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Aviation History
1950
1950 - 0678.PDF
44° FLIGHT. 6 April 1950 FOR WHOM THE BELL RINGS . . . for a day in the air is exhausting and exacting. In addi- tion to the meals, worries and welfare of twenty-seven passengers, and the endless questions about customs, pass- ports, currency and luggage, there is the washing up! A sobering thought for a glamour-lover is that on an average day's flying an air hostess washes up about a thousand separate items. I always welcome passengers who volun- teer to help with the chores and reward them with an extra noggin from the bar box. Passengers themselves are the main contributory factor towards making a trip pleasant for an air hostess. My number one favourites are old ladies—particularly old ladies on their first nights. I like to see their expressions change from slight apprehension on take-off to a comfortable con- tentment when magazines and cups of tea are brought round. I remember one delicious old thing who, at the completion of her first flight, asked to be taken to the cap- tain. Before a delighted crew she shook the astounded skipper warmly by the hand. "Young man," she said, " I simply must congratulate you. It was so clever of you, every time you landed, to come down right on the run- way ! " Working for a charter company is all the more amusing because of the great diversity of passengers. I have had them varying from diplomats to dipsomaniacs, and from Siamese cats to eastern seamen. I must admit that I do not feel equally friendly towards them all! I once accompanied a party of small boys from Kenya to the United Kingdom. They ran on to the aircraft shouting to each other, " I bet I'm sick before you." Such was their apparent enthusiasm to achieve this curious objective that in despair I promised a shilling to anyone who was not sick at all. It was an expensive trip . . . On another occasion, when the aircraft was tossed about violently in a storm, a foreign gentleman rang for me. Struggling to keep my feet I reached his seat. He placed in my reluctant hand a revolver which was, he said, fully loaded and had no safety catch. He wished me to have it, he explained, in case it went off on his pocket in one of the bumps! The most colourful and unusual passengers I have had were Mohammedan pilgrims making the great Haj, or pil- grimage, which every true Mohammedan must make once in his lifetime, to the Holy City of Mecca. From Kenya and Tanganyika I accompanied Indians wreathed in jasmin, the men in snow-white pilgrims' robes and their women in gorgeous saris. From Nigeria, the Gold Coast and Sierra Leone came fine old native chieftains, tall, dignified, their faces seamed and lined with tribal scars. Many of these had never seen the sea. When we crossed the desolate coast of the Sudan and below us lay the shimmering sheet of the Red Sea, they called me and asked what it was. I told them, and watched their faces as they crowded to the windows, like children in their excitement. But after twenty minutes' flying, when nothing was to be seen but sea and sky, they held council and called again. "You are wrong," they told me gently, "there cannot be so much water in the world." I have often been asked which of the countries I visited, from India to the Argentine, I like the most. Each has its own attractions. For shopping—or for me shop-window gazing—and for wonderful food, I found nothing to com- pare with Buenos Aires. This is a millionaires' city with its wide, tree-lined streets, beautiful hotels and elegant shops filled with every luxury from sheerest nylons to extravagant gowns. Rio de Janeiro is a paradise from the air—a glittering city dominated by the Sugar-loaf Mountain and bounded by the silvery stretch of the famous Copaca- bana beach. (My happiest recollection of Rio is of order- ing—and getting—a pint glass of pure orange-juice f) From the opulence of South America I flew eastwards and saw the bazaars of Damascus and the souks of the Lebanon, where Syrian vendors display their brocades and perfumes, and Arab craftsmen beat out golden ornaments in dark little shops and narrow streets which can scarcely The Wayfarers in which the author serves :,i_ - iVpaiser.ger in- terior layout which allowed room for a built-in bar and running buffet that was popular with stewardess and passengers alike. The galley, however, was small, while serving the crew entailed a vertical-ladder climb to the flight deck. have changed since the beginning of time. In Baghdad I saw the setting sun glinting on the goid dome of the great mosque, and in the desert of Iraq walked by the Eternal Fires. These fires, says the legend, mark the spot where Shadrak, Meshak and Abednego were thrown into the fiery furnace. They cannot be extinguished and proved a black-out problem during the war, but are known now to be due to the escaping gas from the neighbouring oilfield of Kirkuk rather than to any supernatural source. In Omdurman I was taken to dinner with the Khalifa Sherif, descendant of the famous Khalifa who fought with and finally took over the rule from the Mahdi whose der- vishes murdered General Gordon. I hoped that this would be an oriental meal with the guests sitting on cushions on the floor and dipping their fingers into a central dish. But the Khalifa and his Sudanese friends sat on the terrace at a long candle-lit table laden with polished glass and silver, and ate a European meal of soup, fish and roast turkey. The turkey, however, made up for the disappointment, for it was carved into small slices which were then put back so that the bird appeared to be intact. I had to be prodded by my neighbour, a Sudanese judge, before I dis- covered how to tackle a seemingly whole turkey with the proffered spoon and fork! I loved the rolling highlands of Kenya, and in the game reserves outside Nairobi saw many wild animals, among them lion, giraffe, zebra and buck. Farther north in the elephant country of Bor I saw elephant, and, on one excit- ing occasion, a rhino. The Bor herd sometimes roams across the airfield of Juba. We landed one day at Juba and saw that the passenger terminal—a grass hut—was leaning drunkenly to one side. I asked the traffic officer what had happened. " Oh, an elephant leaned against it," he said, without looking up from his work. And it was true! I was also thrilled to discover, before we took off. at dawn from Tabora in Tanganyika, that the airfield con- troller carried out a '' lion patrol'' in his Jeep, to drive away lions which sometimes play on the runways in the early morning. I think that the most fascinating place I have seen is the old walled city of Kano in Nigeria. This is said to be the largest walled native city in the world, and a meeting place for the desert caravans from all over Africa. The houses here are like children's sand-castles, some with flat and some with domed roofs, and having tiny crooked turrets on each corner. Intricate patterns are carved down the walls, and—usually for native houses—window frames are set in or even painted on the walls to match the gaily coloured doors, all of them deliciously crooked. I do not believe that there is a straight line in the native quarters of Kano. I have enjoyed my three thousand hours as a hostess, but have not yet gone far enough. My ambition is to visit the U.S.A., the Far East and the South Pacific Islands. I would like to go round the world at least three times. But between you and me—the nicest thing about being an air hostess is sitting on the ground and shooting a line about it!
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