Perhaps the Haiti situation kicked it off (in my head) …

When I was 22, I had the honor of associating with some men I admired. That is as it should be, of course. But they were not your businessmen, teachers, etc.

I will start with Ionides.  C.J.P. Ionides.  Big game hunter at one time. When I knew him he was specializing in catching snakes, mostly, which he sent to one of Leakey’s kids in Nairobi. Their venom was used to make medicine. Anyway, we lived in the same Tanzanian village (Newala) and being the only white males, I guess, were sort of drawn together. Plus, I was willing to put up with his predilection for listening to opera, even on safari. He had a battery-powered record player. Oh yeah, we both smoked cigarettes and liked gin, and spoke English. Usually better before the gin.

So he caught reptiles (mostly green mambas – yes, deadly) while I took pictures. I do have some spitting cobra pictures, too.(using telephoto, because I didn’t have goggles) He said he liked them better than what National Geographic took of him in SE Asia. I think he was just being kind. “Mambas and Maneaters” is the book I have about him, but there is at least one more.

Duncan Leys is a man I loved and admired. I think he was about 70 when we met. He came to the village to temporarily fill the gap after the previous doctor left. He was a pediatrician, and a kind, caring man. Also tall. I had trouble keeping up when we walked.

The US Peace Corps thought it would be good for me to move in with him in the “doctor house” on a cliff which had a view of the Ruvuma River, 10 miles away, since he didn’t know Swahili.

I met his wife, Erica, on my trip home & stayed with them. Good, caring people. [Bickley, Brumley, Kent is my recollection … ]

Finally, Trevor Huddleston, formerly of S. Africa (kicked out, I think) was an interesting person. He was Bishop of Masasi, I think. Duncan and I had him for dinner once, and I ran into him elsewhere. Strong convictions. I believe he became an archbishop. I don’t even know what that means.

It occurs to me that I could go on …

Living. Slowly.