Oh wow this is our house man or housekeeper called Jockey. He worked for us for several years on, in northern Rhodesia in those days he explained to us that the wives were too stupid to work in the houses, they tended the animals and worked on the farms and the men worked in the houses and when he came to my parents he couldn’t speak a word of English but my mom and my dad managed and I suppose myself as well managed teach him and I learnt to speak funnigalore which is a mine language I’ll tell you about later on, and Jockey was seeing for the first time a photograph of himself that my dad had taken and processed and enlarged and I will never forget he was stunned and this was in 1948/49 and the the area we lived in, it was really just totally wild so he never came across anything like a replica of himself on a piece of paper. I think it was just amazing, he was a jolly good man as well and he was in tears, when we left in 1956.
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