Monday, 29 October 2007

Past, present and future !!! (part 2)


Still getting to the present ( I hope)

So here we are back from leave, new quarters, new driver, Coporal Bangora in hospital and Swalee now a man at fifteen and tasked with the job of selling is baby sister. On hearing this news from Bangora. I well recall dad telling mum about the whereabouts of Swalee. Mum was heartbroken that Swalee should be placed in that sort of predicament, mum had become close to Swalee, after in her mind he had saved me from being washed away in the monsoon rain. Oh yes proper little hero was our Swalee, so much so that he became the best dressed kid in the village albeit with some of my cast off’s. “ This will not do Harry you must go up country and find them and bring them home”. I agreed with mum, but has dad explained up country to the town/city of Bo wasn’t a quick run out at the weekend it was over two hundred plus miles over very rough country and tracks that passed as roads. And even if he could get up there and find them in the first place, he could never bring them back to Wilberforce/ Freetown as Swalee would lose face and be cast out from the family. Which would do nothing to help Swalee , but in doing so it would bring further hardship to the family as in effect Swalee was the main breadwinner. But that was the African way. They may have nothing in terms of money or possessions’, but they had a code of conduct that could not be broken.

I must admit that at the time I did not understand the why and the wherefore, but over the years little Primbelee came up in many a family conversation, and I slowly came to understand the mind set of the indigenous people of Sierra Leone. (The Mende Tribe).

Dad promised mum and me that he would do what he could to trace Swalee and hopefully Primbelee. He first contacted his opposite number in Kenema the third largest town/city in the country and the home of two of the largest diamond mines in the world also the place where the diamond riots started in 1959. It was fifty plus miles between Bo and Kanema, but Staff Sergeant David (Dick) Spooner of the Royal Ordinance corp’s said he would make enquiries, but told Dad it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but promised to do his best. In the meantime Bangora was discharged from hospital and given leave, and time to recover from his injuries. A month had passed by before anything was heard from anyone, then one morning Bangora turned up, I am told that he had been trying to get to see dad for about two weeks but could not get into camp whilst on sick leave. He knew that Swalee had not returned to the village, but that was not unusual as it could take a long time to sell a baby. Which in the main were bought by the Arab population, mainly of Syrian origins. But Bangora had doubted that Swalee had gone to Bo in the first place they both had reletives in a small village between Bo and Kanema and thought he might have made his way there (I cannot recall the name of the village) Dad once again contacted S/Sgt Dick Spooner, again he promised to look into it.

The very next day the land line phone (the wind up type) rang it was Dick, “Harry there’s a young lad here wants to know if when he comes back to Freetown, will I ask you has he still got a Job” Again I am told that dad used a couple of choice words then said put him on. “Swalee where is Primbelee. “She with very nice man sir, I tell you when I come home” and the phone went dead. Dad rang straight back Dick answered, Hi Dick put Swalee back on. “Wish I could Harry but he was gone as quick as he came, asked the sentry to see bossy man, then asked could I find sergeant Orton in Freetown I twigged who it was so I said I would try to put him on the phone” “No, No you ask sergeant Orton sir, if I still got job” I guess you said yes because he shot out of here with a smile from ear to ear.

Six days it took Swalee to walk back to Freetown and to the camp in Wilberforce, about a two hundred and thirty miles trek and the cast off’s that were reasonable, were now once again rags, but that could be put right very quickly, the main thing was that Swalee was back and safe. But what of Primbee, we were delighted to hear that Swalee loved his baby sister so much and although he had gone to Bo could not bring himself to sell her into what would be modern day slavery. Instead he had made his way to the village of relatives and persuaded them to take her in on the promise that he would send money every month to pay for her keep. That’s why it was important for Swalee to know he still had a job.

Not that long after Swalee returned, we again were on the move. This time to a three bedroomed bungalow at a camp called Juba. Now here was my idea of paradise, beach front location, veranda with a bit of scrub between me and the beach. Once on the beach there was the beach club to get your coca cola and for the adults bottles of beer, in fact that’s were I had my first bottle of beer it was Beck’s Beer and to this day whenever I see it on sale I always buy it. The Beach club sounds quite grand but it was little more then a large garden shed, with about three tables inside, and a large veranda with about a dozen further tables to sit out on, which very few ever did with the golden sand or a choice of a rock hard wooden chair which would you rather sit on?

To the right of the beach club as you faced the sea there was the inlet to the Mowea River, which had you travelled up it you would skirt past Wilberforce and deep into the interior of the sierra mountains and from which the country took its name (Sierra Leone or Lion Mountains). The soldiers of the west African rifles used to sing a song, all about the Mowea River and it went something like this:-

Home again, home again,when shall I see my home. Oh happy is the day, when a soldier get’s his pay. On the banks of the Mowea River.
There was much more to the song, as it seemed to go on for ever as they marched either to the cook house or the paymasters office. But the Mowea River to us the lads and lasses of the service men it was our own private swimming pool, about twenty five yards up river was a very deep section, the river was about thirty yards across at this point, with a pure white sandy bottom which you could see clearly. There was in addition to us swimming in there occasionally some really big fish which were not adverse to taking a chunk out of a leg or an arm, What type of fish ? No they were not sharks but barracuda, although there was the occasional shark in there, which was probably forced into the river by the local fisherman, who lived and fished from the other bank.

The method of fishing was crude but affective. They would anchor one end of the net to the shore, then the rest of the net would be trailed out to sea about fifty yards then looped round in an arch and brought back to shore then it was down to pure muscle power, you could always tell if it was a good catch by the amount of effort put into dragging the net at each end back to shore. There was always more then enough for the needs of the village and now and again there was a shark or two in the net. It was after the locals had been fishing that you took a closer look before jumping in. In normal circumstances it would be quite safe as there was a sand bar across the mouth of the river but of course it was tidal and now and again the odd shark did manager to cross the sand bar.

But for me Juba ment, School, home, lunch, beach and coca cola. And nine times out of ten by two o’clock in the afternoon Swalee was with me. To go into all the adventures Swalee and I shared in our two and a half years would take forever and would be worthy of a book but needs someone better then I to pen a novel. But here are a few quick snippets of Swalee the hero, companion and friend.

Next door to us lived the bandmaster R.S.M.Bill Wooton, his wife kept chickens and one night there was such a commotion coming from the chicken coupe. Mrs Wooton went to look at what the racket was about. Shining her torch into the coupe (first mistake) it suddenly went dull not unnaturally she looked at the front of the torch(second mistake) even with a reduce glow shinning in her eyes, she was hit with the venom of a spitting cobra, fortunately the chicken mesh round the coupe prevented the cobra from striking. But resulted in Mrs Wooton having both eyes removed washed and replaced. She was blinded for about six weeks. Were does Swalee come into this he was the only one with the guts to check the coupe the following morning, but the snake was long gone along with the eggs.

Or, the time Stewart, now two, was playing at the waters edge, mum was some way up the beach when out of the corner of her eye she saw a quick movement which turned out to be a rat closely pursued by a big black snake, just as Stewart was about to come back up the beach in a direct line between mum and the snake. Mum’s shouting at Stewart to stay were he was, but Stewart just kept coming. Swalee quick as a flash picked up a beach towel and worked round the back of the snake, throwing the towel over the snake which was a dodgy thing to do as a mamba can strike up to it own length. But once covered they become motionless for a short while. So Swalee had possibly saved Stewarts life. He most certainly had saved the rats life.

Or the time Myself, David and Christopher Wooton, Glynn Pardoe got this great idea to give a certain young lady the fright of her life. A real stuck up posh bitch in our eyes, and she was a Lady oh yes a real lady, Lady Isabella Dorman, the daughter of the Governor of Sierra Leone. Arriving at school in the governors ruddy big Daimler, and she never mixed with us the scum of the army classes, with her pre packed picnic basket of cucumber sandwiches, whilst we had Marmite, or banana butties which we shared but not Isabella oh no. So we hatched this plan to put a rock python in her desk. But were does one get a python from just like that? Swalee we need a python just a little one not much more the a baby can you get us one? Yes Kei, very fine chop (food) Kei, no we don’t want to eat it, Swalee could not understand why you would want a python if not to eat it. Still a couple of days later Swalee comes to the beach club with a python with beautiful markings which he was handling so it seemed that it wasn’t aggressive rock pythons rarely are, but tree pythons that can be a different story. David and Christopher took charge of the snake, I don’t mind snakes but I’m not their greatest fan.

The following Monday, the snake was placed in Isabella’s desk ready for her arrival, front row left hand end seat, once nicely seated and the desk lid lifted followed by the biggest scream I had ever heard then or since echoed round the class, the desk went one way Isabella the other. And we four lads were in hysterics. That is until we all finished up in Government House with our parents to see the Governor. We got a right roasting for that little prank. But it was only a baby python at about four feet in length. David and Christopher took charge of the snake till eventually they sent it to Twycross Zoo at a length of eight feet in just twelve months. And Isabella well she started to see things from our point of view, she became one of the gang and even shared her butties with us.

Swalee would always send his money off to his reletives each and every month with out fail and mum would send a bundle of clothes she had collected from the other mothers with girls of which my first real girlfriend Maureen Edworthy, was a good source with six sisters. Most of course would have been much to big for Primbelee but no doubts the other girls of the village would have benefitted.

When we eventually left Sierra Leone to return to the U.K. in June 1960 one of Dad’s last official duties had been to set up a direct radio communications between Freetown and London ready for the Independence talks in London April 1960. A lavish party and a mock ceremony of handing over of the Keys was performed at Wilberforce Camp in May 1960 in celebration of the Official Independence date granted for April 1961. When we left faithful Swalee was at the dock to wave us goodbye as we boarded the launch to take us across to the airport. I am not ashamed to say that there were floods of tears from Mum, myself and even Stewart, but most of all from Swalee.

We promised faithfully to keep in touch, which we did until 1973 and I had just moved to Harrogate when I get a phone call from dad,”what are you doing tomorrow son” “ not a lot why” you might want to stay in I’m going to come over, he was now a Recriuting R.S.M. in Hull. The following day there is a knock at the door, thinking it was Dad I shouted come in, but another knock rang out. At the door stood a Six foot four inch, well built and very well dressed Black Man and I mean black with big white eyes that seemed as though they could pop out of there sockets. Oh my God it’s Swalee, as we collapsed into an embrace, from behind Swalee stepped dad. With the understatement of all time he said I bet that surprised you didn’t it, Did it ever!!

It seems Swalee had contacted the War Office to trace the whereabouts of Sergeant Major, Harry Orton, Royal Signals. He was directed to the recruiting office in Hull and rest as they say is history. But what was Swalee doing in England. On his eighteenth birthday he had join the army and had gained the rank of acting 2nd Lieutenant so he out ranked dad which was a bit of a laugh, but was in England to start a officer training course at Sandhurst a week later.

You can imagine the questions that were thrown at Swalee. How the family, how is is Primbelee, why did you join the army? And many, many more. His father had died in 1962,his mother was well but now lived with his eldest sister, and both his of his older sisters were married and still lived inWilberforce , his brothers again both married one had also join the army and was a lance coporal the other had his own barbers shop in Freetown, and what about Primbelee? She now lives in Kanema and was married at sixteen to a miner. And as two pickins (babies) In fact Swalee was the uncle to no less sixteen nephews or nieces. Swalee himself married in 1965 at the age nineteen and had three Children two boy’s and a girl,named Keith which he could now pronounce Stewart and Sylvia mum’s name.

Eight weeks later we all travelled down to Sandhurst to watch Swalee’s passing out parade. Swalee returned to Freetown the day after finishing his course, we continued to write not that often but up to about 1975 when moved to Leeds on a permanent basis as commuting from Harrogate to Leeds every day started to wear a bit thin.
So where is Swalee now, I have no idea, I only hope and pray that during the civil war from 1998 to 2002 which as claimed the lives of over 200,000 people, Swalee and his family managed to avoid the conflicts. Swalee and his Family were from the indigenous people of Sierra Leone, The Mende tribe the civil war was fought mainly between the repatriated slaves that were returned to Sierra Leone, the Creole or Kito tribe. That goes back to the 1700’s and yet nearly three hundred years later and there was still conflict between tribes, let alone nations.

I have noticed that at present there are two professional footballers playing in England with the name of Bangora both from Sierra Leone, I suppose that if there were a connection to Swalee he would perhaps be a Granddad or a Great Uncle. I wonder, I just wonder.

So that brings us up to the present relatively speaking. So what are my observations on current day affairs and my hopes for the future.

Well if I have not bored you two much that’s for part three, I hope you will join me and express your thoughts for the future of this OUR world.

4 comments:

Shrink Wrapped Scream said...

Oh Keith, what a moving, touching and heart-warming post - I had no idea about how you spent your childhood, it's fascinating, and you relate it so well. I am sure you have the talent and material for a wonderful book here, my friend - google a few agents and send off a couple of "chapters", I really do think you should. (x)

Easybreathingfella said...

Hi Carol,

Yes I must admit I did have a colourful childhood, but there are a couple of painful stories that will never be told.
And as for transfering my exploits to a book, well I am flattered that you think I could do it,alas I'm not so sure I could commit the time or energy needed.
I'll stettle for long blogs, which is a therapy in it's own way

Luv
Keith (x)

Mary said...

I'm for the book too. You are doing so well. What a story! These are the kind of stories that make us understand other parts of the world.

Easybreathingfella said...

Hi Mary,

I truly hope so. But as can be seen everyday in newscasts it will take time, and a willingness of the richer countries to make a real change in the third world.

Regards
Keith.