Journey to School

Aged nine; five days by myself, on a steam train, through Africa. .It was a usual journey to school.

Nowadays, parents in Britain are wary of letting their children travel to school other than by Chelsea Tractor, or a heavily-supervised school bus. Perhaps because one must remember that the most dangerous animal is Man. When I was a child in Africa,1949-54, my journey to school involved a five-day unsupervised journey, on a steam train, with a half-day stop-over in Bulawayo, and another in Johannesburg – any child's dream!

But there is more….

In 1930 my father was posted to what was then Northern Rhodesia, now Zambia, to work for the British Government in what was called "His Majesty's Overseas Civil Service".

In January 1949, I was nine and three-quarters – those quarters are important at that age – and my parents, then living in Kitwe, on the Copperbelt, had decided that I should go to a "decent" prep. school. The nearest was in South Africa. They chose Highbury, near Durban (

But that was 1200 miles as the crow flies – and crows don't carry passengers – particularly nine-year-old boys.

So by train it had to be… a five day journey.

The very first time, my mother, then 31, a black-haired, outgoing mother of four, took me. We departed Kitwe at 6 in the evening, and after a short stop, we left Ndola at 10 pm. Through Broken Hill, twelve hours later we passed Lusaka, then Kafue, and over the wide Kafue River to Mazabuka, Monze, Pemba, Choma, Kalomo, Zimba, and reached Livingstone at 7 pm, having spent the day playing chess, dominoes and cards, and reading – and watching the unfolding scenery.

We crossed over the Victoria Falls bridge into Southern Rhodesia, getting wet from the spray of that memorable sight, that David Livingstone, the first European to record a visit, had described as "Scenes so lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight".

We passed through the coal-mining town of Wankie and arrived in Bulawayo at 9:30 the next morning, where we had to change trains – with a three-hour wait between, during which we ambled around the shops.

We left Bulawayo at 12:30, and had a light lunch in our coupe, but for supper we went along to the dining car, where a fat jovial New Zealand-born shift-boss from Randfontein chatted up my mother.

We rattled through Plumtree, and crossed from Southern Rhodesia into Bechuanaland. Through the night we trundled through Francistown, and those unforgettable names – Ramathlabama, Palapye, Mahalapye and Molepolole – and on into South Africa, arriving at the famous little siege town of Mafeking at 9 am, where we stopped for an hour. We wandered around the rather scruffy and weed-strewn town, looked at the old siege guns, and Baden-Powell's cellar-office HQ.

Back onto the train, and card games – Racing Demon and Rummy (with the shift-boss) - and chess.

Into Johannesburg, where we were met by my godfather, who gave us dinner, before putting us on the next train. Slept through Newcastle, and arrived in PieterMaritzBurg at 2:30 in the afternoon. It was distinctly chilly up on the Highveld, but as the train dropped down into the lovely Natal hill country, it got hotter and hotter, so that we were almost melting when we got to PieterMaritzBurg.

My mother's diary continues:-

Nobody quite seemed to know how to get to Hillcrest, but I was as lucky as I always am & felt grateful to my Guardian Angel or whoever it is that always makes my path so smooth. One conductor said the best thing was to go right to Durban & catch the 6:10 back to Hillcrest, arriving at 8:30. The next put up his hands in horror & said, "You'll never catch the 6:10, we aren't due in until 5:50 & we're 40 minutes late now. Get out at Rossburgh & catch the same train there." As we were gliding out of Maritzburg, another conductor came along, "Oh, but you should have changed at Maritzburg & got the 6:30 from there. You'll never catch the connection at Rossburgh, we're 60 minutes behind time. You must get out at Cato Ridge & pick up the same train there."

So we quickly pushed our Chess set away & bundled out at a funny little station with a dear little rockery-pond which the proud signalman had made and adorned with beautifully modelled frogs & a hammerkop [bird] & a man fishing. There we played cards & had tea for 2 hours, & the ticket man said there was a bus to Hillcrest 1½ hours before the train, so at the right time we walked along to the bus stop: "Oh," they said, "the bus went 20 minutes ago; it always goes at 20 to 6 on Saturdays."

But the elephants saved us!

There were two elephants belonging to a travelling circus, & they were having a Sand Bath, & along came a car & stopped to look at the elephants. I boldly went up to them & asked if they were going to Hillcrest & they were, & took us there in beautiful style, speed & comfort. Such a nice young couple with baby, newly out from England to farm jerseys at Greytown.

Stayed at Hillcrest Hotel, & had gorgeous bath [the first for five days] & early bed.

The next day we went along the road to the school where I was to be a pupil for the next four years.

In South Africa at that time, the school year was divided into four terms. The long winter holiday was always called "The July", for it was that whole month; the long summer holidays were at Christmas. At Easter and at Michaelmass there were two ten-day holidays, but with a five-day train journey each way, we only undertook that memorable journey home twice a year.

Once I had done that first journey with my mother, thereafter I travelled unaccompanied – though there were always other school-children doing the same journey, for there were several similar schools in Natal; my brothers later went to Cordwalles in PieterMaritzburg.

The railway carriages had open lobbies at each end, and a clerestory roof line. Most of the compartments had four bunks in First Class, and six in Second Class. The top bunk folded away completely; the middle bunk , held by a chain at each end when up, dropped down to form the backrest for the bottom bunk. Some of the compartments were “coupés”, with only two or three bunks. Each compartment had a drop-down sikn on the pillar between the windows, and a drop-down table in front of it. The upholstery was bright green leather. There were matching bolster, and also “snakes” hanging across from one side to the other, which one used to swing up onto the top bunk.

The windows had just one sash, that slid vertically. Fixed to the bottom was a stout leather strap with holes in. When the window was open (or shut) to your satisfaction, you hooked one of the holes over a stud to hold the window fast in that position.

There was a “bed-boy”, who would come along in the evening and (if you had bought a bed ticket) would unwrap a bedding roll from a canvas wrapping and (having set up the bunks) he would then make the bed for you. Thick, quite harsh, but very warm dark blue blankets, clean sheets and two pillows, all already made up, just requiring unrolling and tucking in.

In the morning, the bed-boy would come and wrap up the bedding and store the packages in the open lobbies at the end of each carriage.

At each end of each carriage was a lavatory, with basin and flushing loo. The base of the loo was a hinged plate, and when you flushed, this plate would drop down and discharge the contents straight onto the track.

In the middle of the trainwas the dining car. Just before meal-time, a man would traverse the train bearing a xylophone, upon which he would play a tune, as a gong to call you to the meal. If the train was very full, there would be two sittings for each meal. The food was pretty good – but, as a small boy with not much money, it was rare for me to have a meal in the dining car. I would feed on tins of sardines – lift from the tin by the tail, and DOWN it goes! Marie biscuits would help them go down. And they served, too, as carriers for sweetened condensed milk from a tin with two small holes punched in the lid. We also used to buy fruit occasionally – sometimes tinned; and biltong was also a staple – most of us would have a well-chewed stick handy in a pocket.

The steam trains needed to stop quite often to pick up water (and perhaps a passenger or two). Usually there was no platform, and the train would simply stop, on the main line, within reach of the discharge hose from the water tower. The train would be surrounded by hawkers, selling curios, fruit and veg, etc., etc., etc..

Latterly, they introduced new rolling stock, completely enclosed, with a heavily-sprung door instead of the easy-to-open gate they had on the open lobbies. On one occasion, I had bought a bottle of squash, and hopped aboard as the train started off. On the old rolling-stock, I could have put my arm with the bottle over the rail to hang on, while opening the gate with my other hand. But holding my bottle of squash in one hand, and the grab rail with the other, I was completely stuck, and as the train gathered speed, I began to fear that I would have to let go of my precious bottle.Luckily, someone came past and saw my predicament, and opened the door for me.

One of the little tricks we occasionally did was to lay a coin on the track, wait until the train started and ran over it, then quickly snatch up the flattened and enlarged coin and leap aboard.

Occasionally, we would fly a “paying off pennant” of lavatory paper, unrolling it out through the window, to see how long a streamer we could achieve. Competitively, of course.

The train usually started its journey in Chingola, at the end of the line, and would pick up passengers as it travelled South. Trunling through Africa at about 40 mph, it would pass through some towns in the wee small hurs, and in those cases, it was usual for there to be a manned carriage parked in a siding. The passengers would board in the evening, then tuck themselves into bed. In the middle of the night, the train would reverse into the siding and pick up the carriage before going on its way. And the same procedure on the return journey, where the carriage would be slipped into the siding while the train continued, and you could then sleep in until morning.

Utter BLISS for a nine-year-old!

But there is more….

The father of my sister's best friend had attended the same school that I did, but some 35 years earlier, in the 1920s. He had done the same train journey, from the same age – but with an added excitement.

For his parents lived at Fort Jameson, and there was no railway line, nor even a road, then. He was met at the station by an African gun-bearer and four porters, who carried his school trunk and all the paraphernalia on their heads. He and the gun-bearer would walk through the bush, and would arrive at the pre-arranged spot where the porters would have pitched camp, and hand over an antelope or a couple of ducks that he had shot for their supper, and next day they would repeat the process. And THAT part of the journey also took five days of walking to get home from the railway station.

And at the end of the holidays, he would do the same trip on his way to school. From the age of nine.

For in Africa in those days, you only had to contend with snakes, lion, buffalo, crocodiles, hippos…. but not the most dangerous animal of all – Man. For in those days, "the natives were friendly".

Robin Clay