We each had our own rooms, but, when we weren’t on duty, we ate together in a small dining room reserved for us. The meals were wonderful, I have to say, and beautifully presented. They were prepared and cooked by a sizable staff of Africans overseen by a White lady. She must have been very busy, because our staff meals were not necessarily the same as those given to the students, who had their own large dining room. There, at a small raised dais where a table had been set, the superintendent of the boarding hostel sat and ate with whoever of us teachers was on duty at that time. The students, all girls, sat in rows at these long tables. The boys in their hostel must have had a similar arrangement.
In the spring of 1971, probably in late August, I became engaged to be married, after my boyfriend issued an ultimatum: we either get married or we break up. He had been asking me to marry him for some time. I enjoyed his company, didn’t want to lose him, and yet I hesitated for several reasons. Politically, he was right-wing, supporting Ian Smith and his Rhodesian Front party, and I was much more liberal, voting against the attempts to keep Africans out of government. Secondly, he didn’t have the same energy level as I did, sometimes even, much to my surprise, having an afternoon nap (in his mid-20s?!). Last, I was scared that, since he was a geologist, we might end up living in some remote rural community, the thought of which I hated. Nevertheless, I cared for him deeply, and I finally accepted his proposal.
I was happy, though of course, I still had to go back to Marandellas to complete my teaching assignment. My boyfriend was in Salisbury, or maybe even, by then, though I can’t remember the exact dates, he was in the bush somewhere since all White men were required to do mandatory military service, learning how to fight against the beginning of what would turn into guerrilla warfare. My fiancé was in the Air Force.
We went into Salisbury to choose an engagement ring, a gold ring with five diamonds around the top of the band. I didn’t want anything big or flashy. My parents held a small engagement party for us.
I started to think about my trousseau, as brides did in those days. Very little was available in stores in Salisbury because of sanctions against Rhodesia. These had begun several years previously in 1965, following Prime Minister Ian Smith’s White minority government’s illegal Declaration of Independence. At that time, we hadn’t known what the British government would do in retaliation. Were we going to be attacked… or what? In the end, Britain chose not to use force, but, instead, to apply economic sanctions and to refuse the major Rhodesian export of tobacco. This move was endorsed by the United Nations, but in the case of the USA, the sanctions were voluntary, but were nevertheless maintained.
