Like a sneaky fugitive I managed to skip away from the clutches of the encroaching arms of the security forces by boarding a flight in Salisbury to London, via Lisbon, on a TAP flight, in April 1973. I remember seeing the shiny boots of a Police Officer at the airport and then to my horror realized that they belonged to a former school colleague from just three months before, whose name I can still remember, a white farmer’s son called Ian Darby. I managed to sneak around him as I had an irrational fear that he would have stopped me boarding that plane. 

This was Rhodesia just as the guerrilla war for independence was hotting up and I knew I wanted to play no part in that by fighting for the continuation of white supremacy under the Ian Smith regime.  I was just 18 and had recently left school with three low grade ‘A’ levels in History, English and Geography. Just two weeks later an army detail visited my parents house in Salisbury, (now Harare) looking for me to be conscripted immediately. It was a narrow escape. My Mum told them “You’re too late, he’s gone.” They left disappointed. My compass was pulling me strongly towards the UK.

London was an exciting place to land, it was April and much cooler than I was expecting, I really didn’t have the right clothes for an English spring. Somewhere near Shepherd’s Bush I spent my first couple of weeks, staying with an aunt. My sister Jane was around too and I clearly remember her taking me to my first London gig, in a pub nearby with South African jazzman Dudu Pukwana supported by maverick sax player Lol Coxhill. I felt free for perhaps the first time as an adult.  The next day I was introduced to the film work of Jacques Tati and his automobile and his world of visual humour – Trafic. Life had begun in a new place and there was a new exciting world to discover. To be continued…