Page 64 - SoMJ Vol 74 - No 1, 2021

54 The Society of Malaŵi Journal

not have a beer, what was it that everyone in the bar was drinking? “Ahhh, Sir,
they are drinking Greenis.” This Green label lager, universally known as just ‘a
Green’, remains the Europeans’ beer of choice in Malawi.
Unlike surrounding countries, Banda opted not to antagonise apartheid
South Africa and, uniquely amongst independent African nations, he maintained
close ties and diplomatic relations. Consequently, tourists from South Africa
flocked to Malawi, an outpost of perceived stability in an otherwise war-torn
region.
Johnson was appointed to the post of Director of the Southern African
Regional Tourist Council (SARTOC), which was part of South Africa’s State
President B. J. Vorster’s ‘constellation of states’ initiative with regional countries
not sympathetic to the black nationalist movements: namely Swaziland, Malawi,
and Mauritius. While the motive was contrived to pare back the apartheid regime’s
isolation after the Soweto riots, it was useful in so far as it predominantly drove
South African tourists to impecunious Malawi.
Leaving SARTOC in the late 1980s, Johnston started Central Africana
in 1989, which produced the inflight magazine for Air Malawi, as well as high
quality calendars and annual reports for government and corporates. His passion
for antiquarian books saw him open outlets in Blantyre and the capital Lilongwe,
both of which had a slightly antiquated ‘old world’ European bookshop flavour to
them. Alongside the large array of antiquarian and modern books, both antique
and reproduction maps and prints were sold as well as other eclectic offerings,
such as the best of Malawi’s honey and coffee.
Johnston knew his “Africa” books and maps in a depth matched by few,
most of which he acquired from the UK, often the result of expatriates having
taken them back home after service in Africa. He observed that old books
appeared to draw in the punters to his shops, and even if they did not leave having
purchased one of his premium priced books, they might, he mused, buy a postcard.
He further philosophically observed that after 25 years of holding some book
stocks, doubling their price might see them start to move again! As for first
editions, he would say: “For God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t read it.” To a
collector, condition is all.
Tall, suave and congenial, for some he fitted the image of the perfect
spook of literary fiction; one who enjoyed convivial company and a good,
preferably seafood, lunch with fine wine. At home with Maria, on a reafforested
tobacco farm in Nyambadwe in Blantyre’s north, he would remark to visitors on
approach that the bare, treeless area around his own square green patch contra-
intuitively belonged to the Forestry Commission! The house, predictably, was
packed full of books and antique maps. His tranquil courtyard hosted many
convivial lunches amongst the profusion and the vibrant colour of trailing
bougainvillea, some of which appeared to have claimed residence in part of the
house: much to the undisguised horror of one visiting minister.