ so to speak? In doing all this am I going to expose a perceived vulnerability or shortcoming?

Is this all I have left? A few words to fill part of a web page that adds to the millions of pages out there and wondering whether anyone will read it? If they do, will they come back to see what’s next? Is this to help pass the time and in doing so, finding a ‘better’ me to go on with?

Been pondering the question I asked at the start, and have still not found the answer about the beginning(s). It’s probably best to ‘do it’ (which of course I have done) and see what develops! After all, this is editable! I would like to apply that to my life, but I’m afraid there’s no going back; this is it, there are no practice runs! No fresh starts here! All we can hope for is a little extra wisdom, knowledge and understanding with which to move forward on, on our journey through life. It is said that ‘if we don’t learn from our mistakes, we are destined to repeat them’.

And maybe in doing this, there will be introspection and the birth of a new way of being, that will help me become a little wiser and a better person. There is also the question of spirituality? That may blossom as the journey continues, we’ll see!

Till the next time.

Maybe I need to start from the beginning; but which beginning? When I was born? When I started school? When I joined the workforce?

I suppose I need to think about it a little!