the early years: living in Hawick

In late 1986, we lived in Hawick for a few months. We suffered racism there - not only in town, where Gordon described us to his friends as Muir's darkies - but also in his own home.

Gordon Muir, a graphic designer by profession, had just dissolved his small company which he was operating from his flat. He decided to invest his last pennies in booking shows for us by telephone. At that time, things were tough for us, as gigs were hardly coming by, perhaps because of his lack of experience in booking shows. So he asked us if we could live with them in Hawick.

The flat had three bedrooms, a kitchen and livingroom. There was a small basement room with a small window and a toilet - I suppose it was meant to be a store room or something. Gordon and his girlfriend at that time lived in this flat. They had no children.

There we were in his flat - five of us squashed in his small basement room. He had to borrow a 10 inch black and white television for us to watch, even though in the livingroom there was a 32 inch colour television. We were not allowed to sit and watch that TV, especially when his girlfriend was at home, not that she would be watching it.

We also noticed something unusual about Gordon's behaviour every time his girlfriend was about to come home from work. He would start cleaning the house, mainly picking up our hair from the carpet, and in the bathroom, even though we cleaned up after bathing.

We could see how uncomfortable she was with us being in their flat. We had a word with Gordon about this, because there was an awkward atmosphere. There was no freedom whenever she was present, and this reminded us of the ways of aparteid in the southern parts of Africa where we came from. But he asked us if we could bear it for a while, because his girlfriend Anne discriminated against blacks, and there was nothing he could do about it because he gave all loyalty to her.

Their behaviour contradicted with the way we live in Africa. A girlfriend doesn't set rules in the boyfriend's house, and visa versa, unless they are married or have bought the house together. We couldn't understand why we were living cramped in a small room when the house had much free space. It seemed that the girlfriend was the boss, and the boyfriend a yes man.

After experiencing life in Hawick, we decided to move back to London, where we were lucky to be booked into a bed and breakfast owned by Patronella Jose, a Ugandan woman married to British man.

Arriving at Patronella's B&B, the welcome was great, as if we had met before. She had prepared a delicious African dish with the girls who worked for her. At this point, we knew we were back in civilisation. We felt at home, and we were now living like a family once again. Most of the time, when coming from a tour, Patronella would arrange a welcoming party.

We say in Zimbabwe that where they get punched in the stomach is where they run to. It is stupid how David, Shakey and Biggie could not heed warnings written all over Gordon. Even people in the music industry could sniff him out. Biggie was a hypocrypt: he would agree to this today, but tomorrow he would oppose against it; he was unpredictable. This attracted predators who only wanted to use us. Gordon Muir and the likes found their way in and targetted Biggie, Shakey and David, because of their weaknesses. Gordon himself became insecure: he didn't like to see us making friends with people he didn't know.