Well, continuing Aunt Evelyn's journey although my thoughts had really moved to my grandfather, his brother and their prospective wives with their stiff upper lip and pioneering spirit. It is hot in Zambia in October/November which is just when Aunt Evelyn was travelling and my Dad was born on the 22nd November 1914 at the height of the buildup to the rainy season. It must have been difficult but there are no complaints in any of the correspondence we have from those times.
The other members of our group were all fully supportive of our spending time searching for the location of the family farm when we reached Chipata, formerly Fort Jamieson, NE Rhodesia.
We set off about 6.30am and reached Chipata around 10am. It seemed quite a big bustling town and quite a culture shock after our time in the wilderness. The landscape was quite pleasing being elevated, a little cooler and greener and surrounded by hills. Poverty was starkly evident and I was especially touched by the young kids, maybe Tayla and Anahera and Otto's age trying to sell stuff at the petrol station and asking for empty bottles and money. I gave a child a biro and he told me he had no paper. When we managed to rip a couple of pages from a notebook, he snatched them greedily and made sure his friends didn't get a look in despite my telling him to share. Heartbreaking! We stopped to pay some kids for a photo of them selling barbecued mice on sticks. They happily obliged by posing eating the tails.
All along the road their are stalls seemingly in the middle of nowhere selling tomatos and bananas and water melons. Hard to find a clear space with bushes for a wee stop on the side of the road.
After filling with diesel and some food for lunch we set off to find the farm. Zandré stopped to ask people and our best landmark was the Lutembwe SDA
Church. We were told to go towards the prison but this turned out to be incorrect and raised some concern when we asked some police. We drove down narrow alleys with primitive shops and substandard dwellings and I began to feel quite despondent as it looked as though the area we were searching for would be fully built out. Fortunately, Zandré enjoys a challenge and he determinedly continued to ask questions. We went around in circles and kept asking. Finally someone said he would drive ahead and show us the way to the Lutembwe SDA church.
We followed him through a more prosperous area and stopped at a non descript building which was a relatively modern Seventh Day Adventist church. After paying our guide $5 we engaged with a couple of young men who seemed to be something to do with the church. I showed them the photo of my grandfather under the sausage tree and after a while they said that yes, there was a farm further down the road over the river. We drove til we could go no further because the bridge was in poor repair. The Lutembwe River has been dammed so it is not as it would have been in the days of my grandparents. We crossed the bridge and indeed, there was bare land with an old 2 storied house which was oddly out of character with anything we had seen before. It was very run down and there were women outside looking as curious about us as we were about them.
We decided to go up and speak to them. By this time I was starting to feel quite emotional knowing I was standing on the land farmed by my grandfather and where my father and his 3 siblings were born.
The first person we encountered was an old woman who seemed to have little English. She was quickly joined by her daughter and granddaughter and some children. The granddaughter was called Francine and she became the translator. We showed her the photo which she showed to her grandma who was 84. Grandma knew exactly where the sausage tree had stood quite near to the existing house. The tree was long gone and grandma wouldn't have been born til 20 years after my family were gone however, the house was built by the English and our understanding was that she had worked there and eventually when the English left she moved in.
The land looked dry and barren and infertile as does all the land we have seen at this time of year. It was very hard to imagine trying to grow tobacco and other crops and bringing cattle from Scotland.
Francine said they just grow maize now. I guess there were a lot more trees and the river was close by. The position of the house and the former camp were nicely situated above the river and would have caught the breeze.
I am sure that had we had more time Grandma would have been able to tell us more but TIA, this is Africa and things take time. I didn't find out about the men in the family. Francine was a solo mum of two kids. There was a 7 year old whose mum had died I think in child birth and grandma had raised him. At first she indicated she had breastfed him and I was so incredulous that eventually we established that she had bought milk.
We left them with all the trinkets we had left and the photo of grandfather under the sausage tree.
Our group had been very patient and I was aware that we had another 350 kms to travel so with hugs and good wishes all round we took our leave.
It is hard to process that this long term wish has been realised and that I have stood in the place of my father and my grandparents. Today is 36 years since my father died at the same age I am now. I hope that he knows I have made this pilgrimage. I so wish I had found out more before that generation died and I am so grateful for my predecessors who wrote and for the letters which have been saved for generations. Also for modern day www which has meant I have connected with other branches of the family and shared information.
Our forefathers and mothers were truly brave and strong to be pioneers in this harsh and beautiful land.
The closing moment came today when Lawrence noticed a war memorial here at Victoria Falls commemorating those who died in the Great War and my grandfather's name was there. Pretty darn special!