Page 180 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

On the second day, Andrews and I went ashore to the town. Once seen,
however, there was no need to go again. We decided to go to the Club, and before
we could find a taxi, a Mercedes coupe arrived beside us and we were offered
a lift. The driver, a sprightly gentleman-farmer type, explained that there was
still a great deal of German influence in the country (Tanganyika having been
a German colony until, after the war, Britain felt that an extra bit of red on the
map of Africa would look rather splendid) but that the British Army was still a
presence, the region still being subject to some anti-white prejudice. There was
still a bit of Mau-Mau unpleasantness, he added.

The Club was like something out of a novel set in the Empire of the past. Wide
and airy, it was well protected (we were, after all, still very close to a jungle), with
comfortable wicker chairs and a wide bar to match, it included the expected fans,
lots of servants, billiards and ping pong; frankly, better than being at home! Our
driver friend bought us drinks and extolled the virtues of the colonial life; we had
to agree, it looked pretty good. He was a farmer, but of course, that did not mean
that he had to actually work, merely run the farm, labour being very cheap. He
left us shortly, presumably to go and supervise someone, and we tried ordering,
ensuring that we wrote ‘Two beers’, not ‘2’ which can easily be transformed into
‘22’. We vowed to return at the first opportunity.
Next day we honoured our vow, bringing Chris with us (R/Os had to monitor calls
from London once a day, but to call his job onerous would be hyperbole) so that we could
sample the lunch. Happily, it was a good lunch, with unknown but tasty white fish.
However, other business interfered. There were ten or so people in the bar
(all colonials like pre-prandials) and we sat down next to a table that looked of
interest, being a family with two girls, maybe fourteen and eighteen. Naturally
we engaged in conversation, and we found our companions to be a Sergeant-
Major in the British Army and his family. It transpired that he was here to train
members the Tanzanian Army, and of course, we were three young fellows who
looked respectable enough and quite suitable to engage in conversation with two
young ladies. To put it mildly, it was a pleasing interlude. We even asked them if
they would like to join us at some time on the ship for a meal, an invitation which
only the elder young lady (Sally) took up.

Next day (one must not hurry things too much) we invited Sally back, and
one supposes that the wearing of a uniform cemented the impression of our
reliability, for she seemed to have a really good time. For some reason, I was
selected by her to be the fortunate one to entertain her in my cabin by myself,
but she was a virtuous girl and nothing untoward occurred. Nor indeed would
I have wanted it to; I knew enough of sergeant-majors and their equivalents to
know that they were the fiercest of all the non-commissioned ranks and never to
be crossed with impunity.

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