Voyage to the Unknown
We sailed from Southampton in the Union Steamship Company’s “Carnarvon Castle”. The first of their diesel-powered vessels, she had been built for the mail run between Southampton and Cape Town, and she could complete the trip in 12 days. She had seen World War II service, including a dangerous running battle with a German strike-vessel that crippled her temporarily. She was near the end of her service.
Our first stop was Madeira. We were already rejoicing in the warmth and sunshine. As we continued southwards, the African continent appeared on the port side, with its long, featureless flat coastline fringed for mile after mile with vegetation – it looked hot. Small boats came out to meet us, with young boys diving for coins in the clear, turquoise waters. It was like a dream.
It turned out to be an ill-fated trip, though. The same flu that I’d had earlier was circulating on board and we’d taken on bad water at Madeira. Dysentery struck the ship. Once we crossed the line barely a quarter of the passengers made it to meals at any given time. I succumbed – flu for the second time in a month and dysentery as well. I was running both ends at once and the ship’s doctor doubted I’d be well enough to get off the ship at Cape Town.
Our train journey from Cape Town into the interior of the mighty continent was already booked. We had no option. So the doctor by his own admission threw the book of antibiotics at me.
It was a very groggy girl who disembarked to a new future at Cape Town, and the extent of that new future didn’t become apparent for a year or two. I won’t go into details – suffice to say that for 20 years the medical profession had no answer to my digestive problems and weariness. It was all in my head, they said. I carried on with my life as best I could, watching very carefully what I ate, and was finally diagnosed with systemic candida from that massive dose of antibiotics. I’m actually still dealing with it.
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