The Letter

From Great North Road

The letter arrived by hand…

As Vic straightened up from locking the second cabin-trunk he noted the Uniformed African messenger cycling down the garden path.

"I wonder what he wants, Sunday is an odd day for a Messenger to be sent here?" and went to speak to the caller. "Urgent message Bwana" the man said handing over The Letter using both hands as was the traditional mark of respect to a senior man. "Who sent it?" asked Vic, at the same time slitting the envelope. "Railways Office Manager. Sir, will I wait for an answer?"

He unfolded the letter and read the message

"Regret to inform you that owing to a strike by Railway workers in Bulawayo, Southern Rhodesia, The train due to leave Kitwe tonight will not be available. The other four intending passengers will be informed."

"No reply" said Vic heavily, "thank you" and wondered how his wife was going to react to this shattering news.

"What have you got there?" Alma asked when he returned to the verandah where she was counting off items required on the long train journey.

"A letter, just arrived from the Station master, you'd better read it." Vic stood cogitating for a few seconds then "I don't believe it, I can't believe it" she cried angrily "Well its official" he said. "What on earth can we do now" his wife said, close to tears, of all the times to go on strike." "At the moment I cannot think of anything constructive to either say or do, but I suggest that you carry on with the remainder of the packing and see to lunch for you and the children."

"But what are you going to DO?" she asked again, getting agitated and looking around aimlessly. "Right this second I simply don't know, but first. I'll go and see the other four passengers, it's just as well I know who they are and where they live, maybe they'll have some ideas and I'll see what they think of the situation."

As Vic arrived at Mac's house he was greeted with surprise

"What are you doing here at this time, we thought you'd be very busy packing - with two small children you must have much more then us pack and heaven knows we have more than enough. Come on in." Les and his wife were also there, obviously all ready to go. "Well it's obvious you haven't heard as yet," John said briskly "Heard what;" they chorused. "That; there is no train tonight - it's been cancelled." What do you mean, there's no train? "Exactly that - there's apparently a railways strike down in Bulawayo and consequently our train hasn't arrived in., so we cannot travel south tonight." "They can't do that" said Betty. "They can and they have" John said somewhat grimly.

Once the four of them realized he was deadly serious they started to react. The ladies sat down and started to cry, the men stood glumly silent, hands stuffed in pockets whilst they digested this completely unexpected news. Let's have a drink and think about it" said Mac. Vic accepted the preferred drink, then as the other men, his seniors by quite a few years, remained morose and silent and the women continued sobbing quietly and said uncomplimentary things about "lousy railway unionists fouling up their long-awaited holiday, he said

"Well, what do you suggest we do?"

"Do, DO, what can we do?" asked Mac, "There's nothing we CAN do if there is no train. We only have just over four days to get to Cape Town - we all know the ship sails for Southampton on Friday at 4 p.m. and not a MINUTE LATER" The women continued to cry and look on helplessly. "Fancy saving and working for three solid years only to have the sole means of transport taken away by a few men going on strike. It's not as if we could use private transport, we've all sold our cars and anyway we have far too much luggage to try and hire one." Well, I'm going to have ago at something" Vic said. "I'm not going to sit around doing nothing."

What can you do?" they all asked at once.

"I don't know yet; but I'm going to go and see the Company Manager." "He won't be at the office - remember its Sunday" Les remarked.

"Then I'll go to the 'White House' he can't eat me. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't try. My wife has worked hard to plan and pack for the four of us - quite a big undertaking with the children being so young. It's up to me to try and salvage the situation"

"Good for you Vic, we'll go along with any plan you make."

So leaving the others idle and morose Vic approached the Company Mine Manager ( O.B. Bennett) who WAS in his office, busy organizing 'emergency operations' for the duration of the rail strike - the railway being the lifeline of the whole mining operation.

On learning the plight of the intending travelers and understanding the situation very well, he sympathized, consulted his already much annotated emergency transport schedules and said "I can lend you a truck of sorts, but it has no canopy and therefore you will be completely exposed and very uncomfortable. I could also arrange a driver for the vehicle, but you must get a permit from the Police at the Boma to allow him to cross into Southern Rhodesia. But if the strike should spread, once you get to the South African border you will have to make private arrangements as this truck will not be allowed any further."

"My grateful thanks" Vic said "your assistance is much appreciated. I realise that you need all the transport you have available for company work, the discomfort will pass, but this is our only chance of saving our holiday."

Next he went to see the Police chief who was also in his office amending duty rosters just in case of any repercussions from this totally unexpected strike situation. On hearing of the dilemma confronting the would be travelers he said "A permit is required for your truck and driver". He produced a letterhead and proceeded to thread it into the office typewriter and somewhat laboriously type out a carefully worded PERMIT for the driver and vehicle to cross the border post from Northern into Southern Rhodesia and back again, saying 'Bear with me old chap I'm not very good at this job."

Finally with the Permit typed and signed, and then a 7 p.m. rendezvous with the truck driver organized, Vic returned to see the other intending passengers and announced "I've been loaned an open truck to travel the first leg of the journey into Southern Rhodesia - a 7 p.m. start. If you wish to take a chance and rough it, you'll have to sit on the open tray throughout the journey."

They all stood and cheered - clapping him on the back and shaking, his hand. Then leaving them suddenly busy and smiling again, he rushed home to break the news to his anxious wife.

"Finish the packing - we wear the oldest and warmest clothes we have for the all-night journey then we can shed a layer as needs be later on - but we WILL board that ship on Friday.'

That evening at nightfall Vic and his family and all of their assorted paraphernalia and luggage, met up with the vehicle and driver outside the Rhokana cinema. The other four adults, with their baggage, blankets and vacuum flasks, endeavored to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the tray of the truck. Six large drums of diesel oil were lashed to the rear of the cab - essential fuel for the long drive to come.

1954 Nkana (taken outside Rhokana Cinema)

1954 Nkana.

1st 'photo. L - R: Harry Lonsdale(Personnel Manager) Rhokana Corp. Vic, Marie and Alma Dawson, see African driving crouching attending to Oil drums/baggage - ladies of Hockey team(Livingstone area)?

1954 Nkana.

2nd 'photo: L - R: Alma, Marie & Vic Dawson, Harry Lonsdale, Isobel & Les Pegge Mr & Mrs ? Dunne (she used too work in Kitwe Stores) infant son Michael asleep in Carry-cot on tray of truck…

The two-year old daughter Marie, and Alma, were installed in the cab alongside the driver and the baby , Michael, ten months old, well fed and well wrapped up in his carry-cot, was the most comfortable and most oblivious passenger. . Dad and the others to keep a protective hand at the ready.

"Is everybody settled?" called Vic who was obviously the leader of this 'safari". Just then, a blaring of horns and flashing of headlights delayed the departure as a cavalcade of cars disgorged a team of lady hockey-players "Wait, wait a moment" called a voice, "can you take these ladies with you as far as Livingstone, they are also stranded by the strike and want to get home?" "Certainly providing they realise it is going to be very cold, uncomfortable and dirty - tell them all to climb aboard now, we're ready to go"

Then amid tears and cheers from the considerable group of friends and well-wishers, the travelers set off, making the best of a very third rate conveyance.

The journey was indeed cold and miserable but they were thankful that at least it was the 'dry season' with no possibility rain. The bumpy nature of riding on the tray of the truck on a dirt road was further compounded by the two eighteen-inch wide strips of tar seal which straddled the centre of the 'highway ' - these 'strips' were provided to accommodate the wheels of vehicles in the absence of full width tar sealing. Many broken-edges and a requirement to relinquish the tar seal to allow other vehicles to pass (in either direction) added further to the discomfort. In addition to the jolting, there was the all-pervasive smell of diesel oil from the storage drums which troubled some of the passengers.

At intervals during the latter part of the long night, oncoming vehicles signaled the driver with their headlights to stop, and the travelers became accustomed to various members of the hockey team being 'rescued' by friends and relatives. The glorious sunrise and the clamour of the dawn chorus, almost - ALMOST made up for the wretched night.

Many hours later, in brilliant hot sunshine, the weary passengers arrived in the town of Livingstone on the Northern/Southern Rhodesian border - tired, dirty and miserable, looking forward to a short break, stretching their cramped legs and having something to eat before continuing on a few hundred miles more. Suddenly a car pulled alongside the group and a Railways official alighted, greeted them all cheerfully and said "The strike is over and a train will leave for the south in three hours time. You have time for a break and a meal - we will wait for you.'

More cheers (and tears of relief from the women) at this more than welcome news. Grateful thanks were expressed by the group that at least one member of the party had not panicked in time of stress. Vic then made a suggestion that they all go to the nearest hotel and rent rooms for the three-hour period in order to have a bath, meal and a rest. This suggestion was acted upon with alacrity.

The southern train with sleeping compartments was waiting at the station and the refreshed and revitalized group climbed aboard for a much more comfortable ride to Cape Town.

Eventually without any further problems the port was reached and the ship boarded in time and everyone could settle into their cabins relax and begin the first stage of their holiday.

The final irony was yet to come however.

As they shared a table with fellow passengers, strangers, who quickly became congenial companions, Alma and Vic were able to relate the tale of the traumatic start to their long-awaited holiday. Then on the third evening at sea they were invited by one of their dining companions to join him in the lounge for a drink.

Here they were introduced to another passenger. "I'd like you to meet Bill Smith my cabin mate, he is the railway worker who organized the rail strike in Southern Rhodesia and is being deported back to England for his sins - he would like to tell you his side of the story."

Contributed by Vic & Alma Dawson

October 2002