Colour Bar

by Susan Williams

  After six weeks at the Grosvenor Court Hotel, Seretse and Ruth took a six-month lease on a flat in Chelsea, on the third floor of a small pre-1914 block. The flat had three bedrooms, a small dining room, and a lounge. Seretse had arranged to study with a firm of law tutors, Gibson and Weldon, starting in January; he planned to take his final Bar examination the following May, which would qualify him as a barrister.13 He and Ruth also made plans for Jacqueline to be baptized by an Anglican minister, who came round to see them. The minister was convinced, he wrote to a friend, that Seretse was acting in good faith. He liked Ruth, whom he thought was practical, stable and sensible, and surprisingly devoid of bitterness ‘Quite frankly,’ he said, ‘I doubt very much the Brit Govt want a rapprochement between Seretse and Tshek – too embarrassing in respect of SA and SR. Why has the Govt not tried to bring Tshek and Seretse together? Why ignore both?’ He saw the persecution of Seretse as part of a larger picture of racialism. What was the use, he asked, ‘of fighting racialism in the Union when we soft-pedal it in Bech?’14

  A CRO official, Peter Lewis, visited the Khamas on the evening of 13 November 1950. He had helped them in Southampton, when they first arrived, and his seniors, believing he had won their confidence, encouraged him to build on this – ‘establishing an informal channel of contact for us’.15 The day after his visit to the Chelsea flat, he wrote a report. The flat, he said, was ‘fairly well, but not over well, furnished’; he had admired the leopard-skin and springbok-skin rugs on the floor and Seretse had told him that the best one, a lion’s skin, was still on its way. He thought the Khamas looked much better and more cheerful than when they had first arrived, especially Seretse. ‘They both, in fact, seemed to be very happy,’ he said, ‘and in excellent spirits. When I arrived the baby, Jacqueline, was being prepared for bed in front of the sitting-room fire. She was looking well.’ The household had been increased by a young woman, a German refugee, who helped Ruth with the cooking and washing. Naledi was set to go to Hammersmith Hospital in January, at the start of the new nursing students’ term, but she had been feeling a little homesick.

  Lewis was invited to stay for a meal. The menu was tomato soup, then curry, followed by stewed fruit and custard. ‘The curry was quite alarmingly hot,’ said Lewis, ‘and Ruth confessed to having overdone the chillies.’16 This may not have been a mistake. Ruth was an experienced cook and often made curry, which had been Seretse’s favourite ever since his student days at Nutford House.17 She and Seretse may have suspected that the visit would end up in a report and were enjoying some harmless fun at Lewis’s expense. He was astonished by the civility they showed towards the British Government and their apparent sympathy for Baring: ‘They both, strangely enough, seemed to have a soft spot for Sir Evelyn Baring. Seretse spoke with concern of Sir Evelyn’s state of health and thought the job a very onerous one for someone who was not of robust health.’18 Lewis accepted these comments at face value – but it was possible that he was being gently mocked. For Seretse, who was teaching Jackie to grimace whenever Gordon Walker was mentioned, had a mischievous sense of humour.19

  After dinner, there was a break in the conversation while Seretse listened to the closing stages of a fight between champion heavyweight boxers, Bruce Woodcock and Jack Gardner. Their own wireless was out of action, so Seretse rang up a friend and got him to put the telephone mouthpiece near the loudspeaker of his set. Then there was some further conversation: ‘In politics Ruth proclaims herself a “true blue Conservative”. Seretse is a “Socialist”. I was also given an outline of the political views of various members of Ruth’s family.’20 The Secretary of State enjoyed Lewis’s snapshot account. ‘Very good report,’ he wrote. ‘I would like to see Mr Lewis.’21

  Seretse became involved again in the activities of the Seretse Khama Fighting Committee, which was still busy campaigning. One of the new people he met on the Committee was John Stonehouse, who was then a student at the LSE with an interest in colonial and African affairs. Stonehouse later became a Labour Government Minister and then shocked the world when he faked his own death; when he was found, living with his secretary, he was imprisoned for fraud. But in 1950, he was unknown and an idealist. He had great respect for Seretse, describing him as ‘impressive in stature’, with ‘a brilliant faculty for interpretation and expression’, and he enjoyed his warm personality and generosity of feeling. One night, they went together to address a meeting in Basingstoke, at which Seretse was in fine form:

  His analysis of democracy and politics was as good as any political philosopher could muster. The audience was fascinated and entranced. When it came to my turn to make the appeal for the Seretse Khama [Fighting Committee] the pound notes and cheques came up in healthy profusion, including a very generous donation from the local Tories.22

  The Khamas started to make new friends. Clement Freud invited Seretse to speak at a celebrity Club Supper at the Arts Theatre Club off Leicester Square, which he was managing. ‘A hundred members and their guests’, explained Freud in his autobiography, ‘bought tickets, got a decent meal and listened to a speech by a man or woman of the moment’ – and in the autumn of 1950, Seretse Khama was the ‘man of the moment’. Other celebrity speakers had included Bernard Shaw, Peter Ustinov, Christopher Fry and Laurie Lee.23 Freud understood the difficulties faced by the Khamas and wanted to help. He also found Seretse agreeable company and thought Ruth was an admirable and very courageous woman. He and his wife Jill invited them home and he cooked – which always made for a successful evening, as Seretse appreciated good food.24

  The Labour MPs Jennie Lee and her husband, Aneurin Bevan, gave parties in their home for Seretse and Ruth. Although they followed the doctrine of collective responsibility in relation to the Labour Party, in private they followed their own principles – and they believed that the Labour Party had treated the Khamas very badly.25 Bevan organized a party at Cliveden Place, where Seretse and Ruth met Cheddi Jagan and Forbes Burnham, leading politicians from British Guiana.26 Bevan publicized this party as much as possible, to draw attention to the problems suffered by the British colonies.

  Seretse and Ruth became good friends with MacDonald Bailey, the famous sprinter known as Black Flash, from Port of Spain in Trinidad; Bailey had also married a white Englishwoman and was living in Britain. Over six feet tall, Bailey ran for Britain in the Olympics of 1948 and was to become a medallist in the 1952 Olympics. Movietone filmed a newsreel showing the Khama family and the Baileys enjoying Christmas together in the Khamas’ flat, the adults serving sandwiches and cake to the children, and pulling crackers. The four adults laughed happily together in the living room, next to a huge framed photograph – about two feet square – of Seretse’s father, Sekgoma, in military uniform, standing beside Khama III.27

  The Khamas visited Ruth’s aunt and uncle in Norfolk, where Seretse enjoyed evenings in the pub with the local farmers, discussing crops and cattle.28 But Seretse longed for his own land and people. ‘He visited our beauty spots – Devon and Cornwall, North Wales, the Lake District, the Scottish Highlands,’ wrote Fenner Brockway, ‘but when I asked which part of Britain he liked most, he said, “East Anglia, its flat distances to the horizon took me home”.’29

  Towards the end of January, Lewis, the CRO official, went again to see Seretse and Ruth.30 He found them in good spirits: ‘Ruth, I fancy, is a trifle plumper, and amid the domesticities of home and preparing baby Jacqueline for bed, is very much the young matron. The baby continues to flourish and to manifest a certain winsome charm.’ Since his last visit, Seretse had a supply of bigger and better karosses, reported Lewis, ‘so that the flat was now almost entirely carpeted by animal skins of various kinds.’

  The lease was due to end in March but they had arranged to rent it on a month-by-month tenancy until they found somewhere more permanent. Seretse had begun his law course. ‘He has, I think,’ said Lewis, ‘an agile and intelligent mind, and I think he is taking his studies seriously.’ Lewis had made arrangements to take them out to
dinner at a Hungarian restaurant in Soho. When the baby had been put to bed and instructions given to the babysitter, they departed by bus. The dinner passed off well, reported Lewis, ‘although Seretse somewhat disconcerted the waiter at the beginning of the meal by fiercely demanding “steak”’. But meat was still rationed and was not on the menu:

  the waiter retaliated by explaining that there was no steak, but that Seretse could have a selection of meats cooked on a skewer. Ruth followed me in choosing chicken goulash… Rather cavalierly I omitted to ask them what they wished to drink with their food and ordered a bottle of red wine. Seretse confessed later that he would sooner have had beer.

  At one point Lewis remarked that W. A. W. Clark had moved from South Africa to the UK and was now the Head of the High Commission Territories Department of the CRO. Then he asked his guests if they had seen Clark in London, to which Seretse replied that he had – ‘whereupon his face fell, and he seemed anxious to change the subject. I made no attempt to pursue it, and the conversation resumed its lighter-hearted tone.’

  At about 10 o’clock they finished their meal and Seretse invited Lewis to go on with them to a club. Partly out of curiosity, he agreed, and went with them to a club called Sugar Hill, in a small backyard off Duke Street, St James:

  The club consisted of a very small room with a very heavy carpet on the floor, shaded lamps, a stream-lined bar tended by a white bar-maid and a black barman, and a small mixed company of black and white – with the black element the more numerous. Seretse and Ruth seemed to be quite well known.

  Seretse saw Lewis was finding it dull and they left after about half an hour. Lewis reported:

  I had gone quite prepared to find the place slightly vicious, but instead found it only boring. It appears to be merely a drinking club for rather wealthy coloured gentlemen, and the only interesting moment for me was when Seretse introduced me to Macdonald [sic] Bailey, the Jamaican athlete, a rather poor specimen, I thought, with a fish-like handshake.

  ‘My relations with Seretse and Ruth remain very friendly,’ said Lewis, ‘and I must confess I find them an interesting pair. There is no sign that the marriage is other than a great success, and they seem much attached to each other.’ Lewis then added that he wished to record one further opinion, based on his growing acquaintance with Seretse. ‘He seems to me’, he noted, ‘to possess good qualities of character and intelligence which, if all goes well, bode well for his future.’ He had doubtless many weaknesses, including a full share of the fecklessness of youth, he thought, but beside these,

  there are qualities which I think are probably remarkable in an African – determination, a strong ingrained respect for authority and above all an honesty and directness in dealing with people, and a right judgement of them, which I find impressive.

  In Lewis’s view, it would be

  a tragedy if these qualities were to be frustrated by bitterness, or inactivity, or neglect. If they are fostered, they seem to me just the qualities which could be a help to the administration of our African Colonies, especially in the present stage of development.31

  This was also Clark’s view. ‘I agree with him about Seretse’s potentialities,’ he commented on Lewis’s report. ‘Once he completes or abandons his legal studies we must interest ourselves seriously in his future.’ He added in brackets, ‘I am sure Tshekedi would not approve of the Sugar Hill!’32

  After six months in Chelsea, in March 1951, the Khamas moved to a flat on Albany Street, not far from the gardens and fields of Regent’s Park in the centre of London. But it was not an easy time. There was massive inflation and the cost of living was high, so it was difficult for Ruth to manage the housekeeping budget on their allowance from the Government. At least the rationing of food was starting to ease up:

  ‘A second lamb cutlet’ and ‘a bar of chocolate’, according to Clement Freud, were gradually reappearing in the everyday vocabulary of ordinary folk, at least in London.33

  They settled into a routine: Ruth was looking after baby Jacqueline and running the home; Seretse was applying himself to his law studies, but was also taking a keen interest in politics and frequently went to the Visitors’ Gallery in the House of Commons to watch debates.34 On one of these visits to the Commons in 1951 he met Kwame Nkrumah, who had stopped in London for a few days on his way back to the Gold Coast from the USA. Nkrumah went to the House of Commons, where he discussed his country’s problems with a group of MPs in one of the committee rooms. Seretse was in an adjoining committee room, holding a meeting with MPs – and as soon as he heard that Nkrumah was next door, he immediately left the meeting to go and shake his hand.35

  But it was a difficult time in many ways. Naledi had started nursing at Hammersmith Hospital, but it had refused to recognize her qualifications from South Africa and insisted that she re-train.36 They also felt unwelcome as a mixed-race family in their local community. ‘The general atmosphere was shall I say “cool” towards us,’ commented Ruth several years later. ‘Perhaps the kindest thing would be to say they didn’t seem to understand that Seretse and I loved each other, were decently married, and intended to stay that way for the rest of our lives.’37 At times, Seretse felt discouraged. When John Stonehouse told him that he and his wife were planning to go to Uganda to work for the African Co-operative Movement, Seretse had his doubts. ‘I met him in the cafeteria of the House of Commons one night,’ wrote Stonehouse, ‘when he was in a particularly dejected mood’:

  He was quite disparaging when I told him about my prospective mission.

  ‘They will either buy you out or ban you, if you haven’t already given up in frustration.’

  ‘They’, of course, meant the Colonial Government or the settlers.38

  But however much they felt downcast at times, the Khama family were clinging to their hope of returning home to Africa. ‘I have not given up the fight on my banishment,’ Seretse told the American magazine, Ebony. Ruth, he added, felt as he did:

  I have heard her say so often to visitors how deeply she feels the injustice that has been dealt us. ‘The Tribe has accepted me,’ she will say. ‘It is not the tribe which is against me. It is the white people of South Africa. They need something to knock them off the pedestals they have set themselves on.’39

  17

  Six thousand miles away from home

  As W. A. W. Clark had suspected, Tshekedi had been very annoyed by Seretse’s separate speech of farewell to the Bangwato, after their joint statement. Shortly after his nephew’s departure, he told Baring that he had now shifted away from Seretse and was opposed to the idea of him ever being Kgosi.1 Six thousand miles away from home, Seretse had heard reports of his uncle’s changed attitude and, in October 1950, he wrote to him from London, emphasizing the need for them to work together:

  even though we have given away our fatherland through our dispute we are nevertheless ready to forget the things which have caused misunderstandings between us so that we can redeem our land from the control of the Europeans so that it may return to the Bamangwato.

  Government officials were eager to see conflict between them, he argued, ‘so that they could say that when we were together we would continually be at loggerheads’. He urged Tshekedi not to play into their hands. ‘I refuse,’ he said, ‘to quarrel with you further.’2

  But Tshekedi ignored the warning in his nephew’s letter. He felt isolated in Rametsana and was keenly aware of the hostility towards him from so many of the Bangwato, which had led to skirmishes in several villages. The final straw was the burning down of his house at the Kgotla in Serowe, in the middle of the night of 17 October 1950. Arson was suspected, though not proved, and Tshekedi was bitterly hurt that no one had even tried to put out the fire.3 His entire library was destroyed, as were irreplaceable family memorabilia, including the Bible which Queen Victoria had presented to Khama III.4

  On 12 November, Tshekedi publicly ruptured his reconciliation with Seretse. He published the ‘Aide-Memoire’ that he and Seretse had sign
ed, claiming that this document proved that Seretse had agreed to renounce his own, and his children’s, claim to the chieftainship. But now, he complained, Seretse was trying to return to Bechuanaland as Chief. Tshekedi added that he had taken this step after several conferences with the British High Commissioner, Sir Evelyn Baring. He told the press that he could see no end to the dynastic feud.5 This choice of words – ‘dynastic feud’ – was resonant of the White Paper and gave a sense of inevitable and ceaseless quarrelling between the two men. It was exactly what Baring and Liesching wanted. Just two weeks before, Liesching had told Baring of his worry that Tshekedi might be ‘tempted into a combination with Seretse that would be fatal to our plans’.6

  Seretse was appalled. He explained to reporters that he had never signed an agreement renouncing his claim to the chieftaincy – that the ‘Aide-Memoire’ was merely intended to set out ‘certain lines along which we might work’. This included the possibility of them both renouncing their claims, but only after discussing the matter in London and as a basis for discussion at the Kgotla. There could be no question of taking such a momentous decision without the involvement of the Bangwato people as a whole. ‘This was fully understood by my uncle at the time,’ he said firmly in a statement to the press. He denied that he was trying to return as Kgosi. He simply wanted to find a way in which he might serve his people in any responsible position they might wish him to occupy: