Enjoying danger
Aidan Hartley
0Lailapia
nly rarely does my Anglo-Kenyan breast swell with pride at my British origins. It did the other day, when I came across a British army lorry churning through the mud on the ranch. Britain rotates battalions through Kenya for desert training — but these guys were in the back of the African beyond. Two bulky men with cropped, greying hair got out and said their names were Sid and Sandy. 'Where are you going to sleep?' I asked. 'We was going to kip in the lorry.' I invited them home.
Sid and Sandy's medical unit had been treating the Samburu nomads out on the ringing plains. It's a hearts and minds campaign, designed to offset negative publicity after Britain's MoD agreed to pay out compensation to Samburus allegedly maimed by unexploded ordnance left lying around by the Brits on their firing ranges. Local warriors, who need no help to blow each other's limbs off with the AK-47s they routinely carry, chuckle about it because they know the allegations are utterly mendacious. Kenya's security forces might just as well have fired the ordnance, but then it's not often that African civilians get a chance to sue their own governments.
As a foreign correspondent I've observed the British army in places like Bosnia and Rwanda. Unlike the Americans, who avoid local food and women and can't go anywhere without helicopter-gunship support, the Brits generally have a good time overseas. The Paras in Kigali taught street kids to flash the V-sign and say, 'Up yours, guv'uor', and when a woman passed, 'Look
at the arse on that!' When Mr and Mrs Douglas Hurd visited Rwanda, they dropped by the British HQ and crowds of Tutsi genocide survivors chorused, 'Look at the arse on that!' In Nanyuki, the British base on Mount Kenya, I asked one squaddie, 'Do you like it here?' It's luverly. Me an' the lads, we're always shaggin'."Isn't that against orders, what with Aids?"Yeah, but once you've got a few drinks inside you, you can't say no to a shag, can ya?'
Back to Sid 'n' Sandy. In Laikipia people drink heavily, so my guests felt entirely at home and became very chatty. Sandy had done it all. He'd guarded Hess at Spandau, shot Iraqis as a sniper and been on tour in Kenya many times. 'Where was your favourite?' They both replied, 'Northern Ireland, definitely.' They had enjoyed the danger, mainly. They liked fighting. 'On patrol, we used to call it Planet Zanussi.' 'Why?' "Cos the Catholics used to drop washing machines on us from the tops of buildings. Either that or syringes full of blood, battery acid or bags of shit.' Wasn't that dreadful?"Nah, it was brilliant fun.'
Times have changed. 'Most lads of my generation just wanted to do one thing on R&R: get drunk and fall over. The youngsters, they stay in their rooms and play Gameboy.' Youngsters aren't apparently as tough as they were. 'After seeing the diseases and stuff out here, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the lads and women get counselling . . In my day we'd get drunk and fall over.'
A few days previously, I'd seen some army medics treating African children and they couldn't have been gentler. I asked Sid what he thought of the military's humanitarian role in the post-Cold War era. `S'alright, but what we're best at is killing people, innit?' Yet they were scrupulously correct in their behaviour, never uttering a sexist or racist word. They expressed nothing against the lifting of the ban against homosexuals in the forces. Indeed, when Sandy wanted to bum a cigarette he blew a kiss at Sidney and said, `Gis' a fag, sweetie.' Sidney pursed his lips and replied, 'Alright, darlin'.' But Sandy was looking forward to his retirement. 'What are you going to do?' For a moment Sandy stopped smiling and swelled with pride. 'I want to become a Beefeater and guard the Tower of London — like me Dad.'
We drank until the early hours. At dawn I heard their Bedford cough into life and roar off. Several days later we passed each other on a remote bush road. 'How's it?' I asked. `S'alright,' Sandy sniffed. He was eating a Kikuyu-made beef burger in a bun. 'Had a bit of trouble a few miles back when the wheel fell off.' He rolled his eyes. What wonderful blokes. As they bounced away I thought of Kipling and how Tommy is still with us, despite everything:
Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an a man can raise a thirst .
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