White women who wrote their history in Kenya

 

White women of the red ochre

Out of Africa (forgive the irresistible pun) came a very special breed of women … too many to mention here. I have chosen to focus on a few … all of them writers. There are others, Neera Kumar Bromson, etc, who I hope I will connect with soon. One of these days I will get around to Beryl Markham and others of her ilk if I can dig up the appropriate material.

 

In the meantime, allow me to share this with you.

 

AS short-term memory loss appears to rape my mind, I am re-reading a lot of old, old Kenya classics such as Karen Blixen’s Out of Africa and Errol Trzebinksi’s Silence will Speak. Errol worked as deputy advertising manager in the very earliest days of the Nation in Nairobi, starting with the launch of Sunday Nation and in the company of the indomitable Althea Tebutt. Later she wrote a cookery column. Above all, I remember her as a forceful, determined lady. I was a very wetter-eared sports reporter and neither of us took any notice of the other. She was stunningly beautiful. She has been quite ill and I have lost track of her. She lives in Lamu. When I first time I read SWS, a friend lent me her copy in London, I was completely blown away by the meticulous devotion to detail, the very, very high quality of the English language and the sheer depth of detail, especially about Denys Finch Hatton and his family history in Britain.

 

I have finished reading SWS and I guess I will have to have another read.

 

Still amazes me that they managed to keep their love affair secret, in the sense that they did not write about it and if they did talk to friends, it was as a secret shared. I guess Errol more than anyone else knew more than she wrote. In this day and age, both books and others of a similar ilk are somewhat tough reads. In today’s politically correct world, much of that era is sometimes very hard to take, especially the hunting and game kills. These are pages of Africa’s history and the memories are fading fast. Some folks revel in that, I choose to record them for what they are: matters of fact.

On the other hand, there are always the “new truths” after Uhuru. A piece by Carey Baraka (Drift) does just that. I do not challenge it but present it as another version of the “truth”: “Karen Blixen, a Danish aristocrat, moved to Kenya at the height of Empire, in 1913, with her new husband, 15,000 Danish crowns, and the intention to start a coffee farm. It was only later, after she returned to Denmark in 1931, that she gradually found fame as a writer. Her 1937 memoir, Out of Africa, offers a record of her time in Kenya, detailing her relationships with her lovers, her servants, and the two thousand “Natives” who lived on her farm. As Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, the grand old man of Kenyan letters, later wrote, “As if in compensation for unfulfilled desires and longings, the baroness turned Kenya into a vast erotic dreamland in which her several white lovers appeared as young gods and her Kenyan servants as usable curs and other animals.”

And dreamland she made it. On safari, Blixen’s servants carried bathwater to her on their heads across the plain, and, she writes, “when we outspanned at noon, they constructed a canopy against the sun, made out of spears and blankets, for me to rest under.” She imagines herself a judge to the Kikuyu squatters, claiming at one point that she looks at her cook “with something of a creator’s eyes.” To Blixen, the Africans existed if not quite at the level of the bush animals, then somewhere just above them. “The Natives,” she writes, “could withdraw into a world of their own, in a second, like the wild animals which at an abrupt movement from you are gone—simply are not there.” She believed that “the umbilical cord of Nature has, with them, not been quite cut through.” 

Deserted by her husband, Karen threw herself into the hedonistic social life available to the European gentry in the colony. When the Duke and Prince of Wales came to visit, she made the local Kikuyu perform a dance in their honor. She and her lover, British big game hunter Denys Finch-Hatton, oscillated in and out of the “Happy Valley set,” described by Ulf Aschan, the godson of Blixen’s husband, as “relentless in their pursuit to be amused, more often attaining this through drink, drugs, and sex.” A popular question among British aristocrats at the time was, “Are you married or do you live in Kenya?” None of this appears in Blixen’s memoir, which skips over wild parties in favor of providing lush detail about the landscape and the “Natives.”

 

I am sure my Kenya Friends Reunited bloggers will have their own tales to tell. I hope you will share them with me. (skipfer43@gmail.com). I was never privy to that circle of settlers in Kenya and I have no reason to doubt the integrity of the writers. By the time 1950 came along, the winds whispered (or prophesied) the coming windows of change and nobody it seemed wanted to dwell on the past, except for excerpts of “white mischief” after the Scotch had got the better of those who could still remember. As a young journalist, I was lucky enough to meet many of the leading lights of politics, social and sports clubs, sportsmen and sportswomen etc. Hence, I floundered in the leaves of books and trusted that the authors were painting a true picture of the white society in earliest Kenya. Perhaps some of the nicest people I encountered were Stephen Moore who inherited Moores Bookshop in Government Road, Mrs Riceborough who was the magistrate in the juvenile court when I was a very, very young junior in the Probation and Remand Home Service, Ray Batchelor, John Velzian, Sir Derek Erskine (who set up the Kenya Amateur Athletics Association), Archie Evans, Marcell Brunner (who was the godfather of Kenya boxing from its infancy). Sir Humphrey Slade, who, as Speaker of the Parliament, educated me in the ways of the House. Sir Michael Blundell was kind enough to speak to me even though I was just a kid. A tribe of cricketers, rugby apostles, field hockey disciples, cricketers who were keepers of the English game in darkest Africa, soccer players and aficionados all the other sports including fishing. Like, I said, I did not know too much about Europeans because we all lived separately in apportioned districts (but they did not call them separate development as they tried to do in South Africa). To make up for this lack of knowledge, I spent a lot of time in the MacMillan Library and read books until sleep finally lassoed me and left me hissing a kind of snore in the quiet of the night.

 

My undiminished regret is that I did not think about it much earlier in my youth. Had I done so I would have published a book about the people I had met and learnt from in Kenya. Regret, I am told is the manna of the damned. Never mind.

 

But then again, I found a new tribe: British and European journalists in Kenya and around the world who fashioned me into the kind of journalist I eventually became … after those first baby steps in 1960. Too many to mention here and many survive to this day, thinning by the year and we try to keep in touch.

 A review by Mary Bull from Stephen Luscombe’s excellent blog The British Empire

 

Mervyn Maciel with the late Elspeth Huxley

Elspeth Huxley - A Biography

by C S Nicholls 

Elspeth Huxley (The Flame Trees of Thika) was the major commentator on Kenyan affairs for the British public from the publication of White Man's Country: Lord Delamere and the Making of Kenya in 1935 to that of Nine Faces of Kenya in 1990. Christine Nicholls' biography gives a full picture of this outstanding woman, of wide interests and unbounding energy. The bibliography lists forty-eight books that she wrote, besides innumerable articles, radio scripts and live broadcasts. Her ability to write with such fluency, providing vivid descriptions of people and places, and also with a wry sense of humour, made her work so appealing. Her radio broadcasts, especially on the BBC's The Critics from 1950 to 1961, made her well known in Britain, while her semi-fictional accounts of her childhood in the settler community of Kenya before and after World War I, The Flame Trees of Thika (1959) and The Mottled Lizzard (1962), were widely read - especially after they were filmed for television in 1981.

However, it was her knowledge and judgement of African, primarily Kenyan, affairs that were her chief claim to fame. She left Kenya in 1924 to study agriculture at Reading University and, having married Gervas Huxley in 1931, did not live in Africa again. But she visited almost every year except during the war when she worked for the BBC and at the Colonial Office. These visits had the dual aims of research and to stay with and assist her parents, Jos and Nellie Grant, farming near Njoro. The success of the biography of Lord Delamere, which expanded to two volumes giving the history of white settlement in Kenya, decided Elspeth to make her living by writing. The novel, Red Strangers (1939), attempted to understand the African reaction to British rule and settlement, and during the war, Elspeth engaged in a correspondence with Margery Perham, published as Race and Politics in Kenya (1944), in which she supported devolution of responsibility to settlers, while Perham argued for continuing Colonial Office control to safeguard the interests of Africans. Both agreed that there had been a lack of clear British policy in Kenya and that more rapid progress should be made to train Africans for self-government.

Elspeth's visits to Kenya after the war resulted in an official report on reading matters for Africans, which led to the establishment of the East Africa Literature Bureau in 1948, and a major account of contemporary East Africa, The Sorcerer's Apprentice (1948) - which was viewed by Kenya settlers, who had previously considered her their champion, as dangerously radical. Her travelogue of West Africa, Four Guineas (1954), described emerging African nationalism and the problems of the path to independence. In 1960 she served on the Monckton Commission on the future of the Central African Federation. After the Mau Mau uprising she wrote two major books, A New Earth (1960) and Forks and Hope (1964). Of the latter, Nicholls comments on '.... its intelligent analysis. Again, the penetrating eye and poet's pen had been put to good use, to create a contemporary commentary which reads beautifully.' (p344).

This is a comprehensive work which brings to life a most stimulating character, but also the history of Kenya during British rule.

Many moons ago, my friend Mervyn and the late Elsie Maciel told me about a memorable encounter with Elspeth Huxley:

 

A day with Elspeth Huxley - by Mervyn Maciel

With a rail strike on at the time, my wife and I decided on making the journey to Wiltshire by coach. We were heading for a litle village of Oaksey in one of the oldest boroughs in England - Malmesbury - and the home of world-famous veteran author, Elspeth Huxley, whose guests we were to be for the day (14th September 1994).

The grey skies of London and steady drizzle soon gave way to brighter weather as our coach sped along the busy road. To put us to the minimum inconvenience, Elspeth had suggested that we alight at the Gloucestershire town of Cirencester from, whence she would collect us. A delayed departure from London meant that we were half an hour late arriving at Cirencester but there to greet us, despite the chill of near-autumn weather, was this warm and stimulating 87-year-oLd author. From here she drove us the eleven miles to her cottage named 'Green End' and after some welcome refreshments we were driven to the nearby pub for lunch. The meal itself was sumptuous and highly enjoyable, especially in the setting of this pub, so typical of old England and still unspoilt by London standards.

We later returned to her cottage for coffee and, while our hostess was busy brewing this aroma-rich coffee (Kenyan of course!) she 'let us loose in her study to soak in the richness of this well-stocked library. Most of the books had an African flavour - stories of the early pioneers in Kenya; a priceless history on overflowing bookshelves, section of which held some 40 of her own titles ranging from 'White Man's Country', to 'The Flame Trees of Thika (dramatised for television in 1982) and its sequel The Mottled Lizard', to 'Out in the Midday Sun' and, of course her latest anthology - 'Nine Faces of Kenya, an autographed copy of
which she had presented us with some months earlier.

During our coffee break we were shown part of her excellent collection of family photographs including some of Karen Blixen and many early European pioneers who had carved out a niche for themselves in Kenya's history. Many a face we recognised, especially that of her mother Nellie (The Hon. Mrs. Grant) who farmed at Njoro and who we had met on many occasions during my service at the Plant Breeding Station there. We heard that her mother later retired to the Algarve, the Njoro altitude of 8000 ft above sea level being too much for someone approaching 90! There she bought and at Lagos and had a house built. She remained independent until the last, pruning her orange trees, enjoying the early
sardine catch brought in by the local fishermen and of course driving her own car.

With just over an hour left to catch the coach home Elspeth was determined to Show us some of Malmesbury town. At 87 I found her very astute, mentally alert, a patient listener and a confident driver. She quickly spotted a parking place and then walked us to the nearby 12th
Century Abbey and told us a little of its history.

After a quick look at her watch 'there's still time' she said, and off she drove, aiming we thought for the coach stop but she had othr ideas. In those few minutes she drove us through Cirencester, passing the Royal Agricultural College (from where many of my former Kenya Agricultural colleagues had graduated) and then to the coach stop, making sure that
we were on the right side of the road.

'Wasn't she exhausted after a full day of conducting us on a guided tour, not forgetting her warmth and hospitality?' I enquired. 'Oh no, not at all, she replied, 'I only wish could have shown you more – you must come again'.

With her warm handshake and a motherly hug for Elsie we reluctantly bade goodbye, but we did not leave empty handed as Elspeth made sure that we had a pot of her home made strawberry jam (from home-grown strawberries) and a jar of coffee - Kahawa Ya Kenya!

Sadly we were not to meet again as she left us in January 1997.

C.S. Nicholls is an outstanding author in her own right.

Christine Nicholls was born in 1943 and taken to Kenya after the end of World War II, in 1947. Her father and mother were teachers, at the Central (later Highlands) School, in Eldoret. The family moved to Nyeri in the early 1950s, where her parents taught at Nyeri Primary School. After being acting headmaster at Nyeri, her father, Kit (C.J.) Metcalfe became headmaster at Parklands School and Westlands School in Nairobi, before moving to a permanent post as headmaster of Mombasa Primary School in 1954. By then Christine was a pupil at the Kenya Girls’ High School in Nairobi. Her mother, Olive Metcalfe, was headmistress of the Aga Khan Girls’ School in Mombasa. Christine boarded at the Kenya High School in Nairobi.

Seven years later Christine went to Oxford University, to Lady Margaret Hall. She received her MA and went on to do a doctorate at St Antony’s College. Upon receiving her D.Phil. degree, Christine became a research fellow at the Institute of Commonwealth Studies at London University. She then became a freelance researcher for the BBC Arabic programme.

In 1977 Christine joined Oxford University Press as Assistant Editor of the Dictionary of National Biography. She progressed to become Editor, before retiring in 1995. Five volumes of the Dictionary were produced by her (the first five with Sir Edgar Williams and Lord Blake). She lives in Oxford, England.

She remains a steadfast pillar of Old Africa Magazine.

By kind permission Stephen Luscombe.

Cynthia Salvadori

(By kind permission of Old Africa Magazine)

Mervyn Maciel with Cynthia Salvatore

We were all saddened to receive the news of Cynthia Salvadori’s passing in late June. She was a good friend and regular contributor to Old Africa magazine. But here’s another tribute written by Old Africa author Judy Aldrick. We’ve also included a photo of Cynthia visiting Old Africa reader Mervyn Maciel in his “Manyatta” in Surrey, UK, in 1993. Cynthia will be missed greatly by all of us who knew her.

 

Cynthia Salvadori

 

The news of Cynthia Salvadori’s sudden death in Lamu on Monday 27th June, at the age of 76, will come as a sad shock to her many friends. 

 

She will be remembered chiefly for her books about the Asian Communities and the Asian pioneers in Kenya.  She chose to draw attention to these communities at a time when their history had been largely ignored and their contribution to Kenyan society was underrated.  Her book ‘Through Open Doors’ published 1983  opened the eyes of many to the intricacies of the various religions and differing peoples of the Asian peoples of Kenya.  The meticulous research and remarkable assembly of facts made this book an essential reference book on the subject, which would be hard to improve on.   She went on to collect the histories of the Asian pioneers in a number of books ‘We Came in Dhows’,  ‘Two Indian Travellers’ and ‘Stories of the Punjabi Muslim Pioneers in Kenya’.   Her hallmark was always exact research with plenty of references, indexes and illustrations.  She was a perfectionist in her work and demanded a lot from the publishers and editors, with whom she worked.

 

Besides her interest in the Asian communities she also had a deep commitment to the nomadic peoples of the NFD, who lived on the borders with Ethiopia in an area that is amongst the poorest and least developed in Kenya.   She spent time in Marsabit and Moyale and was never happier than when riding her mule and collecting anthropological notes amongst the Borana people.  She later wrote a book about the Borana and also helped compile a dictionary of their language. She wrote an extraordinary number of books on a wide variety of subjects.  She loved to write, contributing to magazines, fascinating articles on subjects as diverse as sea urchins, the mysterious graves at Ishakani, or Borana circumcision rites. But as she often told me, she did not write for money, she only wrote on subjects that interested her and because she wanted to.  Her father Max Salvadori, also a prolific author and a former professor at Smith College, Massachussets, had told her that important maxim for success as a writer, at a young age. Cynthia had a great admiration for her father, but also inherited an artistic talent from her British mother.

 

Cynthia had a deep love for Kenya and came from an Anglo-Italian-Kenyan heritage.  She was conceived in Kenya but born in the Uk and was always particularly proud of her mother’s ancestor Jack Haggard a former British Consul in Lamu.   He was the brother of the famous writer Rider Haggard.   Her father, who had been imprisoned by Mussolini for his anti-fascist views, came to Kenya as an exile from Italy in 1932.  When the Second World War broke out in 1939, he returned to Europe to fight, while Cynthia and her mother went to the United States where they eventually settled.  But as soon as she could, immediately after finishing university, she returned to her African roots.

 

Cynthia was a nomad who never liked to settle long anywhere.  She loved to travel and needed the continuous stimulus of a wide variety of people, cultures and religions.  She wore her erudition lightly, but was immensely knowledgeable and well-read on any number of subjects.  Amongst her passions could be listed cats and horses, crossword puzzles and detective novels.  She cared little about what she wore or luxuries of any kind and always travelled light – never going anywhere without her notebook, camera and more recently her trusty computer.

 

Cynthia possessed extraordinary determination and strength of character, at the end of her life she refused to have an operation on her arthritic hip but suffered it with great stoicism, never complaining.   She also had the gift of friendship and sympathetic conversation and was most generous to all those she befriended.  She was a person of great value, and her multi-faceted talents will be difficult to replace or forget, her like ever to meet again.  Cynthia will indeed be sadly missed.

 

Judy Aldrick 29th June 2011