Saturday, 19 November 2011

Cattle Dipping Day In Rhodesia That Was



"You're a Christian only because the Bible promises that God will make you prosper". Robert said it without rancour, just as an observation.  He leaned toward the cheery little campfire and carefully pushed a mangwe log further into the yellow, dancing flames.  Out in the darkness, toward the kopjies that loomed black against a clear, cool sky that seemed to hiss with starlight a jackal howled its manic observance to the night and was answered by another, faintly, far away.

Barry did not reply immediately.  It had been a good day.  Hot, with an intensity only October in Rhodesia could muster.  Suicide month they called it.  When the long, dry winter months were over but there were as yet only a very few, secret signs of life beginning to stir in the Bush and most of the trees stood stark and leafless as the sun gathered heat by the day and leaped roaring into the waiting sky at dawn.

The workers had rounded up a good count of the free-grazing beef here in No. 1 camp.  Not a full count, of course, but fifteen short, of a total herd of sixty-seven head, wasn't bad.  It had taken nearly two hours to drive the herd slowly, carefully, through the dip-tank, in almost orderly procession.  Some beasts paused cautiously at the jump-off step before making the reluctant plunge into the dark, evil-smelling liquid.  Others leaped spectacularly as far out as they could, disappearing entirely underwater before surfacing, wild-eyed and snorting spray, horns agleam as they struck out for steps leading out into the draining race of the dip.

The dip-tank was built to a width intended to accommodate only one beast, so if an energetic leaper followed a reluctant slitherer, there could be a resulting confusion of struggling bodies which required the services of the man with the long forked pole on the watch halfway along to sort out, assisting the weaker of the two to avoid it being held underwater.  It was this man's task also to control the pace at which the animals entered the dip tank. A rush of too many at one time could result in some being pushed under, ingesting the poisonous liquid, even drowning.

In the early days, two cattlemen inside the entry track urged the animals forward by shouts, shrill blood-curdling whistling and, when necessary, the application of long, thin sticks to the backs of those they could reach, to encourage a forward surge that would push the dallying cause of congestion off the ledge into the liquid.  In later years, the cattlemen were encouraged to adopt, as far as possible, a more calm approach, taking fewer beasts at a time forward to the jumping-off point, keeping the use of their long switches to a minimum.

Arsenical cattle dips : methods of preparation and direction for use

Friday, 18 November 2011

Return To The Farm

In retrospect, it all seems so silly. It was what we were used to and all that, and I had other feelings about it even then that I should have acted on, and I'm sorry now that I didn't. In fact I did, up to a point. Further than most others, I'd say. But Simon was in a class of his own, and now it seems weird, and silly, but weird as well.

The whole thing seemed unreal. Sort of as though it wasn't happening. Couldn't really be happening. This is not the way things happened. Yet one just got carried along, by the circumstances. The farm was still there. three hundred and more miles away, but still ours. Still as it was. Not really at all as it was, of course.

But the house, the cattle, the windmill by the old house, up by the fowl runs, that creaked at night when the wind changed and the wheel swung slowly to face it. But somehow, everything was different. Circumstances so changed. Everything different. It was the difference that loomed like a poisonous fog in our lives.

We had moved. Can't recall the stay properly any more, but we had taken jobs in a city three hundred miles away. Sally was a teacher, a good one, a teacher who got things done, got results, even when it caused a ripple or three among some of the other members of staff. But we seem to have drifted from one place to another, from what might have seemed fortuitous circumstances to fortuitous circumstance. Being a praying family, we called it being led by the Lord. Nor have I changed my mind about that. Little driblets of memory and anecdote come through now and then in casual conversation, from the older four of our six children, the ones who were left behind when we came overseas, that through new light on unexpected angles that I was not aware of at the time - or didn't attach as much importance to as I should have. We just reacted to circumstances as they arose, made the decisions that seemed best.

Even with the rationality of hindsight, one wonders how it could have been done differently. So at this particular juncture I tendered my resignation, and we set ourselves to go back to the farm.

Mini Farming: Self-Sufficiency on 1/4 Acre

Thursday, 17 November 2011

Musings Of An Ex-Rhodesian - What About The King

One might think, perhaps, that eighteen years would be time enough to develop a sense of identity.  After all, we had never been anything other than British.  In front of the Post Office, Police Station, District Commissioners Office, Customs Office and Immigration Office, at the railway station and both the primary and secondary schools, it was the Union Jack that stirred languidly in the tropical sun.  On occasions of civil solemnity it was 'God save our Gracious King' that was sung, low, slow and meaningful.  Memories from more than half a century ago remain vivid.  Of the dignitaries of our little Rhodesian border town standing stiffly, a little awkwardly to attention as they sang, and as a boy I wondered at the power of a monarch so far distant.

Our money bore his likeness, his head was printed on our postage stamps.  He was our sovereign leader, he was the King.  The very word resonated with a power and pride that evidently all the adults felt and was ingrained in us from birth.

This little bit of Africa, with other bits adjoining and scattered over the continent, bringing civilization, peace and progress to the continent, was under the  control of that one man, the king, whose power extended over much of the world beyond Africa too.  And over it all, the king, the king, was potentate.  Primarily he was the great benefactor, bringing blessings in a varied multitude of ways, to tribes and nations all over the globe.  And because there were always those who made trouble, the king was always the one to keep the peace, providing the security we felt, being British and benefactors to the world and all who wished to live in peace to make the best they could out of life.  It never occurred to us that anyone would want it any other way.

This put a burden of tremendous responsibility on our King, but being King, he commended, and deserved, the loyalty, effort and energy of all decent, right-minded people to direct the running of the world in the best way possible.

So we took off our hats and stood to attention, proud and wondering and ready to follow our elders to do whatever was necessary, directed by our king.  It was a feeling we inherited from our earliest childhood.  It stirred the blood and we felt that it was good; good for our country, good for everybody. So our hearts were in it when we said, and sang and shouted: "Long Live the King!"

1932 CANADA "King George V" 3 Cents (Deep Red) Stamp (#197)

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Blessed Relief From Eczema

Blessed relief from Eczema came for our grandson Chris when he was ten.

Your heart could hardly bear watching him.  Scratch, scratch, scratch.  Tummy, legs, arms, face, back, neck - there was hardly a spot on his body which was not affected.  This had gone on since he was two.  Every type of medicine you could image was tried.  Emollient creams were a daily routine. DiproBase twice a day and again at school if the itching overwhelmed him.

Tepid baths with Oilatum poured into the water daily.  Occasionally he would go on steriods but his Mum worried about their thinning affect on his skin, so she used them sparingly. Night times were difficult as he couldn't sleep well.  To help him he had a air-conditioner running, and was allowed to listen to the radio, read and watch some TV shows until he fell asleep.  They say children grow in their sleep.  This would explain why he never grew fast.

He was small and thin, with arms like sticks. Yet despite the misery the eczema caused him, his Mum encouraged him to live as normal a life as possible.  He was bright and did well at school, but suffered the odd looks and remarks from other children as a result of his obvious skin condition.

We are a praying family and we always prayed for Chris, that the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ would heal him.  It was difficult though, because although we are taught to believe for healing, Chris' eczema remained with him.  What was a miracle though was the way he lived his life.  He was a surprisingly cheerful boy whose sense of humour was easily tickled.

Despite being small, the prognosis of his bone density was good.  There was plenty of room for growth.

Caring people would stop whoever was with Chris in the street and suggest a treatment that had worked for them.  Unfortunately, there was no blessed relief from eczema for Chris.

Then one day his Mum was pointed to an internet site.

The result was a visit to a Doctor who practices in both South Africa and the UK and who specialized in dermitology.  He had a lot of success with eczema.

Later he told us that his first look at Chris had resulted in him feeling that Chris' recovery from eczema would be slow.  In fact, Chris responded so well to the treatment that the effect on his skin was almost immediately noticeable.  He's been eczema free for more than a year now and manages his own treatment. At last he has got blessed relief from Eczema.

He has to apply the cream prescription once a day.  A lot of his eczema problem was down to the fact that the scratching broke his skin which in turn caused a low grade infection.  Treating this was the first step to his recovery.

The Doctor's name is Dr. Aron.  There is no affiliation to him other than he being my grandson's doctor.  If anyone else is suffering from this awful itchiness than it is very worthwhile contacting this Doctor.  Perhaps for them too, it would be an opportunity of getting blessed relief from eczema.

PS. I apologise for any adsense ads which are offensive.  I have done what I know to do to get rid of them but have not had success.  I will continue to try.

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

A pebble on a beach

We've just got back from a camping weekend at Weymouth in the UK.  It was a lovely spot, especially since the weather held all w/e.

Our 11 year old grandson had been given a ring by his aunt.  He was really pleased about this.  In order to make sure he didn't lose it, he put it with his socks and tennis ball with the rest of our beach luggage, never dreaming somebody was going to move it all.

At the end of the day, he went to look for it.  There was nothing there. No tennis ball, no ring, no socks. All the luggage had been packed into whatever carry bag was available and taken down to the water line.

He came back to the waters edge and asked me if I would help him look.  Look for a ring on a pebble beach where we had been sitting and walking around!  All I could think of was that God knew about the sand on the seashore so he must know where my grandson's ring was.  I told him this and said he needed to pray.  We looked around unsuccessfully for a while and then made our way back to where he had originally put it.

People were getting ready to leave.  I asked them to check when they got back home to see if the ring had been put into their luggage while my grandson continued to look around where we were standing.  And do you know - he found the ring.  A few feet forward of where it originally was, but there nevertheless. On a pebble on a beach.

Don't give up on prayer or faith or hope.  He is able.  He kept His promise about Jesus and He shows people that He cares.

Thursday, 14 July 2011

Who Inherits The Kingdom Of God?

We do His commandments.  This is the first step towards inheriting the Kingdom.

And His commandments are not difficult or harmful.  We confess Christ, because He is God's anointed Holy One.  Even today.  He is the Way to eternal life.

How many are the martyrs who have stood for the faith of Christ.  Their voices are still heard today, because they preached the same message the early apostles preached.  'Jesus Christ is Lord of All'  Every man will confess Him to the Glory of God the Father.

That is a goal and an aim which is worth going for.