Seretse
Seretse Khama, grandson of Khama III, and rightful kgosi of the BaNgwato morafe, spent most of his youth in South African boarding schools, presumably as a rather lone black surrounded by quite often racist whites, some quite overtly so, and many others casually so. He then attended a South African university, racists likewise.
Upon graduation he travelled to Britain where he studied law at Oxford University for a year, before heading for London where he studied to become a barrister at Temple Court, and again, racists likewise. It was agreed with his uncle Tshekedi, who was acting kgosi, that he would take up his role as kgosi when he returned, following completion of his barrister’s qualification.
However, while in England, Seretse did something which these days would, hopefully, be quite unremarkable. Hmmm. Actually, maybe it would be much remarked upon, but throughout much of the world would not have the consequences that flowed from these events. He met a clerk from Lloyd’s of London and married her without the permission of his morafe. Well, so what, you might say, except, as you’ve probably guessed by now, his new wife, Ruth Williams, was white. Well, again you may well say, we hope, so what?
Well, Seretse and Ruth’s marriage is a wonderful example of the stupidity and cruelty of racism, which in this case was exhibited by both whites and blacks. The Soledad Brother, George Jackson (a Black Panther prisoner whose story is too long to relate here – google him), claimed blacks can’t be racist, because racism is a white construct. But, having travelled the world and listened to racist views of all colours and creeds, we know that to be nonsense.
The initial negative reaction of Ruth’s father was the least of their problems (they were apparently reconciled several years later). In this case, the next reaction came from Tshekedi, who demanded that Seretse return to Bechuanaland and annul his marriage. By tradition the kgosi could not legitimately marry without the morafe’s permission.
Seretse returned, and Tshekedi and the morafe elders claimed that the morafe would desert him if he tried to rule them while married to a white woman. Seretse had to confront a four day grilling by the elders at a kgotla (full tribal assembly). Subsequently, the morafe announced that it condemned the marriage, and supported all steps taken to prevent Seretse’s white wife from entering the BaNgwato (or bamaNgwato) territory.
There are several possibilities to explain this decision. Among them are that it could, of course, be a decision in line with traditional bamaNgwato thinking. It could be a racist anti-white decision. It could be in ignorance of the concept of marriage for love, and the belief that once the problem was explained Seretse would have no objection to just annulling his marriage to this white woman and marrying a suitably chosen black woman. Or it could, as many suspected, be a long awaited opportunity for Tshekedi to install himself as kgosi for life, rather than just until Seretse returned. Or, of course, all these reasons could have been, and probably were, in play.
However, Seretse made it quite clear he would neither break up his marriage, nor return to bamaNgwato lands without his wife. A second kgotla was held, a great number of men (only men had an official say, although one presumes that a lot of women had their say behind the scenes, especially if any of those women were like Mma Ramotswe) were apparently more concerned at Tshekedi effectively stealing the post of kgosi, than at their kgosi being married to a white woman.
Consequently, the kgotla reversed the earlier decision, and demanded that Seretse (it is notable that only Seretse was named) be allowed to enter onto their lands if he went back to London to complete his education. We don’t want to mislead you into thinking this was a strictly peaceful or easy process. Considerable heat was raised. We understand there were several riots, and some very unfortunate people were killed.
And it was still not over. The situation of Seretse’s wife was still up in the air. When he finished his education and returned to the Protectorate in 1949, Seretse had to call another kgotla, at which he made it perfectly clear that if they wanted him, his people had to accept his wife. Finally, he was given permission to bring his wife back to bamaNgwato lands. Tshekedi, who had effectively ruled the bamaNgwato for some twenty-four years, found himself cast aside, and agreed to go into exile from their tribal lands.
But unfortunately, the matter was still far from over, and now things started to get really nasty. Black Africans had finally sorted themselves out, but white Africans were not going to let it rest there. In 1948, a bloke called Malan led the highly white-racist National Party to power in South Africa. It and its appalling apartheid system were to remain in control until the first properly democratic election elected the mostly wonderful Nelson Mandela and the often not-so-wonderful African National Congress into government.
Concurrently, the British had managed to take onto themselves the right to give final approval to the appointment of a kgosi, as if the Batswana were children who could not properly look after themselves. The South Africans were appalled at the precedent set by Seretse and Ruth, for in South Africa so-called mixed race marriage was now illegal, and the white South Africans were concerned that having a black kgosi in Bechuanaland married to a white woman would set a bad precedent for black South Africans.
Consequently, the South Africans began to put pressure on the British to reject Seretse as leader of the bamaNgwato, whatever the morafe itself said, and the white South Africans then declared Seretse and Ruth a banned couple.
You might think, well so what. Seretse and Ruth would just have to avoid going to South Africa. But remember, the administrative capital of the Protectorate was still in what was then called Mafeking, which was then and is now in South Africa. If Seretse even visited the Protectorate offices for a meeting, the South Africans indicated he would be arrested, and possibly imprisoned.
Further, the South African and the white dominated Southern Rhodesian, later Rhodesian government both advised the British they would not co-operate with Seretse in any way. This would make Seretse’s job as kgosi extremely difficult.
Indeed, the Southern Rhodesian President informed the British that the more extreme white nationalists in his country would use Seretse’s marriage as an excuse to go to the people (white, of course) to call for Southern Rhodesia to become a republic, outside the commonwealth (collection of 50-60 countries who have been or are now ruled by the monarch of England).
The South Africans, in their turn, went so far as to lay claim to the merafe territories of the Protectorate. The British Cabinet was advised that if Seretse was recognised as kgosi, the South Africans may militarily invade and occupy the Protectorate. Good grief! All this because he had the absolute gall to marry a white woman! Well, perhaps there was more to it than that, and the South Africans were looking for something they could call a legitimate excuse to take Bechuanaland over, even if the rest of the world didn't agree with them. It seems unlikely, but perhaps they knew something about the diamonds there. Or perhaps they were just being a bunch of racist scumbags.
The British pondered calling Seretse to London and pressuring him to give up his claim to the position of kgosi voluntarily. Fortunately, not all the British Cabinet were racist, far from it in fact. Still, they decided to do something very familiar to us colonials. They decided to be sneaky. As part of this, they said they couldn't make a decision which would clearly be seen as, and indeed undoubtedly would have been, racist. So, they did the Sir Humphrey thing (if you don’t understand that reference, google Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister – brilliant television) and held an enquiry to investigate Seretse’s suitability to be kgosi.
Needless to say, the enquiry, although speaking highly of Seretse, found him to be unsuitable on the basis that South Africa and Southern Rhodesia would not negotiate with him, and this would damage the well-being of the bamaNgwato. The casual, patronising racism of the enquiry report, written by men who I'm sure would not regard themselves as racist, is little short of astounding, although pretty typical of the times. For example, ‘though a typical African in build and features’, Seretse was found to be an intelligent, well-spoken, educated man ‘who has assimilated, to a great extent, the manners and thoughts of an Oxford undergraduate’. Must be a good chap, eh, whato. Almost good enough to appear in a Wodehouse novel.
But, the sneaky British didn’t tell Seretse the outcome of the enquiry at this stage. In their usual cunning way, they called Seretse back to London, and then told him he was banned from Bechuanaland. He was allowed back briefly for the birth of a son, because Ruth was still there, then he and Ruth left for England. In 1952, he was permanently banned from being kgosi, and was forced to live in exile. Interestingly, Tshekedi, who had been living elsewhere in Bechuanaland, was also exiled from the Protectorate.
Seretse’s situation was kept alive, however. Partly by the odd combination of Winston Churchill (on the right) and Anthony Wedgwood Benn (on the left). In 1956, the bamaNgwato wrote to the Queen, asking for the return of their kgosi. The British decided to allow Seretse’s return, but not as kgosi. He and Tshekedi were required to sign away any claim they or their heirs may have to be kgosi, and only then were allowed to return to their homeland.
Whether or not Seretse had the future in mind when he signed his rights away, we don’t know. Nonetheless, it turned out this was the best possible thing that could happen for Bechuanaland. At first, Seretse tried out being a cattle farmer, but predictably, considering he had absolutely no experience, he proved to be not very good at it. Much more importantly, he also involved himself in local politics.
Then came the great breakthrough. In 1961, he, with others, founded the Bechuanaland Democratic Party (BDP). By now the Bechuanaland population was in the mood for independence. The people wanted to govern themselves, without the patronising and often carelessly racist input from Britain.
The question was, however, not just what form that independence would take, but perhaps more importantly who they would trust to actually enable Bechuanaland to move forwards. The answer came in 1965 in Bechuanaland’s first democratic election, when Seretse’s BDP crushed his opposition, made up of various pan-Africanist (very simply, mostly radical believers in a united black Africa) and socialist (no, Americans, this does not automatically mean communist) groupings, winning 28 of 31 parliamentary seats. The BDP, for better or worse, has won every election since (at least up until the time of writing, March 2015).
Seretse Khama became Bechuanaland’s first and only Prime Minister. Then, in 1966, came the big one. Independence, and the renaming of the country to Botswana, with Seretse Khama as the new nation’s first President. Interestingly, after treating him so appallingly in the 1950s, Britain, or, I guess, more accurately, its Queen, knighted Seretse who was now, of course, the Sir Seretse Khama whom Mma Ramotswe admires so much. And very deservedly so.
Frankly, Botswana did not look to have much of a future in 1966. It was one of the poorest nations on earth and it had no apparent means of improving that situation. I suspect most observers thought it would probably go the way of its neighbours, although now I think about it, what was going to happen to most of Africa was not necessarily so clear in 1966.
And then, almost miraculously, if we believed in such things, Botswana proved to be not only one of the poorest nations on earth, but one of the luckiest. Diamonds. In fact, diamonds galore. It has the largest diamond mine in the world. And, of course, it had Seretse Khama as president.
Seretse was president until his extremely untimely and unfortunate death at what to a 61 year old (in 2016) like Lex is the incredibly young age of 59, from pancreatic cancer (which has a low survival rate because it is usually detected too late for effective treatment because its presence is usually unknown until it touches or otherwise affects neighbouring organs).
Upon graduation he travelled to Britain where he studied law at Oxford University for a year, before heading for London where he studied to become a barrister at Temple Court, and again, racists likewise. It was agreed with his uncle Tshekedi, who was acting kgosi, that he would take up his role as kgosi when he returned, following completion of his barrister’s qualification.
However, while in England, Seretse did something which these days would, hopefully, be quite unremarkable. Hmmm. Actually, maybe it would be much remarked upon, but throughout much of the world would not have the consequences that flowed from these events. He met a clerk from Lloyd’s of London and married her without the permission of his morafe. Well, so what, you might say, except, as you’ve probably guessed by now, his new wife, Ruth Williams, was white. Well, again you may well say, we hope, so what?
Well, Seretse and Ruth’s marriage is a wonderful example of the stupidity and cruelty of racism, which in this case was exhibited by both whites and blacks. The Soledad Brother, George Jackson (a Black Panther prisoner whose story is too long to relate here – google him), claimed blacks can’t be racist, because racism is a white construct. But, having travelled the world and listened to racist views of all colours and creeds, we know that to be nonsense.
The initial negative reaction of Ruth’s father was the least of their problems (they were apparently reconciled several years later). In this case, the next reaction came from Tshekedi, who demanded that Seretse return to Bechuanaland and annul his marriage. By tradition the kgosi could not legitimately marry without the morafe’s permission.
Seretse returned, and Tshekedi and the morafe elders claimed that the morafe would desert him if he tried to rule them while married to a white woman. Seretse had to confront a four day grilling by the elders at a kgotla (full tribal assembly). Subsequently, the morafe announced that it condemned the marriage, and supported all steps taken to prevent Seretse’s white wife from entering the BaNgwato (or bamaNgwato) territory.
There are several possibilities to explain this decision. Among them are that it could, of course, be a decision in line with traditional bamaNgwato thinking. It could be a racist anti-white decision. It could be in ignorance of the concept of marriage for love, and the belief that once the problem was explained Seretse would have no objection to just annulling his marriage to this white woman and marrying a suitably chosen black woman. Or it could, as many suspected, be a long awaited opportunity for Tshekedi to install himself as kgosi for life, rather than just until Seretse returned. Or, of course, all these reasons could have been, and probably were, in play.
However, Seretse made it quite clear he would neither break up his marriage, nor return to bamaNgwato lands without his wife. A second kgotla was held, a great number of men (only men had an official say, although one presumes that a lot of women had their say behind the scenes, especially if any of those women were like Mma Ramotswe) were apparently more concerned at Tshekedi effectively stealing the post of kgosi, than at their kgosi being married to a white woman.
Consequently, the kgotla reversed the earlier decision, and demanded that Seretse (it is notable that only Seretse was named) be allowed to enter onto their lands if he went back to London to complete his education. We don’t want to mislead you into thinking this was a strictly peaceful or easy process. Considerable heat was raised. We understand there were several riots, and some very unfortunate people were killed.
And it was still not over. The situation of Seretse’s wife was still up in the air. When he finished his education and returned to the Protectorate in 1949, Seretse had to call another kgotla, at which he made it perfectly clear that if they wanted him, his people had to accept his wife. Finally, he was given permission to bring his wife back to bamaNgwato lands. Tshekedi, who had effectively ruled the bamaNgwato for some twenty-four years, found himself cast aside, and agreed to go into exile from their tribal lands.
But unfortunately, the matter was still far from over, and now things started to get really nasty. Black Africans had finally sorted themselves out, but white Africans were not going to let it rest there. In 1948, a bloke called Malan led the highly white-racist National Party to power in South Africa. It and its appalling apartheid system were to remain in control until the first properly democratic election elected the mostly wonderful Nelson Mandela and the often not-so-wonderful African National Congress into government.
Concurrently, the British had managed to take onto themselves the right to give final approval to the appointment of a kgosi, as if the Batswana were children who could not properly look after themselves. The South Africans were appalled at the precedent set by Seretse and Ruth, for in South Africa so-called mixed race marriage was now illegal, and the white South Africans were concerned that having a black kgosi in Bechuanaland married to a white woman would set a bad precedent for black South Africans.
Consequently, the South Africans began to put pressure on the British to reject Seretse as leader of the bamaNgwato, whatever the morafe itself said, and the white South Africans then declared Seretse and Ruth a banned couple.
You might think, well so what. Seretse and Ruth would just have to avoid going to South Africa. But remember, the administrative capital of the Protectorate was still in what was then called Mafeking, which was then and is now in South Africa. If Seretse even visited the Protectorate offices for a meeting, the South Africans indicated he would be arrested, and possibly imprisoned.
Further, the South African and the white dominated Southern Rhodesian, later Rhodesian government both advised the British they would not co-operate with Seretse in any way. This would make Seretse’s job as kgosi extremely difficult.
Indeed, the Southern Rhodesian President informed the British that the more extreme white nationalists in his country would use Seretse’s marriage as an excuse to go to the people (white, of course) to call for Southern Rhodesia to become a republic, outside the commonwealth (collection of 50-60 countries who have been or are now ruled by the monarch of England).
The South Africans, in their turn, went so far as to lay claim to the merafe territories of the Protectorate. The British Cabinet was advised that if Seretse was recognised as kgosi, the South Africans may militarily invade and occupy the Protectorate. Good grief! All this because he had the absolute gall to marry a white woman! Well, perhaps there was more to it than that, and the South Africans were looking for something they could call a legitimate excuse to take Bechuanaland over, even if the rest of the world didn't agree with them. It seems unlikely, but perhaps they knew something about the diamonds there. Or perhaps they were just being a bunch of racist scumbags.
The British pondered calling Seretse to London and pressuring him to give up his claim to the position of kgosi voluntarily. Fortunately, not all the British Cabinet were racist, far from it in fact. Still, they decided to do something very familiar to us colonials. They decided to be sneaky. As part of this, they said they couldn't make a decision which would clearly be seen as, and indeed undoubtedly would have been, racist. So, they did the Sir Humphrey thing (if you don’t understand that reference, google Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister – brilliant television) and held an enquiry to investigate Seretse’s suitability to be kgosi.
Needless to say, the enquiry, although speaking highly of Seretse, found him to be unsuitable on the basis that South Africa and Southern Rhodesia would not negotiate with him, and this would damage the well-being of the bamaNgwato. The casual, patronising racism of the enquiry report, written by men who I'm sure would not regard themselves as racist, is little short of astounding, although pretty typical of the times. For example, ‘though a typical African in build and features’, Seretse was found to be an intelligent, well-spoken, educated man ‘who has assimilated, to a great extent, the manners and thoughts of an Oxford undergraduate’. Must be a good chap, eh, whato. Almost good enough to appear in a Wodehouse novel.
But, the sneaky British didn’t tell Seretse the outcome of the enquiry at this stage. In their usual cunning way, they called Seretse back to London, and then told him he was banned from Bechuanaland. He was allowed back briefly for the birth of a son, because Ruth was still there, then he and Ruth left for England. In 1952, he was permanently banned from being kgosi, and was forced to live in exile. Interestingly, Tshekedi, who had been living elsewhere in Bechuanaland, was also exiled from the Protectorate.
Seretse’s situation was kept alive, however. Partly by the odd combination of Winston Churchill (on the right) and Anthony Wedgwood Benn (on the left). In 1956, the bamaNgwato wrote to the Queen, asking for the return of their kgosi. The British decided to allow Seretse’s return, but not as kgosi. He and Tshekedi were required to sign away any claim they or their heirs may have to be kgosi, and only then were allowed to return to their homeland.
Whether or not Seretse had the future in mind when he signed his rights away, we don’t know. Nonetheless, it turned out this was the best possible thing that could happen for Bechuanaland. At first, Seretse tried out being a cattle farmer, but predictably, considering he had absolutely no experience, he proved to be not very good at it. Much more importantly, he also involved himself in local politics.
Then came the great breakthrough. In 1961, he, with others, founded the Bechuanaland Democratic Party (BDP). By now the Bechuanaland population was in the mood for independence. The people wanted to govern themselves, without the patronising and often carelessly racist input from Britain.
The question was, however, not just what form that independence would take, but perhaps more importantly who they would trust to actually enable Bechuanaland to move forwards. The answer came in 1965 in Bechuanaland’s first democratic election, when Seretse’s BDP crushed his opposition, made up of various pan-Africanist (very simply, mostly radical believers in a united black Africa) and socialist (no, Americans, this does not automatically mean communist) groupings, winning 28 of 31 parliamentary seats. The BDP, for better or worse, has won every election since (at least up until the time of writing, March 2015).
Seretse Khama became Bechuanaland’s first and only Prime Minister. Then, in 1966, came the big one. Independence, and the renaming of the country to Botswana, with Seretse Khama as the new nation’s first President. Interestingly, after treating him so appallingly in the 1950s, Britain, or, I guess, more accurately, its Queen, knighted Seretse who was now, of course, the Sir Seretse Khama whom Mma Ramotswe admires so much. And very deservedly so.
Frankly, Botswana did not look to have much of a future in 1966. It was one of the poorest nations on earth and it had no apparent means of improving that situation. I suspect most observers thought it would probably go the way of its neighbours, although now I think about it, what was going to happen to most of Africa was not necessarily so clear in 1966.
And then, almost miraculously, if we believed in such things, Botswana proved to be not only one of the poorest nations on earth, but one of the luckiest. Diamonds. In fact, diamonds galore. It has the largest diamond mine in the world. And, of course, it had Seretse Khama as president.
Seretse was president until his extremely untimely and unfortunate death at what to a 61 year old (in 2016) like Lex is the incredibly young age of 59, from pancreatic cancer (which has a low survival rate because it is usually detected too late for effective treatment because its presence is usually unknown until it touches or otherwise affects neighbouring organs).
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