Memories of Mufulira

From Great North Road

Memories of Mufulira

by Mike Twigg

Some memories written from the perspective of someone who was born in Mufulira in 1941, whose home was there in the 40's through to the 60's but having gone to school in South Africa at the age of 10 and finally left for good in '64. My father, "Twiggie" Twigg went to NR in the early 20's and after working for RST, mostly in African personnel, for some 35 years before retired to a farm on the Konsuswa River some 5 miles outside Muf. My parents lived on the farm until 1973.

Some early memories of Mufulira (heard it said that as Alzheimer's develops the better you recollect your childhood and forget the present).

As a little kid 5-6 going to the old park opposite about F59 (near the new swimming pool where all the school fights used to take place) with all the other kids in the area with our nannies. Going to her kaaia (sp) to eat sudsa and those big white cutworm grubs that were fried till they were crispy (look like those yellow "cheezies" snacks - have never eaten any since, cheezies that is). Getting squirted with breast milk by my nannies friend while nursing her child because she thought I was getting too cheeky! They seemed to think that was very funny!!

Wearing those khaki missionary helmets with the white cloth on the back. The conventional wisdom at the time was that one got sunstroke through the back of the neck.

The donkeys that were used to collect rubbish in the African township would be made available for little kid's birthday parties. The handler was always dressed in tidy black sweater and red Fez and would walk each kid around the lawn on the donkey.

Up until the mid 50's the town of Mufulira was always referred to as camp (a carry over from when it was just a mine camp). Top of camp was up near H121 for many years. The town just stopped and the bush started.

African drums on Sundays and were audible to anyone who lived at the bottom of camp. Remember them distinctly in the 40's but less so in the 50's as the Africans became more urbanized and less tribal.

Visiting the African market- and looking at the piles of army caterpillars for sale that would continually spread out on the bench and would be scooped back into a cone by the sellers

The old vegetable market made of sticks, corrugated iron and thatching where one could buy almost any fresh vegetables when they were in season. The new market all concrete and washable was like a palace compared to the old one

Dogs that roamed freely around town except when there was the annual rabies scare. The O'Connel's bull terrier (Scone) that must have fought with every dog and fathered practically every litter in the African township for four years until he just ran out of steam.

Going to the smelter at night to watch copper being poured; greatest fireworks in the world.

The community Guy Fawkes party that was held on the vacant lot around lower G Avenue. Jimmy Cowie once purchased a huge rocket (cost all of five pounds at the time with a stick that was 6 ft long) as the climax for the evening. At the end of the evening everybody collected together to observe the great spectacle. When it was lit the rocket shot off, but the stick stuck in the pipe that had been hammered into the ground to hold the rocket up and the rocket, without a tail stick roared along at head height amongst the crowd, with every one diving for cover. A bigger climax that if it had gone into the air as it was meant to.

Everything in the house was locked up especially sugar and the booze cupboard

Old slimes dam (fear of death put into us about the potential for cave-ins and quicksand) Great place to visit!

Sanitary lanes and riding on the water trucks that used to fill up and wet the roads down in the dry season.

Chasing the picanins down the sanitary lanes as if it was part of our yard.

Great parties at shacks on the Kafue River. Crocodiles - a general paranoia as kids any time we went near the river.

The luxury of the new Muf pool especially after the old one down at the mine.

Sunsets- a sun that was so red as it set - have never seen anything like it anywhere else.

As kids, cycling everywhere without any concern, 8 mile, Konsuswa River, Mufulira Stream, the old slimes dam and the railway siding where they steamed up the mail train engine.

Later when defending the size of the town one would qualify it by saying "Well it's a lot bigger if you count the Africans!!"

Hoopoos, Wag tails, blue skops (blow kops), Matebele ants, red ants, matakinis and those big round spiders on every wall in the house

Oh! The mangoes paw paws, avocado pears, guavas, granadillas, pundoos and blackjacks (probably of more significance to someone who left and has lived in Canada for 33 years than for someone who moved to RSA. In Canada they don't know what I am talking about)

You never stuck your hand any where you couldn't see just in case there was a snake - puff adders, cobras, (lost our terrier to a king cobra), gaboon vipers and pythons (they could get in through the chicken wire but after they had eaten a chicken they couldn't get out)

The infamous school trains to South Africa and Southern Rhodesia- Many of us spent more that half a year of accumulated time traveling on the trains. With around 4-5 days or sheer boredom the more adventurous could raise a lot of hell. We could recite every station in sequence from Kapiri M'Poshi to Cape Town. The big thing as an 11 year old was to walk around the train with a box of 50 Springbok cigarettes in one's top pocket or better a pack of 20 rolled in a tee shirt sleeve. Remember two kids who decided to hitch hike from Kafue and re-catch the train in Mazabuka. When the train arrived at Mazabuka they were nowhere to be found so the speculation was that the lucky buggers must have got a lift to Monze; and so this went on down the line. Turned out they walked the whole of the first day, Had to seek shelter in an African village that night, walked the whole of the next day and eventually got a lift to Mazabuka late on the second day. They arrived at school 3 days later. Needless to say there was hell to play.

The GNR has evoked a real sense of nostalgia and of the real adventure that one experienced while growing up in the Copperbelt.

Contributed by Mike Twigg.

October 2001