In 1895 Chief Khama came to England to ask for protection from those who would intrude into his country. He was very glad when this protection was given, and to show his gratitude he had given Her Majesty’s Government a part of his country. To deny the Bamangwato their rightful Chief was a poor return for such loyalty.
‘But if Seretse was allowed to return,’ Peto assured Salisbury, ‘there would be no troubles of any kind. Let the Government try Seretse out for even a fortnight, and this would be proved true.’ This was one of the proposals that had been put forward by Seretse himself on several occasions, but without success.
Keaboka introduced himself as the head, for the time being, of the Bangwato. But, he insisted, it had never been his wish to have this position – it had been forced on him, because there was no one else to act as intermediary between the Government and the tribe. It was a very difficult position. The Tribe were aware of the large number of additional police posted to the Reserve, watching the Bangwato leaders as if they were about to do something violent. But, he said,
they were not inclined to violence, and did not wish to fight the Government. The Tribe at present were like a baboon whose little one had been taken away. When this happened the baboon did not think of biting but just came and begged for its child to be returned.
When he went back home, added Keaboka, he would no longer be willing to act in any official capacity:
In 1941 he had been a soldier and had gone to Italy. There the troops had been issued with currency inscribed with the language of Mr Churchill’s Atlantic Charter declaration about the four freedoms. These freedoms were now being denied to the Bangwato although they had fought loyally in the war. The Bangwato needed protection from Rhodesia and the Union, but the banishment of Seretse meant that the government favoured the Union.31
As he came to the end of his speech, he threw forward his hands and said, ‘We ask for bread and you give us stones! Release our Chief!’ He handed Salisbury a written memorandum, which had been signed by all six men. The Commonwealth Secretary then shook hands with the delegates, saying he would give them a reply in a few days.32 The meeting came to an end at 4.50 p.m.
After the meeting, the delegation issued a copy of the memorandum to the press, who wrote sympathetic reports.33 On the following day, the envoys were invited to meet with Liberal MPs, including the leader, Clem Davies, at the House of Commons.34 These activities gave the envoys a high profile and on 24 April, three days after the meeting with Salisbury, indignant questions about the treatment of the Bangwato were raised in the House of Commons. One MP commented that very few honourable Members had a good conscience about ‘this sad story’.35
One week after seeing the delegates, Lord Salisbury met them again, to deliver his reply. He repeated his earlier statement: that a ruler could not enjoy the same freedom as an individual – ‘particularly in respect of his marriage’. He handed out copies of the White Paper for them to take back to the Protectorate.
‘I pointed out that their claim to represent the tribe was not unchallenged,’ Salisbury told the House of Lords the next day. ‘Quite recently, for example,’ he added, ‘persons of high standing in the tribe had seen fit to petition my predecessor [Ismay], contesting their right to speak for the tribe.’ This was an attempt to undermine the significance of the delegation. It was immediately picked up by Lord Stansgate, who shared the distaste of his son, Wedgwood Benn, for the Government’s treatment of Seretse Khama. Stansgate asked the Commonwealth Secretary for the source of his information and was told that these details could not be given ‘for obvious reasons’. This led to a bitter exchange, reported The Times:
Viscount Stansgate said that it could not create a good impression if people were told that undisclosed information was available to the Secretary of State which had influenced his mind.
The Marquess of Salisbury said that this was always so in public life. There were always things which could not be disclosed… it was a case of what was in the public interest.
Viscount Stansgate It is a question of good faith.
The Marquess of Salisbury I hope the noble lord is not charging the Government with breach of faith. Certainly there is no reason for that. Out of the two hours I listened to the Bamangwato delegates, about three quarters of the time was occupied with complaints of what happened under the previous Government (Ministerial laughter).36
John Foster gave an account of the delegates’ visit to the House of Commons. He acknowledged that they
represented a majority of the tribe – (Opposition cheers) – but that the views of the majority of the tribe were not the paramount reason for the decision (Opposition cries of ‘Oh!’).37
The members of the delegation gave a press conference. Mpoto-kwane, acting as spokesman, explained that the Bangwato accepted Seretse’s marriage. ‘We are convinced that we are being very unjustly and unfairly treated,’ he said. ‘We consider ourselves as human beings and entitled to the same rights and liberties as any other individuals.’ The Government’s decision, he believed, ‘amounts to nothing but cowardice. We are sure that the British public will not tolerate the racial discrimination that the British Government are adopting.’38
The envoys were now painfully aware that their mission to Britain was hopeless. But they were determined to bring Seretse home some-how, even if they had to sacrifice the great wish of the Bangwato people – to have Seretse as Kgosi. Accordingly, they proposed the same compromise that had been suggested by Seretse to the Government on various occasions. ‘As we informed you,’ they wrote to Salisbury in a letter on 5 May, ‘we do not think that the Tribe will nominate anyone other than Seretse as Chief. Even if some members of the Tribe were prepared to do so, we cannot see that there is anyone who would command the support of the majority of the Tribe.’ This meant that a prolonged period of direct rule was the only way forward, which was unpopular. The only solution, therefore, was for Seretse to return in some capacity other than Chief:
We are convinced that the presence of Seretse in the tribal area is essential if peace and good government are to prevail, and if he cannot be there as Chief, then he should be allowed to return to the area in some other capacity. The Tribe needs his counsel and advice and it is unfortunate that the Government considers that his marriage prevents them from confirming him as Chief.39
They asked for another interview, to explain their plan. But this was refused.
On 10 May, a few days before the envoys from Bechuanaland were to return to Africa, they went with Seretse to a meeting organized by Fenner Brockway at Denison House, the home of the Anti-Slavery Society in London. Now that they had seen Salisbury, they were free to speak and they were glad of a chance to give their views. ‘We sent our Chief here for education so that we should reap the benefit,’ argued Mongwaketse – not so that he should be sent to some other country, like Jamaica. ‘When we get home,’ he added unhappily, ‘there will be no cooperation between us and the Government.’ Another member of the delegation, reported the Manchester Guardian, expressed surprise that they had been asked to ‘appoint’ a new Chief when Seretse was still alive and had not abdicated. ‘It would be difficult for you,’ he pointed out, ‘if you were asked to go and appoint to the Throne someone not in the royal line.’ He was surprised that Salisbury did not understand the issue of succession, ‘for Lord Salisbury, after all, has inherited his title from his father’.
Fenner Brockway was unsparing in his condemnation of the Government’s decision – that it was an outrage against democracy, committed by those who claimed they were teaching democracy to Africans. He repeated his argument that one way of solving the racial problem in South Africa, without violence, was by setting an example of racial equality and social justice in Bechuanaland and the other two High Commission Territories.
Seretse, reported the Manchester Guardian, was ‘dryly ironic’ in his comments on the attitude of both the Labour and the Conservative parties. From his experience, said Seretse, it seemed that th
e Colonial peoples were being used ‘only as playthings, or rather as sticks with which to beat political opponents. The Socialists could use him to knock the Conservatives and vice versa.’ He argued that the ‘black and ignorant’ men sitting on the platform – the Bangwato delegates – knew the wishes of their own people better than Lord Salisbury. Probably, he added, he himself was the first black man that Salisbury had ever met. According to the Guardian, his speech was ‘nicely detached’. Seretse had often protested he was not bitter, it added, but there was something like bitterness in his speech.
John Collins, who was the Canon of St Paul’s Cathedral, also spoke, with great force. He was a keen reformer, who had founded Christian Action and wanted the Church of England to take on a much greater level of social responsibility. He urged the audience to do more than simply show sympathy – he told them to work up ‘a white heat of fury against the evil of racial discrimination… Everyone knew that South Africa was the spectre behind the scenes. Malan and his followers were re-creating the master race theory and threatening the peace of the world.’.40 In 1948, the year he had been appointed Canon of St Paul’s Cathedral, Collins had read and been powerfully moved by Cry, the Beloved Country. He invited its author, Alan Paton, to preach at St Paul’s and to undertake a lecture tour of England – and in this way, Christian Action became committed to opposing apartheid and fighting for racial equality. Collins was very sympathetic towards Seretse and Ruth and had been horrified by the role played by the Anglican Church and the Bishop of London in forbidding their marriage. Many years later, Ruth wrote to Collins’s wife to express her gratitude for ‘the immense moral support that John gave us in those bad days… he was very influential in restoring my faith in the Church and its priests’.41
The day after this meeting in London, three of the delegates went with Seretse and Ruth to Birmingham, to attend a large public rally in the Town Hall, which had been organized by the United Nations Association’s Midland Regional Council. More than 2,000 people attended and the Birmingham Post commented that Seretse ‘faced the biggest audience of his life’. This assumption was mistaken, as it was nothing like as large as the Kgotla at Serowe in June 1949, when Seretse was acclaimed as Kgosi – which was attended by about 9,000 men. The meeting in Birmingham was presided over by Daniel Lipson, one of the three Observers sent to Bechuanaland by Gordon Walker.
Seretse told the audience that he and his Tribe had lost faith in the British Government. They had the impression, he said, that they did not belong to the category of first-class British citizens. ‘Even if we are coloured and our country is very small and cannot make a military contribution to the Western world,’ he said, ‘we are entitled to enjoy the rights that belong to every free man throughout the world.’ Of his marriage to a white woman, he said, ‘This is not a matter that can be put into a little compartment and called an injustice to one or two people. It is a principle that is involved.’ He had been in the UK for two or three years, he went on, and during that time
I have been a very good boy. But where has it got me? If it is true, as it has been said, that I am not fit to rule, that I am irresponsible, how can I hope to serve ably and properly the Jamaican people? If I am fit to be the assistant governor of Jamaica, I think I am more fit to be the ruler of my own people.42
He asked if Britain was prepared to sacrifice the loyalty of 60 million Africans for the doubtful friendship of Dr Malan.
Then the members of the delegation spoke. Prefacing their speeches with references to ‘My Chief and the Mother of my Tribe’, they spoke sadly of their disappointments. They still regarded Seretse as their Kgosi: nobody could take his place. He who was born Kgosi, they said, was Kgosi for as long as he lived. They appealed to the British public for their help.43
The envoys from the Bangwato Reserve left London for Africa on Thursday 15 May 1952. ‘The delegation left the UK empty handed,’ noted the CRO with satisfaction.44 It was certainly true that they had not succeeded in their primary aim: to end the exile of Seretse and Ruth and to bring them home. Nevertheless, their visit had not been without some positive outcomes. As a result of their visibility in the newsreels, the reports of the press, and their appearance at meetings, they had touched the sympathy of the public and put the government on the defensive. They had also made British people more aware of issues about racial inequality, as had the media spotlight on Seretse. ‘As I look back on all the publicity,’ he had remarked in 1951, ‘perhaps the sacrifice of my privacy did some good for at least it exposed the hypocrisy in high places and won the sympathy of most men of good will for the cause of racial equality and understanding.’45
But as the envoys journeyed home, they were faced with a painful task: to report on the failure of their mission to Britain. They knew that, ever since their departure, people had been pinning their hopes on the success of the delegation.46 They would be bitterly disappointed. The Administration were well aware of this and were now on edge: they were regularly spying on the Bangwato and were also tapping telephones and opening letters. If anyone wanted to guarantee that a letter would not be opened by officials, they had to go to South Africa or to Southern Rhodesia to post it.47 The gentle Germond had been replaced as District Commissioner by Gordon Batho, who had been brought in as a strong man. Batho was a strapping South African in his late thirties, with dark, wavy hair parted in the middle. His attitude was confrontational and, wherever he went, there seemed to be trouble.
20
Sorrow in Serowe
The delegates arrived back from London in Serowe in the early hours of 21 May 1952, weary and troubled. They went straight to the Kgotla, where about 1,000 people were waiting for them. In silence, Salisbury’s written reply to their mission was read out and translated. As the news slowly sank in, a sense of bitter disappointment spread through the Reserve.1 Later that day, Keaboka resigned his office as Senior Tribal Representative.2
A Kgotla was arranged for Monday 26 May, so as to allow five days for people to travel to Serowe from the outlying areas. A large gathering turned up, of between 2,000 and 3,000 men, to hear the delegation give the full details of Salisbury’s reply. But they were angry. They did not stand up when the British officials arrived, as they usually did, but continued to sit in the shade of the makala trees. Seretse’s supporters had their backs to the seats occupied by Batho and his four white officials, while followers of Tshekedi faced the platform. There were angry murmurings and when Batho called on Peto to quieten things down he did not respond.3 The District Commissioner had difficulty at the best of times when he gave orders to the Bangwato, many of whom disliked him and thought it was strange that in Setswana, his name – Batho – meant ‘people’.4
There was a call for ‘the usual prayer’, but this simply added to the tension. Two men prayed at the same time: a supporter of Seretse with his back to the platform, and a supporter of Tshekedi facing it.5 Then Batho started to read Lord Salisbury’s reply. He was interrupted by people saying they wanted Seretse back, which was met with loud applause. Batho argued that they did not seem to understand Salis-bury’s reply; he said he would read it aloud and ‘if necessary explain what it means’. This made the assembly furious – because they understood perfectly well what it meant. Men stood up, shaking their fists and hurling insults. Batho tried to call the meeting to order, but by now there was so much noise it was impossible for him to be heard.6
Suddenly, a group of women burst into the Kgotla. ‘For the first time in the history of the tribal Kgotlas,’ reported the Rand Daily Mail, ‘women came into the picture’:
They stood in front of the dais, shouting and gesticulating and screaming:‘We want Seretse’ and ‘May you die where you’re sitting.’
Said Mr Batho: ‘I’ll give you a hearing when you’ve given me one.’
One woman shouted: ‘Seretse should lead us… You have tried to rule us with a rod of iron. You treat us like ants. We won’t have you.’ Then a group of women surrounded the offices near the Kgotla,
at which point Batho fled to his car. They chased after him as he drove off.7
Next day, Keaboka and the Serowe elders wrote a letter to the British High Commissioner, stating their refusal to accept any Kgosi other than Seretse and announcing a fresh campaign of non-cooperation.8 Sir John Le Rougetel worried that the Administration was losing control. He decided it was time to take action against ‘the Keaboka group’ and authorized the Resident Commissioner to close the Kgotla.9
On the morning of Saturday 31 May, officials toured Serowe in a lorry. They shouted out through a loud-hailer that the Kgotla was closed, which was met with shouts of angry protest. Four policemen were then stationed in the Kgotla and a white line was drawn across the mouth of the entrance, beyond which no one was allowed to go. In the afternoon it was announced, again by loud-hailer, that the law against brewing and the consumption of liquor would be strictly enforced. At 5.30 p.m., Batho was told that over 100 people had pushed past the police pickets and assembled in the Kgotla. He went straight there and gave them five minutes to disperse, but about forty men – including Peto and Keaboka – refused to go and were taken to gaol. About 300 people, including women, followed them and sang hymns outside the gaol. The prisoners were released the following morning, but were warned that a summons would be issued against them.
The Administration had called for reinforcements from Basutoland of African police, who arrived before daybreak on Sunday morning. Then some people started to assemble outside the Kgotla – about 50 men and 200–300 women. They wanted to hold a religious service in the kgotla and had asked Reverend J. Cidraas, a minister of the LMS, to conduct it for them. Cidraas consulted Batho, who said that so long as it remained a religious service he would not interfere – but people must disperse immediately, once it was over.10 Hymn-books were issued and people started their service, singing hymns for several hours; speeches were also made, demanding the return of Seretse. Batho went to the Kgotla and tried to speak, but each time he did so, his voice was drowned out by a crescendo of hymns. Eventually he shouted through a megaphone that they must finish their singing before 2.30 p.m.11 At lunchtime, people left.
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