Lollipop Specials

From Great North Road

Lollipop Specials

Somebody mentioned the lollipop specials i.e. the flights carrying Zambian and Zambian resident children to and from England during the school year.

As the number of expatriates dwindled in the country the flights which at times were specially laid on stopped and nowadays children going to schoool fly just like anyone else.

I remember flying to Livingstone for a holiday with my family for a holiday at the Falls and we had a stop in Lusaka to connect to Livingstone.

As we waited for the flight, a lollipop special arrived. Crowds of returning school kids ranging in age from six to sixteen bustled into the terminal at Lusaka International Airport and proceeded to turn into into a whirlwind of games laughter and so on. As most were connecting to the Copperbelt my brother and I knew quite a few.

As we sat there my dad told us that the air hostesses of British Caledonian were the most courteous and attractive in the world. My brother and I guffawed with laughter as we realised Dad was just repeating the anodyne and sickly sweet campaign that BCal had been running claiming that their girls were the best. My brother and I thought it all just PR nonsense.

To confirm our views a pair walked by and we overhead one saying that a visit to the dentist was preferable to handling 60 odd noisy, rumbunctious and practical joking kids.

Years later, I watched a solitary figure stagger into the terminal festooned with sports gear and a travel worn bag. He sat next to me as we waited for the flight to Ndola. The skinny stranger entered into a hesitatnt conversation which soon blossomed into an animated conversation.

He told me about his dad's farm near the Zaire (Congo) border. About how people got astounded by his German name but British accented English. He told me about the farmworkers and their antics.

I told him about my work and so on. When we got on the flight I asked him what time would he be picked up from the airport. He said he would only be picked up in the afternoon. To me this is was astounding. This flight was arriving in Ndola in mid-morning and he was only being picked up in the afternoon.

I asked him if he minded tagging along on my customer visits. Among my customers was one guy I dreaded seeing. Bernard was a big gruff guy and full of stories. Every time I went to see him my visit always ended with lunch at Longhorn washed down with copious quantities of Mosi. I always used to end the meeting the worse for wear, cancelling all my afternoon appointments and tottered back to the hotel to recuperate.

I dreaded introducing my young impressionable guest to Bernard. He would invariably pour a cascade of Mosi down the throat of my callow companion.

My worst fears were confirmed. Not only did the two get on like a house on fire, the young man was told Mosi was good for him. Zambian milk Bernard declared. The young man quickly downed five or six Mosis during lunch and as he dashed to the toilet periodically he came back noiser and more inebriated.

I asked my companion who was picking him up. A driver from the farm he replied. I though maybe the 120 kilometer drive to Chililabombwe (Bancroft for the oldies) would sober him up.

As we drove to the airport my young companion lapsed into incoherent slurred speech. When we arrived , to my consternation, I saw a large 200 pound bruiser waiting in a battered pick up. Was this my companion's dad? Unfortunately yes. I hustled my companion out of our taxi and quickly left his pile of belongings at his dad's feet and quickly dashed back into the taxi. I told the taxi driver to get out of there pronto.

There is a postscript to this story. I met my young companion about five years later. He had matured into a dark, stocky muscular man and boy could he hold his liquor. And yes he got leathering of his life for that escapade.

For months afterwards I expected to see a large figure lumbering through our office doors with murderous intent for the idiot that had gotten his son thoroughly drunk !

Contributed by Brian Mulenga.