Southern Africa must surely be one of the most beautiful places on earth. The air is as crisp and invigorating as Arizona, with clear, bright horizons and fruitful soil. It is a place a man can be proud to call home.
The population was more diverse than I expected, with Jewish traders, Hottentots, sunburned British settlers, shaggy-haired Boers in broad hats and the ubiquitous local tribesmen. Whereas in the States I stood out, here I was anonymous, just one black face among thousands.
Having served as an infantryman and as a cavalry trooper, I much preferred the latter. I had no intention of footslogging across Africa when I could ride in relative comfort. Having made that decision, the first thing I needed was a horse.
By that time, I had picked up the basics of the various languages,
