District Commissioner

There was a time as a small boy when my ambition was to become a district commissioner in one of Britain's African colonies. This would have involved my being in charge of a huge chunk of Africa, where it would have been my job to make sure the natives behaved themselves, that they were educated - be it as children in schools or as adults by improving their farms. I would have dispensed justice, prevented disputes, appointed chiefs, worked with the police, medical and veterinary services, and generally run a peaceful, progressive regime.

To do this I would have had to travel miles to visit all the far-flung corners of my little kingdom, taking with me all the luxuries of modern living - carried on the heads of innumerable porters.

There would have been some time - not much - for recreational activities, such as shooting game which was troubling the villager's fields.

My house would have been built almost entirely of local materials, and I would have had....

....a large staff to cook, clean, do my washing, serve at table and otherwise look after my daily needs.

At some stage, probably on one of my three-yearly leaves in England, I might have found a wife who was prepared to live a lonely life in the middle of nowhere, and help me in my job - like, for example, running a small clinic for the women. And if children came along, they would have to take the locals as they found them.

It never happened. Independence came to our colonies and protectorates, and although the district commissioner system continued, it was largely staffed by Africans. I did manage to return to Africa, not as a DC but as a teacher.

Photos from ZimFieldGuide - here.