There’s Peace in Baobabwe
There’s Peace in Baobabwe
I remember having lunch at Parliament House in Salisbury when my Dad was a backbencher in Sir Edgar Whitehead’s government in 1958. Mr. Cyril Hatty, the Minister of Finance, cut a fine figure. He was tall, bespectacled, with the perfectly folded white triangle of his handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket. Sir Edgar, a brilliant bachelor, almost deaf and almost blind, relied on Mr. Hatty as his right-hand man. He was later knighted for services to the country.
There were other sides to Mr. Hatty that we didn’t see then. In semi-retirement, with his elder son, they turned their hands to mixed farming near Norton. Eventually, he withdrew to a dimension called Baobabwe to paint and write under the pen name Chatty.
Que Que Junior School Class of 1958
Que Que Junior School Class of 1958
My schoolmates are scattered all over the globe. I’ve often envied my American friends that gather annually for school and college reunions.
One Hundred Trillion Dollars
One Hundred Trillion Dollars One Hundred Trillion Dollars Sums were never my strong suite in school. Luckily my brother, David, two and a half years younger than me, given the introductory sample to work from, could always be counted on to do my homework in a jiffy.
Coke Is It!
Coke Is It!
I sympathize with the sons and daughters of the clergy, trying to live up to the pious expectations of parents and the scrutiny of the congregation. Although quite different, I had my own set of expectations and limitations that plagued me.
Making The Grade
Making the Grade
We had a perfectly good architect in town, Vic. Jenkinson, but Dad decided no one knew our house needs and wants better than us.
Hillandale
Hillandale
Just outside the municipal area of Que Que, was, as it’s name implies, a lovely area with lots of ups and downs, about five miles from the new government hospital. It looked on to a range of undisturbed hills, wooded with msasa, mufti, mnongo and, especially, mountain acacia trees. In September, before the rains came, the hills turned red and yellow and then the bright new green of spring. Mom and Dad had bought a 20 acre plot there in 1952. It included the trig beacon, the highest point in the area.
