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Joss knew a lot about horses from all his polo experience, and entrusted only Captain George Marcus Lawrence, a soldier settler who had ridden for the British Olympic team, with the schooling of his polo ponies and the training of his modest string of racehorses. Marc Lawrence would oversee the estate and the staff during Joss’s absences in Europe.
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Livestock auctions were held in the Rift Valley at Gilgil, Naivasha and Nakuru, through which the only road to Nairobi passed. Each boasted a post office, a DC’s office flying the Union Jack and a police post with the usual sprinkling of Indian dukas;
(#litres_trial_promo) the only petrol to be found between Nakuru and Nairobi was at the garage Fernside and Reliance Motors Ltd in Naivasha.
(#litres_trial_promo) At the auctions Boy and Joss always stood out amongst the crowd, chatting together. Boy Long, like Joss, was good-looking and popular with women. According to Elspeth Huxley, Boy dressed ‘like an English country squire with a dash of the cowboy, accentuated by a broad-brimmed Stetson hat and a bright Somali shawl’. Joss too was establishing something of a reputation for his eccentric dress, but behind the libertine appearance of these two men were fine brains attuned to the business in hand.
On sales days just before 9 a.m., sumptuous cars would park behind the auction stand. A fine red dust with a peculiarly harsh smell would be lifted by the wind, spiralling into the sky. As the dust settled behind Joss’s Hispano-Suiza when he stepped out, it would rise again around the hooves of the Abyssinian ponies as they were trotted out for inspection, ‘thin, footsore and weary’, having been driven down by Somali herders. Joss’s polo ponies as well as his hacks were taken from Abyssinian stock, because they were exceptionally sure-footed and coped well in the rough terrain.
Wives ‘looking radiant and glamorous, smoking Egyptian cigarettes’, would gaze down at pens full of pawing, butting cattle as the bidding went on.
(#litres_trial_promo) Idina never seemed to suffer in the dust and heat – one of her least tolerable offences in the eyes of her detractors. Joss and she both seemed to tolerate African conditions effortlessly.
Joss often met up with D and Boy, whether at Soysambu or Nderit, where Boy lived, or Slains, and the three of them would discuss farming problems. Emergencies were forever cropping up: everyday shauries – crises among the African staff, thefts, sicknesses, snake bites and the sudden need for a vet.
(#litres_trial_promo) Within eighteen months of arriving in Kenya Joss, who was not a vain man, felt that he had learned enough through practical experience to describe himself as a cattle farmer.
To diversify their produce, Joss and Idina tried planting pyrethrum – in those days nobody knew for sure what would or would not grow at any altitude – a flower used in the production of crop insecticides. For this the land had to be tilled; teams of doe-eyed oxen, sixteen at a time, would drag the heavy tiller through the earth. If the wooden harness broke, it took Pidcock more than an hour to drill each hole through the hard olive-wood using a brace and bit, to make a new one. Slowly and painfully, several hundred of the Slains acres were transformed into furrow upon furrow of lacy white pyrethrum. What Joss learned here formed the basis of arguments he would later use as a member of Legislative Council, defending the high-quality production of pyrethrum for export.
Elspeth Huxley praised the Hays’ farming activities: ‘They enhanced rather than damaged the natural charms of their valley, by leaving native trees alone and … by paddocking green pastures for butter-yellow Guernseys, stocking streams.’ Idina taught her shamba
(#litres_trial_promo) boys how to lay and look after lawns, to prune, and to cultivate English spring bulbs. Her legacy survives today on Mombasa’s north coast, where a garden of exotic shrubs and trees enhances the house where she died. At Slains they grew pansies, Albertine roses and petunias with success and around the cedar trees they planted daffodil bulbs. When these bloomed the effect was that of an English country estate. Elspeth Huxley’s parents, Joss and Nellie Grant, would drive over from Gikammeh to swap yarns and exotic cuttings.
Joss’s and Idina’s neighbours ran into one another in Gilgil – everyone used the railway-siding there. The dusty main road sported one signpost, which pointed north to Nakuru and south to Nairobi.
(#litres_trial_promo) Vitalbhai’s in Gilgil was the largest in a string of iron-roofed dukas. Just outside its entrance, a dhersie
(#litres_trial_promo) toiled away on his treadle Singer sewing machine. Here, Joss and Idina bought basic provisions as well as yards and yards of corduroy in different colours on the chit system. The dhersie would stitch kanzus – long, white cotton robes rather like night-shirts – which were worn with a red cummerbund by houseboys. He also made Idina’s and Joss’s slacks in the corduroy – a fashion set by Idina, so practical that everyone followed it.
The ‘cow-town’ of Nakuru was the farming heart of the Rift Valley, and was Lord Francis Scott’s nearest shopping centre. The Scotts were never invited to Slains, though Joss and Francis Scott would become friends later. The Scotts, having met Idina first as Charles Gordon’s wife, never stopped condemning her. Eileen Scott wrote in her diary: ‘She has done a lot of harm to this country and behaved like a barmaid.’
(#litres_trial_promo) Elspeth Huxley’s description of Eileen suggests that the disapproval would have been mutual: ‘Eileen Scott lingers in my memory draped in chiffon scarves, clasping a French novel and possibly a small yappy dog, and uttering at intervals birdlike cries of “Oh François! François!”.’
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Notwithstanding her low opinion of Idina, Lady Eileen was among the first to recognise potential in Joss: once he joined the Naivasha Farmers’ Association she found him ‘much improved’. Joss’s success there came as a surprise to some, Lady Eileen continued: ‘Contrary to the expectations of most people, Joss Erroll was voted to the chair … It is a pity Joss hasn’t had a year’s more practice and experience; he has a brain like lightning and it is difficult for him to listen patiently to this slow-minded, if sound, community. However it is a very great step in the right direction, he is very able and a gentleman.’
While the Scotts were never guests at Slains, Joss and Idina did not want for extra companionship. With an eclectic flow of friends and visitors, local or from overseas, at Slains the mood of each gathering was dependent on kindred spirits – playful, debauched, sophisticated or civilised. Idina would preside, perpetually reloading her long amber cigarette-holder. The more often her glass was recharged – ‘Another little ginnies, dahling,’ she would drawl – the more amorous she became, a signal that things were about to liven up.
(#litres_trial_promo) Joss, however, ‘never smoked, seldom drank, sipping wine in small quantities at dinner; he never touched spirits’.
(#litres_trial_promo) He would act as barman to his guests, topping up their glasses for hours on end without any sign of irritation. Whenever alcohol was served at parties, whether in the role of host or guest, Joss kept his glass full to avoid seeming to be a killjoy when others were knocking it back. He would decline courteously if anyone pressed him to drink more and, with a knowing twinkle, would murmur, ‘I’m not going to impair my performance.’
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Joss and Idina had their own polo ground at Slains and played at weekends, generally attracting a crowd of spectators.
(#litres_trial_promo) The polo crowd loved Joss: ‘He was a first-class player … Clever, always had a brain … and was always ready to take advice.’
(#litres_trial_promo) A typical gathering would include some of Joss’s Old Etonian friends, neighbouring settlers and a sprinkling of titled guests from abroad.
Reclining in leather-covered armchairs, with those relics of life in England, a fox’s mask and crossed whips on the wall, they would talk of ‘light things – horses and the latest gossip from Government House’. Inevitably their exchanges would include chat about any new divorcees. Since the arrival of the new Governor Sir Edward Grigg, divorcees were blacklisted. ‘Queen Mary had issued her own writ to Lady Grigg: no divorcee was to be received at Government House.’
(#litres_trial_promo) Idina could not have cared less, though the exclusion was humiliating to some.
It soon became custom in the Wanjohi Valley for each household to throw one huge annual party. Guests converged, bringing with them a bevy of servants and tents, to be erected in the gardens as accommodation. Having come from afar, they expected to spend at least three days there – longer if the rains were making the roads impassable. A visiting mpishi
(#litres_trial_promo) would usefully pick up tips for new dishes, and this practice caught on rapidly, further enhancing Slains’ excellent culinary reputation.
Visitors from abroad would be especially enchanted, after a dusty journey along a remote unpromising track, to reach such civilised surroundings. Slains was filled with comfortable old furniture, Persian carpets, family portraits, silver ornaments, and studded Zanzibar chests gleaming from applications of lime juice and salt. Unlike most homes in Kenya, however, there was not a stuffed animal trophy to be seen. There were baronial arrangements of flowers, spacious bedrooms with private bathrooms and a library – ‘huge and varied … full of biographies … No one knew more about contemporary literature than Idina.’ This room was dominated by Joss’s desk.
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According to its owner in the fifties, Slains’ principal bathroom was ‘superb … vast, and in the centre stood a bath of green onyx … Idina would bathe in champagne occasionally. She was a darling but very naughty.’ Idina’s excesses were conspicuous to all, and her reputation for outrageousness did nothing to improve opinion of Joss among serious-minded settlers. Idina had a walk-in cupboard, leading off their morning-tea room, which housed her shoes, shelf upon shelf and pair by pair – which was a puzzle to her African staff since she went about barefoot, even when riding, just as they did. Idina often suffered from chafed feet. One young woman friend, while applying a bandage to one foot which ‘was very swollen and obviously painful’, failed to see how Idina could bear her touch. Noticing that she did not flinch, the friend asked her if she was not afraid of anything: ‘“Yes,” Idina had replied, “old age.”’
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In every bedroom a bottle of whisky and tumblers stood on a tray, and on each pillow was a pair of folded silk pyjamas.
(#litres_trial_promo) This courtesy was extended to guests from overseas because they were unlikely to be accustomed to changing into glamorous dressing-gowns and pyjamas for dinner. Joss had decided to use those boldly patterned beach pyjamas from Venice where they had been all the rage as daytime wear. Since they were comfortable, attractive and practical the fashion became de rigueur as evening wear. Boy Long concluded that ‘the quality and colour of one’s pyjamas and dressing-gown worn for dinner revealed one’s social standing’.
(#litres_trial_promo) This fashion did not meet with everyone’s approval – King George V was not impressed when he heard about the habit after the Duke and Duchess of York’s visit to Kenya in 1925.
When Idina saw her guests off with her husky ‘Goodbye, my dears!’, they were always sad to leave. Often they could not expect to return for a whole year. Their only meeting, meanwhile, might be by chance at Muthaiga Club. Being separated by such great and hazardous distances, the settlers were inclined to make the most of their get-togethers, an exuberance that unfairly contributed to their reputation for debauchery.
In May 1925 Idina discovered she was pregnant – her baby was due the following January. But her condition evidently did not get in the way of her social life. Shortly after finding out about her pregnancy, the Hays invited Frédéric and Alice de Janzé to Slains – in the autumn, when the weather made Paris less appealing. They agreed to come out to Kenya for two months including Christmas. Leaving Paris in late November, the de Janzés treated this holiday as a delayed honeymoon as, in the two years since they had married, Alice had produced their two daughters, Nolwen and Paola. The girls stayed behind in France.
Frédéric and Alice were seduced by the glorious Wanjohi Valley, and no doubt by the thought of becoming neighbours with such close friends. Wanjohi Farm, about five miles from Slains, came up for sale while they were staying there, and Alice bought it. She and Frédéric did not move in until the end of 1926, however.
Idina seemed to be fully aware of, but indifferent to, Joss’s affair with Alice. She knew they had been close since Paris days and their flirtation carried on intermittently during their stay as well as when the de Janzés came to live in Kenya. Some say that Alice turned up in Kenya because she could not bear to be parted from Joss, but this theory exaggerates hers and Joss’s feelings for one another. They enjoyed hopping into bed together occasionally, but Alice had far stronger feelings for other men, such as Raymund de Trafford, and Joss found the temperamental Alice far too much trouble to become seriously committed to her. Frédéric was also unaffected by Joss’s and Alice’s sporadic affair. He would nonchalantly refer to Joss as ‘the Boyfriend’.
The de Janzés accompanied Joss and Idina to Muthaiga, an exclusive residential area about three miles from Nairobi’s centre, where they spent Christmas of 1925, so that Idina could be in Nairobi for the birth of the baby. Their daughter was born on 5 January 1926 and they called her Diana Denyse Hay. As a toddler Diana took to calling herself Dinan, a nickname she soon came to be known by.
The first ten months of 1926 would see an epidemic of the plague in Nairobi’s Indian bazaar. There were to be no fewer than sixteen deaths by November, when Dinan was ten months old. Worries over raising children were not confined to the plague. Malaria was another life-threatening disease, and at the time there was a wide-spread conviction that the altitude and the sun would have an adverse effect on growing European children. For this reason, there were few living in the Wanjohi in the twenties. Even as a toddler, Dinan was made to wear a double terai and a spine pad
(#litres_trial_promo) between the hours of eight and four. Joss, pictured in a snapshot holding his baby daughter, looks incredibly happy – even astonished by the tiny doll-like creature in the crook of his right arm. Whatever his paternal instincts, however, Dinan would be raised by a nanny, as was customary amongst the aristocracy in those days.
While Idina was still in Nairobi recovering from Dinan’s birth, Joss had stopped on his journey home to Slains at the water-splash in the Kedong Valley, where everyone took on extra water before attempting to climb the two-thousand-foot escarpment. At this bubbling stream the glade was inhabited by a pride of lions – quite uninterested in the presence of humans – whose footprints could be seen in the mud; handsome black and white Colobus monkeys leapt about among the branches above. From the splash, the more cautious would reverse their cars up the hairpin bends, to lessen the strain on the engines. Joss had Waweru with him: no European ever travelled alone in Africa then, a wisdom that has never changed. Not long afterwards, Cyril Ramsay-Hill fetched up with his gunbearer.
(#litres_trial_promo) He too was on his way home, but from safari to a newly completed house on Lake Naivasha into which he and his wife Molly had just moved. Ramsay-Hill, dying to show off its splendour, invited Joss back for the night to save him driving on up to the Wanjohi.
Though they had not met before Joss had heard of Ramsay-Hill: it was rumoured that he had made his money out of hairdressing. In fact he had been attached to the 11th Hussars. Apparently the natives, who could not pronounce the word, much less understand what a ‘Hussar’ might be, had concluded that Bwana Ramsay-Hill was a hairdresser. Frédéric de Janzé had already come across him that Christmas – a flamboyant fellow, he said, resembling Salvador Dali, replete with moustache and monocle. During conversation Frédéric discovered that he and Ramsay-Hill shared an interest in the cinema and in literature. It then transpired that Ramsay-Hill’s ‘interest’ involved a collection of classic French pornography, paintings and books, many of which were eighteenth-century originals.
(#litres_trial_promo) Next to the library in his new house was a small locked room where he housed his ‘secret library’, ‘a very special collection of books and highly erotic pictures by Boucher, Lancret, Fragonard and Watteau from the collection of the Duc de Richelieu’.
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Ramsay-Hill would live to regret his impulsive invitation by the water-splash, for it was thus that Molly Ramsay-Hill was introduced to Joss, the man who would ‘remake her world’. Their affair, which began some time later, was managed very discreetly and, just as Joss had kept his parents in ignorance about his intentions towards Idina, so here no one guessed at the outset that there was anything other than Joss’s habitual flirtation and charm in his conduct with Molly, who was nine years older than he was, the same height as Idina and ‘petite and quite a beauty, Titian-haired with green eyes and a flawlessly pale skin’.
(#litres_trial_promo) In contrast to many women of her age in the colony, whose faces were devoid of any artifice and weatherbeaten, Molly’s face was ‘deadly white as if it had been dipped into a flour bag; she wore dark red lipstick and dark red nail lacquer to match. Everyone thought her terribly exotic.’
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Kiki Preston, who had been part of the American glamour set in Paris, came back to her splendid house Mundui at Naivasha some time in 1926, having been persuaded to stay by a friend who had given her land on the lake. Frédéric called Kiki and Gerry Preston ‘Black Laughter’. The Paris clique was beginning to re-form around the shores of Lake Naivasha and along the Wanjohi Valley.
When Frédéric and Alice came to live in Kenya at the end of 1926, as before, their daughters were left behind in France. At this time the Wanjohi Valley was inhabited by less than a dozen Europeans, including the Hays and the de Janzés. Since their arrival the Hays had held court here and, with Frédéric and Alice, they would form the core of an exclusive set. As with all groups of intimate friends they developed certain rituals and habits which marked them out from others. Idina frequently held hands with Alice in the garden at Slains, illustrating how relaxed they were in their shared passion for Joss, which seemed only to bring them closer together. Alice would often sing for her three friends, accompanying herself on the mandolin.
They would go on safari together. The fact that Joss chose not to hunt, fish or shoot did not prevent Idina from doing so. Joss seemed content to be out in the field. Every evening on safari they would gather by the fire between seven and eight, before bathing and changing for dinner, to devote an hour to composing limericks and storytelling. Each took it in turn to recite to the others. This was Frédéric’s idea. He had moved in literary circles in Paris, keeping company with people like Maurice Barrès, Proust and Anna de Noailles; his standards were high. Frédéric’s creations were the cleverest, Joss’s the funniest, Idina occasionally cheated, and Alice always tried to outwit the men. A typical contribution from Joss ran:
There was a young lady from Nyeri
Whose lusts were considered quite eerie,
On the night that she came,
And we both did the same,
It was fun, until I said, Kwaheri.’
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Rules were strict when it came to the stories. First, a round of ‘cold hands’ at poker was played, to determine who should start. Whoever won must begin with ‘Once upon a time, Kenya was not Kenya but British East Africa …’ and follow with any subject except shooting.
(#litres_trial_promo) Sometimes Idina, in her low throaty voice, would declare Kenya taboo: ‘Let’s be jolly and think of Paris tonight.’ They would all shut out Africa and everyone in it until the Swahili servant interrupted their reveries – ‘Chakula tyari’ – and they would go into the camp tent for dinner.
The foursome also enjoyed jaunts to Nairobi, usually confined to race week four times a year when they would make merry like everyone else, staying at Muthaiga Club. The visits involved a drive of a hundred miles, taking six hours. The de Janzés had a Buick and they would race the Hays to Muthaiga Club, testing the qualities of the Hays’ Hispano-Suiza against the Buick.
(#litres_trial_promo) The de Janzés frequently won, which is perhaps why Joss favoured Buicks later himself.
Fernside and Reliance Motors Ltd, the garage in the ‘tiny dorp’ of Naivasha, looked after the Hay vehicles for Joss all his life. Its European mechanics would lay bets with him on whether he would break his own record time to Nairobi. ‘Bwana Hay was no remittance man, cheerful when he lost, and bills were always paid eventually, if spasmodically.’ Robert Creighton serviced all the Hay engines, including the Hispano-Suiza. Joss was the only man Creighton had ever met to leave a Rolls-Royce in a ditch after it had skidded off the road in the rains and turned over. Joss’s ignorance of car engines left Creighton baffled. ‘How could so intelligent a man learn nothing about motor-car maintenance?’
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The murram road from Naivasha to Nairobi formed easily into corrugations, shaking vehicles mercilessly and making travel for farmers with heavy loads very laborious; the Hay – de Janzé races cannot have been comfortable. It was always a relief to arrive in Nairobi. Alice, ‘in grey slacks and green jumper, and wide-spaced grey eyes’, would calmly defy all the club rules, gliding into Muthaiga Club and daring anyone to stop her bringing in her animals – ‘a tiny monkey, an Airedale and a lion cub’.
(#litres_trial_promo) Even when she was persuaded to leave them in the car, each was brought indoors to her for regular inspection.
By now Nairobi had street lights, so fewer citizens were likely to fall into the open drains at night. Rickshaws plied their trade along Government Road between graceful blue gum trees, lining both sides of the wide thoroughfare between Nairobi Station and the Norfolk Hotel. In the mid-twenties Government House was rebuilt on the orders of Sir Edward Grigg, who was Kenya’s Governor until 1930.
(#litres_trial_promo) Joss, who had barely set foot in the old black and white ‘Tudor’ residence, would frequent this stately new building often in the 1930s. The cost, an astronomical £80,000, would be made much of by taxpayers, who ‘squealed indignantly and spoke of folies de grandeur’.
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Idina, coolly defying the harsh African climate itself, would appear at the Nairobi races in one of Molyneux’s latest innovations, on one occasion a brown hat covered in oiled ostrich feathers.
(#litres_trial_promo) Because Joss liked black and white, he had hit on the idea of Idina wearing unmatching earrings as a pair – one white pearl and one black pearl – a fashion she made her own.
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Joss always paid one visit to his barber Theo Schouten’s whenever up in Nairobi – men tended to visit their barber every three weeks then. His only alternative, meanwhile, was to get Idina to trim his hair. Theo Schouten was a ‘cheerful little man’ who, having been in Nairobi since 1911, was already looked upon as one of the town’s characters, running his Government Road establishment with ‘West End staff’.
(#litres_trial_promo) Schouten’s catered for both sexes in a humble wood and iron building with a corrugated roof and, like the best barbers everywhere, knew everyone and everything that was going on. Joss and Schouten came to know and like one another, and the barber’s was conveniently near to Joss’s and Idina’s lawyer, Walter Shapley of Shapley, Schwartze & Barratt. In London Joss had always used Truefitt & Hill in Bond Street, including their range of lotions known as CAR, and eventually he would persuade Schouten to stock this exclusive range. Joss’s dance partners were always aware of the pleasant scent. Men noticed it too – the distinctive aroma would pervade a changing room shared with Joss before a game of cricket or polo.
(#litres_trial_promo) Later, when Schouten moved to grander premises in the New Stanley Hotel on Delamere Avenue, and Joss was living in Nairobi, the one appointment he never missed was his massage and manicure, so as to garner information, useful gossip, about town.
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The Hays and the de Janzés took their rituals to Muthaiga Club: ‘the squash court ladder was sacrosanct’. They all began at the bottom, playing their betters, climbing rung by rung until each found his place, either to be ‘ousted by or ousting the rung just ahead’.
(#litres_trial_promo) Joss would always reach the top of the ladder, the champion for two seasons. He usually won at poker too, notwithstanding the fancy footwork that was going on with Alice under the table. He went along with that old poker adage – if you can’t spot the mug at your table in half an hour, it’s you! He relished that moment when the atmosphere became taut to breaking point and the game was played out in silence but for the orchestra of insects outside.
(#litres_trial_promo) Joss was of course an excellent bridge player, remembering easily which cards had gone into each trick.
The parties at Muthaiga during race week were notoriously wild. Evenings began with sundowners in the peristyle before dinner, and the celebrations lasted well into the night. According to one who saw it all for himself:
The gayest and most light-hearted community in Africa was to be found amongst the British settlers in Kenya, possibly because the Highlands, where most lived, were 7,000 feet above sea-level and this seemed to stimulate gaiety and exuberance. Many lived and worked on the farms that had developed from a country previously uncultivated and uninhabited bush. This was a community mainly of young people who worked hard and played hard and enjoyed life. The leading Muthaiga Country Club was the scene of many of the evening festivities. These would start very correctly with men and women in full evening dress gravely sipping glasses of sherry before dinner. By the end of the evening the company would probably be playing some riotous game or if an occasion such as New Year’s Eve, dancing round a bonfire in the garden. [On one occasion] six people were placed at the same table in the luncheon tent at the race meeting in Nairobi, who had by chance all been married (to one or the other) before … An air of restraint dominated until one of the men broke the ice, observing that it was quite like an old comrades’ dinner.
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After race week, back to the Wanjohi Valley the Hays and the de Janzés would go, for another month or so of isolation.
While out riding one morning, Frédéric and Alice discovered a lioness with three cubs hiding under some rocks and went regularly to the lair to observe them. Soon afterwards two young Indian princes with an older ADC called at Wanjohi Farm to invite the Hays and the de Janzés to come for dinner at their camp. They accepted gladly and discovered the camp was supplied with every luxury. The hunters displayed their trophies, ‘a greater kudu and two lion skins’. When Frédéric found out where these had been shot, he realised the princes had found their family of lions. ‘But didn’t you see any cubs?’ he asked. No, they had only seen the male and female, who had charged so they shot them both. Next morning Frédéric and Joss rode out to look for the cubs. ‘The poor little brutes had starved for three days, one was already dead, another died that night.’ Frédéric and Joss were angry with the hunters, for they believed that the killing of a female ‘of any of the species’ was a crime.
(#litres_trial_promo) Samson, the surviving cub, remained with the de Janzés, and gradually the dogs, ponies and even Valentino the baboon accepted him. Samson and Frédéric established a deep rapport. When Frederic fell ill with malaria, Samson would sit by his bed like a dog, waiting for his master to regain health.
They all had adventures with wild animals. One insistent elephant wandered up the valley from Laikipia on to Slains, trampling the Hay shamba. Joss would not allow anyone to shoot the animal but, needing a gunshot to scare it off, sent over to a neighbour for help. The neighbour appeared with a large rifle and some servants, and this shooting party succeeded in driving the elephant away, getting within a hundred yards of it, into thick forest. Then it came swiftly down wind, having heard the men, ambushing and knocking the helpful neighbour down with a side slash of its tusk. The man squirmed between the elephant’s front feet as it dug around with its trunk. He then claimed he stuck his fingers in its nostrils and was finally saved by being kicked backwards into a clump of thorns. Dr Henderson of Nakuru treated him for three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder, ‘all in return for the kindness of loaning his gun’. He was black and blue all over.
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Samson disgraced himself at the first party that the de Janzés gave at Wanjohi Farm. The place was ‘hectic with twenty people staying, in and about the tents in front of their big veranda, and the courtyard at the back … was cluttered with cars’. The African staff loved entertaining and parties, notwithstanding all the additional work. Guests often brought their own cooks with them, who were ‘bringers of news from afar’ for the household staff. Africans are born chefs. The local staple diet is posho – maize meal – hardly varying over the years, and yet they astonished their employers with their diverse repertoire. Idina’s chef whipped up omelettes as light as air, or produced paupiettes of sole or truite meunière for as many guests as was wished, often at short notice. At Wanjohi Farm, every bench, easy chair, camp chair and dining chair had been brought into commission, and, ‘for once the table looked magnificent with a tablecloth and all necessary “adjuncts” in their place’. Samson, ‘much petted and spoiled’, soon got into the party spirit. Frédéric, changing indoors, heard the first crash: ‘I was in my bath … a towel, a leap and I was rescuing the table fittings where Samson tugged determinedly – a sparkle of fun in his eyes. A broken plate, sundry glasses on the floor – he was thoroughly enjoying himself.’
Everyone contributed to their ‘Dutch treat party’, where Joss and Frédéric, ‘mere abstainers’, handed out cocktails. Joss would mix the fashionable drinks of the day expertly, shaking up Manhattans and Martinis. Cocktails and jazz were expressions of modern life which Idina and Alice had brought from Paris. From Naivasha, the two newcomers Major and Mrs Ramsay-Hill had brought along stout and champagne because Molly’s favourite cocktail was Black Velvet, a mixture of champagne and Guinness.
(#litres_trial_promo) Idina’s tipple was gin and orange bitters. During the main course at dinner Molly Ramsay-Hill suddenly leapt to her feet and let out a wild shriek as a servant dropped a bowl of mayonnaise down her back, having tripped over Samson. Now, as Molly retreated to clean herself up, she too almost tripped over Samson’s outstretched paw. Someone leapt forward in time to prevent a heavy fall. ‘The good lady took a lot of pacifying … dinner came to an end without interruption.’
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