Last Orders at the Changamire Arms

Last Orders at the Changamire Arms, by Robin Walker, is a peculiar book to have been published in the second decade of the 21st century.

It comes with good credentials.  On the back cover is stated: “This very day, coming charging towards the presses like a rhino heading for the last croissant, is a book by Robin Walker. Robin is Tom Sharpe mixed with a dose of Montgomery of Alamein and lightly drizzled with essence of Alexander McCall Smith.”  Tom Sharpe, perhaps, McCall Smith, no, not as gentle or humorous as that excellent author.

Walker was a DC in Rhodesia during the 1970s, and this book tells some of his experiences in and around Mount Darwin during the Bush War. But his book could just as easily be based in WWII, such are its old fashioned perspectives.  He calls various people ‘tits’ or ‘wankers’, and just about everyone appears incompetent.  One character who features for a while goes missing for hours on end on various occasions.  This is eventually explained thus – “…we discovered where Patrick had been all those times we lost him.  Up in his attic were tin lids full of cigar stubs, bottles of empty whisky, and a shop load of cowboy books.”  Yes, apparently that’s how peculiar men spent their time in 70s Rhodesia – reading cowboy books.

I’m afraid I didn’t find this book humorous.  Maybe I missed the whole point – and it might be that it is cleverly and deliberately written in the style of an old-fashioned, politically incorrect, cursing colonial boor by a perfectly mannered, good natured man, and the humour comes in laughing at the main character, rather than with him, but even then I wouldn’t find it very funny.

One can imagine Walker recounting past events to friends late in the evening, after a sherry, a steak, some claret and then a port, and the friends saying something like, “I say old chap.  You should write a book with all these stories.”  But I would think that they would have been more enjoyable as verbal accounts.

From an historical perspective, there’s little of interest apart from the chapter about Protected Villages.

Bush War Operator

The first time someone mentioned the Selous Scouts to me, I had to say that I had not heard of them.  This completely amazed the person I was talking to.  I had not been in Africa for very long, at the time.

The Selous Scouts were Rhodesian Army special forces, and were very hard and tough men indeed.  Reading Bush War Operator, by A.J. Balaam I learnt that 80% of the Selous Scouts were black African.  I’d somehow always assumed that most of them were white Rhodesians.

Balaam was a member of the Selous Scouts for several years, and was involved in a number of operations, mostly in Mocambique, some of which he details in this book.

After independence, he left Zimbabwe and settled in the Transkei.  Old habits die hard, and soon he was involved in training the Lesotho Liberation Army and afterwards some people he calls the Ciskei Liberation Army.  The politics of the LLA were complex, but essentially the people paying Balaam at that time aimed to destabilize the then unfriendly Lesotho government on behalf of sections of the South African government.  I knew nothing about all of this before I read the book.

Getting the messages

Since I can’t jog, in the meantime at least, due to a damaged knee, I get my exercise cycling.  I was quite happy in the past to jog along the front and do a four-mile loup back home, but when cycling I seem to need some other purpose.  So I cycle to get the messages (Scottish word for shopping).

Sometimes I get the messages from shops many miles away, because it would be pointless cycling down to the Porty Co-op (a mere two hundred metres away).  By choosing where to shop for what, I’ve been saving money, and I’ve been noticing some significant drops in prices recently for variouus food items.  Here are some from today’s messages.

250g salted butter £0.85
500g penne  £0.29
celery £0.59
6 salad toms £0.65
pasta sauce £0.65
jar of mango chutney £0.89
Italian coffee £1.89
wholemeal loaf £0.55
500g beef mince £1.75
100g hazelnut chocolate £0.49
Total = £8.60

Another Day of Life

Another Day of Life, by Ryszard Kapuściński, is a wonderful book.  Published in 1976 it covers the beginning of the civil war in Angola.  Kapuściński has a unique and very appealing writing style.  His description of what happens at roadblocks, for example, is outstanding.

Once Upon a White Man

After two days, I’m almost finished reading Once Upon A White Man, by Graham Atkins.

I’ve enjoyed this book.  The print is large, so I’ve not needed my reading specs.

Atkins was born in Rhodesia, as it then was.  He is a bit younger than I am, yet our paths probably crossed at some stage, because he mentions various places and times that are familiar.

He was involved, and wounded, in the Rhodesian Bush War – also known as the Second Chimurenga or the Zimbabwe War of Liberation.

He mentions Clem Tholet, who sang Rhodesians Never Die, a song of determined stubbornness on the part of the whites in that country.  Like many others, Atkins thought that in the 1990s Zimbabwe had turned a corner with Chidzero’s economic reforms, but it was not to be, and the entire fabric of the country rapidly disintegrated under Mugabe’s corrupt rule.  By 2001 Atkins had had enough, and he moved with his family to Perth, Australia.  More than a third of Zimbabwe’s population have also fled their country of birth.

Upper Spey Valley

We spent Easter cycling and walking around Newtonmore, in the Spey valley.  At Laggan Bridge I took the following photo of the Spey.

This was a far cry from last August, when we put in at this spot to canoe down the river.

We noted a good spot for wild camping in the future, near Sherrabeg.

There’s a lovely road for cycling, all the way up to Garva Bridge, built by General Wade in 1731.

The next day we climbed A’ Chailleach, 930m.  Due to the snow melt, it was difficult to find a crossing of Allt a’ Chaorainn.

Back to Angola

I’ve just finished reading Back to Angola: A Journey from War to Peace, by Paul Morris.

I bought this book because of the review I read in a newspaper in Cape Town.  It tells the story of a forty-five-year-old South African who returns to Angola to cycle through parts of the country, twenty-five years after the war that he was involved in there, in 1986.  It’s sort of a journey to lay to peace some demons of war.  Morris saw some action manning a Ratel at Cuito Canavale and Rio Lomba.

I had no idea that as many as 350,000 Cubans did military service in Angola, or that more than 500,000 South Africans were constricted into the SADF to perform national service, from 1967-1994.  Or that those in the SADF, according to Morris, felt that they were outgunned by MiG 23s and Russian tanks.

I will aim to find out more about this conflict.

Loose ends

Lufthansa changed one of our flights – the last one from Johannesburg to Cape Town, and if they told me at any time then I’m not aware of it.  The first I realised was when we were on the third of three flights, and we arrived 30 minutes later than anticipated.  This meant that our airport pickup missed us.  On our home answerphone in Edinburgh is a message from someone who called that day with a heavy South African accent, asking us where we are at Cape Town airport.

We hung around the airport for an hour, and then the hotel arranged a replacement lift into town.

We’d booked through Lufthansa because the travel agent had been so enthusiastic about their service, but Lindsey said it was the worst food she’d ever had on a plane.  I wasn’t impressed with the packet of biltong for lunch on the final flight.

View from the roof terrace at Villa Zest

Our room at Villa Zest

There was a small but nice pool at the Villa Zest

There are some very interesting buildings on Long Street.

This band was called Abakhaya.  They played the night we went to Mama Africa, and they were terrific.