My First Trip to Africa

The Life in Botswana memoirs are actually letters my parents sent to their family and friends in the States and in Norway. The next group of posts in this series consists of all the safaris they went on during their years in Gaborone, with their new friends in Africa or their American friends and family who were lucky enough to visit them during their four-year stay. I was very fortunate in that I was able to take two trips to visit them, once in 1989 and again in 1991.

I’m glad that my father wrote these stories when he did because I am terrible at remembering details, especially decades later. I was excited to go to Africa for the first time, and for taking three full weeks off work – the longest stretch of time I’ve had off since my college days – then and NOW! I was living and working in Manhattan at the time, for a catalog agency. I had just been offered another job at a small printer and was planning on giving notice when I returned. So, as you can imagine, I was in pure vacation-mode!

My first stop was in London, for three days of sightseeing. I was meeting (and staying with) my someday-to-be sister-in-law’s father and his family. They were gracious and warm to me and made me feel like a member of their family. I did a lot of sightseeing in that short window of time, went to the theater, shopped at Harrod's, and still had time to learn a lot about English football and pubs.

My 12-hour flight from London to Gaborone was uneventful, other than the stopover in Lusaka, Zambia, where we deplaned under military guard. Escorted by AK47s being carried by men in uniforms, we were told not to leave the one-building airport and not to use our cameras. It was a little unnerving, so I was happy to board the plane to Gaborone, our final stop.

The Gaborone airport was much smaller than the one in Lusaka – or maybe it just seemed that way since it was not in a police state! Six months earlier I had a very hard time saying goodbye to my mother at JFK airport, so I was excited to see her and spend more than a few minutes just looking at her and catching up with our lives.

 

 

Before we left on our safari trip up north, my mom and I spent a lot of time driving around Gaborone while my dad was at work. She showed me all her favorite stores and gave me the big tour of the capitol city. We went to the African Mall – an outdoor strip of businesses and shops, the local museums, and numerous craft shops, both in town and just on the outskirts of Gaborone. I was amazed that my mother could remember where these places were – some were on very remote dirt roads with not a sign in sight – as she was never very good with directions. I made a note to myself to come back to some of the jewelry and basket shops at the end of my trip, if I still had any money.

I learned quickly that the ex-pat community is like living in a very small fishbowl. The first night in Gaborone my parents took me to a large cocktail party with my father’s co-workers from AID and the American embassy. I mingled and met several nice men, one of who asked me out to dinner the following night – he was the consul general at the embassy. One night while we were at dinner, my friend got up from the table to go to the bathroom and within minutes a man who had been sitting at the bar came over and asked me out. It was actually a friend of his! This scenario was to be repeated many times over the next couple of weeks anywhere we went. I was getting a lot of attention in this limited world of ex-pats and, to me, it bordered on the comical. Apparently SWF were rare in Gaborone. I think if my parents weren’t already living there, I might have seriously considered moving to Gaborone just to improve my social life!

I stopped in Paris for three days on the trip home. My three years of high school French classes came back to me easily, though I quickly learned it was best to use the following greeting when entering a shop or café: "Je ne parle pas Français". It worked almost every time. I spent my time visiting the usual touristy spots: the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and even a boat cruise on the Bateaux Parisiens. It was sad to end my journey, but I am thankful to have had such a wonderful trip and now such rich memories.

Photo of the Day – Legs

Uncropped photo I found in my grandfather Carl Ericke's photo album. Chronologically, the placement of this photo in the album was with others taken while he was single, so I believe these are not my grandmother's legs!

Øivind Ambrosiusen (aka Eddie Ambrose)

My paternal grandfather was also an Edwin, but people called him Eddie. He was born on August 26, 1899,  in Horten, Norway, as Øivind Ambrosiusen, son of Martinius Ambrosiusen and Hilda Hansen. When my grandfather moved to the States, he Anglicized his name to Ambrose.

Eddie served one compulsory year in the Norwegian Navy, then completed a two-year program at Horten Technical Institute, where he learned to be a draftsman. 

Since there were no employment opportunities in Norway, Eddie sailed to Montreal in 1923. Border Crossing documents show that he arrived in Rouses Point, NY on June 28 and Buffalo on July 18. My father said he then traveled to Massena, NY, where he heard there was work in Syracuse.

Eddie found a job in Syracuse as a draftsman, and was employed all during the depression. He worked most of this time for the Solvay Process Company, a division of Allied Chemical Corporation, in Syracuse, NY.

The Solvay Process Company was established in 1880 in Syracuse and was a pioneer chemical industry of the U.S. in the manufacture of soda ash and a major employer in central New York. The company was the origin of the village of Solvay and it grew around the plant. The Erie Canal passed through the Solvay Process plant, as did the New York Central Railroad. The phone directory I found from 1931 shows how important Solvay was to the city of Syracuse. Solvay, the company, went out of business in 1985.

The Ambrose family lived in Syracuse until 1940 when my grandfather was promoted and transferred to the Solvay factory in Delray, Michigan. Eddie retired from the company after 35 years of service. He lived to be 89, nine years longer than my father did, dying on September 13, 1988.

Life in Botwana: Safari, December 1988

More excerpts from my parent's journal, Life in Botswana.

Safaris are really travel also, but since they are different we'll treat them separately. The first one we went on was four weeks after Nancy arrived, over Christmas, so that she would quickly realize that, yes, she's in Africa! The nearest game reserve is Mashatu, about 6 hours drive if we cross into South Africa and benefit from paved roads all the way. It's about 9 hours going through Botswana over secondary roads. Mashatu is a private reserve, organized very much like Kenya camps, with luxury accommodations and food, and two game drive vehicles which did an excellent job of locating animals. 

We arrived in time for lunch and then went on a drive about 4 o'clock. The first animals we saw were a cheetah and her four cubs. Then a number of elephant, an angry looking lioness and many impala. We stayed three nights, saw more elephant and lion, and eight lovely giraffe on the last drive. The temperature got up to 110° in the shade, and we were in the sun on the early morning and late afternoon drives.

Zeke's Drawings

When my parents lived in Botswana, one of their friends, Judith, had a security guard that liked to draw and had some talent. He would draw with a pencil, or whatever he could find. When Judith realized that he had talent, she provided him with colored pencils and other writing implements. He sold his drawings and cards to several of Judith's friends for a little extra income. Unfortunately when he married he stopped drawing. We have one of his large drawings framed and hanging in my parent's house on the Vineyard. I also found a stack of cards in my parent's things, some of which say "Greetings from Botswana" stamped inside. I thought I would share them with you. His name is Ezekiel Otukile and he is from Gaborone, Botswana. I wonder what he's doing now? Enjoy!

Photo of the Day – Fireworks!?!!?

Life in Botswana: Travel

More excerpts from my parent's journal, Life in Botswana.
 

 

We take the opportunity to travel as often as we can. We bought a new Toyota Hatchback when we arrived and drive to Johannesburg about every three months (so much for Nancy's statement that she would never set foot in South Africa!). We go primarily to shop for clothing, certain food and wine, and camping and photographic gear. Also for "R&R", to experience life similar to Fairfield County in the high-rent districts. We usually stay in the Sandton Sun, which is a Hyatt Regency type hotel, attached to an enormous shopping mall, where Nancy feels in familiar surroundings. Unfortunately everything there is made of polyester. She manages to cover her disappointment at various nurseries in the Johannesburg area. Ed bought a 19' keel boat at the nearby Vaal Dam and trailed it up to our Gaborone Dam.

Last year we flew to Capetown area for a week and fell in love with the place. Ate seafood at every chance! We rented a car and drove to the Cape of Good Hope (Cape Point). A lovely drive down one side of the peninsula and back up the other, through Simonstown, the main naval base. 

We had breakfast in an old colonial mansion which still produces wine. Another day we had luncheon in the fancy Boschendal estate, also one of the oldest, and which is still a major producer of fine white wines. 

 

We stayed two nights with an old business friend and his wife in their summer house on the beach about 60 miles east of Capetown. Hermanus is an old fishing town which now is one of the most exclusive summer/retirement communities in South Africa. The flora in this one area is fynbos, which is unique, and found only here.

Other travel: On the trip back home in September we stopped off in Athens for a day, two days in Rome and three in Florence. Simply wonderful, everything we saw and did!

Johnstown Flood of 1889

The Johnstown, Pennsylvania Flood, known as the Great Flood of 1889 occurred on May 31, 1889 – the result of the catastrophic failure of the South Fork Dam 14 miles upstream of Johnstown, combined with many days of heavy rainfall. Over 2,000 people were killed in the flood, making it the largest U.S. disaster in the century.

My great-grandparents, Adolph and Nannie Voegtly, lived in Waynesburg, Pennsylvania at the time of the flood, approximately 90 miles from Johnstown.

Here's a copy of a Western Union Telegraph sent on June 5, 1889, to my great-great-grandmother from Mrs. Jolly Reid in Barre, PA. The text reads "To Mrs. Hays, Waynesburg, PA, All well and safe from Johnstown flood. Telegraph how you are. Mrs. Jolly Reid."

Life in Botswana: Friends

More excerpts from my parent's journal, Life in Botswana.

Making new friends has been one of the best parts of being here. Being part of an expatriate group from all over the world is new to both of us. Familiarity comes quickly because you have much in common being strangers in a strange place. Unfortunately, friendship with Batswana other than through Ed's work contacts is difficult. As in any small town in the States, the social structure is set, and newcomers whether white or black are not needed or desired. We have been to private dinners with Batswana and have had them here; we have been to parties, New Year's Eve for example, where the crowd is mostly black and we've joined and attended Botswana Society functions where the membership is mixed. For the most part, however, our social life is with other Americans (several blacks among them) and a few others.

Nancy's best friend and walking partner has been a Canadian, named Judith. She is in her forties, married, a feminist, and a liberal. She and her husband Doug moved in across the street about the time Nancy arrived here. Nancy and Judith learned their way around together and depend on each other for moral support and share their ups and downs. Sadly, Judith leaves this December. Ed and her husband both work at the Ministry and are also friends so the four of us have done many things together. After Judith leaves Nancy will walk with a couple of women whose husbands work for the Embassy, one of whom, a thirty-year-old, is a favorite of hers.

Ed's best friend Jim arrived on the same plane with Ed, starting his contract the same day. Jim didn't renew and has recently begun a two-year contract in Malawi. Jim is a marketing specialist, forty-eight, divorced, good golfer and has a terrific sense of humor. Nancy is also very fond of him and he is dearly missed. We shared many experiences with Jim, good and bad, as he was going through an emotional period where he needed a "family' and we were it.

Not to go on at too great length, we will mention two other couples still here that we see often. Ray and Andie are from D.C. but had lived in Wilton. Ray worked with Ed in Fairfield International. His wife, Andie, is giving Nancy painting lessons. Chris and Mandy are friends from the yacht club. They are from England, have three children (in England), are liberal and in their late forties, early fifties. Mandy is a former dancer/actress, an avid reader, a gourmet cook, and likes sailing about as much as Nancy. Chris is quiet, intellectual, a great sailor and an architect. He is Ed's Vice Commodore. [My father became Commodore of the Gaborone Yacht Club while he was in Botswana. Are you surprised there's a yacht club in a land-locked country? If anyone could find a place to own and sail a boat, it was my father.]

Though Darien is a transient community, it can't compare with Gaborone's expatriate one. The people we became closest to had contracts running two to four years, the longer term mostly Embassy people. The US has drastically cut funding to Botswana, probably because of their secure (compared to any other southern African nation) economy, and the American community has declined drastically in consequence. We have made many, many trips to the airport and shed not a few tears in the last few months.