A SHORT NOTE TO THE EDITOR OF DISTRICT 113 MASONIC NEWS
FROM BROTHER TOM GUTHRIE,
A QUARTERLY PUBLICATION, JULY 2007, ISSUE NO. 2
(One of Tom’s experiences whilst living in South Africa, he now resides in beautiful Berry NSW)
Dear Bro. John,
So sorry I have not been in contact with you, more especially in connection with your kind offer to attend one of your Lodge meetings to say a few words. I would have loved to do this a few years ago, having often been told I could talk under water. But not so today unfortunately, with my poor eye-sight and poor hearing, not to mention my non-existent short term memory.
For all this, I have wonderful memories of my bygone days in the craft. And these are key part of my memories of my working days as a young mining mechanic in a little mining village named Bancroft, Northern Rhodesia. These days it has grown into a town known as Chililabombwe, Republic of Zambia.
I have a clear memory of the time when we had a visit from none other than the Grand Master Mason, the Grand Secretary. By sheer coincidence at that time we also had a visit from the great Vera Lynn, who came to entertain our little camp, and did a show at the Bancroft Mine Club. Of course after the show we all made ourselves known to Vera and her party, and she graciously received our bouquets and venerations. Naturally we invited Vera and her entire party to a meal and after dinner aperitifs at my house, but being a quiet and moderate woman she declined and retired early to her private lodge. A little disappointed to depart without Vera we repaired to my house, for a meal and a drink or two. After a meal and possibly more than a drink or two we listened to the Grand Secretary play the piano and sing certain ‘modern songs’, accompanied by the Grand Master Mason, our Master and a few other Lodge men. Well, what I thought was melodic harmony was probably not so to the more accomplished ear. We heard later that poor Vera had been kept up all night by what she took to be the caterwauling of an underground pit crew. It was probably just as well she declined our offer to the lodge singalong.
There was another time I took a few members of the Lodge Star of the North to an Installation being held in Lodge Livingstone, on the Zambezi River. This was 600 miles south of Chililabombwe and we did it over a long weekend. Having a bit of time to spare, we did a bit of fishing on the Zambezi. We had come prepared and along with the usual provisions we brought a couple of tents, which we pitched on a wide beach on the river bank. We had settled down in our main tent after a fruitful day of fishing, and were enjoying fresh fish and cocktails when the Leading Hand of our Batonga crew poked his head into our tent and said in a hushed whisper “Bwana, we must all look out, there is a herd of elephant about to cross the river in our direction.” Since we were well settled and enjoying our customary after dinner rituals, the general consensus of us all was ‘what rubbish!’. But on hearing some not so distant pachydermal trumpeting we had second thoughts. We collected whatever belongings and consumables we could lay our hands on and abandoned our tents in great haste. We bolted up the river bank and into the forest to what we considered a safe distance away from what might be the path of the herd. We heard the loud crashing and trumpeting of the herd as it crossed the river and passed along the bank, but it soon faded away. We carefully made our way back to the camp site and discovered a trail of debris and canvas along the river bank. It was a tragic end to our fishing outing as gear, supplies, and tents were trampled and spread out over a hundred yards or so. But considering that we were not actually in the tents when the herd passed, we were happy enough with the outcome.
There were many incidents which occurred during Lodge meetings. One I remember was hearing a loud banging on the outside door of the Lodge during a meeting, and the Outer Guard went to see what it was. He opened the door with full masonic ceremony, which required brandishing his ritual sword. Whoever it was saw the sword but not its ceremonial significance, and screaming loudly, ran for their lives into the dark distance.
In Lodges on the Copperbelt there were people from countries all from around the world who found English something of a problem, and during some ceremonies, they were asked: “Exchanging your name for mine, repeat after me” - and they would repeat the words, “Exchanging your name for mine, repeat after me”. It seemed we had about every nationality in the world in our brotherhood.
John, my wife has persuaded me to send you a photo of myself since I will not be visiting your Lodge. It’s an old photo, but it will show you me as a young man, the member of the Lodge Star of the North, who is passing on the documents and paraphernalia onto you. The same, which has given me untold satisfaction in the past. I also have a great bundle of Masonic periodicals here for you to take away, if required. This is about all for now John, Please forgive any, or all, of this old Mason’s errors.
Yours sincerely,
Bro. Tom Guthrie