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  While studying at Oxford, Seretse enrolled in the Inner Temple in London, as part of his plan to study for the Bar.35 He was determined to become a barrister – Bechuanaland did not have a single law professional and badly needed lawyers. His uncle Tshekedi relied on a white advocate in Cape Town, Douglas Buchanan. Tshekedi himself had been studying law at Fort Hare when he was recalled to Bechuanaland in 1926 to take up the role of Regent. But Seretse’s plans came up against an unexpected obstacle in the spring of 1946. Just before the end of his first year at Oxford, he was informed that he was not eligible to sit the law examinations, because he had not qualified in Latin. Before coming to Oxford, he had been assured that a course he had taken at Wits in Roman-Dutch Law was an adequate substitute. But now he was told that the exemption was only valid if he had done military service. He was compelled to give up Law, which meant that he could only be examined in Politics and Economics. He now attached more importance to his studies for the Bar. ‘I know that Oxford has got a very big name,’ he acknowledged to his uncle. But this name would not help him, he objected with some vigour, ‘if I cannot do what I have come here for – to study adequately’.36

  Seretse spent the summer of 1946 in Northumberland, working as a volunteer on a dairy farm. This healed some of his homesickness: land and animals were at the centre of Bechuanaland life. Seretse was the heir to many thousands of cattle and he was keen to learn about different methods of farming. ‘He is getting up at five and works hard,’ noted Pilkington with approval.37

  After the summer, Seretse went back to Balliol. But by the spring of 1947 he was feeling frustrated by the obstacles put in his way by the university. He decided to leave Oxford and to focus his energies instead on the Bar exams at the Inner Temple. Pressure was put on him to stay by members of the University. ‘There are social and intellectual advantages in college life at Oxford,’ maintained Sir Reginald Coupland, ‘which cannot be obtained in the scattered world of London.’38 But he had come to England to study law, argued Seretse, not simply for the adventure of being an Oxford undergraduate. By now, he had now completed five terms at Oxford – nearly two years.39 It was time to go to London.

  *

  Seretse’s new home in London was Nutford House, a hostel for colonial students run by the Colonial Office, not far from Marble Arch in the West End.40 A squat grey brick building, it had none of the splendour of his Oxford College – its little urban garden was the size of a handkerchief in comparison with the Balliol gardens. But after Oxford, Nutford House was a haven. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he met other young men from Africa and from colonies all over the Empire. These included Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, later the first Prime Minister of the Federation of Nigeria; Veerasamy Ringadoo, the first President of Mauritius; Forbes Burnham, later the President of Guyana; and Milton Cato, the first Prime Minister of St Vincent.41

  One of the residents of Nutford House was his old friend Charles Njonjo, a Kenyan who had been with him at Fort Hare and who was now enrolled as a student at the Middle Temple. The two young men had rooms next to each other and spent their spare time together. Twice a week they cooked for themselves, with two young men from India, which gave Seretse a lifelong taste for curry. Tshekedi was not very generous with Seretse’s allowance, but when money did arrive from Bechuanaland, the four men promptly went out to an Indian restaurant.42 Seretse and Charles were often invited to the north London home of John Zimmerman, Seretse’s friend from Balliol. John’s mother cooked hearty meals for them and her motherly warmth was a welcome contrast with the cold stares of people on the street.43

  Another close friend at Nutford House was Harry Nkumbula from Northern Rhodesia (Zambia), a ‘thickset, very forceful’44 man who was studying Economics at the London School of Economics and was later to play an important role in his country’s politics. Seretse also got to know people from the colonies who were not students, such as Dr Hastings Banda from Nyasaland (Malawi), who was practising medicine in Willesden in London and was later to become the first President of his country.45 Banda and Nkumbula worked together in 1949 to produce an important document criticizing the plan of the Attlee government to create a Federation of Southern Rhodesia, Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland. This plan was bitterly opposed by the African populations because it would extend the inequalities and colour bar of Southern Rhodesia throughout the region.46

  The Inner Temple was an elite institution reminiscent of Oxford, but it was in the heart of London and just moments from the lively, metropolitan atmosphere of Fleet Street. Seretse often relaxed with fellow students at a pub called ‘The Feathers’ and was popular with everyone.47 He felt less of an alien here than at Oxford: a quarter of the African students in the UK were studying Law and many were at the Inns of Court in London.48 A number of them would take a leading role in the politics of their own countries in future years, including Charles Njonjo, who would later become the first Attorney General in independent Kenya. Joe Appiah, who was a student at the Middle Temple, was a member of a family of Ashanti Kings from the Gold Coast (Ghana) and had already begun a long career as a political activist. A short, slight man with thick spectacles, he had a sharp legal mind and a gregarious personality49 and he and Seretse very quickly struck up a friendship.

  Appiah had been offered a place at Cambridge University, but he chose not to go because he felt ‘magnetized’ by the excitement of African political activities in London.50 As far back as the mid-1930s, noted the Trinidadian writer C. L. R. James, there had been a collection of notable black people in London – Paul Robeson, the American actor and singer; Jomo Kenyatta, the Kenyan activist who spent sixteen years in Britain and was to become the first President of independent Kenya; George Padmore, a Trinidadian who was a key figure in the African nationalist movement; and Amy Garvey, an African American activist who was the widow of Marcus Garvey. ‘Some of us,’ wrote C. L. R. James, ‘were becoming active politically, but not on the question of race – on the question of independence for the colonies.’51 There were a number of students from West Africa in the UK between the wars, who in 1925 set up the West African Students Union at Camden Square in North London. In 1935, the patron of WASU was Paul Robeson. WASU provided hostel amenities for students and was a lively centre for discussions about the future of Africa.52 In 1942, WASU demanded immediate internal self-government for Britain’s West African colonies and complete independence in five years.53 Joe Appiah was an active member, becoming Vice-President and then President in the late 1940s.54

  The issue of self-government seemed even more pressing after the Second World War. ‘We have fought against fascism, the enemy of mankind,’ wrote a soldier from the Gold Coast who had fought in Burma, ‘so that all people, white or black, civilised or uncivilised, free or in bondage, may have the right to enjoy the privileges and bounties of nature.’55 There was widespread faith in the Atlantic Charter signed by Roosevelt and Churchill in 1941, which had referred to the right of all peoples to choose the form of government under which they would live. The independence of India and Pakistan in 1947 seemed to be consistent with these developments. For the generation that had fought the war – in Britain and her Empire – there was a sense of hope that it really was possible to make the world a better place.

  Britain after the war was directly responsible for fourteen African states, with a total population of 56 million. For African students in London, at the political heart of the Empire, the idea that it was now time for change was reinforced by the election of the Labour Party in July 1945. Key members of the Fabian Colonial Bureau, who had made clear their sympathy with colonial aspirations, were now in power.56 But WASU and other organizations of African students were quickly disappointed by the failure of the Labour government to deliver on its promises. ‘I am not prepared to sacrifice the British Empire,’ announced Aneurin Bevan to the House of Commons in February 1946, ‘because I know that if the British Empire fell it would mean the standard of life of our own constituents would fall considerably.’
57

  Just months before Seretse’s arrival in the UK, Kwame Nkrumah – later the first President of Ghana – registered for a PhD at London University and was admitted as a student by Gray’s Inn. Now in his mid-thirties, he had studied for many years in the USA, where he had been heavily involved in African-American politics. Once in London, he joined WASU and, along with Amy Garvey and W. E. B. Du Bois, the African-American political activist, worked to organize the Fifth Pan-African Congress in Manchester in October 1945. This Congress passed resolutions demanding the end of the colour bar in Britain and independence for colonial nations: ‘We affirm the right of all colonial peoples to control their own destiny. All colonies must be free from foreign imperialist control, whether political or economic.’58

  At a meeting of the Congress addressed by the Lord Mayor of Manchester, the hall was decorated with the flags of Haiti, Liberia and Ethiopia and a map of Africa.59 Among the delegates at the Congress were Hastings Banda and Jomo Kenyatta. ‘One thing we must do,’ asserted Kenyatta at the end of his speech,

  is to get political independence. If we achieve that we shall be free to achieve other things we want. We feel that racial discrimination must go, and then people can perhaps enjoy the right of citizenship, which is the desire of every East African. Self-government must be our aim.60

  Nkrumah later commented that the Pan-African Congress marked the turning point in Pan-Africanism from a passive to an active stage and ‘brought about the awakening of African political consciousness. It became, in fact, a mass movement of Africa for the Africans.’61

  Although Seretse Khama was in Oxford during the Pan-African Congress, it is likely that he knew of its existence and, indeed, of its importance. But even if the Congress in Manchester in 1945 had passed him by, he would have been exposed to its aims and ideas when he moved to London, through his friendships with African students at Nutford House and the Inns of Court, and with men like Dr Banda. ‘By this time,’ wrote Nkrumah in his autobiography, ‘the political conscience of African students was aroused, particularly in London, and whenever they met they talked of little else but nationalist politics and the colonial liberation movements.’62 Seretse belonged to a unique generation of young Africans, who were destined to lead their countries to freedom from imperialism and the prejudice of race. Some of these future leaders had been his fellow students and friends at Fort Hare and Wits – and some of them were his new friends in London.

  2

  Love match

  One evening in June 1947, after a dinner dance at Nutford House in London, Seretse rushed off to find Charles Njonjo. In great excitement, he announced to his friend that he had fallen in love – ‘I met a girl, and I think you should meet her!’ Then he added, ‘Somebody I should like to be my wife.’ Charles was astonished. As he recalled years later, it was not like Seretse to make dramatic remarks for the sake of effect: clearly, this was serious.1

  The young woman Seretse had met was called Ruth Williams. She had been a guest at an event arranged for the students – a reception by the warden, followed by a formal dinner and then a dance. She had been brought by her elder sister Muriel, who was a Congregationalist associated with the London Missionary Society, which helped to organize social activities for African students. Muriel had been looking forward to introducing Ruth to Seretse, because she expected them to have a lot in common: they both had a lively sense of humour and liked listening to jazz.2 However, Ruth did not take any particular notice of Seretse. ‘I saw a tall, well-built, smiling African with wonderful teeth, broad shoulders, and perfect manners,’ she said later. ‘I must confess that at this first meeting he seemed as alike to me as half a dozen other African students my sister introduced me to that night.’3

  But Seretse was immediately attracted to Ruth.4 Twenty-three years old, Ruth Williams was not so much beautiful, as attractive and elegant: when she walked down the street, heads turned. Slim and fit, she had a slight, almost bony, frame. Her strawberry-blonde hair highlighted her clear complexion, which was pale and freckled. Her eyes were unusual: although both eyes looked green at first glance, one of them was half green and half brown. Brought up in London, she worked as a confidential clerk in the City, in the foreign claims department of a big firm of Lloyd’s underwriters. Although she came from an ordinary middle-class family, she belonged to a new generation of capable young women, who had seen active service during the war and had modern, fresh ideas.

  Some days later, Ruth returned to Nutford House with Muriel. Seretse had been longing to see her again and he was delighted when she stopped to chat with him. Then she started to visit on a regular basis. There were very strict rules at Nutford House about women visitors, who were only allowed to enter a few of the public rooms, much to the annoyance of some students.5 But Seretse and Ruth were perfectly happy sitting together in the lounge or garden, getting to know each other better. It was at least three months, recalled Seretse later, ‘before I dared ask Ruth for a date, but even then I did not know how she would react to my suggestion’. He had bought two tickets for a concert in London’s West End, to see the Ink Spots, a jazz and blues group of black Americans.6 But he felt very nervous about asking her out. One day in August 1947, said Ruth,

  Seretse phoned me in my office. ‘Would you do me a great honour tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Certainly if I can,’ I replied gaily – by this time I had really got to like him – ‘and what is this great honour, sir?’

  Seretse answered quickly – ‘I have two tickets for the Inkspots… I’ll…

  I’ll get three if you’d like your sister to come along with us.’

  ‘I’d love to come – without my sister,’ I said.

  So we went to the Inkspots. That was our first outing.7

  After this first date, Seretse and Ruth found themselves spending more and more time together. He told her about life in Bechuanaland and she talked about the years of war. Gradually, their friendship blossomed and they became a couple. Ruth watched Seretse play football, but drew the line at boxing matches, which she thought were brutal; he came with her to the ice-rink, though found it impossible to like skating. They soon had their own favourite coffee shop, and when Seretse passed an exam he immediately called Ruth to tell her.8 He was working hard at his studies for the Bar and she was proud of his success: by the end of 1947, he had passed the Law of Torts, the Law of Contracts, Roman-Dutch Law and Roman Law and was planning to take his final examinations the following year in Constitutional Law and Criminal Law.9

  But their growing pleasure in each other was marred by anxiety, because Ruth was concealing from her parents the fact that she was going out with an African. Her father, she knew, took a dim view of black and white people mixing together; when Muriel had started her work with African students, he said he would not object, but only so long as she didn’t bring any of them home with her.10 When Ruth did finally tell her parents about Seretse, it was a disaster: her father told her to stop seeing him or to get out of the house.11 The atmosphere of the home became tense and her mother, ‘always lively, anxious and affectionate, was uneasy whenever she knew I was going out with Seretse – though she was not as antagonistic as my father’.12

  By now, Seretse had no doubts at all that Ruth was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. He decided that he must tell Ruth how he felt – that he loved her and wanted her to be his wife.13 One evening, when they were sitting together in the lounge at Nutford House, he turned to her and asked, ‘Ruth, do you think you could love me?’ – but she didn’t answer. ‘She didn’t have to,’ said Seretse later. ‘The light in her sky-blue eyes and the smile on her face told me what I wanted to know.’ He asked her to marry him and she said yes. They went out to celebrate in a little Soho restaurant and then Seretse kissed Ruth for the first time – ‘We had reached an understanding at last, after nearly a year of secret meetings and outings.’14

  But a mixed-race couple, they quickly discovered, were faced with enormous obst
acles. One of these was looking for a flat to live in once they were married. In war-damaged London, it was hard for any couple to find accommodation to rent. But if one of them was black, it was almost impossible:

  We were plagued by landlords and landladies who, though they had flats to let, slammed the door in our faces when we asked to see them. We’d write down a list of flats advertised vacant in the morning, jump into a taxi, and do the rounds. In every case, the places had ‘just been let’ a few minutes before we came along.

  But if they telephoned the landlord immediately afterwards, pretending to be somebody else, they were told that the accommodation was still available.15 They had been turned down simply because of Seretse’s colour. Eventually, they found a tiny flat in Notting Hill Gate: a room with an alcove kitchen at 10 Campden Hill Gardens, on the top floor of a tall grey Victorian building. Seretse moved in straightaway.

  Just a few minutes’ walk away was the Anglican Church of St George’s, Campden Hill. Seretse went to see the elderly vicar, the Reverend Leonard Patterson. He asked him to marry them and the wedding day was set for Saturday 2 October. But when Ruth told her parents the news, they were appalled and her father said he wanted nothing more to do with her.16 Her mother, in great distress, implored her daughter to think again, but Ruth had no intention of giving up Seretse. Now, though, she had to keep out of her father’s way. When she finished work, she went to the flat in Notting Hill Gate; then, at 11 o’clock at night, she went to her parents’ flat, to sleep.17 At work, too, news of her imminent marriage was met with hostility. The head of her department said he was transferring her to the firm’s New York office: if she didn’t accept this transfer, she would be sacked. She refused, announcing that she would leave her job at the end of the week.18 ‘It began to look as though we wouldn’t have a friend in the world on our wedding day,’ said Ruth, unhappily.19