Imperial Lifeblood
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My schooling in England had, for the most part, had concentrated on those aspects considered suitable for a young woman who was destined to hold a certain position in polite society: correct enunciation and the art of conversation, music and singing (for which I had rather little talent), the geography of Great Britain and at least the outlines of the Empire, enough arithmetic to understand the household accounts, and a working knowledge of the kind of literature which might be discussed in withdrawing rooms and around the dinner table. At the prompting of my father by frequent exchange of letters, and much to the horror of my late mother's sister with whom I lived, my conventional schooling had been augmented with some distinctly unladylike subjects, including a rather more detailed geography of that part of the world known as British East Africa, and the surrounding parts of the continent, as well as a very good understanding of the Kiswahili language, effectively a Lingua Franca in this part of the world, which I like to think has merged into fluency after a few years under the baking African sun. By now, I had been a long-term resident of Africa for many years, and had become known for sponsoring both grand social events for those with sufficient wealth and connections enough to attend, as well as numerous charities and other good works helping the poor and needy. My frequent proximity to those who make much of their wealth in the many kinds of business which flourish in this part of the world, and a little feminine charm and the strategic deployment of the occasional stiff drink, has taught me a great deal about the practical aspects of the functioning of our society. It had also taught me about the fragility of that societal function and its dependence on the continued availability of vital resources. Human resources, especially those with skills and experience and, more so, intelligence are rare and valuable, and need to be nurtured, treasured and, within reason, rewarded; people of all stripes and colours can, and should, and in practice do contribute inestimably to the furtherance of the Empire. The Imperial East African demesnes, especially the inland areas beyond the steep escarpment, are rich with mines for iron ore and gold and diamonds and many other minerals essential to the enrichment of the Empire and to reward those with capital enough to invest in mining shares. But there was one essential resource missing from the bounty of the land: coal. Of course, coal was, and indeed is, the lifeblood of the machines which made the Empire possible, powering ships and trains and cars, as well as clockwork computational machinery of all kinds. It is also essential to make the gasses which power gas lamps and ovens and any number of household contraptions, and when separated, allow airships to both float in the air and to make powered progress towards their destination. The economic cost of importing literal shiploads of coal from Newcastle or South Wales, even though the shortcut through the canal at Suez reduced the shipment time by several weeks, was a significant drain on the economy here in Africa. Oh, some of this was offset by English industry: much manufacturing was performed in Britain, so that the coal used to make steel, for example, and thence assembled into ships did not need to be transported very far. On the other hand, ongoing supply of fuel for the sea-going steamers and airborne liners was still both slow and expensive, and had led, naturally enough, to the thought that a relatively local supply of coal would be a great advantage. All this economic reality was explained to me, at frankly rather unnecessary length, in one of the quieter offices of the Governor’s Residence, a large and well-appointed building close to the centre of Mombasa, although strangely anonymous and almost closed in on itself when viewed from the outside. I nodded politely through the presentation from Sir Douglas Kirbright, a senior functionary in the Imperial Protectorate's government, and then asked a few questions, more to demonstrate I had understood the minutiae of the subject matter. "This is all very well, Sir Douglas," I said, once the civil servant's address was complete, or at least collapsed into unnecessary repetition, "But what is it specifically you want me to do?" It seemed that Kirbright was one of those gentlemen who somehow managed to be rather shocked when a woman asks a direct question, one which seems to insist upon an answer. Of course, I could have spent ten or so minutes gently beating about the bush, teasing out the direction of his thoughts, but I was beginning to feel that he had wasted rather too much of my time already. "Well, my dear lady," Sir Douglas harrumphed, "There is much coal here in Africa, but unfortunately it is located much further south." "How much further south?" I demanded. "In the Transvaal," he said. "Ah."
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Introduction