Not "Fine Pass Kerosene"

When a Nigerian says "fine pass" he means very good quality. When he says "fine pass kerosene" he means the very best. The British Labor government's high-minded intentions toward its African empire were certainly "fine pass kerosene"; but its performance was "soso talk" (ineffectual messing around).

Last week the House of Commons took stock of the government's African policy. Before it lay a scathing report of an all-party Estimates Committee which had examined on the spot a $220 million plan for Nigerian development. The committee found (and the Commons debate tended to confirm): "[The plan] does not propound a complete strategy of development. It is merely an aggregate of proposals for spending the money. If the ten-year plan were carried out overnight . . . improvement . . . would be barely perceptible."

What the report said about Nigeria applied, in greater or less degree, to all colonial British Africa. The verdict was especially devastating in the light of the hopes that had been based on African development. Was this what had become of "the Third Empire," the one that was to replace India and Burma as a base of Britain's prosperity and power? Only last year, Sir Stafford Cripps had said: "The whole future of the sterling group and its ability to survive depend on a quick and extensive development of our African resources."

"I'm Not Having Any." The reason why African development had been neither quick nor extensive was the split political personality of the Labor Party. As sincere anti-imperialists, the British Laborites wanted to give the natives more self-government and to raise native living standards; but as the responsible trustees of Britain's property, the Laborites could not risk inexperienced native mismanagement of vast enterprises. Result: Labor's slogans encouraged native nationalist demands which Labor's policy could not fully satisfy.

As anti-imperialists, the Laborites were against colonial exploitation by private enterprise. Last week Colonial Under Secretary David Rees-Williams banged his fist on a table and growled: "I'm not having any private enterprise interfering with these developments." On the other hand, the government had neither the money nor the experience to go through with its developments unless it had the help of private enterprise.

As Socialists, the Laborites were committed to planning for Africa. Commented a Tory M.P., Arthur Douglas Dodds Parker, in last week's debate: "With all their talk, Socialist plans are very scanty." Sample: the planners expected that by now they would be getting greatly increased production of Nigerian coal, peanuts and palm kernels. They neglected to provide increased transportation to move in these products. An order for 20 locomotives for Nigeria was given priority rating three years ago, but it had slipped behind 50 non-priority locomotives which the manufacturer wanted to deliver first for Britain's own railroads. Nigeria's locomotives were shipped only two months ago. As a result, nearly 175,000 tons of peanuts (enough to make an ounce of margarine for every Briton) have piled up at railheads.

"When I Became King." Last week's melancholy debate was a sort of rehearsal for a big African conference to be held in London this September. Already, the vanguard of the African delegates had arrived. He was the Honorable Oba Aderemi, the Oni of Ife, whose 3,200,000 Yoruban subjects in Nigeria call him "The Fountain of Honor." The Oni sprayed good will around London, gave a fatherly pat to his youngest subject in England (see cut), and reminded Britons that for twelve years he was a railway clerk, signalman and traffic instructor. "I had to give it up when I became king," he said.

Less cheerful but more typical of what was happening to Britain's "last chance" empire was a recent scene in the slums of Accra, Gold Coast colony. A young native sprawled sullenly in the shade of a tin-roofed shack, cluttered with goats, baskets, buckets and children. Out of the dry dusty litter a pigeon loft reared up ten feet into the hot air. "I fight in war," said the young native. "I discharged. Money gone. No work. No go back up country." He slumped farther back in the shade of the pigeon loft. Said a white colonial official: "There's food for Communism."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.