Customs and beliefs of some African peoples – Part 2

The Spirits

Africans living in Zimbabwe, as in most African countries, are powerfully influenced by their spiritual beliefs. They believe in God, or the Great Spirit who created and controls the heavens, the earth and the elements. He is called Mwari, or Umlimo and he is thought to have little concern with the affairs of particular tribes or of men. He has never been mortal. Of course there are many Africans today who have come to accept the Christian faith and who know that Mwari is deeply concerned with the lives of individual men and He is approachable through the Church.

It is Mwari’s sons who are thought to be almost as powerful and who “possess” the bodies of mediums through which they communicate with man. Many of these have the power to make rain. Some of their names are Chaminuka, Nehanda and Nyamuswa. When the powerful human medium (host) dies, the spirit may not choose another for a long period of time but it will “come out” later in another human who will be recognized as the temporal home of the spirit and who will be revered by others.  The power of these individuals to sway opinion and direct the affairs of vast numbers of people should not be underestimated.

Tribal spirits are all ancestral and of a lower order.  These are spirits of the first chiefs, who look after the interests of the tribes and punish their transgressions. Their relationship with the tribes is linked through the present day Chiefs, but they communicate through mediums (called swikiros). Hallowed as these swikiros may be, it is the family spirits which hold paramount importance in the traditional tribes-people’s lives. 

A family does not consist only of its living members. Departed male ancestors are still a part of the family and are concerned with the health and well being of those on earth. They watch over them and guard them unless they themselves are neglected and forgotten. The living therefore worship their ancestors and consult them in all important family matters. Some families will use the services of diviners, while some may have their own medium in the family through whom the spirits speaks. The medium may go into a trance and may not remember afterward what he said or did. 

There are many more aspects of the spiritual influences on traditional Africans.  Some spirits, such as the “shave” (sha-vee) might be the graveless wandering shade of a person who was not afforded customary rites on his death.  Another is the “Ngozi, or the spirit of a man or woman who died with a grievance and who might be seeking revenge.” These multiple spiritual influences are very powerful and even highly educated and “modern” Africans will defer to their relatives' beliefs in many aspects of their lives.

The Chiefs

The Chief is the most important man in his tribal area. His election to the chieftainship has the full support of his followers and their tribal spirits. He becomes the intermediary between the people and their ancestors seeing to the peoples’ welfare and maintains order. His role is spiritual, judicial and administrative. Selection of the chief differs for the Matabele and the Shona tribal groups.

The Matabele chief who passes away is replaced by his oldest son - a primogeniture system, similar to that of the succession, for example, of the English monarchy. This system may, quite possibly, result in the selection of a young king. In a warrior tribe, this system would give rise to a brave warrior chief who could lead the tribe in battle.

The Shona custom is a system of “collateral succession” which, in most cases, will provide an elderly man.  The Shona regard maturity as equal in value to bravery, and this system ensures that grey-haired rulers will assume the Chief’s role.

In the book referred to in Part 1 of this blog there is a good example of how this system works. Say Chief Goredema was the first chief of the nucleus of a tribe.  He has four sons by his first (senior) wife and the oldest is Mutsvago, then Marimba, then Ningi and finally Tsuru.  When Goredema dies, the chieftainship passes to Mutsvago.  When Mutsvago dies he is succeeded, not by his son, but by the oldest surviving male of the house of Marimba, then to Ningi and finally to the oldest surviving male member of the house of Tsuru.  When the houses of all four brothers have held the chieftainship, it passes back to the house of Mutsvago and the whole complicated process is repeated down through the generations.

As there were no written records before the early 1900s, and no birth records, this system would often result in many old men laying claim to the chieftainship. So how would this succession riddle be resolved? The spirit mediums would consult the old chief Goredema, who died many generations ago. He will tell the people who the rightful successor should be.

In Zimbabwe Africans can decide whether to have their grievances aired in the Government court system or whether to have their problems resolved in the tribal courts. Both verdicts are given legal recognition. Unlike government courts, tribal leaders are more likely to go out of their way to bring about reconciliation between the parties. Under the British system, as in the American system, a confessed murdered, for example, might be found not guilty due to a legal technicality. Tribesmen would consider this grossly unjust. It is worth noting that Africans in Zimbabwe can also choose to be married in the Christian faith, and having done so, they cannot then decide to return to the village and acquire other wives.

It is worth noting that since the earliest occupation of Zimbabwe by the British, the government has left the selection of Chiefs to the tribal members according to their age-old customs. Once an heir has been accepted then he is given recognition by the Government.

These days, the administrative responsibilities of Chiefs have grown enormously and include local government, community projects, establishment of business centers and rural schools and hospitals and so on. As one would expect, many of the Chiefs today are well-educated and more capable of dealing with these responsibilities than they might have been 50 or more years ago.

Marriage

The traditional African tribesman does not regard himself as an individual in the way that a European does, but rather as part of a greater whole. His continuing existence after death is achieved through having children. His oldest son will replace him and take his name and perhaps even having children with his wives, except for the son’s own mother.

The oldest surviving son is responsible for the debts his deceased father may have had, for the care of his family, and for maintaining the good will of his ancestral spirits. Continuing the life stream beyond death has given rise to the forms of marriage that have evolved over centuries.  When a couple marry, a very close relationship is established between their two families; much closer than is generally the case in a “western” marriage. The marriage contract is between families, not between the husband and wife as individuals. If the couple quarrels, their families may go to great lengths to prevent the union from dissolving.

There are several forms of traditional marriage, two of which have not been permitted for over a century. (One is the taking of a wife by a captor during a tribal war; and the other is pledging of a child for the payment of a debt.) The most common forms of customary marriage, recognized in law in Zimbabwe, involve the payment of “lobolo,” generally in cattle, by the groom’s family to the bride’s father. When a father accepts lobolo in respect of his daughter he undertakes to furnish the bridegroom’s family with the children who are so necessary for a continued existence.  In some tribes it may be the custom to withhold lobolo until the wife has proved herself by producing an infant.

After payment of lobolo, if the wife proves to be unable to bear children the husband has the right to claim a refund or another woman of his wife’s family, often a younger sister. If the husband proves to be sterile his brother may be called upon to father a child by his wife.

What happens to the lobolo that the father of the daughter receives? To ensure against the possibility of having no grandchildren, he may use this lobolo to purchase a wife for his son. In the past, and probably today, it was common to pair off his sons and daughters so that each son knows from which sister his own lobolo will come.

Lobolo serves in many ways as an insurance policy. It insures that children will be born to them to carry the family into the future. It helps assure a successful marriage by encouraging good conduct on the part of the husband, for it he ill-treats his wife she may leave him and he forfeits the right of any refund of the lobolo his family paid. On the other hand, the father is responsible for the good behavior of his daughter. If she is lazy, or a bad cook, of nags and scolds her husband, she may be sent back to her father to learn how to behave.

Polygamy is still practiced in Zimbabwe although many Africans enter into marriages solemnized in the Christian Faith. Even in these marriages however, lobolo will generally pass between families. The High Court of Rhodesia ruled that such payments are permissible in a Christian marriage as far back as 1912.

The death of a husband does not necessarily end the marriage for his widow.  She remains with his family and is later inherited by his brother or one of his sons. This is a custom similar to that illustrated in Chapter 25 verse 5 of Deuteronomy.

In Part 3 of this series we will discuss the relationship of the African man and his children, his home and labors, his manners and his environment.

Self-Publish your Africa Travel Book

Your unique Travel experiences will make a great book!

With changes in the book publishing industry over the last decade it has become easier than ever to plan, compile and publish a book of your family vacation, overseas tour, cruise, or just your road trip to visit Disney-world.  Your photographs and journal notes can be assembled into a unique record of adventures both at home and abroad. No longer do vacation photos have to be relegated to an old computer hard drive or lost in a box in the attic.

Anyone can publish a bookstore quality album or journal that records your experiences forever and that can be read and enjoyed for the rest of your life. The cost of printing a 100 page, full color, 8in. x 10in. hardcover book can be as little as $50.00. (Estimate from Blurb.com) The minimum order quantity is one copy. For wider distribution, and for a book that you might want to publish hundreds or thousands of copies of, the printing cost might be as low as $18.00 to $20.00. (Lightning Source, Inc.)

Planning and preparation is the key to containing costs.

These days printing costs are low.  It is the preparation of the manuscript and getting it into the correct format for submission to the printer that is liable to cost money. The key to keeping those costs within reason (say - a few hundred dollars) is PREPARATION.

 

PLAN: Most travelers spend a lot of time planning their trips and making reservations well in advance. Planning for a book of the trip can begin at the same time, long before the first flight or filling the gas tank for that first days drive.

Here are some things to consider:

Bring home some banknotes to include in your book.

• Read up on your destination.  Keep a folder. Print out website pages, maps, calendars, and other information about area attractions and keep them in the folder. All of these items can be scanned and printed in your Travel Book.
• If using the services of a travel agent or a tour company, save the schedules, correspondence and itineraries, and invoices that they provide. These too might make useful additions to your dairy or journal notes.
• Save those little items from the trip that we often discard; ticket stubs, hotel receipts, gas receipts (remember when gas was $1.50 a gallon?), museum fliers, boarding passes, menus, etc.
• Pick up those fliers from hotel lobbies and tourist information centers that are always available for FREE.  They contain loads of useful information about the local area, its attractions and its history. This is helpful when writing your daily journal notes or when editing the final content for your book. Some can also be scanned and included as extra illustrations along with your photographs.
• Save small denomination bank notes from the countries you visit. These will always make colorful additions to your Travel Book and often provide beautiful designs describing a countries culture and history.
• Don’t forget to save maps. Mark your maps with places you visited.
• KEEP A JOURNAL!  While traveling we often get busy and forget to write things down.  It doesn’t have to be a day by day, hour by hour, personal diary. Take a few minutes at the end of the day, when everything is still fresh in your mind, and write down the little things.  Especially write down the names of people, tour guides, local villagers, etc that you meet, and whose names you will forget if you don’t write them down!
• While you are there, shop around for inexpensive reference books on animals, especially birds and even fish if you scuba diving or snorkeling!  Phrasebooks are helpful too.

PHOTOGRAPHY: There are scores of books and tutorials on the subject of taking photographs.  Whether you are a complete amateur or a seasoned professional many of the basics will remain the same.

Some important considerations:

• Whether you have a $5,000 digital, single lens reflex (SLR)  or a $200 digital point and shoot camera, the MOST IMPORTANT THING IS TO KNOW HOW YOUR CAMERA WORKS.  Every camera comes with an instruction book and it is absolutely essential that you take the time to read through it carefully, practicing each operation with your camera as you do.

• Make sure your camera settings let you take high resolution photographs that will reproduce sharply in a book. You should have a minimum 5 Megapixel camera.  Most today are at least 10MPs. A 5MP camera will allow you to take a photograph that is at least 2400 pixels wide by 1800 pixels high.  Photographs taken at this resolution will print sharply in a book up to 8 inches wide X 6 inches high.  (The rule of thumb is – each 300 pixels will print as a 1 inch finished picture size. Therefore a 2400 x 1800px image will print sharply as an 8 in. x 6 in. image in a book.)

• Learn and understand how much memory your camera has. Take extra memory cards or thumb drives with you. 

• Learn how long your camera battery will last and take an extra battery. Most cameras today have chargers and connections that will adapt to plug-ins in other countries. Make sure you will be able to recharge your camera batteries whenever you are going.  The same advice, of course, applies to laptops and other electronic devices.

• If you are accustomed to transferring your photographs onto a laptop or other device then make sure you make backup CD's as well. The worst thing that happens (yes – it happens to all of us!) is that we lose some precious photos from a place that we may never visit again. 

Take photos of unusual things!

• When taking photographs on a tour or vacation trip, always keep in mind that you are taking photos that will be used to illustrate a book and that will be complimenting the text. This may be a new approach for most people. 

• Include people pictures and get close!  Most of us forget the importance of filling the viewfinder with our subject matter. Use a flash when taking people pictures in shade or towards the sunlight.

Always photograph the people around you.

• For each scenic photograph you take, take one of people and other subject matter. Photograph food, animals, your accommodations, your tour guides, local housing, local roads, unusual signs, a glass of wine, a bottle of beer, local clothing and architecture.  If in a National Park or Game Reserve photograph the campfire, the table settings, the guides and camp staff, and the 4WD vehicles you ride in. Always photograph the words on plaques describing historical places.  When you forget what the place was named and how old it is, you can always go back to your photograph for the detail.   This saves a lot of time having to write it down in your journal!

A Mopani worm. Don't ignore the little things!

• When photographing an animal or bird or an insect(!), make sure you know what it is called. Don’t label a Cape Buffalo as a Water Buffalo!  No, no, no!  And don’t call an Elk a Moose.  The same idea applies to plants; flowers and trees. Take notes.

• Photographs give us an infallible way to recall dates and the order in which events occurred. Digital photos are tagged with the date and time they were taken and this information is often very helpful in putting captions on our images.  

• While waiting for a connecting flight at the airport, take photos of the departure schedules that are displayed on the large airport monitors. Take a picture of your plane through the concourse window. Take a photo of the meal you are served on the flight.  Today, we don’t pay for film and developing, so it costs nothing to take a lot of pictures.  

• The list goes on and on.  But as you are taking all these photographs, your travel book is taking shape in your mind.  With a rich supply of photographs, imagine what a great Travel Book you will be able to create.

THE MANUSCRIPT: Now you have all this stuff.  All these memories of your trip are in a folder or saved in files on your computer. What do you do now?

•  Get organized.  The greatest cost savings you will be able to make in getting a Travel Book into publication will result from organizing your text narrative and your photographs in a logical, easy-to-read sequence.

• Type your story into a MSWord document.  Edit it carefully.  Edit it again. Check for spelling and grammatical errors. Take out extra words. Have someone else check it for you and offer their opinion.

• Go through all of your photograph files and save only those that will be used in the book in one folder.  Name it appropriately “final pics” or similar.  It is always a good idea to put a date in the name of the folder. (E.g. “Galapagos_May-2011” or “Yosemite_June-2010”)  Make a back-up copy of this folder and transfer it to a backup hard drive or save it on a DVD or CD.

• Of course, many of your photos may need editing. This can be time-consuming but can raise the quality of the Travel Book. 

• Now, remember those brochures and schedules you tucked away in a folder even before the trip began? Grab those and decide what you will want to scan and save as digital files.  Dig into the bottom of your luggage and pull out those banknotes, and ticket stubs that you brought home with you.  Scan these as well. (Scan at 300 dots-per-inch (dpi) and save them on your computer.)

• In your typed manuscript mark clearly where the photographs and scanned images will be located.  This is an important step and will save a lot of time in the final compilation.

Now you are ready to take the final steps to getting your story into a Travel Book.  There are a number of Print-on-Demand (POD) companies that enable us to load our images and text into pre-set book templates.  Kodak Gallery and  Shutterfly are good examples.

I am going to use www.blurb.com as an example as I have used them to create over 80 books and am accustomed to their programs and software. 

From the Blurb website you can download a Blurb BookSmart template onto your computer.  This proprietary software is free and includes an almost unlimited choice of page designs that can be adjusted to suit each individual’s unique requirements.  Book sizes range from pocket sized 5 x 8in, to 7 x 7in, 8 x 10in (portrait or landscape), 12 x 12in, or 13 x 11in coffee table size books. Blurbs prices are the lowest anywhere and, like most POD programs now, it is only necessary to order a minimum quantity of one book. 

Once you have mastered the basics of the BookSmart software, you can import the text and photos, and preview each step as you progress. Blurb offers extensive tutorials and an on-line help desk to guide newcomers through the basic process. When the final version meets your approval, the book file is uploaded to the Blurb website and it can now be ordered. Delivery usually takes about ten days from the time the book is uploaded to Blurb. 

Some folks are not prepared to take the time required to learn the Blurb program, or may have the computer skills to figure it all out. Blurb offers the help of many experienced “bookmakers” on their website. One can go to the “hire an expert” page and scroll down the list of over 200 authorized bookmakers to contact for assistance. These are experienced publishers who work independently from Blurb but who are accustomed to using its software. 

If you believe your book is destined for wider distribution through the internet bookstores such as Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Ingram, etc., BookCrafters can convert your manuscript into the formats accepted by Lightning Source, Inc., (LSI) one of the world’s largest POD companies. Once uploaded to LSI your book can reach the online bookstores Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc. You may become a best selling author and gain widespread fame and  notoriety. (Just kidding!)

For ideas and resources go to: self-publish-your-book.com. 

To see a sample Travel Book click on this link:

Tanzania by Joe McDaniel | Make Your Own Book

On the subject of travel

The challenge of planning a trip to Africa is in deciding what to leave out - not what to include. 

We are18 months away from fulfilling our desires to return to Africa and our initial hope was that we could include four nights in one of those very special camps in the Okavango Delta of Botswana. The good folks at Travel Beyond (http://travelbeyond.com) gave us an estimate which turned out to be $6,400 per person for four nights and that includes flights in and out (of Maun or Kasane), all meals, game drives etc.  That is way out of our budget. We have done 15- 17 day tours of other areas of southern Africa for that amount of money.  The worst thing is that, because we would have a child or children with us, under the age of 12, we would have to pay an extra $500 per day to reserve our own 4WD vehicle for game drives.

So - on to Plan B.  This morning we talked, via Skype) with Chris Worden of African Bush Camps.  (http://www.bushcamps.com/)  Chris lives and works from the town of Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe.  ABC's core business is safari marketing, consulting and sales. Quite simply they focus on planning and arranging tailor-made safaris in Africa for independent travellers and small groups. 

Quite frankly, when I saw that ABC has permanent staff in Victoria Falls, Kariba and other locations in nearby Zambia, as well as offices in the UK, I was anxious to talk with them.  My Sunday email was answered promptly by Monday morning. When I described our objectives to Chris, he immediately gave us some great ideas on how to plan a tour of the Victoria Falls area, staying at kid-friendly bush camps.  I have been to Victoria Falls many, many, times, so to talk to someone who could update me on current conditions and facilities was a relief.

Taking refreshments at Makalolo Plains Camp

 

 We asked about Elephant Camp and Imbabala Safari Camp on the Zambezi River. Chris confirmed that these camps had upgraded since we last visited and were still reasonably priced, high quality, camps.  He then suggested we consider Makalolo Plains or Little Makalolo Camps in the Hwange Game Reserve.  So we threw together a tentative passenger list and slightly more positive dates and emailed him.  By tomorrow we will have a budget cost for the first nine days of our Zimbabwe Tour. 

 

On the subject of travel - generally

A few final recollections from my pre-Africa youth concerns the whole subject of travel.  Few southerners in the first half of the 20^th century and before (1865 to 1950s) ventured far from home.  Heaven forbid it would be necessary to go north of the Mason-Dixon Line.  The movement of new industry into the southern states slowly began to change the “bunker” mentality that had lingered since the defeat and surrender of General Robert E. Lee at Appomattox. 

When my dad was 22 years old and had been a tire builder for four years he was sent to Sweden as part of a team of trainers to help start up a new Goodyear tire plant near Stockholm. So in 1938 he crossed the Atlantic and worked for a year in an instructor’s role.  He made friends with yankees and foreigners and saw quite a bit of Europe, getting around by train.  Before going back to the USA, he was in Berlin in 1939 when Americans in Europe were advised to leave in expectation of the conflict that was just months away. 

My dad (left) with friends in Copenhagen, 1939

  

He boarded the first available train and headed home, getting a berth on a steamer out of France.  So he had a taste of the outside world, unlike most of his contemporaries.  In the years after I was born in 1944 my dad would have two weeks of vacation every year.  My parents could only afford to go on vacation every other year, and we would load the car to drive to south Alabama or on to St. Petersburg, Florida. It was a two-day journey each way. Of course the Interstate Highway system had not been thought of at the time, though it was possible that President Eisenhower had plans for such a system all along.

I vividly remember the narrow paved roads from Gadsden into south Alabama along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. Early on when I was about two or three, we stayed in a very “modest” (could also be described as run-down) cabin along a waterway in Gulf Shores. Of course there was an outhouse in the back. Meals were cooked on a two-burner, Coleman, portable gas stove. My dad had rented a small boat and outboard motor and would take his boys out fishing.  At a very early age I became familiar with baiting hooks and taking fish off the line.  Looking over the sand dunes we could see the tops of ships passing by along the Inland Waterway.

The roads through the rolling wooded hills were dotted with old farmhouses, and large barns with advertising on the roofs. Pecan orchards were common along the way and, of course the ubiquitous Burma Shave signs offered some humor.  We drove with the windows wide open because there was no air-conditioning. Tourist stops along the way would advertise two-headed snakes and five-legged alligators. Dad would let us tell him where to turn at road junctions, so we would learn to read the highway maps and watch for highway signs. If there was any uncertainty he would wait until we studied the map and then follow our recommendation on which way to go. My interest in and love of maps would continue throughout my life. 

For a couple of those vacations we stayed at the same motel on the shore of the Gulf in St. Petersburg. On our final trip, in 1954, we stayed in a two story home for several days.  It was a modern home with wood-paneling throughout and we could see the ocean from our upstairs bedroom.  The main feature was the hidden storage spaces behind the wall panels upstairs. Our young imaginations ran wild as we found new hiding places and explored their secrets.  Silver Springs, Florida, was a memorable stop over one year. We visited an alligator farm and saw Manatees in the clear springs for the first time.  It was the first time I was exposed to the animal kingdom in earnest, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Nine months after this vacation, in March 1955, we welcomed the arrival of my young brother David who was to accompany us on our journey to the Dark Continent at the tender age of one year.

Moving to Africa was easy

As a 12 year old I don’t remember having any concerns or insecurities about the move to South Africa at all.  My twin brother John and I were always close in those days and there was never a loss of something to do or someone to do things with.  Our days were filled with boyhood activities that were almost certainly typical of southern boys at the time.  We were boy scouts and enjoyed meetings and working for our merit badges.  Every week we would clean our bedroom and make our own beds and would earn a nickel (5 cents) each if we passed our dad’s inspection. 

For most of our young years we had lived in small rented houses in East Gadsden, Alabama.  These were the small whitewashed houses with front porches that one sees in old period films of the sharecropper south, only we weren’t sharecroppers or indentured laborers.  We were poor but didn’t realize it at the time as we never wanted for any essentials.  Our father had begun work right out of high school as a tire builder at the Goodyear tire plant in 1934.  Every two or three years we would move into a slightly better house in a slightly better location, eventually one which included a garage.  My parents were good parents.   They worked hard for everything and never spent a penny that could be set aside for something useful.  It was an important step forward when my father could afford to rent a brick house on a slightly larger lot, with a storage shed in the back corner of the yard.  Finally, when my twin and I were 7 or 8 years old, my family had more or less “arrived” and John and I had only about a 200 yard walk to elementary school.

Among the things I remember were the new motorized washing machine my mother used.  When the clothes have been washed in the old vertical, white, enameled washing machine, she would attach mechanical rollers to the top of the machine and feed them through the rollers to squeeze the soapy water out before putting them back in for a rinse cycle then going through the roller-squeeze operation again.  The thoroughly squeezed clothes were piled into a large galvanized tub and carried outside to the clothes line.  We would stand by and hand Mother the wooden clothes pegs as she hung the laundry in neat rows along the line.

Our first television came along when I was about seven.  It was a small appliance with a fuzzy black and white picture.  It seemed like my dad was always adjusting the “rabbit ears” antenna to maximize the picture quality.  We were only allowed to watch one program at night, after our homework was done.  The Thursday night 30 minute episode of Superman was a great incentive to get the homework done.  I always wondered how he always leaped out of the same window in every episode.  Special effects weren’t very good sixty years ago.  On Saturday morning we could watch an hour of TV.  Flash Gordon, with Buster Crabbe in the leading role, was a must see and The Lone Ranger was another essential.  “As the World Turns” and “The Guiding Light” were to become my mother’s two favorite daytime “soaps.”

A significant improvement in our quality of life came early one summer when my dad came home with a large electric fan from Sears, Roebuck and Company.  He set it into the lower half of one of our living room windows and turned it on to expel the warm air from the house, making sure to open all of the bedroom and kitchen windows just a few inches to get an effective through-draft.  The air, now moving through the house, gave some noticeable relief from the hot, humid, summer air and also made it more difficult for the mosquitoes to prey on us as effectively as before.  The wooden screen doors in the front and back of the house were important summer insect barriers.  I can still hear them slam shut behind when we ran in and out, and mother calling out, “Boys …don’t slam the door!”  Speaking of mosquitoes, I often wondered later in life, why mosquito nets were so common throughout Africa but were never used in the American south.

At about 9 or 10 years of age our father had been promoted at Goodyear and was superintendent of the Goodyear Tube plant, at that time the largest automobile tube producer in the world.  We moved out of the old part of town into a very nice home several miles south, along Rainbow Drive, past the putt-putt course, the drive-in movie and the golf course and into a wooded residential area.  We had a double garage, two bathrooms and a large lot, covered in trees.  John and I particularly enjoyed the bathroom and shower with a glass door that was just outside our bedroom door.  We shared a room and slept on bunk beds in our new home.  Our house even had a basement – a rarity in that part of the south.  It was in the basement that our electric train set would receive the attention it deserved.  It was an American Flyer set up on a 4 x 8 plywood table supported by two wooden trestles.

This was the first home that my parents had actually owned.   I remember my mother’s excitement when they were able to afford a car for her and the used Nash Metropolitan (a convertible no less) proudly took up space in our new garage.  Living some distance from town now and even further from our elementary school in East Gadsden required a second family car for getting to school and shopping.

Fairly often we would have to get ready for school early and our dad would drop us off at our grandparents’ house on South 3^rd Street that was on the way into town.  It was a small, two bedroom, wood house just a few blocks south of Mainstreet.  It stood on concrete blocks and you could kneel down and see all the way under the house from front to back.  When I was 18 years old I came back for a visit and found that a new Piggly Wiggly grocery store had been built right across the street from their house and the row of old houses that were there when I was a little boy had been torn down.  But I digress.

My paternal grandparents, Philo and Emma McDaniel in 1956

On those mornings we would be fed scrambled eggs and toast with “Mom’s” special homemade fig preserves, before “Pop” would back his car out of the garage to drive us the two miles, east on Broad Street and across the Coosa River Bridge, to school.  Pop was a really bad driver.  He had only learned to drive late in life and he drove painfully slowly.  John and I would stand on the floor in the back and prop ourselves over the front seat, looking back to watch the cars accumulating behind us.  It was always a relief to get to school when he would turn right, off of the main thoroughfare, and the long line of traffic could speed up and pass us.

Of course, in those days we weren’t accustomed to going to school with “negros” (the accepted term of the era).  The Civil Rights Act of 1964, outlawing segregation, was still a long way in the future.  We were moving away in troubled times, although I had little awareness growing up of the racial tensions around me.  When I was nine years old, living on River Street in East Gadsden I vividly recall a lesson taught me by my father.  We had gone to a tree lot to buy a Christmas tree and one of the salesmen, an older black man, asked me a question.  I politely replied, as I had been taught, “Yes sir.”  As soon as we got in the car to go home my mother turned to me and said, “Don’t you ever say “sir” to a black man.”  I suspect she actually said “nigger” (oops – should I use “the N-word here?) but I don’t really remember that detail for sure.  My dad turned to her and in an angry voice said, “You always say “yes sir” or “no sir” to an older person whom you respect.  It doesn’t matter if he is black or white.”  It’s those little things that mean so much when you are growing up.

One advantage of being raised in the south was that we were taught to be polite and always say “yes sir” or “no sir” and “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am” both to our parents and to all adults.  This would serve us in good stead when we would eventually be introduced to the South African school system.

On our way to Africa in 1956. L-R: John, Mother Marguerite, me and 1 year old David

One of my first life's adventures

The SS African Enterprise sailed from New York in July 1956

Today I talked with Pam Buttner at Travel Beyond, the travel group we will be asking to help us plan our 2012 trip and make our reservations for us.  It was a small beginning.  I have investigated the South African Schools vacation calendar and decided that any time after July 13, 2012 would work well for our trip.  Students would be back in school and vacation destinations would be in less demand for "the locals."

My first greatest adventure – (a blog posted to www.YourHub.com on11 November, 2007)

The defining adventure of my life was almost certainly boarding a ship in New York harbor at the age of 12 years and crossing the Atlantic Ocean to live in South Africa. Without this event much of the following five decades of my life might have been fairly boring.

That 17 day crossing from New York to Cape Town in July 1956, aboard the Farrell Lines - Steamship (SS) African Enterprise, was a pretty big deal for a skinny kid from Gadsden, Alabama. We sometimes read advice columns or hear radio talk show hosts answer questions from concerned mothers. The distraught parent laments that her husband is being transferred out of state and asks what she can do to ease the devastating effect this will have on her young children.   I am amused at these situations. Parents need to know that most kids are, if nothing else, adaptable. Any distress they experience is most often created by their panicked mothers who are worrying needlessly.

When we were 11 years old my twin brother, John, and I were asked by our parents, "How would you like to go live in South Africa for a few years?" It was a rhetorical question of course. The plans had already been made by the grown-ups.

We couldn't wait to tell our 6th Grade Class at C.A. Donehoo Elementary School. I was so excited that I got confused about our destination, telling my teacher we were going to South America.  Soon afterwards, realizing my mistake, I went to her and whispered sheepishly that it was South Africa, not South America that we were moving to. The world can be a confusing place for a 6th Grader.

 

My father risked being ostracized by his extended southern family to which an excursion above the Mason-Dixon Line was something almost inconceivable. "Those damn Yankees" was a phrase I recall hearing often from my early childhood days. But my dad was aware of the opportunity he was being given, a directorship in Goodyear Tire Company at their plant at the southern tip of Africa. He had been given his choice of three assignments; England, Sweden, or South Africa.

He declined England because of the weather, and decided against Sweden because of the weather and the language, and he had spent time there as a trainer before the outbreak of World War II. South Africa would give his twin sons a chance at schooling in English and he would have a chance to do some hunting.

The contract was to be for a 3 year term and we would only be able to come home for vacation after that time. This 3 year term was to be greatly extended.

After the decision was made and became known to family and friends, one of his uncles called and chastised my dad, saying "How could you think of taking your sweet little wife and three little kids to Africa, with all those natives?" His concerns included our one year old baby brother David. 

So after graduating from 6th Grade, I recall busy weeks loading furniture and my mother shopping for clothes and things she was sure we would be deprived of for the next three years. The house was being sold.  Mostly the grown ups handled that stuff while my twin brother and I played, went to Boy Scouts and enjoyed the usual bare footed summer time boy stuff. On an appointed day in mid-June, 1956, we loaded up the Nash Rambler and headed north through Tennessee, skirting the Great Smokey Mountains, and on to Akron, Ohio.

I can't recall how we all fitted in the car. It helped that we didn't have to have a car-seat for baby David. But among the pile of bodies was my 4ft 10inch, 63 year old maternal grandmother, Clara McGraw. 

Talk about an adventurous spirit? Clara McGraw had never owned a car or flown in a plane, preferring to go by train. She was traveling with us to New York and planned to fly back to her home in Birmingham when we boarded the ship for Africa. We spent a week in Akron, where Goodyear Headquarters was located, while Clara visited her son, my uncle Joe and his family, in nearby Youngstown, Ohio. 

Finally the Clampetts were on their way across Pennsylvania to the big city of New York. To a little boy, New York skyscrapers were pretty impressive. We spent about five days at the Taft Hotel. I recall the dark, thickly carpeted hallways and creaky elevators.

The view from our hotel room window was incredible, but I was thoroughly impressed by the door to our room. It opened from inside and out! We could put laundry or shoes to be shined in the door from the inside and during the night housekeeping staff would open it from the outside and return it before we woke up the next morning.  I wanted so badly to have a pair of shoes that needed polishing just so I could use that remarkable feature.

 

We went with my dad to the harbor where he left our car to be loaded aboard the African Enterprise. The ship looked very impressive from dockside and my brother and I watched the huge cranes swinging cargo aboard. We made several excursions on the underground rail, one day even going to Dodgers Stadium to see the Brooklyn Dodgers play the New York Yankees. I guess this was a right of passage for little boys but I don't remember who won or the names of any of the players.

I was getting more and more anxious to get aboard and set sail, but mostly to play in the ship's swimming pool. I figured I would be able to swim all day, every day for the next two weeks.

Detailed memories of those days are elusive. I do recall my mother's shock at store and restaurant prices in New York. Why, a bottle of Coca-cola in the Drug Store was over a dollar, and we couldn't afford a milkshake! The price of a hamburger was outrageous.

Mother couldn't understand how people in New York could afford to eat. Of course Yankees were rude and hard to understand. This was culture shock for my mother but for me it was the first exposure to different people and places. If my mother had concerns about New Yorkers, how would she adjust to the varied peoples, cultures and languages of South Africa? She never really did, but that's another story. 

Grandmother McGraw was due to fly home from Idlewild Airport (later to become John F. Kennedy Memorial) to Birmingham, Alabama. When my dad suggested she go by taxi from the hotel she said no, she would prefer to use the helicopter service!

For someone who had never flown, she decided to opt for a whole new experience. For the remaining 24 years of her life she talked about that helicopter ride. Some years later, at the age of 72 she visited South Africa and while touring an Ostrich farm she rode an ostrich, when few others in the crowd would volunteer. 

The African Enterprise was one of "Two Distinguished Sister Ships" operated by Farrell Lines, offering regular first-class passenger service between New York and South Africa "over the incomparable Fair Weather Route." The Enterprise certainly was no Titanic in size but it was, by 1956 standards, a reasonably large vessel.

Primarily built to haul cargo, it offered seven luxury suites on "A" Deck and 22 suites on "B" Deck: comfortable cabins for about 50 passengers. It was 492 feet long and 65 feet wide. I can't help but compare it with a Holland America Cruise ship we took last year that accommodated 1,848 passengers, 800 crew members, had eleven passenger decks, and was 951 feet long.

We boarded ship with lots of luggage, much of which was disposable diapers (the brand name Playtex rings a bell) for my 15 month old baby brother. My parents optimistically assumed our crates of furniture and our car were safely stowed in one of the ships holes.

These would be unloaded when we arrived in Port Elizabeth, South Africa 19 days later. Containers were not commonly used then and it was interesting to watch the stevedores load odd-sized crates and canvas draped pallets through small holes into the huge below-deck freight areas.

We waved goodbye to the distant Statue of Liberty as tugboats nudged us away into the river and on toward the open Atlantic. It was a hot, humid, late June day and I was disappointed that the swimming pool had not yet been filled. My brother and I explored the ship and played our first game of shuffleboard. I suppose it would be true to say that our adventure had finally begun - in earnest.  

A brochure extolled the ocean vacation experience we were about to have. "In less than two days from New York" it proclaimed, "you will learn first-hand how the "Fair Weather Route" came by its name. Day after day you are greeted with tropical blue skies, a calm sea, warm sunshine.

Day after day for relaxing in a deck chair . . taking an occasional turn at shuffleboard or deck tennis . . enjoying a dip in the outdoor pool," etc., etc. The entertainment highlight of the trip was to be, "your initiation into the "Trusty Order of Shellbacks" as you cross the Equator. It's an experience as unique and unforgettable as your entire vacation will prove to be." On our eight day at sea we would cross the Equator and go through an initiation ceremony.

The sailing wasn't rough, but it wasn't calm either. The swimming pool was pumped full of sea water but we found the slightest ocean swell started the water in the pool sloshing back and forth, breaking against the steep tiled sides and making it difficult for anyone to swim, much more so for a 12 year old with limited swimming skills.

Ships in those days didn't have automatic stabilizers. So much for spending my hoped for days playing in the pool. On one or two days in that first week we experience fairly strong winds and I enjoyed standing against the rail on the foredeck watching the bow of the ship dip into the ocean swells and create great sheets of salt spray across the deck. At times we would see dozens of flying fish shoot out of the water and disappear again. Timed passed too fast.

We crossed the equator on about the 7th July, 1956. A large canopy was stretched across one of the top decks and a throne set up to accommodate King Neptune. In deference to our youth my twin and I were initiated together. Side-by-side we were led, blindfolded, to the foot of the throne and told to get down on our knees. I was terrified.

At one point we had to put a finger into "Nelson's eye" and I felt something squishy and juicy. It turned out to be an overripe tomato. Some sort of gooey food, including soft spaghetti noodles was poured over our heads. After it was over I was relieved that we hadn't been water boarded or anything like that. My vivid boyhood imagination often ran away with me. Mostly it was a funny experience because my dad was dressed as a ridiculous looking pirate and was on the King Neptune team initiating the passengers who were crossing the equator for the first time. We never figured out why he escaped the ritual himself.

Five or six days later we approached the remote island of St. Helena. This volcanic island is one of the most isolated places in the world: the nearest landmass being the west coast of Africa 1,200 miles away. In the 51 years since visiting this tiny British territory I don't recall ever having met anyone else who has been there and I suspect 99.9% of Americans have never heard of it. It is best known as the place to which the self-proclaimed Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte was exiled after his defeat at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.

 

As there is no harbor at St. Helena our ship anchored some distance from the only town, Jamestown, and those passengers who chose to tour the island were taken ashore in lighters. This was an incredible fun experience for me and I have very vivid memories of the hours spent in this special, historic place. My dad hired a taxi and guide and we drove along the narrow roads into the interior of the island, visiting Longwood House where Napoleon lived and subsequently died (in 1821). We visited his gravesite although he wasn't actually there. Forty years after his death his body was disinterred and transported back to France. We saw a large tortoise in the grounds of Longwood House which, we were told, had been living 135 years earlier when Napoleon had resided there.

Overlooking Jamestown, in the valley 500 feet below us, we stood at the top of Jacobs Ladder, a shortcut up (or down) the mountainside comprised of 699 steps and 2 inch diameter piping handrails on each side of its concrete steps. Several young boys, probably 14 or 15 years old, offered to show us a fast way down for a little financial incentive.

My dad paid each one a quarter or two. They straddled the steps with their heels on one side and their backs over the other and began to slide down the mountain, picking up speed as they descended. The steps were 900 feet from the top to the main street of Jamestown below. I guess those boys made it to the bottom in less than two minutes. My brother and I took the 699 steps down. I remember my legs being sore for several days afterward. 

For another five days we sailed eastward toward the African continent. Late in the afternoon on day five we felt the engines slow as the sky became overcast. Just before dark I saw the outline of the sunlit Table Mountain through the clouds and later the lights of the city were twinkling ahead of us as we entered Table Bay. It didn't occur to my uneducated boyhood brain at the time but this historic natural harbor had sheltered ships for almost 500 years. 

The following day the family went ashore and took a taxi around the City of Cape Town or Kaapstad as it had been called by the Dutch. It was cloudy and raining so our tour was brief and we didn't attempt to see the main tourist attractions. Over the next 25 years I would return to this most beautiful Cape Peninsula many times. Thirteen years later my bride and I would fly into Cape Town and spend a short honeymoon there before beginning a new job in the area.

My 1956 adventure neared its conclusion as the African Enterprise left Table Bay and rounded the "Cape of Good Hope" heading east into the Indian Ocean. Two days later we ended our voyage in Algoa Bay (now Nelson Mandela Bay) and the city of Port Elizabeth.

Within two weeks we would move to a comfortable house in Uitenhage, 20 miles inland. Adventure number 2 would begin when my twin brother and I put on our school uniforms for the first time and walked a mile to the all boys High School that would educate us for the next 5-1/2 years.

We were two skinny American kids with strong southern accents. The other 500 boys in the school had foreign accents.

Once upon a time . .

My Home in the African "bush" - 1967

Joan, Alan and Graham at Victoria Falls - August,1975

I immigrated to Africa as a 12 year old boy. It wasn't a decision I made consciously but the journey from Gadsden, Alabama to Uitenhage, South Africa would have a profound influence on my life ever after.  I was destined to live in South Africa (12 years) and then Rhodesia for another 13 years before returning to the US and settling in Littleton, Colorado with my wife, Joan, and three children Alan, Graham and Carol in 1980.  

The children grew and in 1984 Joan, who was born in Rhodesia, passed away when Alan was 13, Graham was 12 and Carol was 10.  The following year, I took the three kids to Zimbabwe for four weeks.  We stayed with their grandfather Hank Blowers, visited many old friends and had a memorable week-long camping trip on the shores of Lake Kariba. The trip had a major influence on the 14, 13 and 11 year olds.  Apart from the experience of the wilderness and wildlife, the kids were  able to cement memories of their earlier years (they were all born in Rhodesia -  now Zimbabwe) and see people and cultures that few Americans get to see firsthand.


Several years later, Jan and I were married and we brought together her two children, Kevin and Kristin and my three.  This Brady Bunch amalgam allowed us to experience five High School graduations over a five year period.  


Later we organized our first tour group and went on a 17-day tour of Zimbabwe.  That was the beginning of quite a few trips to the southern end of Africa.  In 2000 we attended a course in Denver and acquired credentials as Certified International Tour Managers (CITM) with the intention of leading small tour groups.
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Now it is January 2011 and Jan and I have begun to fulfill a long-held desire to go back to southern Africa with some of our children and grandchildren. This is a blog about that trip, begun a year and a half early.  We wanted to wait until our grandchildren were old enough to appreciate the wonders of the dark continent and Avery will be 11 when we go back in July 2012. 

On New Years day 2011, Kevin, Michelle and nine year Avery came over for lunch and we began to discuss Africa 2012.  I sent an email to our daughter Carol, to Alan and Lauren and their three daughters Keely (9), Sydney (8) and Abby (4), and to Graham and Candace and their two boys, Cameron (10) and Chase (6).  The word was out.  The time is now.  Start taking notes and making plans.  Above all, begin saving money.  

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This blog is a diary of sorts; but not just a diary.  I will add stories from long ago and write about some of my experiences living and traveling in Africa.  Jan and I have kept travel journals and self-published books of each of our six trips to southern Africa (some of which we will throw in here to add some flavor) and I had the good fortune to be able to visit several remote, but remarkable, National Parks in Tanzania in 2005 and published a book of photos and notes from that journey as well -  which I will share.

The final part of this lengthy introduction is about books.  We operate a small home-based business which we call BookCrafters.  Through our experience (since 2007) of designing and publishing books using BookSmart software from the online publisher Blurb.com, we began to help others create and publish their own customize books.  It has been a rewarding endeavor and we have been kept very busy, helping interesting customers and making friends across this wonderful country.  This blog and the travel journal that it will eventually give rise to will be published as a book.  

I wrote the following blog about Africa in 2007.  Seems like it might make a decent introduction.

A blog about Africa  17 February, 2007

One can only go so long without thinking about Africa. I think, therefore I blog. Ask many people what their "once in a lifetime, dream vacation" would be, and the reply is often, "a trip to Africa." What they don't really foresee, of course, is that once you visit, the urge to return is planted firmly in your mind. Before you leave that vast continent, you almost invariably begin to plan the next trip. 






When it is discovered that I lived in Africa for 25 years, from the age of 12 until my 37th year, I find I have to answer certain questions over and over. A few examples:
1. "Some friends from our church run a mission near Lake Victoria. Do you happen to know them?" When I ask in what country the mission is located, there is often confusion. Africa is a very big place you see, with over 50 countries, five time zones, seven or more climatic regions, 900 million people and, evidently, as many as 14 million proverbs. Then I have to explain that Nairobi is a mere 1,800 miles from where I use to live in Harare and no, the despotic regime of Idi Amin did not threaten me or my wife and children.
2. "Is the political situation in Africa stable now?" or "has the rioting in South Africa subsided?" It's difficult to answer these questions.
3. Someone once asked me, "Where IS South Africa?" I calmly explained that it is at the southern tip of Africa. This seemed to make a lot of sense to my inquisitor. Perhaps he was just testing me.
4. "What is your biggest fear when you go to Africa?" The answer to that one is easy, "That we'll eat too much."
5. "If you could go to one place in Africa, where would it be?"

Aside from familiarizing ourselves with basic geography, it is a good idea to read about Africa. Watching Animal Planet or National Geographic documentaries about wildlife, is entertaining and interesting, but it seldom reveals much about the people, cultures and political circumstances of the continent. One of the most insightful articles I have ever read (and I have read a lot) about Africa was published in January 2006, in Granta 92: "The View from Africa." It was authored by Binyavanya Wainaina, who lives in Nairobi, Kenya. Mr. Wainaina is the founding editor of a literary magazine called Kwani? and was recently nominated by the World Economic Forum as a "Young Global Leader." 




His brilliant essay is titled "How to Write About Africa," - 'some tips: sunsets and starvation are good.'  It is included in a compendium of new African literature, along with the writings of 14 other writers, from disparate backgrounds. Wainaina's observations are cruel, sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek, funny and truthful. A few excerpts will give you an idea:
"Never have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your book, or in it, unless that African has won the Nobel Peace Prize. An AK-47, prominent ribs, naked breasts: use these. If you must include an African, make sure you get one in Masai or Zulu or Dogon dress."
"In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and dusty with rolling grasslands and huge herds of animals and tall, thin people, who are starving. Or it is hot and steamy with very short people who eat primates. Don't get bogged down with precise descriptions. Africa is big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy starving and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book. The continent is full of deserts, jungles, highlands, savannahs and many other things, but your reader doesn't care about all that, so keep your descriptions romantic and evocative and unparticular." 




"Taboo subjects: ordinary domestic scenes, love between Africans (unless a death is involved), references to African writers or intellectuals, mention of school-going children who are not suffering from yaws or Ebola fever or female genital mutilation." 



"Remember, any work you submit in which people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as the 'real Africa', and you want that on your dust jacket. Do not feel queasy about this; you are trying to help them to get aid from the West. The biggest taboo in writing about Africa is to describe or show dead or suffering white people." 

"Animals, on the other hand, must be treated as well rounded, complex characters. They speak (or grunt while tossing their manes proudly) and have names, ambitions and desires. They also have family values: see how lions teach their children? Elephants are caring, and are good feminists or dignified patriarchs. So are gorillas. Never say anything negative about an elephant or a gorilla. Elephants may attack people's property, destroy their crops, and even kill them. Always take the side of the elephant." 


"Readers will be put off if you don't mention the light in Africa. And sunsets, the African sunset is a must. It is always big and red." 

"Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care." 


This author has his finger firmly on the pulse of western literary attitudes. If you are interested in reading the entire text of Mr. Wainaina's article, do a Google search for Binyavanga Wainaina or go to www.granta.com/extracts/2615.

Jan and I have planned a tour to Namibia and Botswana for next year (2008) and when we do that, the questions begin again. The fears and doubts are revealed. We always go to see the wildlife and the scenery, old friends and, yes, the sunsets! It is hard to describe the thrill of sitting in an open vehicle within a few feet of an elephant, or a cape buffalo or a pride of lions. There's that question,"Isn't it dangerous to be so close to those big cats?"

My formative years in Africa and our travels over the last decade have always been immeasurably enriched by the friendly people we meet along the way. We have seen local people being treated rudely by tourists, Americans among them, who are ignorant, arrogant and paternalistic and who seem convinced that every African is in need of charity. - an attitude so skillfully described in "How to Write about Africa."

We, as visitors, have always been afforded the greatest courtesy and respect by the people of Africa. It is the warmth and sincerity of Africans that, more than anything, draw us back, whether in a hotel in Johannesburg, a National Park in Tanzania, a beach front café or a rural village.
The late Simon Combes, that brilliant painter who was raised in, educated and who lived in Kenya, and who was tragically killed by a Cape Buffalo two years ago, talked about his experiences as a Game Guide with 'first time visitors to Africa' who came under an "unsettling effect of African hypnosis." They become "hooked", he said, and are drawn to return.
And, oh, our favorite destination in Africa? - the Okavango Delta of Botswana.