An embargo on oil had a huge effect on the country. We had no ports in land-locked Rhodesia, so oil was usually shipped to South Africa, from where it was transported by rail on the one and only railway line coming into Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), Zambia and Malawi. Roads were few and far between, too. The only international airport was in Salisbury and was small. Petrol rationing was put into effect, and unbeknown to us at that time, was to last until 1971. No oil/petrol, plus the boycotting of imported goods, meant that supplies of everything normally in stores were hugely curtailed, to the point of being non-existent.
Nevertheless, some countries, maybe with the help of South Africa, managed to export products to Rhodesia. I have no idea how they did this, but what I remember very clearly is that when I left Salisbury in August 1967 to live in France for a year, items in Salisbury’s stores were diminishing in number. However, on my return just over 12 months later, I could not get over the fact that France, a country which was supposed to be applying sanctions as much as any other country in Europe, was obviously flouting the rules, and no one was doing anything about it. Everyday items were suddenly from France. Even the cars available for purchase in Rhodesia were suddenly French models, vehicles which we had never seen before. Now, there were Peugeots, Citroëns and Renaults everywhere. Very little else. Certainly nothing new. How was this even possible? I was staggered by the duplicity and could not imagine how this was brought to fruition. And with no come-back, either, as far as I could see.
Daily items were still in short supply, though. It was not easy to buy a wedding dress, for instance, nor even material or thread to make one. I didn’t have long, either, till our wedding. I was going back to Marandellas to teach for another three months till December. My fiancé and I were to be married on 18th December in Salisbury. We began to search for possible venues.
During my half-term school holidays, I headed to South Africa to have a short break, and to buy the fabric I needed to make my wedding dress. I took the train to Durban which I had never visited. I was quite happy being alone, staying in a small hotel, wandering around the city, visiting the Durban Aquarium and the like. Durban had a lot more of an English bent than did the rest of South Africa. It didn’t feel as hostile.
Whilst there, a fellow guest, a young man a couple of years older than me, who was on a business trip, asked me if he could join me for dinner, since we were both alone at our respective tables in the dining room. I agreed. The next day, since he had a car, he suggested that we take a coastal drive and have lunch somewhere. Once again, I accepted, feeling very guilty for enjoying the company of another man who was not my fiancé, even though this brief interlude was all above board. He was to leave Durban the following day. We were keeping each other company, that was all.
