The Kings Candlesticks - Family Trees
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Henry HILL [10996]
Ellen BALL [10997]
(Abt 1840-)
Rev Dr Frederick William QUILTER DD [1199]
Mary Anne Parry NIXON [1202]
(1839-Abt 1920)
William Henry "Will" HILL [1221]
Mary Agnes QUILTER [1220]

John Frederick Rowland "Jack" HILL C.M.G. [8327]


Family Links

1. Phyllys Esme FRYER [9673]

John Frederick Rowland "Jack" HILL C.M.G. [8327]

  • Born: 1905, Cairo Egypt
  • Marriage (1): Phyllys Esme FRYER [9673] on 28 Jun 1930 in Dar es Salaam Tanganyika
  • Died: 1991, Perth WA aged 86
  • Buried: Guildford Cemetery WA

bullet  General Notes:

HILL, John Frederick Rowland, CMG 1955; B 20 April 1905 to Judge William Henry Hill; m 1930, Phyllys Esme (nee Fryer) one s two d. Educ: Pinewood School, Farnborough; Marlborough Coll; Lincoln Coll., Oxford. BA Oxon, Hon. Sc Jurisprudence, 1927; Cadet Colonial Civil Service, Tanganyika 1928; Asst. District Officer, 1930; District Officer, 1940, Deputy Provincial Commissioner, 1947; Provincial Commissioner, 1948; Sen. Provincial Commissioner, 1950; Mem. For Communications, Works and Development Planning, Tanganyika Govt, 1951-1956; Chairman Tanganyika Broadcasting Corp, and Director of Broadcasting 1956-57; Govt Liaison Officer, Freeport, Bahamas 1957-58; Supervisor of Elections, Zanzibar, 1959-60.
Ref: Who's Who.

John was always known as Jack, he is remembered by his family below:

Memories of her father by Jennifer Hill 2012
Jack was born to Mary and William Hill on 20th April 1905 in Cairo, Egypt, in a house called Mason Alt Be. The family subsequently moved to Gezira when Jack was about 6, a fashionable island suburb on the Nile.
Jack was educated in England. He first attended Pinewood, a preparatory school in Farnborough, Hants, and then at the age of thirteen he was enrolled at Marlborough College in Wiltshire. Holidays were spent in both Guernsey and England until the First World War years (1914-1918) when all his holidays had of necessity to be spent in England only. After his school days, in 1924, Jack went up to Lincoln College, Oxford and following in his father's footsteps Jack read law. He was a keen sportsman, excelling particularly at hockey, cricket and tennis (he captained the Lincoln College XI in hockey and played a number of times for the University). He also played a lot of bridge.
Jack completed a course at Oxford University for aspiring colonial cadets, and was subsequently offered various postings in the Colonies such as Northern Rhodesia and Nigeria. He turned these offers down. Jack was very keen to work in East Africa, and when he was offered a position in Tanganyika (previously German East Africa) he took it. He acquired the necessary uniforms and was ready to embark on his adventure into "darkest Africa." He sailed to Dar es Salaam, Tanganyika in May 1928 on the "Llandaff Castle." On arrival and disembarkation he was instructed to sail on the "Azania" to Lindi which was some 300 miles south of Dar es Salaam. Lindi was a typical small (about 50 europeans) and remote Provincial Headquarters of the 1920's. Jack was assigned to be an Assistant to the District Officer, Walter Fryer, on 400 p.a., his servant Mbembe was paid 1.5s p.a. Walter Fryer had a daughter, Phyllys Esme, who was to marry Jack in Dar es Salaam on 27th June 1930.
Jack's first posting as a married man was to Kilwa, and their first child John Rowland was born on 19th December 1931 in the European Hospital, Dar es Salaam. His second child, Jennifer (Jenny) was born on 19th September, l933 in England while Jack and Phyllys were on overseas leave. Jack had many postings - Morogoro, Biharamulo, Ngara, Tabora (1936) and Kahama. He was in Kahama at the outbreak of the second World War in September 1939. He was 33 years old and considered to be of more use to Britain by serving as an Administrative Officer than by joining the Allied Forces. In 1940 Jack was promoted to District Commissioner of the Southern Highlands Rungwe District, the chief township being Tukuyu where the family were to live. Jack and Phyllys' third child, Patricia, was born in Tukuyu on August 27th 1942 and the family remained in Tukuyu until hostilities in Europe ceased in May 1945.
The family then took leave in Dar es Salaam while awaiting passage on a ship to UK. However, it proved impossible to return to UK by sea from Tanganyika as the only ships in those waters were overcrowded troop-ships ferrying servicemen back home. Jack finally made other arrangements for his family and he, accompanied by John and Jenny, took a trip down the Nile on a paddle steamer from Uganda to Khartoum in the Sudan, and from there by rail to Cairo, leaving Phyllys to fly from Nairobi to Cairo with baby Patricia. Jack and John obtained a passage on a troop-ship from Alexandria to Southampton: Phyllys, Jenny and Patricia flew to England in a 25 seater Dakota which was full of troops. The family were reunited in Sussex at the end of November 1945.
On returning to Tanganyika in 1946, and disembarking in Dar es Salaam Jack was posted to Moshi as District Commissioner. He was subsequently promoted to Provincial Commissioner and posted to Mbeya in the Southern Highlands Province. Jack was then posted to Tanga Province as Provincial Commissioner. In 1951 Jack Hill was promoted to Member for Communications, Works and Development Planning. In effect this meant that he was responsible for all communications and development works in the Territory, and was one of the top eight members of the Legislative Council of Government. This entailed living in the capital, Dar es Salaam during the governorship of Sir Edward Twining. Jack was presented with the CMG by Sir Twining three days after Jack's 50th birthday.
Jack Hill had spent most of his working adult life with the Colonial Civil Service (1928 to 1958) in Tanganyika Territory (now re-named Tanzania). After his initial retirement from the Colonial Service Jack was re-employed by the Colonial Office on a contract basis. He had the post of Chairman of the Tanganyika Broadcasting Corporation, and Director of Broadcasting in 1956 and was then posted to Freeport, Bahamas in 1957 as Government Liaison Officer. He returned to East Africa in 1959 to take up the post of Supervisor of Elections in Zanzibar in 1959; these were the first elections to take place on this island. When Jack finally retired he moved to England where he lived in Kent for a year with his wife, Phyllys, and younger daughter, Patricia. He, and Phyllys then moved to Guernsey. Jack and Phyllys emigrated from Guernsey to New Zealand in October 1975 and they settled in Whangarei where his daughter Patricia then lived. In 1985 Jack and Phyllys moved to Perth, Western Australia to live with their daughter, Jenny.
After a rich, full and adventurous life Jack died on 12th April 1991 in a Perth nursing home. He was 86. Jack is buried in Guildford a suburb of Perth, Western Australia.

Memories of Family Life and Quotes from his Father, by John Hill.
John Frederick Rowland Hill was born in a house called Mason Alt Be in the south part of Cairo, Egypt, he was always known as Jack Hill. Jack writes: "My early childhood was happy, not only because of the care and love my parents bestowed upon me, but also because they were living in comfortable circumstances. Their house facing Abdin Square where the Royal Palace was situated, had a vast marble floored hall and a wide marble staircase.There was a huge kitchen which L would raid with the aid of the Sudanese cook. My parents often entertained on what seemed to me a lavish scale, and from the top of that marble staircase l would surreptitiously watch the guests arriving, the men always in formal evening dress the ladies in long gowns and long white gloves. And then from the railed garden l would watch the soldiers changing guard at the palace. Sometimes there would be a full parade whilst at other times horse drawn carriages would arrive at the palace for some reception or other. I thought the soldiers very smart. And the mounted police, an elite corps, were splendid, mounted on grey or white Arab horses, and when there was a formal occasion they carried lancers pennants.

When l was about 6 years old we went to live in Gezira, a fashionable island suburb on the Nile. We had a tall featureless house, built l suppose during the early Victorian years, but it was cool and well appointed. And it was within easy walking distance of the Gezru Sporting Club. Amongst the multitude of facilities here was a large children's playground, and my sister and l spent many hours with friends here. It was here that I received my first cricket lessons from a vast Nubian called Sambo. About this time too l went to my first school, run by a Miss Quibel and my father began to teach me French using a bright pink book called, French without tears which started of with an exciting story about 'Jean a une plume' whereas 'Henri a un canif'. Most of the European children were in the charge of nannies, that worthy but now almost extinct breed of, women who played a large part in the lives of their charges. But I can only remember one of ours, called Bessie, who was short and buxom, but a kindly lass. Like many of her ilk, she was fond of the British soldiers and after many flirtations, married one.We then had a governess called Miss Dalton, a very severe, forbidding, stringy female. Once when l was suffering from some childish disease she retreated to her room with a supply of food and locked the door. She did not emerge for a number of days, and when she finally did, she was promptly dismissed. l had a number of friends, including my first girl friend who was American and several years older than me. We had lots of parties, and at one Christmas party Santa's clothes caught fire, and he was so severely burnt that he never recovered. l was so horrified that henceforth l would dread having any Santa Claus at a party.
I recall one occasion in early 1914 when a team of French aviators came to Cairo to give a display of flying.At Heliopolis we witnessed what was then the amazing feat of looping the loop. Then in the summer of that year, when I was 9 years old, my parents decided to send me to school in England because the standard of education in Cairo was not good enough!

John recalls what Marlborough College would have been like for his father: When Jack was 13 he went to Marlborough College. The college had a reputation of being a tough school, and that was true enough. The very environment of the school was harsh, and the most vivid recollection of his first few years there was the persistent and biting cold of the winter and Easter terms. There was never enough warmth. The only form of heating in the classrooms was open fires, and the more senior boys always got the best positions. When Shakespeare wrote, "and milk came frozen home in pail", he had not experienced the dormitories where the chamber pots under our beds were solid with yellow ice in the mornings. Jack was allocated a place in 'A' House, which was an evil looking dungeon of a place, 3 stories high and a basement, and the centre of the building was a large 'well' surrounded by high iron railings. These railings had been erected after an occasion when a boy, being tossed from one corner to the other, crashed down the well and was killed. It had the atmosphere of a prison. There were many official school rules which had to be learnt and obeyed, and there were a number of unofficial rules which required the same degree of obeisance. For instance, when one was in junior house, and 'A' house was one of these, one was not permitted to wear any sort of overcoat when walking outside, and another dictated that all one's coat buttons were done up at all times. Non compliance with any of the unwritten rules meant a punishment of some kind or another. One of these was running the gauntlet of wet knotted towels between a line of boys who banged you as hard as they could as you went by.
After a couple of terms in a Junior House one went on to a Senior House, and in the case of Jack this was C3. Here he would have been subjected to 'fagging', which, in effect, meant one was used as a slave to a more senior boy, generally a prefect. One was obliged to perform all kinds of duties, such as cleaning his shoes, making his bed, and such like.It was not too bad if one was allocated a decent sort of fellow, but as often as not the prefect used his new won power to bully the new junior, and in those days prefects were permitted to use the cane. But every boy went through this phase, and Jack wrote, "My time at Marlborough became progressively more pleasant. I passed my School Certificate - the equivalent of '0' levels - without difficulty, and progressed ultimately to the Classical Upper VI."Jack was also an excellent hockey player, and was a regular member of the school's 1st. XI, and Marlborough was, as often as not, reckoned to be the best hockey school in England. He was also an adequate cricketer and rugby player, getting his 2nd colours in both.

Jack's very best friend at school was Wilfred Fison, who later married Jack's cousin, Joyce Quilter. They remained the greatest of friends until Wilfred's untimely death in a controversial air crash.
Jack Hill went up to Lincoln College, Oxford, following in his father's footsteps in 1924. He decided to read law there (School of Jurisprudence). There is no doubt that he enjoyed his years at university. He made many very good friends, and had many diversions. He played a lot of bridge, something at which he was excellent, and he did a lot of sport. He excelled on the field of hockey, captained the Lincoln College XI, and played a number of times for the university, although he missed out on a 'blue'. He also played a lot of cricket and tennis during the summer months. It seems that during the first two years he spent rather too much time indulging in pleasurable pursuits, including much going out to theatres, concerts and suchlike, and in his third year he had to abandon this way of life and get down to some real hard work. He moved from his college rooms into digs , firstly in Walton Street, and then in Iffley Road. He wrote: "I worked nearly all day and every day, and late into the nights. His finals were due in the summer of 1927. At that time he wanted to be a barrister, and to enter this profession one needed a First Class degree. As it happened, his papers on all the facets of law were up to First Class standard except that his exam on international law was not. And so he was awarded, as the chairman of the professors said, a very good second! It was during Jack's time at Oxford that the General Strike occured. This started in May 926. Jack and three of his friends decided to join forces to help the Government prevent the country being paralysed. One of these friends owned a rather battered Austin 7. Jack wrote: "We decided to go to London. All went well until we got to Hammersmith where, with a last desperate cough, the little vehicle gave up. A rather hostile crowd gathered around and started to call us blacklegs and other unprintable insults. We eventually managed to get the little beast going again, and we went to the Junior Canton Club in Pall Mall, which had been turned into a recruiting centre. We were sworn in as special constables and were issued with batons and armlets. We were told to report for duty at the Nine Elms Goods depot, and here we joined a pretty motley looking band of men under the command of a senior officer of the Indian Police Force!" Their job was to protect the sheds and the wagons which contained a large quantity of whisky as well as other valuable material. There were a few skirmishes, and a little bit of blood spilt, but on the whole they had a fairly quiet time. The Government stood firm and resolute, and after 9 days the General Strike collapsed. Having got his degree, it was then time for Jack to branch out on a career. He had the opportunity of joining the Hong Kong & Shanghai Bank, and although the lure of the Far East tempted him, he decided that banking would be far too boring. He decided to apply for an administrative job in the Colonial Office, with a preference for an East African territory. He was first offered Nigeria, and then Northern Rhodesia, but he turned these down, and was prepared to wait for a vacancy in East Africa. A vacancy in Tanganyika came up, and he took it. After having completed a course at Oxford University for aspiring colonial cadets, he acquired all the necessary uniforms and so on, and was ready for the adventure into 'darkest Africa'. A passage was booked on the Llandaff Castle, sailing in May 1928. Jack decided to join the ship at Marseilles, and went by train from London to Paris and thence to Marseilles. The ship called in at Genoa and Port Said, his first sight of Africa! After 2 weeks or so the Llandaff edged it's way at dawn through the twisted channel into the very picturesque Dar es Salaam harbour. Jack wrote: "All seemed peaceful and still and just what I had imagined a perfect tropical scene to be. Soon we were to be transported by a sorrowful looking motorboat to shore, and then through customs. I took a rickshaw - no vehicular taxis available then - to the one and only hotel in town called the New Africa, which had been built by the Germans before the 1914-18 war. I was instructed to report immediately to the Secretariat, where I met the Chief Secretary, 2nd only to the Governor. He told me I was to be posted to the port of Lindi, some 300 miles south of Dar. "There is a sailing there this evening", declared the Chief Secretary, "make sure you don't miss it"My heavy baggage was still on board the Llandaff, and this had to be left there, until it could be transported at a later date to Lindi.

I wondered if my welcome in Lindi would be as indifferent. The vessel that took me to Lindi, the "Azania" was foul in the extreme, and the cabin I had was hardly bigger than a large dog's kennel.The weather was foul too, and we rocked and rolled for three days. At one point a lifeboat was smashed, the cabins were flooded and rails were twisted The food wasn't too good either, and goat was served as a main dish." "Lindi was a typical small and remote Provincial Headquarters of the 1920s.There were something like 50 Europeans, several hundred Indians, and about 5,000 local Africans. One extraordinary custom of the day was the carrying of personal calling cards. Everyone, men and women, had their own cards, and these were dropped off whenever one made a visit - and a visit to the more senior Government officials was a must for junior officers. At the Provincial Commissioner's house one always had to sign the Visitors Book! Within the Province were 6 or 7 Districts, each of which was about the size of Wales. I was assigned to be an assistant to Walter Fryer, who later became my father-in-law.

Jack wrote of his time in Lindi: "It was not a very exciting place. There was a library with 100 or so moulding books, and a tennis court with huge cracks in the asphalt surface. There was a 7 hole golf course with each hole varying in distance by only a few yards and broken in it's monotonous flatness by a few palm trees. The diet consisted mainly of fish and athletic chickens. Occasionally we would have some terribly tough beef or a bit of goat. Vegetables came in once a fortnight by a coastal vessel called the "Dumra", and when she was in harbour we would indulge in games of poker with the captain of the ship and a tough female who was known as "Rough House Rosie", who thought she was an outstanding player, but most of her play consisted of outrageous bluffs, My salary was L400 per annum, and this was more than enough for me to live on and enjoy myself, I paid my servant, Mbembe 30 shillings p.a. One learns quickly in Africa. Whilst on my first walking safari I got bitten on the toe by a scorpion which had got into my empty shoe at some time during the night. I had to perform an immediate operation which consisted of slicing the wound with a razor blade and putting in crystals of Potassium Permanganate. The poison had numbed my foot and had crept up the lower part of my leg l was in considerable pain, and I had almost decided to return back to base when the pain began to recede. Every morning for the next 3O years in Africa I always "emptied" my shoes every morning before I put them on, and I never encountered another scorpion in all that time. On another occasion whilst on a sisal estate I went to perform a major duty of nature in an outside "hole in the ground" enclosed in a corrugated iron shed. Chancing to look up I saw in the beams a snake. I froze. Should I pull my pants up slowly and carefully or at great speed and make a dash for the outside? I chose the latter and I performed the operation very fast indeed, which was just as well for the snake was a black mamba. Another time whilst on safari I had the most violent toothache, I was some 35 miles from Lindi, and decided to walk this in one day in order to get to the doctor (the nearest dentist was hundreds of miles away in Dar es salaam). I told the porters they could take two days to do the journey, but one of the porters who had quite a heavy load challenged me to beat him to the town. I accepted, and promised to give him double wages if he succeeded. I am quite sure that he would have beaten me if had not been for my toothache, but I only won by several hundred yards.I was amazed at his stamina, for he did not appear to be a particularly strong fellow. He got his double wages anyway! Some of the porters I encountered on safaris in Africa did have amazing stamina, and I remember one fellow who carried 2 x 4 gallon tins of petrol in a box (about 60 lbs in weight) for 60 miles in 2 days.

Jack's first posting as a married man was to Kilwa, which had the reputation of being quite the worst posting in the territory. It was here Jack had his initiation into administering an area in darkest Africa.He wrote of daily life: We had no radios, and mail came and went once a fortnight. Refrigerators did not exist and the only way we had of keeping water cool was by immersing bottles of boiled water into earthenware pots. Fresh food consisted of locally caught fish and athletic fowls which were abominably tough. Green vegetables were unobtainable except for the occasional spinach which arrived by ship. The butter was made from buffalo's milk in India, it was greasy and unsavoury and became rancid if kept for more than a few days.
With the exceptional heat and high humidity, I lost a lot of weight. The houses accommodating Government officials were old thick walled houses built by Arabs in bygone days. They had small rooms and uneven floors, but at least they were cool.My boss, the District Commissioner, was called Major, nicknamed the mad major. He was elderly and stupid and unfriendly, and he had an extremely uattractive wife. They never entertained or indulged in any sort of social activity. On the occasion of the visit of HMS Effingham to Kilwa Kisiwani he took absolutely no interest and it was left to the junior officers there to entertain and look after our guests Capt Fraser and his crew. We organised a football match and a dance with gramophone music and plenty of beer in the evening, but Major did not participate, or even make an appearance at any time. Capt Fraser, afterwards reported to the Governor that the station Kilowatt was an unhappy one, and the mad Majors days were numbered thereafter. We were in the period of the great depression, and there was little point in pleading for a better posting as there were strong rumours that there would be reductions in staff. In 1931 we all had a cut in salary of 5%, and this was never restored once times improved a year or two later.
Jack and Phyllys's first child was born on 19 December 1931 in the European Hospital, which overlooked the sea in
Jack was then posted to Morogoro, at the foot of the Uluguru mountains, he continues: This was a much more pleasant place. There were two banks in the town, and the European population must have numbered around 150. There were plenty of safaris to be done, both by road and on foot. One such foot safari was undertaken by Jack and Phyll, together with the newly born baby John. As soon as we started off the rains started! It rained all day and all night and all the next day. The rivers were becoming swollen, and one river we had to cross was almost chest high.
Some of the porters formed a human chain across while others carried Phyllys and baby John across in a hastily made "machela" a chair lashed to two bamboo poles. Not one load was dropped in that crossing, and we squelched on, sometimes ankle deep in red mud, the rain pouring incessantly until we reached the lonely mission station, which had just one Holy Ghost Father, named Father Gervase. He was the only white man for many miles around and he saw no other white man more than once or twice a year. The mission was a pleasant relief and we were able to dry out before going on the following day. One of my main reasons for this expedition was to undertake a survey on a prospective road, and I spent a few days doing this before returning.
Once again the heavens opened, and the Wami river was in flood and totally impassable. Some mission Fathers offered us their hospitality, and we gratefully accepted this as being more comfortable than being under canvas. The Holy Ghost Fathers were very good to us for four days until the floods abated.They gave us good food, plenty of Algerian wine, and every evening we played cards and pontoon. Most of those chaps were Irish. Whilst they would not play for money, they were quite happy to play for cigarettes, and more than once we ended a session with the Father Superior sitting there with a small pile of cigarettes in front of him. I have to say that during my time in Tanganyika I found that the Roman Catholic missionaries were in general far more liberal minded, practical, and worldly wise than their Protestant counterparts.
Jack was then posted to Biharamulo and it was there that the family acquired a young fox terrier called Juan. Juan had been owned by the previous District Commissioner, he became the most lovable and loyal of pets. Biharamulo was a very remote station in the western part of Tanganyika, and amongst the dozen or so Europeans there was a doctor named Wilson, known as hollow chest.

Jack continues: In 1933 my son John, then aged about 18 months, had a fall. He grazed and bruised his knee badly, but this didnt seem to be of any great significance and "Hollow chest" considered there was no cause for anxiety. But, as there was no improvement after a fortnight or so, I decided to get a second opinion from the nearest other
doctor at Bukoba, some 120 miles away.Off we went in my old Ford 'A' model. The medical officer there was not optimistic and suspected TB knee joint. He considered an X-ray was necessary, so off we went for another 200 miles to Kampala, the capital of Uganda. And whilst we received the utmost civility and attention from the hospital staff, it, the X-ray machine was an ancient model, and the plates were indifferent and inconclusive. However, the doctors did tentatively confirm the diagnosis as T.B. I was advised to take John to England for treatment, This was trouble indeed, for I was not nearly due for leave, and furthermore my wife was pregnant. However, I decided that the only course of action was to take John, then strapped from thigh to foot in cumbersome Thomas splint, to England by air.
The Government granted me 6 weeks leave, and even paid for half my return passage Phyllys went to her parents in Kenya. Once again we set of again from Biharamulo to Bukoba, where we caught a ship across Lake Victoria to Kisumu,and thence by a rather tired train to Nairobi in Kenya. We took to the air in an Imperial Airways Hercules class plane. This was a four engine bi-plane,very reliable and very comfortable, but oh so very slow Our average speed was 150 mph. We landed at Entebbe, and then on to Juba where we stopped the night in a very hot and stuffy hotel. Off we went to Khartoum the next day, stopping to refuel at one of the hottest places in Africa, Malakal. We spent our second night on the trip in Khartoum, and the hotel here, even with the bare minimum of air conditioning and refrigeration, was heaven compared to the previous one in Juba, The third day of flying was most strenuous, The plane developed engine trouble on the first hop - one engine had to be turned off because of oil leaks and we had to wait at Wadi Halfa for about two hours whilst repairs were carried out. We then hopped over to Luxor and then to Cairo, and finally we landed in the dark at Alexandria, where we spent the third night of our journey. At Alex we caught the Scorpio class Flying Boat, and by comparison with our previous plane, this was luxury, and there was even a small bar down some steps. Our first stop was Athens, and then Brindisi. Everyone was kindness itself - the aircrew, the other passengers, the hotel staff, all helped to entertain John, and take him of my hands, although he seemed to suffer less from fatigue than I did.There was no plane from Brindisi to London, possibly because planes did not attempt to cross the Alps in those days, and we were entrained in a comfortable wagon lit, in which we travelled overnight as far as Paris. We were now on our fifth
day of travelling and the last hop was by Hercules from Paris to London.I managed to get John admitted to the Wingfield-Morris Orthopaedic Hospital near Oxford where be received 8 months of the finest treatment available in England under the aegis of the eminent orthopaedic surgeon, Mr Girdlestone. The trouble turned out not to be a T.B. infection of the knee bone, but streptococcic trouble. After being discharged he stayed with my parents at "Ghyllmead" for another 6 months, until we were able to get back to England again on leave. One of the most difficult tasks was to teach young John to walk again because, for the whole of his time in hospital, his leg had been encased in plaster-of-paris.
The family returned to Tanganyika by sea.
I was then posted to be in charge of a district called Ngara, and part of this fell into Urundi. I spent two years in Ngara. There was one earth road leading to the next town, Biharamulo 120 miles away, and another earth road leading to the 'Belgian' frontier in the other direction. During the rainy season neither of these roads were passable, and so we were for all intents and purposes marooned for at least one month every year. Even in the dry season we had to cross the Mumwendo river on a jerry built ferry, consisting of a steel cable and a pontoon of oil drums with a few planks of wood lashed on top with wire. There was no telephone line, and communication by telegraph was not possible. Nor was there any airstrip. In fact there were only three cars and one lorry within a radius of 100 miles. My wife and I had for company (European) a rather dour agricultural officer, two Protestant missionaries a few miles away, and a few French Roman Catholic missionaries another few miles away in a different direction. Communications and relationships between these two factions was anything but congenial. And so one can see that we lived a very lonely life. After sunset we had our simple meal and read whatever was available, often over and over again, by the light of a paraffin lamp. It was very peaceful; very quiet. We didn't even have a radio, and the post came once a week by 'runner' from Biharauoulo Our house was sparsely furnished, and we didn't have a bathroom. To have a bath the servants would carry a large galvanised coffin like tub into the bedroom and fill this with hot water from the kitchen stove.
The conditions may have been pretty primitive, but the climate was excellent, and at night it was often cold enough to have a log fire.I suppose the one main worry we had was the lack of medical facilities and attention. There was a local dispensary under the charge of an African who, however worthy, knew little more than how to bandage wounds and administer Magnesium Sulphate to the sick!The nearest doctor was many miles away at a mission station in Belgian territory.
I loved the work, and most of the people amongst whom I had to work were charming and friendly. The Mwami (paramount chief) was 6'4" tall, witless, and suffered from syphilis. He did little to help his people. My main objective was to improve the cultivation, processing, and marketing of the coffee crop, and despite many obstacles this was a great success. I was fully stretched, for apart from the coffee enterprise, the usual administrative work had to be carried out, collecting taxes, supervising the Native Courts, keeping the accounts, acting as Postmaster and Customs officer, and administering justice when necessary, although crime was pretty insignificant.
I recall an occasion when there was a pride of lions roaming about, and having killed a number of cattle, had turned their attention to humans! Despite sending out trained game scouts, the killings continued. I went out myself but I could not trap them A few days later I heard that the pride, consisting of three adults and two cubs, had been surrounded in one village and that the elderly male lion had been shot in the flank by a poisoned arrow.The pride dispersed and no further killings were reported. Some time later, when I was at a meeting in that area, I was examining the tax register and I saw that one man had not paid his taxes for 4 years. I called him forward and asked him if the record was correct. He agreed it was. And when I asked him the reason for this he told me that his crops had failed. "For 4 years in succession?" I asked. When he could offer no further excuse, I told him that he would have to pay of his taxes by working on the roads. "Don't do that, someone in the crowd shouted, he is the man who shot the lion".So I pulled out twenty four shillings (4 years worth of taxes) from my pocket and met his debt for him. There was great applause and thanks from the crowd.
Our postal service was magnificent. This came once a week by runner from Biharamulo, and it was always on time. Our postman was Songoro, son of Bugoma, and he was a wonderful, tough, stocky little fellow who was as reliable as the setting of the sun. He always arrived at the same time every Sunday afternoon and we'd often walk out to meet him. He would run the 60 odd miles through rough game infested bush country, sleeping just one night in a small village en route. He always had with him a penny whistle on which he would blow many a cheerful tune as he ran, with his mail bag over one shoulder and an old German Mauser on the other. He was very proud of his work.I managed to get him a new pair of khaki shorts and shirt as a uniform, and on the shirt was the logo "Royal Mail" in bright red letters. There was no prouder postman in the British Empire, and no postman more reliable!
Ngara, having an international frontier, was designated a customs post. The traffic was negligible. But one day a lorry stopped. The driver was an Indian chappie, and he had on board 4 gallon tins of petrol packed into wooden boxes. The duty to be paid was very small and hardly worth bothering about, but I could not understand why he should be carrying such a load when the price of petrol at his destination was much the same and the supply there was plentiful.I instructed that the cases be opened, and after a dozen had been opened, and nothing out of the ordinary discovered, I began to wonder if l was making a fool of myself. But at last the secret was revealed, and there in front of us were many dozens of bottles of perfumes, and large quantities of liqueurs and spirits. They are all for my own consumption, the driver pleaded.Such are the rewards of being a customs officer amongst all my other duties!

In 1936 Jack Hill was posted to Tabora, the headquarters of the Western Province, which in itself was about the same size as England and Scotland put together. Tabora had been the centre of the old slave and ivory trade during the era when the Arabs controlled the routes during the 19th century.

Jack wrote that he was given the task of magisterial duties:
There was no trial by jury in the territory. For one thing, Africans had been accustomed to trial by the own chief or headman.
There was one case worth recounting. It concerned the prosecution of a Mohammedan missionary of the Ahmadyya sect, an unorthodox and comparatively modern breakaway from the more widely accepted Sunni and Shia schools. This fellow was one of those red hot zealots, a preacher of great eloquence, and almost fanatical about the righteousness of his cause. The Liwali (town headman) was an Arab, who was highly respected by all communities in the town, and was a strict Muslim of the Sunni persuasion. For some seemingly trivial reasons, feelings between the two of them began to get more tense, and finally flared up when Ahmadyya spat on the doorstep of the Liwali's house, and allegedly abused him verbally.The dignified restraint of the Liwali and the prompt action by the police, prevented what could have been a very ugly situation. The missionary was prosecuted in my court, and lawyers appeared for both sides. Several experts on the teachings of both sects were called as witnesses. The court was packed each day with several hundred Muslims in spotless white robes, and skull caps or turbans, some of them green indicating that they had been on a pilgrimage to Mecca, It seemed quite extraordinary that I a European, should be sitting in judgement on a case involving two Arab Muslims on a matter about their religion, in a court filled with Muslim spectators, in the very centre of East Africa. To conclude on this, I found the missionary guilty, and imposed a hefty fine, and although he appealed to the High Court, he was unsuccessful.

Jack was then sent to administer the Kahama District, situated in the middle of nowhere between Tobora and Mwanza on the shores of Lake Victoria. Apart from some White Father missionaries he was the only European in an area very nearly the size of Wales. There were about 95,000 Africans, and a few Indian and Somali traders. The whole area was very largely acacia bushland, and, although much of this bushland had been cleared, the Tsetse fly was a fatal enemy. Jack brought his wife, Phyllys, and their 2 children there, and as a youngster of about 5 or 6 years old at that time, I remember the house vividly. It was a typical house built for Europeans living in the bush, airy, spacy, with a long verandah running along the front.Jack had a Chevrolet car, which was silver in colour, and called "The silver bullet" and we loved going for rides in this. It had running boards along the sides upon which 4 gallon tins of petrol were strapped. We also got a Dik dik here, this being the smallest and most fragile of the antelope species, no bigger and more slender than a miniature poodle. It was not long before the Dik dik became house trained and he was often in the sitting room with Juan (the dog), and they became firm friends. Every morning at dawn we would let Juan out of the house and the Dik dik out of his sleeping quarters. Then began the chase. First the Dik dik would tear around the house with Juan in hot pursuit. And after three or four rounds the positions were reversed and Juan would be chased by the Dik dik. The two of them loved this early morning ritual."
John Hill - Jack had his work to keep him occupied, but I am sure my mother must have been very bored with life at times. Jenny and I had an ayah to look after our needs, and she was a gentle patient soul. There were no other children to play with, and few toys, but I recall no sadness or frustration because of this. I do remember having a large set of lead toy soldiers which I would set up along the low wall in the garden, and they did battle occasionally!

Jack writes about a few unusual happenings: One day I received a telegram with the warning: Massive swarm of locusts approaching from N.E. stop usual action taken. Not having experienced such an invasion before I replied, "what action?", and later came the reply, "nothing". Within a few days a huge cloud of locusts arrived late in the afternoon and settled in the township of Kahama.Everyone took a hand at swatting them or collecting them for food. Locusts are very palatable and nourishing if the legs and wings are removed. I tried some on toast and they weren't bad at all.
All the townsfolk took a hand at trying to control them, and I even let some of the convicts out of gaol to lend a hand.
To no avail, for the blighters soon ravaged the maize and other crops and laid the fields totally bare. It became apparent that some swarms would lay their eggs, and that myriads of hoppers would emerge within a week or so. We had to prepare. Everyone was told to arm themselves with sticks, even children and the infirm. I had to close the school, and this distressed the children immensely for, unlike English children, they loved their lessons. When the hoppers did eventually emerge, all hell let loose. Villagers by the hundred were flailing about with their sticks, and shouting, and singing and banging, and making as much commotion as they possibly could. We had already constructed
ditches in which to bury these hoppers, and although we filled these, the total of our efforts was not very significant. This battle of man versus locust went on day after day, and throughout each day in the hot sun, for nearly a month. It was tiring work and dispiriting too for the work seemed endless. We had slaughtered millions. And then at the end of this campaign we had to assess the damage, and try to put right what the locusts had damaged. One thing was certain. Food was going to be in short supply, and I had to arrange for relief supplies maize, cassava, and other stuff to be brought in urgently. People were beginning to go hungry, and if the emergency supplies were delayed at all, we could have a serious problem of malnutrition, illness, and even death from starvation. Not only did I have to get the food to the district in bulk, but we then had the job of distributing and rationing it.
In the 3 year period, when Jack Hill was the District Officer of Kahama there was one other mayor disaster when the rains failed and the crops dial not materialise. Famine resulted. Nearly every part of the district was affected, but in the worst areas, people were on the verge of starvation. As is always the case, the children and the elderly were suffering the most. Some of the specimens he saw were not in good shape at all their bones had started to stick out and bellies were becoming distended. There was a huge demand on the food supplies, not only as a result of the lack of rains, but also because much food had to be transported to feed the troops in Abysinnia. He eventually managed to get several train loads of maize to be transported from Kenya.
When the war between Britain and Germany broke out in September 1939, Jack Hill was 34 years old.His use to Britain was considered best served by his remaining as an administrative officer in Tanganyika. In the early part of 1940, Jack was promoted to a District Commissioner in the Southern Highlands District of Tukuyu. This was a vastly different sort of region to that of his previous posts. For one thing there was plenty of rainfall, the average being around 100 inchs p.a. The flat desert-like plains and thorn trees of Kahama gave way to a lush tropical forest environment, with hills and mountains, rivers and volcanic lakes. It was a very fertile region, thickly populated, and intensely cultivated with small coffee plantations and other indigenous crops. The principal tribe was the Wanyakusa, who were a gentle, intelligent., and progressive people. Their main diet was bananas.The big tea companies found the area very suitable far producing a high quality tea, and there were many tea plantations in the district. The most northern tip of Lake Nyasa formed the boundary with what was then Nyasaland (now Malawi), and all in all it was a very congenial location. Tukuyu itself was a pleasant spot. The Boma, administrative headquarters, was an old German built fort, a most solid construction painted white and displaying the Union Jack in a prominent position. The Hill bungalow was some 200 yards down the road so it was a very short walk to the office every morning at 7 o
clock. The bungalow, built in about 1919, was typical of the sort of living quarters built for Europeans in those days, large and rambling. It had an extensive verandah running along the front, and the rooms were very open and airy. Hot water for the antique bathroom was fed from an outside oil tank which was heated with firewood. There was a very large garden which extended for over half a mile down a steep and narrow valley until it merged with the natural forest. This was designed and built by the first British District Commissioner after World War I, a certain Major Wells. He planted trees and shrubs by the hundred, and had small rivers and lakes constructed. Being a true Irishman, he had a lake and at the end an island in the outline of Ireland, and it was here that he would take his afternoon siesta. He would get his servant to play gramophone records of Irish airs, and occasionally paddle the small canoe over with a supply of Guinness. The Hill's were not so cut off in Tukuyu, as they had been in their previous places, because there were, perhaps, a dozen or so Europeans living in the small town, nearly all Government officers of one kind or another, and there were other tea planters living in the outlying regions. There was even a 9 hole very hilly golf course. Jack was a steady 12 handicap golfer, and Phyllys took it up too. And there was a thatched roofed club house, not a big one, but there was a bar there, and it served as a meeting place for the Europeans in the area. There was also a tennis court adjacent to our house. Jack still had his 'Silver Bullet' Chevrolet, although this was later changed for a black Ford (American manufactured), and they still had the dog Juan. There was an occasion when a young lad, not employed by the family, but someone who accompanied me out shooting, stole my pen-knife. My father was not disposed to be lenient for this misdemeanour. He had the young lad taken into the open area of the kitchen section, and he was told to take down his pants and bend over. An assistant from the office gave the lad six of the best with a bamboo cane. I witnessed the punishment, which was taken without any fuss or noise, and off the lad went without a tear being spilt. Fair justice.

Below is a copy of a letter, so typical of a communication from a reasonably well educated African of the time (the 1940s) addressed to Jack Hill:
Kind Sir
On opening this epistle you will behold the words of a dejobbed person and a very bewifed and much childrenized gentlemen who was vilently dejobbed in a twinkling by your good self.
Fo heavans sake, Sir, consider this catastrophe as falling on your own head, and remind yourself on walking home at the moons end to five savage wives and sixteen veracious children with your pocket filled with non-existant L s d and a solitary sixpence, pity my horrible state when being dejobbed and proceeding with a heart and intestines filled with misery in this den of gloom, myself did contemplate greedily culpaple homicide, but him who protected Daniel (poet) safe through the lions den will protect his servant in his home of evil.
As to the reason given by yourself esquire for my dejobbed the incrimination was laziness.
Ho, Sir,It were impossible that myself who has pitched sixteen infant children into this vale of tears can have a lazy atom in his mortal frame and a sad departure of L11 has left me on the verge of destitution and despair.I hope this vision of horror will enrich your dreams this night and pulverize your heart of nether milestone so that you will awaken and with such alacrity as may be compatible with your personal safety will hasten to rejobulate your servant.
So note it be. Yours despairfully
Akuku Subash.

My father kept the letter and later wrote a short sequel:
Gentle reader do not sob
Poor Subash has got his job.
The District Commissioner's heart melted and
rejobulated him!!

Jack and Phyll went really up-market in Tukuyu for they had here a radio, which crackled and squirted all manner of noises. They would listen to the BBC Overseas Service relayed from Daventry, and especially the evening news bulletin at about 7 o'clock in the evening. They read a lot, and had Penguins books and Blackwoods magazines, and The Illustrated London News sent out regularly from England by Jack's father. Every half hour or so, Phyll would say, "Darling the light is getting a bit low", and Jack would respond with alacrity by getting up and pumping the paraffin lamp violently until it gave out a brighter light. Every Christmas day all the servants were given a decent present, and were invited into our lounge to listen to the King's Christmas day message, Bwana Kingi Georgi was there talking to them from the radio. They didn't understand one word of what he was saying, but they all had their eyes glued to the wooden box and sat there in complete silence. And at the end of the speech they all smiled, and got up and left quietly, having first said thanks to my father for allowing them the privilege of listening to 'their king'. They were simple nice folk.
The bungalow roof was of corrugated iron, and it was lovely to hear the rain beating down whilst lying in bed at night.
There was no such thing as a flush toilet, Jack called the lavatory the thunder box, a wooden box like arrangement with a hole below which went down a long way. Our meals were simple, but there was plenty of meat, especially chickens, which were very cheap. There was a good supply of oranges too, and tree tomatoes from which my mother made superb jam. Bananas were unbelievably cheap. One could get a whole bunch with something like 50 bananas onboard for 10 cents. Rice was plentiful and fresh fish would be brought up from lake Nyasa.
All the roads were rough untarmaced ones, and during the heavy rains, especially around April time, many of them became impassable. Many a time the car became stuck, and it is always something of amazement that within minutes of getting stuck, help would be at hand from the locals.They all helped to push the car, invariably got covered in mud doing so, but they always smiled and laughed, and in the end got a few cents for their time and trouble.Jack went on many safaris around the District - just to write briefly about one, for this is the one I accompanied him on when I was about 12 years old We would be driven down to Mwaya on the shores of Lake Nyasa by lorry, and this also carried the tents, food and other supplies. The next destination was a place called Matema which was across the lake some 15 miles away. The only feasible way to get there was by canoe, and two of them were hired together with a crew of six enthusiastic paddlers for each canoe. From the time the canoes set off until they reached Matema was constant rhythmic singing.Most of the words of these songs were made up by the leader as he went along. The songs were about their women folk, or the crops, and other day to day happenings and problems. They even made up one song about me. Once a month there was a large market held at Matema, and as we arrived along the long sandy shore there were about 100 other canoes drawn up in the sand. They had come from the many villages scattered along the shores of the lake.
These villages had the asset, rare in those parts, of having excellent clay for the making of pots.Every available canoe was filled to capacity with pots of every shape and size, those for use in cooking, others were water jars, there were beer jars, and cups and flat dishes, plain and decorated. It was a wonderful sight.And then from the villages around Matema itself, and indeed even further afield, people would bring produce, grain, beans, bananas, coffee, rice etc, and other commodities such as cloth and mirrors and torches. All the owners then had to wait for "the off' which was a loud blast on a cow horn given by the market master. Then the commotion began; some 500 people began negotiating
and trading, most of which was by barter rather than with an exchange of money. The noise was deafening, the excitement tremendous, After a couple of hours or so, all the trading had been completed, and the market master again blew his horn, this time to signal the close of business. Then plenty of beer was consumed, until finally all the canoes, loaded to capacity, set off to their homes across the lake in the dusk. It was a splendid sight as they paddled towards the setting sun.
By this time, the chief had arranged for an ox to be donated to my father. There were also many chickens and a goat delivered to our camp which had been set up 100 yards or so from the shore line.The next day was taken up with a 'baraza' (meeting with the chief and headmen to deal with any local problems, and for all the locals to come and try to sort out their own problems, such as quarrels over inheritances, divorces, etc etc.)It was a time for all the aspiring porters to be selected for the onward safari, Once selected they were assembled and given their instructions about what load each man was to carry, and in what order The procession was to take place.
They were told that the safari was to depart at daybreak. My father then presented them with the ox for their consumption that evening, and this was duly killed, cut up and roasted on a large spit. There was a lot of singing and good humour until about 9 o'clock when they suddenly 'disappeared' very quietly.
We were up well before dawn.The tents were taken down, and the loading up began. There were something like 25 porters, each with a load of about 4O-5O lbs. The tent itself was a large very heavy canvas affair, with a verandah and a bathroom unit attached to the main tent, and this required 6 porters. The cook was sent on ahead of the main party to find and establish a good place to stop for breakfast, perhaps an hour's walk ahead. My father had his shotgun at hand, and I always had my .22 rifle in case of anything interesting to have a pot at, I would never do that now. There was always a pack leader who would decide on what song was to be sung, and he would start the singing, and then the party would move off. For those who may have seen the 193O's Tarzan films, with their depiction of the safari, it will give you some idea of the flavour of such an event. We would walk between 16 and 2O miles a day, through pretty tough terrain for the area was hilly and quite densely forested in many places. It was always very hot around midday, and everyone would take a minimum 2 hour break,Setting up camp in the early evening and cooking on a large open fire was fun for a young lad of around 11 years old. Sometimes Jack would stop at a village and hold a small 'baraza'. I remember we stopped on the return to Tukuyu at Lake Masoko, which was a volcanic lake. The locals reckoned that there was no bottom and that in the centre of the lake was a whirlpool which would suck you down. The water was very cold indeed but calm, and was pleasant to have a swim after a long day's walk.At one point of the lake there were crocodiles, and I recall shooting at these with my .22
On one safari along this same route my father took his dog, Juan. Jack wrote: "On the second day Juan went on one of his forays which was quite normal. But when I whistled and he didn't return I became quite anxious, After some minutes of no response, l took some porters with me and we went to search. After a while we found Juan lying there gasping for breath. Nearby was a hole in the soil which was emitting a smell of sulphur. The dog seemed to me to be nigh unto death. We tried to revive him with water, but this had no significant effect. I carried him to a village about one mile away. I was at a complete loss as to what to do when the Headman of the village came to me telling me that they all knew about these sulphur springs, and that on one occasion some children had been overcome and had been cured by the village doctor, an elderly witch doctor. I was a very long way from any proper medical help. I told the headman that I thought that water might be the answer, and I sat for about one hour under a mango tree trying to revive himThere seemed to be no apparent improvement, so I asked the witch doctor if he could do anything."Oh yes" he said, "I can cure your dog with my medicine." l thought it worth a try. The old man went to his hut and returned with a calabash filled with a greyish powder. He mixed some of this with water and instructed me to put about a teaspoon of the mixture down Juan's throat every hour for three times. The old man told me that the dog would go to sleep and wake up recovered. To my surprise Juan did fall asleep, and gradually his breathing became easier. He slept for many hours, and when he awoke he managed a little wag of his stomp of a tail, and although he was still pretty weak I could tell that he was certainly improved. Within two days Juan had completely recovered.
The witch-doctor refused to accept any reward for his deed, and I never bothered to ask him what the medicine was, for I knew that I would either get no response at all or some fairy-tale about the ingredients of the concoction."
Jack was posted to Moshi, a town close to Mt Kilimanjaro.It is on the slopes of the mountain that the tribe the Wachagga lived. This tribe was probably the most advanced in Tanganyika. They were intelligent and well educated, and they were a relatively prosperous people as a result of the thriving coffee industry in the region.
They were a handsome people too, often with quite pale skins. The men were taller than the average Tanganyikan and the women were very beautiful.The tribe had the reputation of being well mannered and courteous, and Jack said it was a pleasure to work with and for them.From his writings it is clear that he enjoyed his time in Moshi.
In December 1951. Jack got promotion to Member for Communications, Works and Development Planning. In effect this meant that he was responsible for all communications and development in the territory, and was one of the top 8 members of the Government. This entailed living in Dar es salaam. They lived at one time in a house in Sea View, a lovely house overlooking the sea. He had a responsible position, but it was probably far less fun than being out in the field. He was now 45 years old, and his annual salary in 1956 was L3,100, which was quite a tidy sum in those days. In 1951 (19 July) he and Phyllys attended Their Majesty's afternoon party in the gardens of Buckingham Palace. On 23 April 1955, 3 days after his 50th birthday, Jack Hill was presented with the C.M.G. (Companion of the Most Distinguished order of Saint Michael and Saint George) by Sir Edward Twining, the Governor.
At some time towards the end of 1956 Jack Hill must have retired from Government service, for in Janaury 1957 he was Chairman of the Tanganyikan Broadcasting Corporation. He was still only 51, and too young to put his feet up altogether.
In January 1957 Jack Hill accepted an appointment as the British Government Liason Officer for the Bahamas Government vis-a-vis the development of Freeport in that country. This was a completely fresh challenge in a part of the world he had never been to. The job sounded interesting and he was released without obligation from his position as Chairman of the T.B.C. He was supposed to start this new job in May 1957, but this was delayed and he eventually arrived with Phyll at the end of September. However, the development of Freeport was a long way behind schedule with the result that Jack had no duties to perform and was subjected largely to a life of enforced idleness. He was being paid for doing nothing. The situation was made worse by the fact that the accommodation they had been promised did not materialise either, and they were put into a small apartment in Freeport. This was noisy and uncomfortable and totally unsuitable. Furthermore, they did not enjoy the overall atmosphere of the Bahamas. It was far too Americanised for Jack & Phyll. I recall my father saying that everything seemed so loud and noisy and bright and brash, and that the only thing people seemed to have to talk about was money. Jack demanded to be released from his contract without penalty, and this was accepted by the Bahamas Government. Their stay there was not a congenial one.
In 1959 he was appointed as supervisor to the elections in Zanzibar, and I believe this post continued for a 2 year period.
In about 1961 Jack and Phyll returned to retire in England. They bought a pleasant detached house somewhere in Sussex, but they were never able to settle there. I believe that Jack was not able to cope with the cold wet winters, and so they moved to Guernsey about one year later. They had a superb house built there, with a large garden and fine views. The address was "Kisiwani", Les Huriaux, St Andrews. They eventually found this to be too large, especially the garden, and so they moved on 1 April 1969 to another smaller residence called 'Les Bruyeres', Clos du Petit Bois, Rue Cauchez, St Martins. They both enjoyed Guernsey. The climate was far more congenial, and they made some good friends there. Jack continued to play golf regularly, and they seemed certain to remain there for the rest of their lives.
However, in 1975 when Jack was 70 years old, they sold up and went off to New Zealand. Their daughter Pat (my younger sister) and her husband had recently emigrated there from Scotland, and they wanted to be close to her. Pat and Hamish had settled in Whangarei, and it is to this town in the North Island that Jack and Phyll went. They bought a modest house quite near the town centre, and within easy reach of the shops, the library, and other facilities. Then 10 years later they upped sticks' again, and went off to Perth in Western Australia where their elder daughter and family had settled from Kenya.
Jack died 12 April 1991, and after a moving family oriented non religious service was buried in Guildford, Perth

Jack Hill lived for 86 years, he endured hardship, illness (malaria, blackwater fever etc) and the difficulties of living in Africa at that time, while serving the people of Tanganyika, helping to improve their agriculture, feeding them in times of famine, and giving leadership as appropriate. His was a full demanding but exciting life in the service of others, recognised by his Country with the British order of chivalry; The Most Distinguished Order of Saint Michael and Saint George . (C.M.G.)
Ref: Wind Sun & Earth Remain - J. A. O'Toole 2016

bullet  Research Notes:

Images Courtesy J O'Toole


bullet  Other Records

1. John Frederick Rowland (Jack) Hill: Pictures across the years.
Jack's student days Lincoln College Oxford 1924, Jack marked leaning out window. Tanganyka, Jack's office's in Boma Tukuyu, the family Chevrolet (c1836) the silver bullet, Vice Regal visit Jack second in line.

2. J F R Jack Hill: Family images.
In Egypt in 1945, Jack in his uniform C1950 Dar es Salaam, Jack and Phyllys, Jack 1955 aged 50 wearing his Tanganyika Twiga tie.The Tanganyka Twiga Cricket Club of which he was President.


Jack married Phyllys Esme FRYER [9673] [MRIN: 2939], daughter of Walter FRYER [10948] and Elfrida Dora Maria (Ella) BURMESTER [10949], on 28 Jun 1930 in Dar es Salaam Tanganyika. (Phyllys Esme FRYER [9673] was born on 23 May 1911 in Johannesburgh South Africa and died on 10 Nov 1993 in Perth WA.)

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