Art by Stephanie Reith

AN INSIGHT
My father came to what was Southern Rhodesia in 1949.
I t was there that he met my mother Hope, who was born in Bulawayo, a descendant of an English settler who arrived at the Cape of Good Hope in 1787.
My father later applied for a job with East African Railways and Harbours and risked a bet on a horse to fund his trip to Tanganyika.
Being the daughter of a railwayman we travelled around Tanganyika a lot. Dodoma, Dar-es-Salaam and Tanga, the town where I was born. I was educated by the Loreto nuns in Nairobi.
As a teenager my father nicknamed me Twiga, Swahili for giraffe.
We moved to Kenya and on leaving school I joined the Kenya Art Society College. I was encouraged by Dora Betts, a wonderful artist and dedicated teacher. It was Dora who fired my interest in life drawing. Setting models on the platform…draping them with cloth, or stripping them and filling the room with warm lights. My favourite model ‘Tickie’ I remember you well.
Some fond and early memories of East Africa:
M.G.M were making the film Bush baby staring Donald Houston and introducing Louis Gossette Jnr, I was a look alike for the young actress Margaret Brooks. Into my lap fell the opportunity to be her understudy. So at the age of twelve I travelled throughout Tanzania’s Game Parks. Lake Manyara, Ngorogoro Crater and the Serengeti. The animals, the scenery and always…the people.
I remember vividly the heat and the acacias. The white hunters old green land rovers. I remember threading impala droppings on strands of my hair to make necklaces. I was given two bushbabies and then sent home to school and another reality at the end of it all.
I am particularly fond of the coastal people of East Africa, the Kiswahili. The villages my ‘Aiyah ‘took me to…the doughnut like maandazi and large friendly mamas smelling of coconut oil, their hands painted with henna. Jikos, paraffin lamps, ferry crossings and pili-pili, I love them to this day. The kanga was my nightdress for as long as I can remember.
In Kenya my father established loving relationships with his workers - accompanying them on the drums at many festivities and keeping his office door open for every worker.
In 1975 the winds of change brought the family to Rhodesia.
This was a wrench for us all. We searched amongst the Mozambicans and Zambians for those that were Swahili speaking. Hoping to make contact...And then the war years, a stormy time for all...and after, armed soldiers hungry and unpaid held up people at gun point, desperate. As fate would have it, my father ran to assist a woman in such a hold up and was shot in the stomach at point blank range. He died six weeks later, His murderer later hung.
There was no consolation in this only great sadness.
My father taught his children not only tolerance but a respect for all Gods people and cultural differences make for an interesting world and not a divided one.
Africa gives you her beauty to behold. If you love her and take her to heart there will be an element of risk. You will ask yourself “How stable is she?” Though she gave birth to me, a white African, will she reject me?
Will she look after me in my old age when all I have left are the fond memories, or will she force me to cold and distant shores?
Betray ME whilst welcoming foreigners to coastal paradise and ex-pats and diplomats to her capitals.
Still I will take the risk…I am committed to Africa. On my fathers grave the words ‘Give us now and then a man, and life will crown him king, who dares to face the consequence just to risk the thing’.
I have lived a privileged life in four African countries; I have seen Gods goodness, His provision for me in the ‘desert’ times of my life…and many, many miracles to tell future generations. God is good and true, loving us faithfully, and I give Him all the Glory.
My work upholds the old cultures and is a tribute to the many tribes of Africa.
What do I accomplish with my paintings?
I can stop the African clock before all is lost or forgotten. Here I can capture people in time.
Here time stands still for you.