Whilst
writing of my days in Mombasa I am reminded of other events during the eight
happy years I spent there. I therefore will continue this series before my
memory goes back to sleep again. Yes, the brain can bring back any detail if
you try. And writing about it helps.
Honorary
Consuls in Mombasa were nearly all shipping people so we knew each other well.
In fact could have held a Shipping Conference meeting with them.
The
only "professional" was the British rep, a tall, slim chap: Ronny
Peel, with a lovely, well endowed wife, Diana and sleek daughter.
One
Saturday night we went to the monthly Mombasa Club dance. Life
music and Al Fresco dining at moderate prices. Ronny and Diana were there
as well although in a different party.
Late
at night, somebody removed the British flag from Her British Majesty's
Limousine and threw it into my car perhaps knowing I would return it to it's rightful owner. He thought that the British flag should
not be flown at night unless lit up ! (He might have been right as well !) The next morning I promptly walked over to Ronnie's'
place with the missing item, the disappearance of which he actually had not
noticed.
Well,
if I had confessed having made love to his wife and daughter the previous
evening, the effects could not have been worse. Ronny, usually a pleasant
fellow, absolutely blew his top ! It took me half an
hour to convince him that I had not done it. Only by referring repeatedly to
the fact we Dutch have great respect for national flags because of our long
maritime history, could I calm him down. However he swore to take the most
horrible revenge on the culprit if he ever found him or her!
I
did not have a clue who it was but in the end the
"villain" owed up to me! It turned out to be a good friend of ours who worked for
Tombooth, an off-shoot of the Twentsche Overzee Handels Maatschappij. Very English chap, in fact
! We kept the
secret and although Ronnie reminded me many times, I played dumb.
He would have murdered my mate. This story is not really very exciting but at
the time is was the talk of the town. It also shows
what Government servants really get hot under the collar about
!
A
more interesting story was the Sinterklaas party in 1974.
Our
big garden was a good venue to receive Sint Nicolaas on his birthday, the 5th
December. In Holland, the "holy man" arrives by steamboat, but, alas,
they were no longer available in Mombasa. Instead we used the HAL motorlaunch
"HARAKA", landing the Sint at the "BAHARI" yacht and
fishing club and then a five minute ride to our house in an open cabriolet with
the Saint sitting on the rear deck accompanied by his servants.
So
the drill was for the Saint and his zwarte Pieten to embark quietly on our motor
launch at the Bahari fishing club at about 3 and then disappear towards the sea
and shelter in a small inlet. They would then return to the Bahari Club a
little later and disembark on the beach where some Dutch people "in the
know" by then had gathered.
It
so happened that Jomo Kenyatta, Kenya's President had one of his residences on
the island facing the inlet ! African Presidents and
colleagues usually have rather ruthless security guards as related in an
earlier story.
So one of the guards spotted the
"Haraka".
He saw a European dressed up with a white beard and mitre together with a
couple of other Europeans with blackened faces ! Short
of emptying a
machine gun at them, they rushed off to
see where they were going: the Bahari Club. So just before "Haraka"
beached a contingent of heavily armed soldiers ran onto the premises.
Fortunately
the boss of the club was Ken Adcock , ex Manager
Mitchell Cotts, retired and now running a fishing club. He spoke fluent Swahili
and knew the Dutch Sinterklaas festival from past experience. He managed to
constrain the excited army men and when I arrived everything had been smoothed
over. But it could have been nasty and it was decided to abolish the landings
by boat in future.
Some
Dutch ladies taught the children the well known songs and all parents joined in
the chorus The parties were most enjoyably. The event
took place in the late afternoon to avoid the midday heat, not too far from
"happy hour". The last guest usually left by 8 o'clock or so. Really
a great Dutch tradition !
The
Mombasa Consulate fell under the Embassy in Nairobi with whom we maintained
very good relations. Nice people ! As a rule their
Dutch staff only stayed a couple of years, not enough to really get to know the
country. So they liked to have an old hand like me on tap !
They also enjoyed holidays at the coast where we arranged good and cheap
accommodation.
The
first ambassador I met was an old chap. One of those who drinks
their coffee holding the cup with two shaking hands. Harmless
chap and pleasant enough. I don't think he knew many Government people.
He
did not stay long but his successor, Ambassador Jan Polderman, served in
Nairobi longer during my period 1969-1977. A first class,
gentle man with a delightful vivacious wife, the opposite of her husband.
He
was very easily satisfied but he had a hobby horse: "war graves". Very anxious to
discover a Dutch war grave and honour this on the 5th May (hero
remembrance day) by laying a wreath. He could not find one in Nairobi and
therefore expected me to help !
Quite
correctly, seafarers in Allied ships who died during the war whilst on active service, were considered war casualties irrespective of the
cause of death.
I
could not trace any Dutch people interred at the British War Graves section of
the Mombasa cemetery but in the end I discovered a grave which fitted the bill
in the ordinary cemetery. He was a 40 year old chief-steward of a K.P.M. ship. Had died on board of natural causes whilst sailing the Indian Ocean
in 1943.
The
Ambassador was ecstatic and asked me to arrange a wreath to place on the grave
on the 5th May,
his wife and some of my staff in attendance together with the
Press.
Early
May is still pretty hot in Mombasa: 36 C, humidity 95% at midday and the wreath
laying had to be arranged at that time so that they could return to Nairobi on
the late afternoon flight.
It
was customary to wear suit (jacket !) and tie. A
minute of silence with bowed head and rivers of sweat! But I was happy to please the old man. He looked
very serious during the ceremony but afterwards absolutely beamed! We, Frits Coers and I, had to suffer this
three more times before he was transferred.
Fortunately he did not insist on us singing our National Anthem ! But if
somebody had made the suggestion !!!
Anton Jansen
July,
2005.