The opinions voiced by my characters were taken from life and at first hand. For though the Wind of Change was rising fast, very few of the Kenya-born settlers would believe that it could possibly blow strongly enough to uproot them from a country that every single one of them looked upon, and loved, as a
‘Land where my fathers died.
Land of the pilgrim’s pride ...
If ever a novel was in dire need of a disclaimer, of a word of warning placed in the foreword by the author herself, it would this one. The Wind of Change that Kaye refers to in her preamble is the Independence of former colony Kenya a couple of years after the novel’s publication and less that ten years after the events described in the story. These emancipation events put to shame the racism and the imperial bias embraced by all the characters in the novel.
The fact that M M Kaye is sympathetic towards the settlers’ arguments should not be a surprise to readers familiar with her other novels, in particular with those famous epics about colonial India, or with her biographical background as a daughter of Imperial Army officers, married and following for decades the army life during the forced dissolution of that Empire. Her worldview is understandably skewed towards those opinions shared by all her peers.
I happened to be in Kenya towards the end of that period, because my husband’s regiment had been sent there to deal with ‘The Emergency’ - which was the white settlers’ name for it. And despite some hair-raising moments, I can truthfully say that I enjoyed practically every minute of my stay in that marvellous and exciting country.
For all these reservations, I do enjoy her stories for their unapologetic romantic sensibility, mixing love with adventure and with exotic settings. It was only in recent years that my eyes have also been opened to their politically incorrect context.
The author has penned six commercial adventure novels that feature ‘Death’ in the title and are generally considered a sort of series, even as each novel is completely unrelated to any other. What links them together is the obvious formula applied to the script and to the characters: take one young and extremely beautiful young lady, preferably raised in England in a high income setting, make her an orphan or a single independent woman, then send her to some exotic corner of the Empire, usually to a military garrison, in care of relatives.
The lady arrives at some sumptuous villa, is promptly enchanted with the barely civilized country, and is very soon a witness to murder most foul. According to similar rules from the ‘whodunit’ canon as set by Agatha Christie and her peers, the circle of suspects is contained to the people who sat over dinner or visited the villa recently. Among these people there will always be a young gentleman of aggravating manners, who will get on the young lady’s nerves with his arrogance and his know-it-all expertise. He is usually also connected with the army, the police or the intelligence services, allowing the plot to delve into political power games in the colonies. By the time the novel ends, the young lady will be guaranteed to swoon into his manly embrace.
The Kenya story, like all the others included in this loosely connected series, benefits greatly from the direct experience of the author in visiting the locations [Kashmir, Zanzibar, Berlin, Andamans, etc]. A sense of humour also helps to make the formulaic plot more palatable.
The location is a colonist villa on the shores of one of the beautiful lakes in the Great Rift Valley of Kenya. The owner is the formidable Aunt Em [Emily DeBrett], an elderly lady who built the domain practically by herself after losing her husband very soon after arriving in the country. She has a son and heir, good looking playboy Eden DeBrett, married to an English heiress Alice. Aunt Em socializes with a close group of neighbours who also own big estates by the lake shore. Her white administrator Gilly, is an alcoholic musician who some say he was hired out of pity instead of competence.
The year is 1952, at the tail end of the Mau Mau Rebellion, and into this explosive environment, Aunt Em invites her niece Victoria Caryll, recently orphaned when Em’s sister died. The first dead body is discovered even before Victoria’s plane lands in Nairobi, an event that also coincides with the young lady’s meeting Drew Stratton, an unattached neighbour of her Aunt who happens to be involved in guerrilla militias fighting the Mau-Mau.
I don’t think I need to say more about the setting, leaving it to the readers to discover on their own the numerous suspicious liaisons between the members of this white-only group. On its own, the actual criminal investigation is nothing special and it is saved by the clear fascination the author has for the uplands and the vibe of authenticity she gives to the scenery descriptions, in particular a picnic/safari to one of the famous craters in the Rift Valley. I wish I could say the same about the political discussions, of which there are more than enough debates over cigars and drinks. I tried not to be bothered by the aspects hinted at in the author’s note, but it turns out all my bookmarks are about these insensitive, tone-deaf racial commentaries.
She’s had them for years and they’re nearly all second-generation ‘Flamingo’ servants. Or even third! She won’t believe that it is one of them. But it’s worrying her badly. I know it is.
I know the characters are all second-generation settlers, and that the book was written during the last days of their colonial glory, but even so, I would have expected more from a writer with obvious empathy for ‘natives’ and for their struggles. The settlers’ sense of entitlement, their shallow justifications of personal strife and danger as a reason to hold on to properties established by expropriating the local farmers when in reality all the hard work was done by the same natives who were forced to become indentured servants and low-paid workers, culminated in an ill-advised rant that everybody else does it. Just look at what Americans did to the natives!
Our grandfathers found a howling wilderness that no one wanted, and which, at the time, no one objected to their taking possession of.
This whataboutism was the low point of the novel for me, until I actually started to read about the Mau-Mau rebellion from other sources online, and found out that the propaganda and the white-washing of war crimes were even more egregious than the colonial justifications.
You cannot conduct a campaign against a bestial horror like the Mau Mau with gloves on.
It’s been the job of every propaganda bureau around the world to paint their adversaries as monsters in order to justify the atrocities on your own side, but most historians agree that the British were at their most vicious in Kenya during the systematic torture and the ethnic cleansing of the villagers suspected of sympathies towards the Mau Mau. The concentration camps so reviled during World War II were now considered of as the only solution to control a recalcitrant population that is described by the characters at various points of the story as half-witted, devious, childlike, bestial, lazy, or envious of white settlers success.
I believe M M Kaye was bothered in her own mind by these points of view, even as she decided to keep faith with the original conversations she witnessed during her brief stay in Kenya. I really shouldn’t keep up with my accusations, since they are par for the course in most of her novels, and I did enjoy her style of storytelling. My final quote is from Drew, the love-interest:
He said: “I apologise for treating you to a grossly over-simplified lecture of the Settlers’ point of view.”