30 c. The Mists of Mandara...and other memories of New year's Eve

Before we turned 'pro' and headed down South, the two Eves, New Years and Christmas were always bumper nights for The Chequers. We would embrace Capitalism whole-heartedly, particularly the law of Supply and Demand. Bands where in short supply and the demand for live music was massive - so we would up the anti and charge four, five or even six times our usual Saturday night rates. If Roy Wood had written his classic, “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday” then…we would have endorsed it whole heartily.  I remember we played at the Karoi Sports Club and at the CABS Building Society Christmas function…and if my memory serves me well, the Olivetti and Corona Typewriter Company New Year’s Eve dos…to name but a few.

But we had some great New year’s Eves B.C. - before Chequers …well before the band had started picking up regularly bookings. One in particular New Year’s Eve springs to mind.

The usual suspects had met up at our place 146 Victory Avenue, by which I mean, Mac, Roll, Alan, Donaldson, Milner, Nicky Goniface and Moig – it's strange how we  we called some mates by their christian names and others by their surnames -- But anyway, I seem to remember them all being there but don’t quote me on it.

Collectively we were called, “The Greendale Boys” a motley, testosterone fuelled crew of fourteen, fifteen and sixteen year olds. On this night of all nights the ‘Greendale Boys’ were at something of a loose end...we were party-less.

It was bad enough not having a party to go to on a regular Saturday night let alone New Year’s Eve. We had put out ‘feelers’ but to avail. There had not been a single ‘bleep’ on our 'Party Radar'. 

I’m sure you've heard the proverbs, ‘every cloud has a silver lining’…and ‘when one door closes another opens’. And in our case that is exactly what happened. 

The door that was closed was Greendale Sports Club's door. They were holding a ‘Ticket Only’ Dinner & Dance for old fogies (people over thirty). We were that desperate we sneaked in and attempted to melt inconspicuously into the gathering. That was the intention. But it is neigh on impossible to remain inconspicuous when you are fourteen, fifteen, sixteen and surrounded by thirty, forty and fifty-somethings. We looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel cake (Raymond Chandler) and were hunted down and to a man (boy) ejected.

Being ejected from the Greendale Sports Club's Diner and Dance was, figuratively speaking, the door being closed, which brings us to the door that opened. The door in question was the storeroom door at the club which we managed, by foul means or otherwise, to open. Inside, among other items, we discovered a large bucket of whitewash used for painting white lines on the club's tennis courts and numerous brushes. The large bucket of whitewash proved to be the catalyst of one of the funniest nights I can remember.

We ‘borrowed’ the said bucket of white wash and brushes and continued on our pursuit for a night of fun. 

Why we decided to borrow the white wash I’ll never know…it was pretty darn heavy and cumbersome. Maybe those jovial Gods of 'Levity' and 'Pranks' influenced our decision and compelled us to borrow it, who knows…but borrow it we did.

Anyway, we ended up on Wallis Road or was it Pringle Road wandering down a hill towards the Mandara Tea Gardens -- in those days it was a wooded area with not much going for it. The reason we had ventured to Mandara was because we knew a couple of school mates who lived in the vicinity and thought, under the guise of saying 'hello' and 'happy New Year', we could ask if they knew of any parties.

I should also mention, because it impacts on the story, that there was a dip at the bottom of the hill leading to the Mandara Tea Gardens which was prone to ground mist…and on this particular New Year’s Eve there was a thick covering. 

So there we were, traipsing down this hill towards a blanket of mist when whoever was to carrying the bucket stumbled and dropped it -- the lid was dislodged and a dollop of the white wash spilled onto the tarmac road. In that instance all was made clear. The reason the Gods of Levity and Pranks had compelled us to lug the heavy bucket of whitewash all the way from Greendale Sports Club to Mandara – a journey of at least a mile and a half. The reason was glaringly obvious. It was staring us in the face. Think about it. A black tarmac road devoid of white lines that disappears into a blanket of mist…and a bucket of white wash. Levity and Pranks were imploring us to paint white lines on the road...but not your regular white lines, white lines with a difference...white lines with a comic twist...literally.

Out came the paint brushes and off came the whitewash lid. Starting ten to fifteen feet before the mist and keeping to the very centre of the road, we ever so carefully painted a narrow white line. We continued with the white line a further eight feet into the mist and then...and here comes the comic twist... we veered off sharply into the ditch. 

This accomplished we spent the next five minutes rolling around on the ground shrieking with laughter.

After regaining our composure we continued on our way with the bucket of whitewash – still two thirds full – and armed with the paint brushes. It was as if we knew the Gods of Levity and Pranks weren't finished with us…and we were right.

We were still some way from our friend’s house when the unmistakable strains of a party drifted into earshot; singing cheering, music, laughter, etc. As we rounded a corner a house lit up like a Christmas tree came into view. The drive was packed with cars and those that couldn’t squeeze into the driveway were parked either side of the road outside the house.

Through the windows a crowd of people could be seen dancing, laughing and altogether having a great time.

It was felt that we could add to the enjoyment. We estimated that the majority of the party goers, as was true of most white Rhodesians in those days, originated from somewhere in the U.K. I had school friends whose parent’s had lived in Rhodesia for years and still referred to England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland as home …and homesickness and a yearning for the old country was always most prevalent on occasions such as New Year’s Eve when the booze flowed freely.

But how were a motley bunch of teenagers with a bucket of whitewash going to add to the enjoyment of people who were so obviously enjoying themselves? By giving them what they hungered for…a taste of home.  Something that was quintessentially British. Ironically, something that would warm the cockles of their hearts. I’m talking snow. Well, not exactly snow, but something that looks like snow, especially when you’re inebriated…Something that we had been carrying around in a bucket most of New Year’s Eve…you guessed it, whitewash! We would create a Christmas card winter scene for the good folk of Mandara in the very heart of Africa.

Without further ado we set about plastering the front lawn of the house and not just the grass, but the bushes and flowers with whitewash.  As we drew nearer to the actual house itself, we decided to keep the Christmas Card Wintry theme going by adding the white wash to the veranda. But still we were not satisfied. With the bit between our teeth, we turned our attention to the windows.

By this time the party goers had not only seen us but had started taking an interest in what we were up to. But instead of running out, hurling abuse and sending us on our way, to our surprise they just stood in the house and laughed. I mean, they really cracked themselves up.

I'm guessing their unexpected reaction encouraged us to go to town on the window panes. Which we did. To the wild amusement of the party goers, who hooted with laughter as we coated one pane after another with whitewash.

Finally there was but one  single solitary window pane left. The party goers crammed  around it and to a man and woman cheered and shrieked with delight as each and every brush stroke of white wash was administered to the ever diminishing pane…until a mere postage stamp size of clear glass remained…and then, with a finally roar of ‘Happy New Year’ from either side of the glass, it was covered.  

I don’t know who found the incident funnier, the party goers or “The Greendale Boys”…but it would be true to say that  I had never laugh so hard and for so long before or since.

Like a number of these reminiscences it seems totally ludicrous, but hand on heart it all happened.

Oh, yes, one more thing. On the way home we helped a driver and his girlfriend push their car out the ditch car...true as God.