Word: bechuanaland
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...most publicized and embarrassing blots on Britain's colonial record was the government's highhanded treatment of Seretse Khama, 39, who is hereditary chief of the Bamangwato tribe in the arid, sparsely settled British protectorate of Bechuanaland. Twelve years ago, when Seretse was a law student in London, he met and married a blonde clerk named Ruth Williams. In the resulting uproar, the British government peremptorily banished Seretse from Bechuanaland in an attempt to appease the outraged segregationists in neighboring South Africa. "A disreputable transaction," growled Winston Churchill at the time. But Seretse stayed banished for six years...
White Mother. But the primitive Bamangwato, whatever the British said, persisted in recognizing Seretse as leader-especially after his homecoming was greeted by a pula, or downpour, greatest good omen in thirsty Bechuanaland. The tribesmen revered their white queen as Mihuma-Kghadi, "Mother of Us All." And surprisingly, Ruth made fast friends among Bechuanaland's 3,000 Europeans, who only a few years ago could not have conceived of condoning a black-white marriage. Seretse stayed busy looking after his herds of 25,000 cattle and his growing family (three boys and one girl). Last week, as Britain started...
Feeling Humbled. Ken Patton, 19, is currently charged with explaining Bechuanaland's new currency and constitution to 10,000 tribesmen. He wrote home recently: "I have organized the burial of corpses in lead-lined coffins; I designed an African school; I redesigned our hotel. I have collected debts, fobbed off would-be explorers, drawn up contracts, been out with geologists, examined poisoned calves, taken statements, invigilated exams, and run the district (such as I was able) when the district commissioner was away for ten days. So as you see, life is full, busy, interesting and great...
...police, and South African jails are filled to the roof with 1,575 political prisoners, including 94 white allies of the blacks. Hundreds more are being arrested daily. Those leaders who escaped the massive roundups have gone underground or fled to the safety of the British protectorates of Swaziland, Bechuanaland and Basutoland. Leaderless and with their larders emptied by the stay-at-home strikes of the past month, the impoverished blacks ignored the order of the African National Congress to stay off the job one more week, and trooped glumly back to work...
...African passengers in the dirty brown coaches of the train chugging north through Bechuanaland were hot, tired, and packed in tight. But they were young and in unusually high spirits. They shouted and whistled. They had just completed their time in the gold mines near Johannesburg. Now they were headed home again to the Rhodesias, Nyasaland, and to points beyond. On their wrists were gaudy new watches. They wore purple shirts, cowboy hats, awkward new shoes...