John Bierman
Editor, Daily Nation, 1960-63
ONE of the frustrating
things about being in charge of a newspaper is that when the really big news
breaks, you have to stay in the office while your reporters are out covering
it. Life was full of such frustration for me between March 1960, when we
launched the Sunday Nation, and March 1963 when
I left the Daily Nation firmly established as
an important voice in East Africa, for it was a period rich in incident and
drama.
But only once did I
give way to the temptation to leave the office and cover the big story of the
day myself. That was the day, in April 1961, when the colonial authorities
allowed the world to press their first opportunity to see and talk to Jomo
Kenyatta since his conviction, eight years before almost to the day.
Clearly, the old
lion’s exposure to press, radio and television was going to be a prelude to his
eventual release, but I couldn’t wait. I was overcome with curiosity to see for
myself what sort of man this legendary enigmatic figure really was.
Only 12 months before,
the Governor, Sir Patrick Renison, had denounced Mr Kenyatta and announced that
he could never be allowed to return to public life. It was a statement
surprisingly out of keeping with what we took to be the trend of British
official policy following Mr Harold Macmillan’s remarkable “wind of change”
speech in South Africa.
And, indeed it was not
too long before Whitehall’s wishes and mounting African pressure were to pull
the rug from under the feet of the hapless Sir Patrick.
But Kenyatta was still
some way from freedom when in June 1960 the Sunday Nation caused a minor
sensation and infuriated Government House by publishing exclusive new pictures
of the African leader in restriction in Lodwar.
Who took the pictures,
and how, must have puzzled the authorities who had set up what they thought to
be impenetrable defences around the old man to keep out prying journalists.
The explanation was quite simple. Margaret Kenyatta had smuggled a camera in when she
went to visit her father and her pictures –seven of them good enough to
reproduce in a newspaper—had found their way into my hands.
They showed a robust,
vigorous and commanding figure far from the shambling wreck some among his
ill-wishers had hopefully predicted.
Soon members of the
colony’s then multi-racial Council of Ministers were to be allowed to Lodwar to
see for themselves. But it was the Nation which gave the public
at large their first glimpse in seven years of the man who was ultimately to
lead Kenya to independence and far beyond. When the world’s newsmen did at last
meet McZee at Maralal, what was my impression of him? Memory is bound to be
coloured by hindsight, so here’s what I wrote on my way to Nairobi in a
bouncing light aircraft:
“In a marathon
three-hour present conference, Jomo Kenyatta put on a display of verbal
eloquence and political one-upmanship which would have been remarkable in a man
half his firmly declared age of 71.
“In a series of quickfire
questions and answers, he gave his views on everything from Kenya’s current
constitutional deadlock to the climate at Lodwar… And at the end of it – after
going entirely without food or drink – he emerged looking quite capable of
sustaining another three hours of what is certainly the most gruelling (for the
subject) Press conference I have ever witnessed over three years in 13
continents.
(I can now add nine
and half years and three more continents to that, but I have to see Mr
Kenyatta’s performance bettered).
“His voice was clear
and firm. His eyes – at times widening to almost saucer-like dimensions above
his prominent cheekbones – flashed at the thrust and parry of the questions.
“Sometimes he ducked
behind the defensive position of being unable to give an opinion because of his
‘disadvantage of being in restriction’. Sometimes he sallied forth to do verbal
battle with a questioner he considered hostile. Sometimes he groped for a
phrase in English… At other times the words flowed freely and forcefully. And
at the end of it all, what had we learned of this man? To more than one
observer –including this one—the enigma remained an enigma. Most of what he
said has been said by his successors without arousing ungovernable passions.
“He declared that he
had been, was now and always would be an advocate of non-violence, whose sole
aim was to achieve freedom for his people by constitutional means.
“In fact, if one were
asked: ‘Has the leopard changed its spots?’ one would have to answer that by
his own admission he has not. He merely claims, most forcefully and skilfully,
that he was never a leopard at all.”
Enigmatic or not, one
thing was absolutely clear to me, and I think to most of the journalists who
met Kenyatta that day: He was to be the decisive figure of Kenya politics from
that time on.
When I arrived in
Kenya in 1959 to help launch the Sunday Nation, independence in the
foreseeable future seemed unattainable or unthinkable, according to one’s point
of view. By the time I left in March 1963, it was inevitable.
I sometimes wonder how
much our newspapers did to help prepare public opinion of all races to rise to
the challenges of that inevitable outcome.
Bierman went on to
achieve a sterling career in BBC television journalism, winning an award for
his coverage of the Bloody Sunday shootings in Londonderry. He won further
accolades as the BBC correspondent in Tehran and Tel Aviv. Bierman also went on
to write several books including the bestseller about Swedish wartime hero and
diplomat Raoul Wallenberg who saved so many Hungarian Jews.
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