HAM
BY MAILOr,
The Ham that Crawled in From AmericaBy
Steve Van Nattan 
We
were living on Ukerewe Island which is in Lake Victoria in Tanzania, and
our mission station was called Kazalankanda. Now, that's a bit of a tongue twister.
I was about 12 years old and my brother and I were at home from boarding school
on vacation. Ukerewe Island is a beautiful and rather large island. Our
mission station was almost dead center in the island, and it was not
possible to tell you were living on the island without traveling some distance.
It would have been about 1955, and my parents had not been on the mission field
very long. But, already, there were several things we really missed. These
missing things from America did not make us miserable, but we often mentioned
certain things which we missed from back in the USA. We missed good apples
and peaches. There are none in the tropics. We missed some of the meat choices
we used to have. Meat in African markets was very tough as a rule.
But, the thing we missed the most I think was Hershey's chocolate. Right
in second place would have been ham. The Africans would not even consider eating
pork or ham. There was an Italian some miles away who raised hogs and sold the
pork, but his prices were out of sight. Some
dear folks, in a church in the USA who supported our family financially, wrote
and asked what we missed. Mom wrote back to the ladies mission society of that
church and told them about our missing chocolate, ham, Life Savers, Kool Aid,
and American chewing gum.
That was the end of the subject for about six months. Now, you need to understand
something about sending mail to Africa. In the early 1950s the only way
to get a parcel to Africa from the USA was by slow freighter. There was
Air Mail, but it was horribly expensive. No one used Air Mail for parcels-- only
for letters. Well, the missionary society of that church in the US made
up a parcel with a huge cured ham in it. They surrounded it with Hershey bars,
Kool Aid, and all sorts of candy, and they put it in the mail. Well cured hams
will ordinarily store for many months at room temperature.
Now, that parcel had to go first to New York City. There, it would have been put
into the hold of a slow freighter, and that freighter would then begin the slow
and often interrupted journey across the Atlantic Ocean, around the Cape of South
Africa, and up the East Coast of Africa. The hold of a freighter in the tropics
is a veritable oven most of the time. Once at Dar es Salaam on the Tanzania coast,
the parcel would sit in a tin shed at around 140 F. until a load of mail could
be put together to send up country. This load would have been then put on a wood
burning very slow train to Mwanza. From there, the mail would go to the
Post Office in Mwanza, and finally on a ferry boat to Ukerewe Island.
One day Dad went to Nansio, the capital of Ukerewe Island, to pick up the mail.
As he hopped out of the pick up truck, he noted a strange and very noxious odor
on the wind. Never mind, this is Africa, and that could be just about anything.
Dad went on into the Post Office, and as he entered, the foul smell got
a lot stronger. The Indian Post Master saw Dad at once, and the man rushed from
his office. He was nearly in a panic as he said, "Mr. Wan Nattan, I am wery
glad to see you zir, One moment please." He tore into the back of the Post Office,
and soon he came out holding a parcel by the knot in the middle of the top of
the thing. He held it far out in front of him and his face was contorted
in pain.
Dad was really wondering what was happening. The Indian Post Master came quickly
to Dad, and he held out the parcel. "There, Mr. Wan Nattan," he exclaimed triumphantly,
"Take your parcel, thank you please, quickly zir. No customs charges, thank you
please. Just take your parcel at once." By now, Dad saw what was happening, and
he could not believe that this horrid rotten smell was now his personal property.
Dad looked at the return address, and his heart sunk. He at once realized someone
"back home" had sent something which did not take the journey too well.
When Dad got home, we all went out to meet him as usual. It was then our turn
to smell the most rotten thing we had ever smelled. We were almost gagging. Dad
picked up the parcel by the middle knot again, and he carried it over under a
mango tree behind the house. He set it on the ground, and he went and got a shovel.
He opened the parcel with one chop of the shovel, and what we saw caused a very
pathetic moment. There, in the middle of the parcel was a "cured" ham which was
literally crawling with maggots. All around the ham was a wreath of Hershey's
chocolate bars, Life Savers, Kool Aid, chewing gum, and many other delicacies
which we had not seen in over two years. The rotted ham had destroyed all the
other treats, and there was no way to salvage anything.
As we groaned, and as tears came to Mom's eyes, Dad laid the ham to rest in a
hole nearby. Seldom has a country cured ham had a more emotional funeral. Some
day, if the Lord does not come soon, some African farmer will unearth all those
candy wrappers, and he will wonder who would bury all those things unused.
In
perspective, Dad and Mom told my brother and I we should be very grateful for
friends who would go to the trouble and expense to try to send us treats. But,
to a twelve year old kid, Hershey's chocolate does not move the heart to joy quite
as much as chocolate candy. I
must note that about a year later, the same ladies' missionary society in the
US sent a box of Levis for my brother and I. That time, they sent the parcel by
Air Mail, and the whole front of the box was covered with blue Air Mail stamps. We
figured it up, and the postage had to cost far more the the cost of the Levis.
We had some real choice and gentle friends "back home," so the ham quickly
was forgotten. I hope you have friends who show such care for you once in a while. There
is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. Take good care of them.
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