MY BROTHER HUGH May 1948.
I was pretty desperate as I was broke and the job was paying well, but their insubordination and sheer downright sneering cheek was something that I had never encountered before, even with the smart Unioniised Tamils and Sinhalese in Ceylon. That evening I sat in the bar and was at my wits end, when I started to chat to a huge quietly spoken Africaner, and told him of my dilemma.
“What you have to do is to show them who is the real boss. They have got to respect you and you must gain their respect without losing your temper or flying of the handle. When you have a problem, my advice quietly challenge the ringleader to a fight after hours.”
So next morning I started as he suggested and once the insubordination and sneering began I said that I would fight any man that they chose at the end of the working day. To start with they were shocked that I said this, and then they just burst out laughing at my ridiculous offer.
“ You too small Bwana…..we can kill you with one punch!”
Work ended at 5.00 pm and we met at the end of the compound. They picked an adversary called Moses who was quite one of the finest and biggest men I have ever seen with bulging biceps and rippling muscles. He advanced and I assumed a boxing position, slightly crouched. He suddenly shot his fist out and in an instant, I had ducked my boxing reflex hit him hard in his solar plexus. His guard dropped with the shock, and my second shot was over at his temple. He wavered for a moment and then collapsed, knocked clean out into a heap. The onlookers, and there must have been about two dozen by this time suddenly rushed at me en-masse. I was terrified, and for a moment feared that they would pull me limb from limb. But no. I need not have worried . They picked me up onto their shoulders and carried me round the compound, laughing and cheering.
“ Our Bwana is the smallest…..but also the strongest.”
What a relief , and I enjoyed my beer that night……Next morning no problem at work. Everyone laboured with a real gusto cheering me on all the time. My Bradfield College Boxing and the tough training in my teens had paid off and I was held in respect!
Once again a month later I saw the Immigration Officials who were now all smiling, and gave me a permanent Residence Visa..
Two months later with my motor bike repaired, I happened to drop a steel ingot on my foot. For a few seconds the pain was excruciating , but I managed to get on the bike to a shoe shop where I put my foot under an X-ray machine…..sure enough it was badly bust and the pain unbearable. I got back to my room and drunk a bottle of sherry and sent for the ambulance which took me to hospital, where they put me in plaster, but it was 7 months before I was right and out of pain and 3 years before I could walk without a limp.
At last I received my £500 from Ceylon ( about £12,500 today) so my immediate financial worries were over. I was still working to pay off my hospital and medical attention costs. I sold my old Norton that had done me so well and bought a nearly new 3,000 miles Douglas that had been crashed. I stripped it down, and repaired the structural weakness in the main frame and then left it with my friend Paddy in Bulawayo. I then bought an American Plymouth car for £200 and headed back North to Salisbury to look for work. On arriving there I immediately went into the Employment Office to see what was on offer. The jobs were written out on little cards, and so I collected all the cards to do with farming and laid them out on a desk. Whilst I was doing this a large hand reached over my shoulder picked up one of my cards and laid it next to one of his and said ”SNAP”!
