When June Walker arrived at the school in Zomba, Malawi, where I was a 21-year-old VSO teacher in 1970-71, she brought a welcome freshness, contrasting with the reserved Marist Brothers in charge.
In the late 1980s, on a trip with my wife, Christine (also ex-VSO), and our two young children, we visited June at her Lake Malawi home. Although we arrived unannounced, the “bush telegraph” had alerted her in advance. We were generously entertained, with the children allowed to gather custard apples.
