Once in Rhodesia I now came in for a bit of a sudden shock. I had intended to collect some cash from the bank and I had wired Ceylon to have some of the £500 I had in my account there transferred to Salisbury and then I had intended to go down to Beira and get a boat back to Ceylon.  However there was a letter from my Colombo Bank Manager saying that he could not remit me anything as the Ceylon Government had brought in Exchange control Regulations. There was also a long letter from Father who also explained the position, the first of many Currency tightening regulations, following Independence. I had to make a decision as to whether I stayed in Africa and made it my home, or returned in due course to Ceylon, where with the increasing Left Wing Communist inspired agitation, one day in the not too distant future I could find myself forced to leave the Island. I decided then that Africa  was to be my home and my life with its vast open spaces and still part of the British Empire.  I had only £5 in my pocket, the motor bike was on its last legs so I made for a cousin who had a job on a farm  not too far away. When   I eventually met up with him, he was living in a rondavel as an Assistant earning £15 a month and considered himself lucky and well housed. Quite a difference  to a proper assistants bungalow in Ceylon and a pay of £50 per month! No sooner had I arrived that my malaria blew up again with a serious fever that caused me to have a swollen spleen. The local doctor banned me for three weeks from riding the bike, in case it ruptured, but eventually I improved and was able to head for Bulwayo. But agin after 60 miles the engine seized up and a passing truck gave me a lift and deposited me in town  late in the evening. I got a room in a hotel for the night  and next day pushed  the bike to a   mechanic and left it there whilst  I walked with my suitcase sleeping bag, groundsheet  etc  to a camping site out of town. I then returned and went round to  see  the Immigration Dept. and told them the whole story. The official was very acid, obviously he had dealt with umpteen hard luck stories and in a jaundiced manner said bluntly:
“Do you want to be deported now, or are you prepared to get a job immediately?”
“ I will get a job this very moment” I replied as I only had 7shillings and 6 pence in my pocket. I headed back to the camp site but on the way stopped in  a pub for a scotch. I was half way through it and feeling low when a man next to me said:
“Have a drink on me”
I refused saying that I could not accept it.
“When Paddy says have a drink on me, you will have one” The man retorted and instantly we became friends.” But drinking on an empty stomach made me drunk and to cut a long story short, Paddy bundled me into his car and took me home with him. I awoke next morning to see his pretty little 10 year old daughter  and a 6 year old son. Paddy said that his wife was sick, and would I keep an eye on her and the kids as he had to be off to work and would be back in the evening. In due course the doctor arrived and diagnosed severe pneumonia and took his wife off to hospital, leaving me with the kids. I acted as their nursemaid, feeding, bathing and putting them to bed with stories and tales that I knew. Once she was back a few days later I managed to get a job on the railways building  “Pise-de-Terre” prefabricated houses for £45 a month. Here again there were problems. I had a gang of 8 African labourers that had to clear the site  and lay 8 concrete plinths per day. The men kept on going slow and when  I started to shout and curse them, they sneered at me and took no notice. They were all well built large framed Mtabeles :
“You just small Bwana…..you are weak, and only conquered us with guns”

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