Water Under the Bridge

FOREWARD Since the author Pamela Jean Jones, a Kentish girl, passed away, at the age of ninety-two, on 7th July 2023, leaving, the second part of her autobiography, ‘Water Under the Bridge Part Two: The Later Years’, unpublished, I have decided, as Jean’s son, to make her book publicly available. Obviously, this book is of interest to me as I spent my childhood days during the late fifties and early sixties in West Africa with my mother Jean and father John both of whom completed tours of duty for their respective agencies. I hope people who read Jean’s autobiography, of her later years, find it as enlightening as it is to me for the story’s setting were the times before and after the independence of Nigeria and Africanisation of West African countries. Lagos , Nigeria As the plane took off I experienced a moment of great panic; what on earth had I done, precipitating myself into the virtual unknown and thereby giving up a way of life which had been comfortable and secure. The preceding weeks had carried me along on a tide of preparations and I had not really touched down to the reality of what I was doing but now I had time to contemplate; the saving grace was that Joy had been in Lagos for almost a year and I was really looking forward to meeting up with her again and gaining from her experience of life on the Coast. Prior to boarding I had been introduced to another girl who was travelling out to Lagos to work in the same capacity as myself and we got talking about ourselves and our expectations. Her name was Joan Hickey and we subsequently became good friends during our first tour. We had departed from Heathrow late in the afternoon of 28th February, 1956 and therefore it was dark with little to see from the plane of the ground below. The drone of the plane’s engines was hardly soporific- it was an Argonaut. We landed in Rome but did not disembark; a few passengers were picked up here. We took off for the next stage of our flight and I tried to sleep, without much success. When we reached Tripoli and emerged from the aircraft the heat and musky smell of Africa enveloped me like a blanket and is a memory which has remained with me ever since. The airport building was very basic and still bore traces of the war- bullet holes through the walls. However, it was good to ‘have a leg stretch’ before continuing with our journey, the next stage taking us to Kano in Northern Nigeria. Here we were grounded for the day because of problems with the aircraft which had to be sorted out, so the airport officials laid on a bus tour of the old city of Kano -a very hot and dusty experience! We eventually took off for our final destination -Lagos - towards the end of the day and arrived at about 10 pm. What a relief to find Joy waiting for me at Ikeja Airport. She had bought herself a Mini Minor car and into this went my bags and a very tired me, to be taken to her flat in the residential sector of the main island Ikoyi. The next few days were a bit chaotic. I had been allocated a flat- in one of the older blocks - at the entrance to the Government residential area but close to the European Club which was halfway down the road on the opposite side, backing onto the golf course. I had a top floor flat (four in the block) which comprised kitchen, large lounge/diner, large bedroom and bathroom. Louvered shutters on the windows and the compulsory mosquito nets over the bed. (l had commenced taking an anti-malaria tablet daily prior to leaving the U.K.). The flat was furnished but without kitchen equipment and linen, most of which arrived a few days later in my two trunks. However, I am getting a bit ahead of myself because on the morning after my arrival, Joy said that I should accompany her into work but I declined because I had been unable to unpack and sort myself out. She was a bit uncertain about this but departed without me only to send transport back for me a bit later in the morning with a note to say that I had to report into the Establishments Secretary. This I did; he seemed a bit unsure about a placement for me and felt that with shorthand speeds of 160 wpm I could work as a verbatim reporter in the House of Reps. He also enquired whether I would mind being on temporary placements - relieving while post holders were on leave and this idea rather appealed to me, so this was agreed. He was a pleasant gentleman who gave me a little homily about the pitfalls that could be encountered as a single person and that it was advisable to mix socially with male members of the community such as those in Government, banking, shipping rather than the commercial concerns I Subsequent events proved that I had taken his advice to heart! I then spent two or three days with Joy to learn the ropes in the Ministry of Public Works (PWD) which was situated in the main block of Government offices. This enabled me to take stock of my surroundings. To begin with my flat which, with the arrival of my trunks I had been able to set up the kitchen and bedroom. A very essential piece of equipment in the kitchen was a water filter, which was provided. All drinking water had to be boiled and filtered twice. A monthly deduction was to be made from my salary to cover electricity. Another overhead was a cook/steward and I took on the lad who had worked for the previous tenant. He seemed pleasant enough and lived at the back of the compound in one-room accommodation alongside the rooms provided for the other three flats boys. There was a backstairs entrance to the kitchens used only by the stewards. All the washing, of which there was plenty, was done by hand in the bath in the bathroom and then returned to me beautifully pressed, every day. The lounge, bedroom and bathroom with their red polished floors were polished daily; the only downside to the red polish was that it tended to walk off on one’s slippers which became more red than white after a week or two. However, the whole effect was pleasant, with whitewashed walls, and although the kitchen was very basic it did contain a ‘fridge run on kerosene. As I duly found out, this was a better arrangement than electricity, because of the frequent power cuts.