White Man's Drum: Tales of the East African Bundu
First book in a trilogy about Kenya in the 1950s
Pacific Northwest Writers Conference, Seattle 1996 finalist: Adult Non-fiction
To the five young men gathered in Mac Gregory's office at the beginning of 1951, the lure of the word safari was irresistible. They had come to East Africa because they missed the excitement that had been their constant companion in World War II. Known as "Mac's boys" the men were assigned to a four-year project that involved the survey and installation of a viable route for a modern VHF radio-repeater backbone telecommunications system. The route extended from Kampala (Uganda), through Kenya, to Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam (Tanganyika).
The test sites and repeater stations were located on mountaintops because VHF transmissions travel in a straight line (line of sight). Not a technical treatise, this is the very human story of the men who pioneered this undertaking. They worked under canvas on safari for months at a time, encountering inhospitable country, wild animals, and extreme weather conditions. The book describes their daily life and their adventures during this period.
Halfway into the project, however, they were to face more excitement than they had bargained for when they found themselves in the midst of a savage civil war, often referred to as Mau Mau. The uprising of the Kikuyu tribe in Kenya in 1952 was the spark that ignited the drive for independence throughout Africa.
Set against this background, the trilogy follows Gordon Mumford's experiences as an expatriate assistant engineer working on field survey safaris. Long absences on safari also impacted on personal relationships, and Gordon struggled to balance his love for safari work and his desire to keep his marriage intact. Despite his socialistic upbringing, his idealistic views changed when the Kikuyu revolted. Creatively written, the books are an informal history of life in East Africa in the nineteen-fifties. What had been a peaceful and idyllic life changed forever in 1952.
Click Here for Reviews | Click here for Excerpt.
Trade paperback, containing 43 photographs, 2 drawings, 10 maps, and bibliography.
ISBN: 0973629703 | 6" x 9" | 198 pages | $24.95 CDN [currency conversion]
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Buy the Set White Man's Drum AND Drums of Rebellion
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Reviews
The stories are well-written 'personal accounts' in the style of Edward Rodwell of Mombasa Coast Causerie fame. Gordon has paid strict attention to geographical detail, solid technical research and a vivid imagination, coupled with the creative use of Swahili in his dialogue, making the two books very African and honest; they tell of things the way they were. [He is] a very talented writer.
M.R.A. Hotten, in The Overseas Pensioner
…attention to detail, solid research, vivid description and creative use of dialogue. White Man's Drum provides an interesting glimpse into Kenya life and history during the country's emergence from colonialism to independence.
Writer's Digest
Excerpt:
Dust, red murram from the dirt road mixed with grey soil from the parched African plains, lies thick in the truck’s cab. I laugh when I look at Kamundu, my relief driver; his mouth and nose are covered with a soiled red handkerchief. "Vumbi mbaya--the dust is bad, Kamundu," I say. "You’re no longer black. You look like a Masai."
He grins as I halt the truck in our favourite spot. "Ndiyo (yes), bwana, and you, you look like a Hindi (Indian)." Laughing, he removes the dust guard from his face, and nods towards the sparkling spring water in the crater. “Water soon change that,” he says as he strips off his clothes.
The pool we swim in is roughly circular, about thirty feet across, and surrounded by bush, acacia and thorn trees. Cattle use the lower crater close to the swamp on the banks of the Uaso Nyiro River. In the distance, I can see the tops of doum palms that mark the presence of the river and swamp.
***
Voices disturb my thoughts and I wonder who is talking. Turning, I look towards Kamundu who is treading water at the other side of the pool. Then I see them: three women and a couple of totos (children), or, more correctly, watoto. They are Samburu, a nomadic tribe that follow their cattle. Dressed in dark clothing, a combination of skins and americani (cheap cotton material), they blend in with the bush. As they question Kamundu in Swahili, their voices carry to me at the far side of the pool where I'm hanging onto the rocks.
"Bwana swimming? Allah! And no clothes on." The older woman turns to the young woman beside her. "Ngalatoni," she says, "He’s brown, but where the sun no catch him, he’s white. Him mzungu (white man), not Hindi." She looks at Kamundu as he drags himself from the water onto the rocks near them. His naked dark brown body glistens with beads of water that dry rapidly in the sun. He sits unconcerned on the rock, and laughs as he listens to their chatter. "Him, he black man," she adds disdainfully. "They all same, brown all over."
The older woman leans over close to the one she addressed as Ngalatoni and whispers in her ear. Ngalatoni’s eyes widen, and then they both erupt in laughter. Even Kamundu, usually staid and unflappable, laughs as he replies, "Yes, all same, all same."
