Addict (drugaddict) wrote,
Addict
drugaddict

Paul in Uganda

Paul
this is great
I love your stories
I will post them on my web domain if you don't mind.
The way I wrote my stories was to commit to writing for an hour or two every saturday morning
and if I missed saturday then on sunday ... during the week if any memories came up i would jot them down...like little vinettes to get me started.  It is very easy to self publish these days...
hard to make money but great to share with others
You have amazing stories to share
I remember when a ugandan boy brought a giant chameleon to school
never seen any one like that so big before it was a monster
he also had Bhangi too

Ha H ahha

send me more stories
dont be suprised if some of my friends also don't respond to you!

chris
Hi Chris
 
I was surprised to get an email back from you.
 
Where to start, my parents were both English, from Dover in Kent, my father worked for the British Overseas Civil Service as a Nutritional Chemist.
 
Basically, this meant that he would do things like teaching the tribal subsistence farmers the best types of grazing to put their cattle on to achieve the highest milk yealds etc. It also meant that he would go on Safari many times a year to remote places to do this sort of work, so me and my brother, once old enough, would join him on  lot of these trips.
 
Dad was also a great hunter, and would pay a fortune, in those days, (£100 in the late fifties), for a licence to shoot elephant for ivory. These days, the politically correct brigade go bonkers when you talk about this sort of thing, but my Dad grew up with his heroes like Stuart Granger in King Solomons Mines, so it was a different mindset. He would subsidise his income with the sale of Ivory, for the 4 elephants per year that he was allowed to take, there was a particular hunters ettiquete, never shooting a cow or calf, no scopes, no land rovers to shoot from, just tracking the big beasties for maybe 10 days or more till you either took them or they ran away from you.
 
It was a man against animal thing, these big old tuskers were perhaps 70 or 80 years old, and did'nt get to that ripe old age by being stupid, so you might track them for a week, then get down wind of them and they would bugger off. Once he shot one, his guides would go to the nearest village and tell the villagers of the kill. All of the meat would be divided up and carted off to the village. Funniest thing was that, unlike western people, the best cuts as far as the africans were concerned were the offal. The men would slit open the stomach with  a panga and go right inside the animal, and come running out with it's heart, or lungs or kidneys which were regarded as giving them the strenght of the elephant.
 
To be frank with you, i could probably write a whole book on our life in both East and South Africa, so it's difficult to know where to start with it all!
 
Once old enough, I attended Lake Victoria School, where all my friends went as well. In Uganda, there ws no appartheid, like SA, however, there was a sort of "social Appartheid, in the respect that if you were a doctor, minister, civil servant etc, you would tend to go to the same places and live in the same areas. This was why I suspected that our fathers probably knew each other, as they would have attended the same sort of events, with diplomats, civil servants etc.
 
We lived in Entebbe, our next door neighbour, a gentle, educated man, Mr Avonge, was Minister of Agriculture under Obote. His son Michael, was my best friend, and we grew up together, until I started attending boarding school in the UK.
 
Unfortunately, the Avonge's were from the wrong tribe, so when Idi Amin came to power, he executed the whole family after about 2 years. Many of my schoolfriends suffered the same fate, for no reason other than being of the wrong tribe or political persuasion.
 
As part of my dad's job, he would often take in orphan animals at the lab where he worked, after their parents had been shot, consequently, we raised all sorts of animals, such as gennet's, serval cats, (Piny & Perky), and a chimp called George, I've added some pictures for you.
 
There are many things I can tell you, far more than I can put into this email, however, I'm happy to keep in touch and send you information going forward if you're interested.
 
Thanks again for replying
 
Best Regards
 
Paul Marshall


On Sat, Feb 28, 2009 at 4:11 AM, Paul Marshall <paul_marshall@sky.com> wrote:

    Hi Chris
    
    I was surprised to get an email back from you.
    
    Where to start, my parents were both English, from Dover in Kent, my father worked for the British Overseas Civil Service as a Nutritional Chemist.
    
    Basically, this meant that he would do things like teaching the tribal subsistence farmers the best types of grazing to put their cattle on to achieve the highest milk yealds etc. It also meant that he would go on Safari many times a year to remote places to do this sort of work, so me and my brother, once old enough, would join him on  lot of these trips.
    
    Dad was also a great hunter, and would pay a fortune, in those days, (£100 in the late fifties), for a licence to shoot elephant for ivory. These days, the politically correct brigade go bonkers when you talk about this sort of thing, but my Dad grew up with his heroes like Stuart Granger in King Solomons Mines, so it was a different mindset. He would subsidise his income with the sale of Ivory, for the 4 elephants per year that he was allowed to take, there was a particular hunters ettiquete, never shooting a cow or calf, no scopes, no land rovers to shoot from, just tracking the big beasties for maybe 10 days or more till you either took them or they ran away from you.
    
    It was a man against animal thing, these big old tuskers were perhaps 70 or 80 years old, and did'nt get to that ripe old age by being stupid, so you might track them for a week, then get down wind of them and they would bugger off. Once he shot one, his guides would go to the nearest village and tell the villagers of the kill. All of the meat would be divided up and carted off to the village. Funniest thing was that, unlike western people, the best cuts as far as the africans were concerned were the offal. The men would slit open the stomach with  a panga and go right inside the animal, and come running out with it's heart, or lungs or kidneys which were regarded as giving them the strenght of the elephant.
    
    To be frank with you, i could probably write a whole book on our life in both East and South Africa, so it's difficult to know where to start with it all!
    
    Once old enough, I attended Lake Victoria School, where all my friends went as well. In Uganda, there ws no appartheid, like SA, however, there was a sort of "social Appartheid, in the respect that if you were a doctor, minister, civil servant etc, you would tend to go to the same places and live in the same areas. This was why I suspected that our fathers probably knew each other, as they would have attended the same sort of events, with diplomats, civil servants etc.
    
    We lived in Entebbe, our next door neighbour, a gentle, educated man, Mr Avonge, was Minister of Agriculture under Obote. His son Michael, was my best friend, and we grew up together, until I started attending boarding school in the UK.
    
    Unfortunately, the Avonge's were from the wrong tribe, so when Idi Amin came to power, he executed the whole family after about 2 years. Many of my schoolfriends suffered the same fate, for no reason other than being of the wrong tribe or political persuasion.
    
    As part of my dad's job, he would often take in orphan animals at the lab where he worked, after their parents had been shot, consequently, we raised all sorts of animals, such as gennet's, serval cats, (Piny & Perky), and a chimp called George, I've added some pictures for you.
    
    There are many things I can tell you, far more than I can put into this email, however, I'm happy to keep in touch and send you information going forward if you're interested.
    
    Thanks again for replying
    
    Best Regards
    
    Paul M
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