Memories of meeting Tom Bruce (1920-23) in Rhodesia, 1955

John Comber writes about meeting Old Brightonian Tom Bruce (1920-23) in the small Rhodesian village of Chipinga in 1955.

It was a sweltering November afternoon just before the long awaited rains. I stepped out of the office and looked up the mile long jacaranda lined straight road that led out of the village to see if there was any sign of the Tuesday and Friday bi-weekly bus. As there was no great plume of dust in the distance that heralded its arrival I went back into the Office. The Veterinary Office was situated near to the only cross roads in the centre of the village. The Village pub, a small red corrugated iron roofed building with a wide polished red cement slab veranda was diagonally opposite from where I was standing with Meikles Trading store on the other side of the road. The village green with the new Lottery funded swimming pool at the far end was over the road from the pub. East of the green were miles of dense bush and a then a deep escarpment leading to the Sabi Valley about 2500 feet below. The village was at 5500 feet above sea level an at least 200 miles from the Mozambique coast and only a few miles from the Portuguese East African border.

The bus had arrived and from it stepped a middle-aged man (45?) wearing khaki shorts, a bush jacket and hat. He was untanned with sandy hair and a thin Douglas Fairbanks's moustache. He came over to the office door.

"Chipinga Veterinary Dept?" He asked.

"Tom Bruce?" I said, welcoming him and taking him through to the District Veterinary Officer who had been waiting for him.

Tom had brought full camping kit and declined the suggestion to stay in the hotel while he was finding suitable accommodation. He said he would camp out on the village green!

"Might see you in the pub later on" I said, wondering if he would decide to go being so close to the pub.

"I'll be there" he said and went off to put up his tent.

I usually went to the pub for a few "sundowners" after work to meet my friends for a chat; many times staying much longer.

The pub was busy the long bar was situated at the southern end small hotel. It was three quarters full. I saw Tom and gasped, he was sitting at the door end of the bar in DJ's sporting a silk white dinner jacket! This "wild west" pub had never seen the likes. A few Afrikaner farmers at the other end of the bar were muttering and speculating who this peculiar and overdressed "roineck" could be. Someone said that he was the Rabies Officer who had been seconded to the area to keep it free of stray dogs.

I heard one of the Yarpie's spit out in condemnation "Alemachtach, if that bastard comes anywhere near my farm I will shoot him". His friends applauded him and they muttered together about another governmental intrusion into their bucolic still fighting the Boer war narrow lives. "Sis, these bloody interfering Limeys, if he comes any where near my farm I'll throw him into the dip tank". That was a reference to the large arsenic filled tanks used for eliminating ticks as it was mandatory to dip cattle once a week, Chipinga being an area with a recent outbreak of "East Coast Fever" that is deadlier than Foot and Mouth disease.

I went up to Tom and sat next to him ordered a "Castle Beer" and started talking to him. He was friendly and if the truth were known had desperately needed a job. After working in Kampala in a Sports Shop he had drifted down the eastern side of Africa and ended up in Rhodesia.

Rabies had broken out in the Eastern Districts along the Mozambique border for the first time in over forty years. Strict controls were kept about stray dogs and every canine in the area had to be rabies injected.

We talked; everyone must have been wondering why this new intruder to the village was all dressed up in DJ's. An uncommon sight in this small high veldt dorp.

As we were talking Tom put his hand into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small revolver. Everyone froze... All eyes were on Tom. What was he going to do next? He took the revolver and removed the ammunition chamber and proceeded to remove each round of ammunition and place it on the bar top. Having done that he reinserted the ammunition back again made sure the safety catch was on and put the revolver back into his inner jacket pocket.

There must have been a universal sigh of relief for when this was done everyone called for more "Castles" and the bar chatter and noise rose again to its normal level.

Peggy who was single about fifty and owned and ran the pub was not at all disconcerted by this unconventional behaviour giving the indication that this was an everyday occurrence as was the daily straining of the popular day time pub tea through one of her discarded silk stockings! Peggy was much older that she looked with tobacco stained grey yellow hair spending most of the day wearing an old loose fitting dressing gown and chain smoking 'Gold Leaf' cigarettes. We were all used to her, the young men kept well out of her way. She ran a good pub and at the time was having an affair with her bookkeeper, a thin emaciated looking man who might have had an aptitude for figures but wasn't to choosy when it came to female ones. He eventually escaped from the hotel, Peg's clutches and passionate demands never to be seen again. With a heart of gold every Christmas she invited all her pub regulars to a party and dinner that was given for free. Eventually she found a husband! But marriage was not to last for long. He broke his neck diving off the end of a diving board in a state of befuddled inebriation into an empty swimming pool.

It fell upon me to be given the task of familiarising Tom with the vast area we covered. On the long journeys to visiting farmers he would talk about himself.

Tom had been educated at Brighton College in Sussex. He came from a wealthy family who had made a fortune manufacturing surgical instruments, then; when his father died the family fortune was lost to the taxman. The large motor launch that was kept on Lake Victoria was sold and Tom who had being living as a remittance man was left to make his own way. That was in the late 1940's.

When Tom left Brighton College he went to Medical School to become a doctor. This was not to be. He left England and joined the Shanghai Police. Tragedy struck soon after his marriage there sadly his pregnant Chinese wife and child died at the birth.

In 1939 was broke out and Tom returned to England and was enlisted in the army where he served with General Montgomery's personal entourage. He showed me photos to prove that.

The war ended and tax having gobbled up the means for Tom to live a comfortable life and the boat having also been sold he was left high and dry on the banks of Lake Victoria. He worked for a while in a Sports Shop in Entebbe and then drifted down to Southern Rhodesia where he found employment with the Govt. Veterinary Dept.

He settled into his job and with his affability and diplomacy gained the confidence of the local farmers. In all his time in the Eastern Highlands he never once shot a dog!

I left the area, we used to write and many Veterinary Dept. stamped OHMS envelopes filled with our own personal news were exchanged between us. I lost touch with Tom as I left Rhodesia and returned to England.

Years later I heard Tom had applied to become an Animal Heath Inspector and had been stationed down in the Sabi Valley at Birchenough Bridge. It is very hot and dry there with temperatures reaching 110慚 and higher in the rainy summer months. Tom had died. He was by then about 49 years old. The area was and still is very malarial, he could very easily have contracted either malaria or bilharzia again very prevalent in the area. Despite many efforts to find out about how he had died and I doubt there are any records left of Tom as so many records were destroyed in the 1970-80 war for independence.

Many people like Tom have left England and given their life to law and order in so many ways in what were the far-flung colonies. They fade away from all awareness to be remembered by only a few, then are left to be totally forgotten with time.

Old Cheltonian John Comber writes:
What inspired me to write about Tom? Although Tom was twice my age, I was only 22 then I think it was his adventurous life, the fact that although he had been through a hard time he never felt sorry for himself, also there was a Public School connection which out in the wilds of Rhodesia did mean quite a bit.

Tom cared a lot for other people and I remember his concern for a colleague who was also camping on the same village green and who had threatened suicide. He quickly and unobtrusively managed to remove a 303 rifle which this person had threatened to use and quietly talking to him managed to defuse the situation.

I met so many interesting people then and have written about them in case someone might be interested.

I left Rhodesia and after a period of study spent the rest of my working life in Bermuda! I have been retired for 15 years so have had a chance to jot down a few of my experiences. After leaving Rhodesia I never again seemed to meet the colourful characters that I did then.

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