Dale Thomson
An African Adventure
In August 1961, my mother, Monica Louise Murray, travelled to the heart of Africa to look after orphans at Springbok Lodge, Fort Jameson, now called Chipata. Northern Rhodesia was about to become the independent state of Zambia. It was a time of huge change on the continent. Monica was a working class girl form Leith in Edinburgh and only 25 years old.
This is a selection of her photos, discovered after she died over 20 years ago. It's a marvellous collection of around 300 images from both slides and printed photos. The slides have retained their vibrance and capture the zeitgeist of the time, people and place.
My goal is to find an individual or organisation to support further research and a documented visit to Zambia (in film, photography and words). To follow in Monica's footsteps and make sure this small but fascinating, piece of social history is not lost and to explore my own, complex, often fractious, relationship with my mother.
This could be a film company, newspaper or tour operator or just someone who feels there's a story here that is worth the telling.
Happy to discuss any ideas you may have, or if you know someone who might be interested, please point them in the direction of this page.
Monica Louise Murray
Monica was born in Edinburgh in 1936 and was a child during the war. She grew up in a small flat with her parents and two older brothers, Jackie and Jim. As a teenager she took up archery and represented Scotland in the National Championships, finishing as runner up. She loved music and travel and on leaving school became a nursery school teacher. She then spent time in Spain teaching English, before returning to Edinburgh to apply for work as a carer at a government operated orphanage in Fort Jameson, for the Federal Government of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. There she looked after these wee guys for a period of around two years.
What drove her to go there? What are the stories behind the pictures and what was it like to be there, at a time when Empire was retreating and a new dawn was on the way for Africa?
The Journey to Cape Town
The RMS Pretoria Castle set sail from Southampton for Cape Town the 3rd of August 1961. It was a fine day, if a bit cool, for the time of year. A young Monica was chaperoned by Mr and Mrs Cave, who are pictured here meeting Captain Smythe, clearly a movement of great personal pride for Mr Cave! The journey took 14 days and covered some 5,977 miles to Cape Town. During the crossing Monica partook in the activities programme laid on by the crew; dances, dinners, deck games etc. and was dunked in the traditional crossing the equator ceremony to give thanks to Poseidon. This was a ritual I would myself go through nearly 30 years later on my way to the Falklands. She also found some new admirers...something she was never short of. The images paint the picture.
A young man of similar age, Nigel Watt, who is also part of this story, travelled on the same ship to Cape Town a year earlier. He wrote of his fellow passengers that; they were mainly "Bilious Afrikaners and pipe-chewing planters" returning home, who rushed to justify their "colour bar" and became more vociferous the closer they got to Africa.
These shots, around 15 in total, were taken by the on board photographer and are backed up by passenger lists, menus, entertainment programmes and other bits of memorabilia - my mother was a collector of almost anything that took her fancy.
Fort Jameson, Northern Rhodesia 1961
Fort Jameson, was named after Leander Starr Jameson, a charismatic Scottish colonial politician and leader of the infamous Jameson Raid against the Boers in 1985. The small town was located approximately 570 kilometres (354 mi), east of Lusaka, the capital city of Zambia.
Following independence in 1964, Fort Jameson was renamed Chipata. Back in the 1960's this was in the middle of nowhere, at least as far as any westerner was concerned. It was a segregated community, where the white minority kept themselves away from the general population, unless they were serving them. Today it's a city of over half a million people. Monica was based at Springbok Lodge in "Fort Jimmy", as it was known amongst the local white community . A collection of small single story buildings, with tin roofs, set around a scrubby yard area. There, she looked after the babies, with support from local nannies like Maria (on the left of the first shot on this page).
There are other important locations in this story. The stunning South Luangwa National Park, founded by Sir Norman Carr OBE, whom my mother knew and met his two tame Lions, Big Boy and Little Boy, on her numerous visit to the reserve. I have already been in contact with several individuals involved with the park, including Norman Carr's son. Also Lundazi and the wonderful folly, Lundazi Castle, that is now a hotel. Its story, recounted to me by Brian Vale, is a wonderful snapshot of colonial eccentricity. It even had a golf course!
My aspiration is to visit all of these locations and if you'll forgive the hackney'd expression "follow in my mothers footsteps".
A selection of some of the 300 plus shots found after Monica died in 2001.
My own story is part of this tale.....
My relationship with my mother was complex. My father ended the affair with her in 1967, just after I was born and sent us both back to Scotland, with threats of legal action should she ever get in touch with him again - he was of course married and had two sons (something I didn't find out until I was in my early 20's).
I genuinely think she never fell out of love with him. She worshipped him. I did too for a while.
Ultimately, it meant that she didn't go onto have many other relationships and the one or two she did have were pretty much doomed from the start, no one could live up to him. I think, this made her a very lonely and bitter person in her later years. Her surley, opinionated attitude and short temper pushed away many friends and family and eventually me too. Unfortunately, following cancer in 2001, just weeks before I married, Monica died of a heart attack. She was only 63 years old.
It was after I was sent to boarding school at the age of 12, that we started to grow apart. Once I finished school, I joined the merchant navy and got as far away from home as I could. By that time, more than a few days in each other company was enough for both of us. We really didn't get on. This was compounded by some complex issues with my father and what I had been told since I was a young boy, about their early relationship. I lost trust. I lost touch.
Whilst I knew about her life before me, she never talked about it in detail. It was only after she died that I found an old suitcase full of diaries, pictures, slides, letters and press cuttings. Raking through it, I started to get a feel for just how extraordinary her life had been. Not just that but also the level of detail that I had. I was finding out things that I never knew. I still am!
Who was the young woman in the pictures, with film star looks and not a care in the world? What was she like as a person and what drove her to travel the world, doing things that a working class girl from Leith simply wasn't meant to do?
Over the last few months I have researched her story and tracked down several of those who were part of her life in Zambia. I have spent time with them and have hours of recorded interview with them about Africa, Fort Jameson and my mother. The story is taking shape and it's even more fascinating than I could ever have thought. It's time to take the next step and take a journey, that will be much more than the story of my mothers time in Africa. It will be my story too. And, if all goes well then there's a further chapter about my mothers relationship with my father, a high profile figure in his day. I hope you will follow our story as it evolves. I hope you can be a part of it too.