Colour Bar

by Susan Williams

  They also sent a telegram to Baring. Their exclusion from the Reserve, they argued, had created a transitional period in the life of the Bangwato – from rule through traditional Chiefs to rule through another body. This was a drastic change. The institution of direct rule, they pointed out, was unwelcome and contrary to the declared principles of the British Government. Accordingly, they requested the Government

  to appoint a Council of experts (both African and European) in British Colonial Administration, to consult with our people in their own country regarding the formation of a workable system of Tribal Administration, before any scheme of a permanent nature is tried. We feel that this request is both urgent and necessary.24

  Clearly, the two men were thinking hard about models of government that would be most appropriate for their people, and how such models should be created. These were questions that had become pressing for many African leaders at this time, who were looking ahead to majority rule and self-government for their nations.

  Despite their late night, Seretse and Tshekedi were up before dawn the next day and left Lobatse for the rocky slopes of a hill five miles from Gaberones, where hundreds of men were waiting for them. As the sun started to rise into the sky, the meeting began. Seretse read the joint statement, which emphasized the two men’s reconciliation, in a voice quivering with emotion:

  While Tshekedi’s views on the effect of Seretse’s marriage on the Tribe remain unaltered, both Tshekedi and Seretse have reached the conclusion that a basis of cooperation between them and their people and the Government is not an impossible solution to find.

  They had agreed, they said, to meet in London at some future date and they insisted that

  A perpetuation of the present friction between those who support Seretse’s views and those who support Tshekedi’s views on the question of the marriage will only make the solution impossible of attainment. Differences of opinion should not interfere with common interest.

  Then they called upon the Bangwato to start cooperating with the Government. ‘This cooperation is most essential,’ they urged, ‘to the eventual establishment of a fully representative and efficient system of Native Administration run by Africans.’25 Seretse and Tshekedi shook hands and Tshekedi said, ‘We shall meet in London soon and get this business fixed up.’ Clouds of red dust rose into the air as the audience stamped their approval.26 Tshekedi, sitting huddled and tired on a rock on the outskirts of the circle, wearing a greatcoat to keep warm against the chill of the early morning, waved his hand.27

  Seretse then went on to make a speech of his own, to say farewell.28 He had not mentioned this in advance to Clark, who surmised afterwards that he had written it before producing the joint statement with his uncle.29 He was leaving the Protectorate against his will, he explained: he was not abandoning his claim to the kingship. It was important for Seretse to emphasize the fact that he had been forced into exile and that he had not accepted the British Government’s decision to deprive the people of their Kgosi. This statement did not represent a departure from the ‘Aide-Memoire’ he had signed with Tshekedi, since that document had only set out guidelines for discussion; it had been clearly understood between uncle and nephew that any renunciation was a matter for the people to decide, after full discussions at the Kgotla.

  Since his return from England at the end of March, continued Seretse, representatives of every subordinate group of the Bangwato had visited him – ‘and have convinced me that the whole Bangwato Nation is now more united than at any time in living memory’. This fact, he said, ‘has brought me solace at this moment when I have to leave you with deepest sorrow’. He had planned, he added, to introduce reforms for the advancement and happiness of his people – and it was a ‘sad and bitter disappointment’ to be deprived of this opportunity.

  He encouraged the Bangwato to pay tax and to obey all the lawful orders of the government. ‘Above all,’ he said, ‘pay due homage and remain loyal to His Majesty King George VI.’ He looked forward to his return to his people: ‘Hard words have been spoken, misinterpretations and misconceptions have taken place and injustices have resulted. Let us call a temporary truce and with the help of Almighty God I look forward to the day not far off when the Bangwato Nation will be united with me in person for the welfare and progress of our country.’ He concluded:

  To each one of you my wife and I with sorrowful hearts express our deep appreciation of your loyalty and unlimited kindness. Your welfare and happiness will be our constant concern wherever we may be.

  May God bless each one of you and protect you.

  SALANG SENTLE [Stay well].30

  Fraenkel handed out copies of Seretse’s speech to the press, which had been printed as a broadsheet. It was entitled ‘Go batho ba me’ – ‘To my people’.31

  The press picked up on the reconciliation between Seretse and Tshekedi. ‘Tshekedi Reconciled to Nephew’s Marriage to White Woman,’ reported the Rhodesia Herald.32 But the Administration played it down, pointing out that it was not far-reaching. Clark suspected, in any case, that Tshekedi had been surprised by Seretse’s speech of farewell and was not at all happy about it.33

  Meanwhile, outside the general store in Gaberones, men and women waited to catch a glimpse of Ruth, who was driving the new family car from Lobatse. When she arrived in the town, they crowded round to see baby Jacqueline, in the arms of Naledi, who had now arrived from Durban.34 The two women and baby then drove to the airstrip, accompanied by the District Commissioner and his wife. They were fifteen minutes late, complained Clark, as Ruth ‘insisted on driving in their own car, which had not yet been run in’.35

  The Khamas were scheduled to leave at 12.15 and would be flying for the first leg of the journey in Sir Evelyn’s official aircraft. This had been arranged because, unlike most aircraft in the region, it would not need to stop in Francistown to refuel – an extra stop that would require more policing.36 There was much anxiety about what could still go wrong. Once again, there were rumours of a kidnap plot and Monsarrat stayed up half the night coding up a message to ask for extra security – with the result that next morning the airstrip at Gaberones was surrounded by policemen and the aircraft was ringed by guards.

  In the event, the Khamas’ departure took place without incident, although the aircraft took off about thirty minutes behind schedule – ‘owing to Mrs Khama’s slow driving,’ grumbled Clark.37 Seretse and Ruth showed the strain of the last few days: he looked tired from the intense negotiations with both Tshekedi and the Government; and she had clearly been weeping. They were both wearing sunglasses. Ruth was dressed in a plain, unfussy suit, with a scarf neatly tied around her neck, and low heels; Seretse was dressed in a suit and tie, with a trilby. Naledi wore a turban round her head, with a scarf around her neck. Solemnly, they passed down a line of headmen, shaking hands with them.38 These men, some of them old and grizzled, ‘bowed their heads in sorrow,’ reported the Johannesburg Star, ‘and the many Europeans present to see the send-off were visibly moved’. Even among the officials, added the Star, ‘there was some biting of lips’. Monks, who was there, said that a police officer, of long service in the Protectorate, blew his nose and said, ‘Poor devils.’39 Ruth and Seretse held each other’s hands tightly. ‘Anyone who lived as close to this story, as I did,’ said Monks, ‘couldn’t help being impressed with their devotion to each other and with the sincerity of their relationship, whatever our feelings about the marriage.’40

  At one o’clock in the afternoon, the Khama family walked together across the tarmac, slowly and with great dignity. The air was still and dry and the veld around the airfield looked parched: there had been no rain for many months. Ruth and Naledi carried between them the carry-cot – provided by Mrs Monks – in which Jacqueline slept.41 As they neared the aircraft, Oratile – her face creased in grief and sobbing – rushed forward for one last look at the child and then turned to Ruth, whom she kissed and embraced; Ruth clung to her.42 All along the perimeter fence of the airfield, Ban
gwato men and women shouted farewell. Tears ran down their faces. On the step the banished couple turned round for one last look and a wave of the hand. Mrs Khama was overcome. Then, as they took their seats in the aircraft, Seretse buried his face in his hands.43 As the plane went off, a spontaneous moan ran through the crowd.44

  The aircraft swooped low over the heads of the crowd and set course for the north.45 Monsarrat was designated the ‘conducting officer’. After the plane had taken off, he recalled later, ‘both Seretse and Ruth Khama were glum, as I would have been myself. I walked forward to the tiny cockpit, and had a look at the chart. It showed that, with a very small alteration of course, we could fly directly over Serowe, the capital, and Seretse’s own birthplace.’ This he proposed to Seretse:

  I went back and asked him if he would like that. The answer was Yes, and we spent ten minutes circling the vast spread of mud huts, maize patches, herds of cattle, and dusty tracks before getting back on course again, and steering for the swirling cloud of spray, a thousand feet high, which marked the point where the Zambezi River thundered over the Victoria Falls.46

  This recalled the stunt arranged by Monks when Seretse had returned to Bechuanaland in March. At the time, Monsarrat had been furious. But when faced with the Khamas’ grief, he felt a need to do something to ease their pain. Although an abrasive man, he was deeply romantic and did not fit naturally into the world of the British colonial Administrator.

  The aircraft arrived at Livingstone at 5 p.m. and the Khamas were taken under the wing of the District Commissioner. Monsarrat had to get them off safely the next morning, which proved a challenge. They were to catch the flying-boat very early – and it was important to get them on that boat, because it only flew once a week. But Seretse did not share Monsarrat’s sense of urgency:

  I think he liked his breakfast; he was certainly enjoying this one, and it was not to be hurried. I could not really blame him; he had me by the tail anyway, and my impatience as he worked his way through the mealie porridge, the eggs and bacon, the soft rolls with chunky marmalade, the cup after cup of coffee, must have been laughable – especially as it was the last laugh he was going to enjoy in this part of the world, for a very long time.

  By courtesy of our faithful ally, BOAC, I managed to hold the flying-boat until the last crumb was disposed of, and there was no egg left on anyone’s face. Then Seretse caught his plane.

  I telegraphed Arthur Clark, in our agreed code: ‘EXIT’.47

  The flying-boat lifted slowly into the air. The Khamas would soon leave southern Africa behind them: they would arrive at Kampala in the afternoon, to spend the night at the BOAC hotel, before the next leg of the long journey.

  Baring was immensely relieved. ‘We succeeded in getting the Khamas out and the press was bitterly disappointed there was not a scene… I received a row of congratulations, not very well deserved, including one from Clem [Attlee],’ he wrote with satisfaction to his wife. ‘I will be relieved to be rid of the Seretse problem next July,’ he told her, referring to the forthcoming end of his term of office. ‘Malan and I are now practically blood brothers!’ But he was afraid that the British Government had been undermined by the reconciliation between Seretse and Tshekedi: ‘All the same we are not out of the woods since Seretse and Tshekedi now think they will both resign the chieftainship and both come back as private individuals.’48

  Five senior Bangwato men went to see MacKenzie. They said that on Seretse’s instructions, they would now pay tax. They asked him to call off the police who were chasing defaulters and also for permission to hold a large meeting, where everyone would be told to pay tax and cooperate; Oratile’s name, they suggested, should be put on the tax receipt. MacKenzie’s manner was cold and abrupt. He said that the tax receipt should be left blank and refused the request for a meeting, arguing that they had insulted the High Commissioner in March and had also refused to come to the meetings that he had called. Referring to Peto Sekgoma and Manyaphiri as ‘scoundrels’, he said that if they were to offer a public apology, he might be more favourable. They seemed to think, he complained, ‘that everything in the past should be wiped off the slate and that we should start afresh’. But, he warned nastily, they were not going to get away with it so easily.49

  The headmen of villages throughout the reserve were infuriated by this request for an apology. ‘We cannot understand,’ they said in a message conveyed by Fraenkel, ‘why this Government is being so persistent with many requests for the Bangwato to apologise’. They had had no intention of being discourteous to Sir Evelyn when they boycotted his Kgotla, and had done their best to warn his officials beforehand. The blame for the fiasco, therefore, rested squarely on the Government and not on the Bangwato.50

  IV

  Exile

  16

  Living in London

  Six days after leaving southern Africa, on 24 August 1950, the Khama family arrived at Southampton Marine Airport. Photographers and cameramen gathered round to film them as they walked up the gangway from the flying-boat onto land. Ruth’s mother and Muriel rushed up to welcome them, waving with broad smiles, accompanied by an official from the CRO. ‘The first interest’, announced a Pathe newsreel,

  is baby Jacqueline. Next comes Ruth herself. Almost overlooked in the excitement is Seretse Khama himself, the man who lost his chieftainship of the Bamangwato, through his marriage to a white girl. With his wife and daughter, now three months old and weighing ten and a half pounds, he begins his five years exile. While they find a home they are guests of the government.

  ‘With them is Seretse’s sister, to share the exile,’ it added, showing Naledi and Seretse carrying Jacqueline between them in Mrs Monks’s carry cot.1 It was a chilly summer’s day, but the newsreels showed a close-up of Seretse wiping his brow with a handkerchief. Now that they had arrived on British soil, he was faced with the reality of exile and his enforced removal from his people and his land.

  A government car drove them to London, where a large crowd was waiting to see them as they reached the Grosvenor Court Hotel in the West End.2 This was to be their home for the first six weeks – as ‘guests of the government’. The first few weeks were hard. For, as Ruth remarked, ‘hotel life with a baby is no joke’.3 She was also continually pestered by journalists, who wanted to know how she had coped with life in Bechuanaland, especially the food. She replied that it was no different from Britain, except for Mopani caterpillars – which provoked horror. ‘But the English eat crabs!’ remonstrated Seretse.4

  The British public were fascinated by the Khamas. A play called The Baker’s Daughter was written about their marriage and exile, with a performance planned for September in Bridlington.5 But it was ‘Not Recommended for Licence’ by the Lord Chamberlain’s Office. ‘This, without any disguise,’ judged the Reader’s Report, ‘is the story of Seretse Khama’s marriage’:

  The baker’s daughter is a London girl into whose family Gbor-Gbor (pronounced Bo-Bo) Chief designate of the Beruba tribe, is introduced by her married brother Brian, a student at what is obviously London University. Rose, the girl, falls in love and insists on marrying Bo-Bo, in spite of the opposition from all her family except Gladys, Brian’s wife.

  They get married and go to ‘Jammatoland, the protectorate where Bo-Bo is Prince. There Rose, now pregnant, is snubbed by the white residents and has a violent scene with Bo-Bo’s uncle, the Regent.’ The government then exile Rose and Bo-Bo from Jammatoland:

  Rose rushes hysterically out into the monsoon (if they have monsoons in Africa, which I doubt) and is nearly killed by a native who mistakes her for a tiger (in spite of the fact that this is Africa). She is picked up by Bo-Bo who nearly runs her over in his car.

  Then Bo-Bo abdicates, the child is born healthy, and they go to England. The Reader’s Report listed some ‘offensive vulgarities’, including the line: ‘I bet there isn’t one of those old trollops wouldn’t like a night with him.’6

  One day, Muriel, who worked for Deloitte, a firm of accou
ntants, was told by one of the junior partners, ‘Miss Williams, I do hope you don’t tell these newspaper reporters that you are related to Seretse Khama and that you work for Deloitte.’7 But CRO officials had ‘nothing but praise’, reported the US attacheè in London to Washington, for the manner in which Seretse and his wife had been conducting themselves since their return to London:

  There has been little of the sensational publicity which the CRO feared and Seretse has refused to allow himself to be used by Communist-inspired political groups in their trouble-making. Although the CRO are somewhat less enthusiastic about Mrs Khama and find her on occasion ‘aggressive in manner’, they pay tribute to the restrained manner in which she has dealt with the press since her return to London.8

  ‘One of the biggest comforts during the trying first weeks of our return to England,’ said Ruth, ‘was a complete reconciliation with my own family. My father met Seretse, and from the first meeting the two of them got on famously.’9 He and Ruth’s mother came to see them often, as did their old friends, especially Charles Njonjo.10 A special pleasure for Seretse was the opportunity to share in the success of the West Indian cricket team, who had beaten England at Lords for the first time in June that year. It had been front-page news and was regarded by many black and Asian colonials as a real and welcome challenge to established beliefs about racial superiority.11 Seretse and Ruth were invited by the West Indian Students Union to a dance at Hammersmith Town Hall in West London, to celebrate the Test victory and to say farewell to the West Indies XI. ‘The joint’s jumping!’ reported Pathe News, introducing viewers to the special guests – Seretse and Ruth, with the Colonial Secretary James Griffiths, and the Jamaican athlete MacDonald Bailey and his wife.12