A man set out to sea to raise the future leaders of a nation

David's slender frame stands 6 feet 3 inches high, “You’re lucky it’s not cricket season,” he says imitating a batsman as he does some qigong exercises in a Chorlton park, Manchester. The rain has started to fall but he’s picked a spot, under some trees. Over us, the few leaves that are still intact offer little cover. As droplets trickle down, he shares his story. 

David born in Lewisham, July 1945, grew up in Middlesex, his father was a middle-class accounts manager, his mother from working class rural Yorkshire. They met in the navy during the war. “Mum was from the wrong side of the tracks,” he jokes. David now 75, travelled to Zambia in 1969, after completing his studies in social studies at Salford College of Advancement.

Like almost every other socially motivated teacher, he felt it was his civic duty and wanted to be on the right side of the tracks. “I went because I was 23 and I wanted to do good in the world,” he says. Zambia had become independent a few years before. The World Bank had helped build some secondary schools but there weren’t any teachers because nobody had been trained. 

He went there to do a postgraduate teaching course, as part of an alliance with several universities, the only condition was that he had to stay there for a number of years and teach. Thirsty for adventure, he was more than happy to go ahead with this. Merryn, his wife joined the same programme a year later. 

A timeless romance

When we met to speak again, I asked him what his life have been like if he hadn’t have gone? “I wouldn’t have met Merryn, that’s a big thing, I would have been in big trouble without her.”

Merryn was posted to the same school in Zambia a year after he had arrived. “There were 13 bachelors, as she likes to say it, and I was the lucky one. We got together after about a year and married there a year after, which was very different.” Overhearing us Merryn, comes into the room and says, “48 years it’s been,” placing a tender hand on his shoulder. “There you are Merryn, here’s a good picture of you,” he says pointing to one of their trip to Botswana in 2015. Their bond, the old-fashioned kind: warmth, care and affection woven into stories that spread over a lifetime. 

They married in July, 1972 Kalabo in Zambia. “We were without parents on both sides. Merryn's parents had come out to visit, but she had not met mine. They were from Croydon. My folks went over on our wedding day and raised a glass. I had a mum, dad, granny and a dog, Merryn had the same” he said before adding, “and a sister, we each had a sister.” 

The covert operation 

In Manchester, 1973, David met Zola Zembe, a young South African trade union organiser who once shared a cell with Nelson Mandela. He was working for the South African Congress of Trade Union, to raise awareness and press for sanctions. In fear of his safety, he made the decision to flee South Africa, tearing a gaping hole between him, his home and his roots.

His family was left in Ciskei near King Williams Town. When Zembe caught wind that David and Merryn were going to Botswana to teach, he asked if they would venture to Ciskei to see his family and send back news. 

Never shy of adventure, that’s what they did during the Christmas break of 1975, Zembe’s kids by then were all teenagers or older.

As part of his activism, Zembe would occasionally travel to Botswana, incognito of course, as the South African security forces would have taken the first opportunity to capture him. He sometimes stayed with David and Merryn, acting as their garden boy. “That was fun,” said David, “having a senior person in the African National Congress clean up my garden.” In 1979, it was arranged for his family to travel up with his brother from Ciskei so that he could see his children – almost 15 years to the day he last saw them - an emotional and overdue reunion. 

The impact of an age

They revisited Zambia later from Botswana, in about 1977 and by then almost all the teachers were Zambian. In Botswana, 35 years later, their old colleagues and friends Archie and Elvidge had retired, “come back,” they said, “we have time - let's show you around.” 

What they saw going back was different from the ‘bush’ they had come to call home. Now, water pipelines and electricity ran across the country. “And the development is wide-spread,” he signified.  

Geo-politically, Botswana has always been relatively stable with a successful succession of tribal ruling of chiefs that consulted its people before passing laws, and then as a democratic nation with free elections and press. Its history is to merit: As the threat of occupation steadily started pounding the vulnerable walls of the country, three chiefs of Botswana travelled to England to meet with the Secretary of State Joseph Chamberlain.

In 1897, they put forward their case, Chamberlain went on holiday, came back, and then granted Botswana protectorate status. At the time, this was a favourable alternative to falling under apartheid South Africa, if they did their history would have been quite different. 

As big as France, Botswana is about 200,000 square miles, with not much more than two million people. In the late 1970’s they discovered diamonds. Elvidge, his old friend and colleague, helped to ensure that the country got a fair deal. “What Elvidge ensured happened, is that local people got trained in the diamond industry, so they knew what they were looking for, what they’re talking about and how to recognise them and knew all the processes from cutting and polishing and so on." It managed to resist the exploitation of the diamond industry, such as that in Liberia and Sierra Leone.  

There are half a dozen different ethnic groups in the country, a bilingual community speaking Setswana and English. Under the leadership of their first elected President, Sereste Khana, the state heads agreed that if the country was to find oil, gold, or any natural resources it would be nationally owned, it wouldn’t belong to the people but the country. They agreed to this before independence.

Later, when diamonds were discovered the wealth of the diamonds went on developing the country, improving healthcare and infastructure. Clinics and primary schools were built in villages with electricity – It’s the development that David and Merryn had hoped for: “they’ve done a lot to share the wealth of the country and some of the people I worked with were a part of that,” he said proudly.

The students they saw as grown adults 35 years later had leading positions in the press, politics, transport, human and womens rights, education and human resources – helping shape the country that stands today. 

“At the time we knew we were getting people through their exams, what we didn’t know was the brilliant work some of the students had gone on to do. So that was really gratifying,” said David. “To see how well the county had done, and individually, so many of them have done very very well.” Merryn often reminds him that one of her best students, Letse Boho said: “Sir you have open-eyed me.” “And that was the development studies thing, developing his consciousness,” he said. 

What would their future have been like if he hadn’t have gone and taught in Botswana? “If there hadn’t been that system, the opportunities were one of two: you would either work locally on subsistence farming or what you might have done is migrated to South Africa, apartheid South Africa.” Which for most was a long way to go. The reality is that if Botswana hadn’t modernised it would have taken much longer to integrate into the world economic system. 

“I came to appreciate aspects of African society and culture very much. When we came back from Zambia, we were very anti-consumerism, why do you need ten varieties of garden peas to choose from. There was something about the strength of community and interdependence of people. And some of the political people we met were inspiring, against injustice,” he said. 

Upon their return to the UK, they decided to settle in Manchester. Merryn had been to Liverpool university and David, Salford. It was a question between Liverpool and Manchester. “Manchester had a film theatre at the time, and we had been watching John Wayne westerns at the school for three years, and we wanted to see some good films, so we chose Manchester,” he says with his chirpy laugh. They bought a house in the September of 1980, in Chorlton and have been there ever since. 

David left Botswana in 1979, a term early and before the students had taken their final exams. Before he left, he took a black and white photograph of them. When he got back to Manchester, he made sure to print off 30 copies, individually write their names on them and send them back. He wanted them to have this, a copy of the picture.

35 years later, February 2015, David and Merryn were standing outside the Ministry of Education and Odiretse – an old student - came out and said, “Oh Mr Cooke, Mrs Cooke, the dress you helped us make and Mr Cooke look…” out of her bag she rummaged a little and took out a photograph. “For 35 years she’d been carrying that photograph,” he said, throat heavy and taking a moment to reflect, “she said, ‘education was so important to us, we really valued what you did for us.'”