when [Strijdom] raised the problem of the Protectorates he only asked that South Africa should be allowed to explain their objectives in the Territories: either South African officials could go to the Territories or leading personalities in the Territories could go to the Union.
What had we to fear? If the leaders were happy and wanted to join the Union as he was convinced that they would, our troubles with the Protectorates would be at an end.
Home made it clear that the transfer would simply not be allowed. ‘Time was up,’ he recorded, with evident distaste. ‘So I repeated my piece on “no political change” and said we would resume.’24
Seretse’s and Tshekedi’s meeting with Home on 15 August 1956 led to a series of further meetings at the CRO over the next few weeks.25 Initially, the Commonwealth Secretary maintained his view that Seretse could not be allowed to return before an alternative Chief had been approved, preferably Rasebolai. But, keeping an open mind and feeling his way forward, he was gradually won over by the arguments of Seretse and Tshekedi. From South Africa, Liesching warned repeatedly of trouble with South Africa,26 but Home believed that he had sufficient political support to ignore this threat. Finally he made up his mind: to accept the Khamas’ offer of renunciation, on their terms. Now he had to persuade others to support his decision. His first move was to write to the Prime Minister to explain his reasons. He was concerned, he said, that there might be a leak of information and
Seretse’s renunciation will become public property. That will stir up the Labour Party here to enquire what we are going to do about it, and on this they will not be helpful, while it will start rumours and speculation and perhaps trouble in the tribe.
His instinct was to move ‘pretty fast’ and he hoped to bring off a comprehensive settlement – ‘If you agree I will do so. I am preparing a short paper for Cabinet as I think they must be kept up to date.’27 Eden replied immediately. ‘This seems a courageous course,’ he wrote, ‘if we really have to stir up this hornet’s nest… I agree that a talk with Cabinet is desirable.’28
A final meeting on the issue was held at the CRO, for which Bechuanaland’s Resident Commissioner, Martin Wray, was specially flown to London. Joe Garner, the Commonwealth Deputy UnderSecretary of State, wrote a letter to Sir Gilbert Laithwaite, the Permanent Secretary, who was abroad, to bring him up to date. ‘Suez takes up practically all our time’, he said, but the other development is that ‘we have brought our affairs with your African friends to what I hope will prove to be a very satisfactory conclusion’. Then, with much satisfaction, he added that
there was a complete volte-face on the part of Percivale [Liesching] and his advisers. As you know, they have throughout been recommending the utmost caution and going slow and had thought that it would be necessary to go through all sorts of hoops before matters could be finalised.
‘My own hunch’, he told Laithwaite, ‘is that we have turned a very important corner and that a new and untroubled future may well lie ahead.’29
‘I know we are taking risks,’ Home told Liesching firmly, ’but I hope all this will now go well. I have seen Jim Griffiths and Clement Davies and both are well pleased.’30 When the Cabinet met, Home achieved a consensus without any difficulty. Finally, and for the first time in the story of the Khamas’ marriage, morality had triumphed over expediency in the policy of the British Government. But Liesching was bitter. In the course of discussions, he had referred to the ‘skilful exploitation’ by Tshekedi and Seretse of the political embarrassments they could cause.31 It was not intended as a compliment.
In the Khama household, everyone had been on tenterhooks for weeks. ‘Life became one long whirl of meetings, discussions and consultations,’ wrote Ruth. But then came the day of the last meeting:
When Seretse arrived home from Westminster, I did not need to ask him the result. His beaming face told me everything.
All I asked was: ‘When?’
‘It has got to be kept secret for two weeks,’ he said. ‘A fortnight after that we can return.’
We celebrated the great news by forgetting to eat any dinner and talking wildly all the evening.32
On 26 September 1956, an official statement was issued by the CRO, announcing Home’s acceptance of the renunciation by Seretse Khama of all claim to the chieftainship. Seretse and Tshekedi would return to Bechuanaland and would take part in tribal affairs.33 The statement was greeted with enthusiasm by the broadsheets in the UK. The Times pointed out that the two main political parties in Britain had both behaved badly. ‘The fundamental mistake’, it argued, ‘was committed when this decision having being taken for deeply based imperial reasons, the attempt was made to disguise it as a concession to the wishes of the tribe.’ All the subsequent embarrassments, it added, ‘have flowed from the intellectual dishonesty of this unhappy procedure’.34 Home was praised in the UK and throughout the empire. It had taken only a month for him to reach his decision, once Seretse and Tshekedi had presented him with their document, and he came out of it well politically.35
‘This is a great day for me,’ Seretse told reporters outside his home.36 He had always imagined that there might be some kind of slip, he explained, but now that it was definite he was immensely relieved. He had been due to take his final law examinations in December but he was unlikely ever to finish them – he wanted to get home as soon as possible.37 Asked about his relationship with Tshekedi, he commented that,
We have always been good friends, but we had our political differences. My uncle came over to England in July and we talked over the position.
We decided to sink these differences for the sake of getting a settlement and in the interests of the progress and development of the Reserve. I am hopeful for the future.38
After six years and two months of exile, Seretse and Ruth were at last getting ready to take their family home. Naledi had already gone back to Bechuanaland in February 1954, having caught tuberculosis while nursing at Hammersmith Hospital. ‘Reason for her return’, reported the CRO to the High Commissioner, ‘said to be that tuberculosis condition is not improving and she thinks Bechuanaland climate will be better for her.’39 Once home, she recovered quickly.40
‘We seemed to get hardly enough sleep during the next few weeks,’ wrote Ruth, happily. She would leave Britain without the slightest regret. ‘I thank God’, she added, ‘that I picked Seretse to be my man for life. No woman could have a better husband than I, nor is there a father more crazy about his children’:
I’m not starry-eyed about this. I’ll admit right here that these past seven years have been difficult ones.
We have lived in a sort of half-world, uncertain of our future, unhappy at our predicament. Life hasn’t been easy, and some marriages might have come unstuck under the strain. But not ours. Seretse’s cause was mine. My worries were his.41
Throughout the whole wretched affair of their exile, she said, Seretse ‘has never lost his head, never let fly, never “gone on the town” to relieve his feelings – as well he might have done. He is a man with the sweetest temper imaginable.’ He had never forgotten a single anniversary –
one of those little things a wife cherishes. He thinks I’m a good cook, and will eat anything I set before him. He is regular in his habits and not once through our married life have I been left at home heel-tapping waiting for my ‘hubby’ to come home. We have two lovely children. What more could a wife ask for?42
A press conference was called and the whole family came to the film studio, laughing together and clearly in excellent spirits. Six-year-old Jackie stood quietly next to her father, smiling and listening carefully to his words. Three-year-old Ian looked excitedly about him, fascinated by the cameras and bouncing up and down on Ruth’s knee. On leaving Britain to return home for the first time in over six years, stated Seretse, he wanted to express his thanks ‘to all those people here who have shown friendliness to my wife, my children, and myself. I should particularly like to thank those who have worked so hard to secu
re my return to my people.’ Asked why he had given up his claim to the chieftainship, he replied:
I have renounced the chieftainship as I have always been prepared to do. Now I hope to assist my people to develop a democratic system, to raise our standard of life, and to establish a happy and healthy nationhood.43
Rasebolai was told of the settlement by Wray. He was pleased and cooperative, saying that his own position as native authority would be strengthened, as the people would no longer be waiting for Seretse to return as Kgosi. He remembered what most of the mandarins and politicians had forgotten: ‘that just before Seretse had finally left the Protectorate in 1950 he discussed the possibility of his renunciation with Tshekedi’.44 Wedgwood Benn made the same point in a letter to the press, a little later. The first memorandum of renunciation had been drawn up by Seretse six years before, he pointed out, and the British Government had known about it ever since.45
The momentous news of Seretse’s and Tshekedi’s renunciation – and their imminent return – was made to sixteen assemblies in different parts of the Bangwato Reserve. Very careful preparations had been made by the Administration. A British official in Mahalapye, George Winstanley, was surprised to receive a ‘Top Secret for UK eyes only’ letter, which was delivered by special courier. It instructed Winstanley to make the announcement in the main villages in his sub-district. This was quite a task, because of the great distances between villages. Next day, he set off early and visited each of the principal villages, explaining to headmen that he would be returning the following day and asking them to summon their people. One of these villages was Sefhare, which had been very active in its support of Seretse. Here there was great jubilation: ‘Gasebalwe Seretse stood up and facing the Kgotla with his arms raised above his head shouted Pula! three times with great emphasis. The Tribe responded and shouted Pula over and over again.’46
Martin Wray came from Mafikeng to deliver the news to the Serowe Kgotla. Wearing brimmed hats against the blaze of the sun, 200 men sat on stools or squatted quietly, as Wray slowly and clearly explained that Seretse Khama had formally renounced for himself and his children all claim to the chieftainship of the Bangwato Tribe; and that Tshekedi Khama, who had previously renounced all claim to the chieftainship, had reaffirmed his renunciation. And he added:
In furtherance of the policy of Her Majesty’s Government, a Tribal Council of an advisory nature is to be established for the Bamangwato. Rasebolai Kgamane, as the African Authority, will be Chairman of this Council when it is established. Both Seretse Khama and Tshekedi Khama have declared that they are in full agreement with the establishment of a Council and will lend their full support to Rasebolai Kgamane in his capacity as Chairman.47
‘As Resident Commissioner,’ he concluded, ‘I am confident that this settlement will make a great difference to your future and will result in a happier period for the tribe. I wish you all a safe return to your homes. Pula.’48 As soon as the translation of Wray’s announcement had been completed by the interpreter, reported Reuters, the men jumped up with shouts of ‘Pula!’ and for a few minutes no single voice could be heard above the uproar.49 When copies of the announcement, written in Setswana, were handed out, they ‘scrambled eagerly for the typewritten sheets’ and gathered in groups to discuss them.50
The Nationalist Party newspaper, Die Transvaler, was heavily critical of the British Government’s decision. A leading article stated that, ‘Condonation of mixed marriages in a territory intended to be incorporated in the Union will upset the public in the Union.’ It was fatal, the article went on, that the British should follow a policy in neighbouring territory which clashed with South African policy: it could do nothing but obstruct the solution of racial problems in the Union and would disturb good relations and order in the subcontinent. That the British should approve the Seretse marriage and allow the pair with their ‘chocolate babies’ to come and contaminate tradition in southern Africa, it went on, was on a level with her most short-sighted policy elsewhere in Africa.51 This ‘short-sighted policy’ was a reference to the UK Government’s undertaking, which had been announced to the Dominion Governments in 1955, to grant independence to the Gold Coast by the end of 1956 (though it did not take place until 1957) and subsequently to Nigeria in 1958 (1960).52 The Rhodesian Herald was as bitter as Die Transvaler and also used the image of ‘chocolate babies’.53
But there was no comment from the South African Government. Nor was there any comment from the Government of Southern Rhodesia.
Between 26 September 1956, the day of the official announcement, and 10 October, when Seretse was expected in Bechuanaland, there was a stream of conflicting rumours and reports in the Reserve about what would happen when Seretse actually arrived. These varied from statements that, whatever happened, he would be Kgosi, to reports that he would be forcibly installed as Kgosi by his supporters in Serowe. ‘An important factor’, reported Wray to London with some apprehension, ‘was the large numbers of women who are devoted followers of Seretse.’ He feared they might attend the Kgotla and cause disturbances – ‘not so much according to any fixed plans but brought about by their enthusiasm for their hero’.54 Excitement and tension mounted through the week. But Rasebolai, the Native Authority, was unworried. ‘The troubles of the Bamangwato are over,’ he told a correspondent from the Rand Daily Mail. ‘I think everything will go smoothly. The tribesmen will wait for Seretse to return before they speak.’55
24
‘Before their eyes it rained’
At last, Tuesday 9 October 1956 arrived – the day that had been scheduled for Seretse’s departure. Well-wishers came with Ruth and the children to the airport to see him off, including Clement Freud, John Hatch and Muriel.1 ‘Then with a last hug for the children and myself,’ recorded Ruth, ‘he followed the air hostess out to the plane.’2 Seretse was smiling broadly. But he looked tired and older than his 33 years: the years of banishment and worry had taken their toll.3
Seretse was leaving first, to be followed by Ruth and the children three weeks later. Ruth explained to the Daily Mail why they had made this decision:
Well, it is simply this: Seretse’s return to Serowe will be HIS day. I want him to have it all to himself.
Much as I would have liked to be at his side for that great moment I feel that it belongs to him and him alone.
Seretse is bursting to be off now, and, husband-like, has little interest in the minor details of packing up, selling off, and so forth. But I don’t blame him.
‘If you had been exiled for six years from your homeland, through no fault of your own,’ she asked the reporter, ‘wouldn’t you like to get back at the earliest possible moment?’ Then she added,
I have been so proud of Seretse throughout his exile. Not once has he had the ‘grumps’ or taken it out on me for his misfortune. I wonder how many men would have behaved with equal consideration of his wife’s feelings?4
The flying-boat service had been replaced by land planes in late 1950, just a couple of months after the Khamas had journeyed into exile. Now, Seretse flew to Salisbury in a propeller aeroplane, stopping to refuel at Rome, Cairo, Khartoum and Nairobi. At about 2.00 p.m. next day – after seventeen hours of travel – he reached Salisbury. Here he transferred to a tiny charter aircraft which took him to Francistown shortly before dusk.
Seretse’s face lit up with joy as he stepped onto the tarmac, where he was greeted by Rasebolai and Tshekedi, as well as Fraenkel and the British officials of the region. When he saw his sisters Oratile and Naledi, he rushed forward to kiss and hug them. He was then welcomed home by headmen and local leaders, one by one; for each of them, he had a handshake and a few words.5 Outside the aerodrome, more than 3,000 men, women and children were cheering and waiting to greet him; many of them were from the Bangwato Reserve and had travelled the long journey to Francistown in lorries and by train. Seretse wanted to speak to them, but they were so excited – and there was so much noise – that he had to abandon the plan. At one point t
he Police Commander was afraid the crowd was going out of control and ordered rifles to be handed out to his men.
But the crowd broke up when Seretse was driven away from the airport.6 As the car passed out of the aerodrome, reported the Bula-wayo Chronicle, people jammed the entrance, so that it was impossible for the car to get through for ten minutes:
Men threw their hats into the air, and while some women flung themselves to the ground, others kissed the car’s bonnet.
Those who could not get near stood on lorries to get glimpses of Seretse, or screamed and jumped on car bonnets and roofs.
Eventually, Seretse’s car had to be forced through the crowd.
Men and women scrambled into lorries and followed.7
When they arrived at the Divisional Office in the town, at least 2,000 people were waiting under a fluttering Union Jack and broke into a rousing hymn. Seretse spoke briefly to them, but was inaudible in the noise; he raised his arms and appealed for quiet, and an official banged on the side of a police truck. But nothing helped: the throng was too excited. After twenty minutes, Seretse gave up the attempt to speak. Then he went on to Oratile’s house in the location and the people melted away into the darkness of the evening. He was planning to drive the 150 miles to Serowe the following day.8
Next day, the fleet of lorries that had brought the Bangwato to Francistown took them back in the early hours, to wait for Seretse outside Serowe and to escort him into the village.9 It had seemed a good idea for Seretse to arrive in Serowe just before dark, as a way of diminishing the excitement. ‘The great welcome given to Seretse,’ reported the Johannesburg Star, ‘was more than was expected, even though the former Chief has virtually leaned over backwards to discourage demonstrations.’10 But all day, people had waited in little groups, eager to catch a glimpse of him. The elders waited patiently under the kgotla tree, the children were shrieking, and the women, with every false alarm, began trilling their welcome. For the last five miles of the journey, the road was lined with cheering, happy crowds. When, in the gathering sunset, Seretse finally arrived, with Tshekedi, Rasebolai and James Allison, the District Commissioner, they leapt to their feet with a delighted ‘Pula! Pula!’
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