Walking the Tightrope

By camel and dugout canoe, through bleak lion country and rich tobacco fields, the electorate of Bechuanaland proceeded to the polls. Some were red-faced Afrikaner farmers in sports shirts and veldskoen; others were naked Kalahari bushmen, whose ways have not changed since they learned to paint on rocks 15,000 years ago. At the polling place--in some cases a tidy brick schoolhouse, in others a thatch-roofed hut beneath a twisted mopane tree--each voter received a handful of col ored, coin-size counters representing the candidates of five political parties. Cynics called it "the tiddlywinks poll," but when all the cardboard disks were counted last week, Bechuanaland had wisely and overwhelmingly elected as its first Prime Minister an African leader with just the right qualifications: moderation, modesty and multiracial understanding.

"The Black Englishman." The man who won at tiddlywinks is Seretse Khama, 43, a tall, bearded Oxonian who 16 years ago threw away his right to the paramount chieftainship of the powerful Bamangwato tribe to marry an English girl. Seretse, even then known as "the black Englishman" to friend and foe alike, was studying law in London in 1947 when he met Ruth Williams, a blonde, 24-year-old insurance clerk who lived with her parents and sister in suburban Lewisham.

When they married the next year, Seretse's despotic uncle, Tribal Regent Tshekedi Khama, joined forces with an embarrassed Labor government in a Windsor-like sequence of events that ultimately stripped Seretse of his chieftainship and forced him into a six-year British exile. Much of the pressure from the Labor side was exerted by then Commonwealth Relations Secretary Patrick Gordon-Walker, who was twice beaten for Parliament within the last year, partly on the color issue.

Lace & Auto Jacks. When Seretse and Ruth finally returned to his tribal capital of Serowe in 1956, there was much prejudice to overcome. Being white, Ruth was suspect. Moreover, a set of twins, born two years later, seemed to spell disaster to Bamangwato witch doctors. But Ruth--often wearing a silk blouse and tight white pants--moved through the mud-hut villages dispensing good will, wiping blood from injured herdsmen with a lace handkerchief, and fighting for seven years to build a clinic. Eventually she became known as Mwa Rona (Our Mother), and the antiwhite fears of the tribesmen faded.

Meanwhile Seretse was working to waken Bechuanaland politically. He formed the multiracial Bechuanaland Democratic Party, opposing Black Nationalist Phillip Matante ("the Lion of Bechuanaland") and Peking-oriented Motsamai Mpho. At one political rally, a back-country tribesman who could not pronounce the word democratic referred to the party as Domkrag--Afrikaans for automobile jack. Seretse adopted the jack as his party symbol ("It represents slow, silent power"), and last week it lifted him to victory. The red counters designating Seretse's B.D.P. flooded the ballot boxes, and 28 of the 35 seats in Bechuanaland's newly-elected legislative assembly went to his candidates.

Sorghum & Cowpeas. Though full independence is still a year away, tribesmen already revere Ruth as their first white First Lady. Modestly she smiles: "I am only the second lady. What about the Queen of England?" Quite right. For the moment Britain remains in effective control of Bechuanaland. When independence finally comes, Seretse expects to rename his country Bechuana and set about the enormous tasks ahead. His work is cut out for him. Texas-size, with a population of only 542,000, the country is mostly salt pan and desert, barely suitable for cattle grazing. In the east, near Francistown, Serowe and the tiny, torrid new capital of Gaberones, rainfall permits some crops, mostly maize, sorghum, cowpeas, pumpkins and tobacco. Only a single railroad, 394 miles long, and a highway connect the north and south of the protectorate. East-west roads branch off this central spine, but typically peter out into sand within 40 or 50 miles. A few mining companies are probing Bechuanaland's deposits of manganese, copper, silver and gold, but it will be years before they pay off--if they ever do.

More immediate is the question of Bechuanaland's relations with its neighbors. Hemmed in on all sides by white Africa (Rhodesia on the east and apartheid-minded South Africa and its South-West Africa dependency on the south, west and north), Bechuanaland is tied economically to the nations that every true black nationalist hates. With the two other British High Commission territories of Basutoland and Swaziland, Seretse's domain is joined with South Africa in a customs union, uses South African currency, and in the past has cooperated in transportation, trade, health and general development with Dr. Hendrik Verwoerd's regime. Indeed, some 30,000 Bechuanas depend on employment in the South African gold fields for a livelihood.

Seretse made it clear last week that he intends to walk the tightrope between white and black Africa. "We won't cut off economic relations with any country because of its politics," he explained. "Britain isn't keen on Communism, but she trades with Peking and Cuba. We don't like apartheid, but we will trade with South Africa." How about South Africa's feeling toward such a flagrant violator of apartheid'? Last week, after Seretse's victory, South Africa announced that the travel ban imposed after his marriage to Ruth had been lifted. Seretse received the news with a wry smile.

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