BECHUANALAND: Revolt in Serowe

Strapping Gordon Batho, Her Majesty’s district commissioner for the Bamangwato tribe of Bechuanaland Protectorate, had some bad news for his black-skinned charges. To a crowded Kgotla (native parliament) squatting in the tribe’s mud-hut capital of Serowe, he announced that the Great White Queen would never allow Seretse Khama, their Oxford-educated chief, to return to his people (TIME, April 7). According to the Queen’s ministers, Seretse, by marrying blonde London Typist Ruth Williams, had been derelict in his public duty as chief: his marriage, like Edward VIII’s, had compromised his crown. Dutiful Commissioner Batho thought it unnecessary to mention that 1) neighboring South Africa covets Bechuanaland’s black labor force, 2) threatens to use Seretse’s marriage to a white woman as a pretext for annexing the protectorate, and that 3) Britain is getting rid of Seretse to appease Negro-hating Prime Minister Malan.

The district commissioner proposed that the Bamangwato elect another chief. The tribal elders, wearing goatskins, zoot suits and flashy ties, told him to be quiet. They shook their fists and spat. Bamangwato virgins stormed the dais where Batho sat, and screamed: “We want our chief Seretse . . . May you die where you stand.” Batho appealed for order and was shouted down: “Seretse should lead us . . . We cannot nominate anyone else to take his place. You have tried to rule us with a rod of iron. You treat us like ants. We won’t have you.”

No More Kgotla. It was the first time that the docile Bamangwato had thumbed their noses at a creature so Godlike as the Great White Queen’s commissioner. Batho marched off, his upper lip aquiver. He issued an order: “No more Kgotlas.” The Bamangwato sat back guzzling Kaffir beer (a native brew made of yeast, marmalade, syrup and raisins) and took no notice. But when Batho sent a platoon of

Basuto policemen to occupy the Kgotla ground, the tribesmen reacted. Screeching and bellowing, 2,000 of them bombarded the cops with stones. When Batho himself arrived with police reinforcements, a drunken virgin bopped him on the head with a sharp-pointed stone. Sixty cops were injured, three battered to death.

No More Kaffir Beer. To the White Queen’s commissioner, his head still sore, this was rebellion. He sent for machine guns, corralled Serowe’s white women & children in a defense perimeter. Well-armed native troops led by British Colonel Robert Langley were flown in from the nearby British protectorates of Swaziland and Basutoland, and from the self-governing Crown Colony of Southern Rhodesia.

As dusk fell next day, 200 troopers, carrying wicker shields to ward off sticks and stones, marched into Serowe. Some had fixed bayonets, others heavy pick handles. Colonel Langley himself carried a sawed-off shotgun. This time the cops were rougher. They stormed into mud huts, boxed their occupants’ ears, beat up all who resisted a search for beer and weapons. By nightfall, 41 Bamangwato, including four royal princes, were penned in a stockade near Batho’s GHQ.

At week’s end, all was quiet. Serowe’s native stores were forbidden to sell beer. Thousands of Bamangwato packed their blankets and cooking pots and trekked off across the thirsty veld to their remote cattle stations.

Commissioner Batho had imposed the White Queen’s will. Bluff Colonel Langley, in the Queen’s honor lists, got the Order of the British Empire (O.B.E). Who was to rule the Bamangwato? Batho and the White Queen did not know.