Maningi years back when I was a whenwe, you weren’t a proper whenwe until you’d been on Outward Bound. Outward Bound – like so many good things including your Matopos cheese, Castle Pilsner, Bengal Juice, T-bone steak, Madison gwaais, the K-Car and Merciless Sun – was an entirely Rhodesian invention and its sole purpose was to turn little Rhodesians (by which I mean only the white ones) into good Rhodesian men – even the gwarras.

Outward Bound was run by an uncle called Geoff Someone who wore white, chete. White shirt, white shorts – those short-shorts Rhodesia also invented, and white Bata takkies. He was always surrounded by gwarras who also wore short shorts and had long legs, tanned dark brown by the Rhodesian sun. I am not wishing to cast aspersions on Uncle Geoff’s character here – as you know I only ever cast aspersions on Uncle Ian and his boyfriend PK van der Byl – but there were always maningi gwarras, much younger than him, everywhere you looked. Long-legged super-fit gwarras with tight white t-shirts. It was fukken mushie one time.

You found out you were going on Outward Bound when you got given a roneo’d piece of that kak paper also invented in Rhodesia from your school office that said Uncle Geoff and his travelling gwarra sideshow were coming to your school next weekend and they would toughen you up quickstyle for only five and sixpence. The course started there by the school, and then you fucked off with your classmates into the shateen near Dombashawa and spent the day getting sunburned and skinning your elbows and knees as well as learning how to make a bivouac and other such top life skills.

Hey ma! Guess what? Jesus bloody Christ Steven. How many times do I have to ask you not to scream at me when you’re right behind me? Hey? How. Many. Bloody. Times? I have spilled tea all over my brand new sundress. Jamasorrymabutguesswhatman! Uncle Geoff is doing Outward Bound for us next weekend and pleeeeeeeeease can I go hey ma pleeeeeeeease ma? I never had to beg too hard for this sort of thing because a) I was out the house for the weekend, and b) I was out the house for the weekend.

On the first day with Uncle Geoff and the gwarras we learned how to save our lives by making a flotation device out of long pajama bottoms, which is very handy if you ever sleep walk into the pool. I didn’t pay too much attention to this lesson because Debbie Yates and Susan Jane Watt were also in the pool, which always distracted me completely. On the second day, we learned how to abseil down what seemed to be a thousand foot drop and make shelters in the shateen using just leaves and sticks – passop lo nyokas and scorpions and other katunda while picking sticks up hey? – and various other things before we sat down to a packed lunch which in my case always consisted of some sandwiches on Lobel’s white bread spread thick with Stork margarine and Heinz sandwich spread. Heinz sandwich spread looked like vomit in a jar and didn’t taste much better, but June always bought it and I always had to eat it. I would also have one of those little plastic bottles with a screw top that kept your Mazoe Orange Squash at blood temperature and gave you cancer at the same time.

In the afternoon we were led to a rock face, and told to climb up to the top, where the long-legged gwarras were waiting. Don’t look down they called. Don’t look down hey, or you’ll freeze. I looked down. I froze. There, with my hands burning on the hot Rhodesian rock, I was as frozen as a birthday cake from the Dairy Den. Come on Steven they called encouragingly; you can do it. I couldn’t move an inch. Eventually Uncle Geoff had to climb up behind me and put his hand on my arse (luckily it wasn’t Uncle Geoff Atkins) and then push me up the rocks until I was at the top. When I got home that night, scorched by the sun, tired and sleepy, June asked did you have a good time my boy? Ja ma I did. I did hey? Until we got to the rock climbing bit ma, I thought I was going to die ma, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t move Steven? You? Don’t make me bloody laugh. Hollow laugh. You can’t keep still for bloody minutes. Ants in your pants my boy. Couldn’t move. Hah!

To this day I’m shit scared of heights.