This is based on a true story. A number of the events in this story actually happened whereas other parts only happened in my mind's eye. While I have neither read James Fox's book called, 'White Mischief, ' nor seen the movie by the same name starring the beautiful and very sexy English/Italian actress, Greta Scacchi as Lady Diana, this is what I imagined how the racial struggle took place in Happy Valley many years ago between the aristocratic Brits and the native Africans. I hope to read the book soon and also see the movie. When I do, I might pen a sequel to this story called, 'Happy Valley.' I have taken the artistic liberty of using Greta Scacchi's first name as the heroine in this story as I can picture her perfectly for this part. I know she must have been just as wonderful in the movie. It's just too bad that I've never had the opportunity to personally meet Greta. She has been one of my favorites of all time. Some day I hope to visit Kenya to not only see what used to be called Happy Valley but also maybe even scale Mt Kilimanjaro.
The story begins now:
Once upon a time, in a place far, far away... there was an idyllic location in the early nineteen-forties where wealthy British could go to escape the ravishes of war. It was away from the nightly air raid sirens and horrific bombings being made by the German Luftwaffe on the city of London. To avoid the terror, fear and horror of pre-World War II, many Brits packed up all of their belongings and moved from their war-torn homeland to a beautiful peaceful valley on the outskirts of Nairobi, Kenya called 'Happy Valley' by the local Africans.
The privileged English gentry and aristocrats owned spacious mansions in the lovely hills of Happy Valley complete with cooks, servants, gardeners and chauffeurs. Of course, the wealthier one was, the more servants one had. Keep in mind that all of the locals were Africans and very proud Africans at that. How would you feel if these imperialist foreigners came into your country with an indiscriminate amount of money, buying up everything and demanding immediate service of every kind? In most part, it was good for the local economy because of the positive influx of cash flow, however most of the really expensive items that the British ex-pats had were either brought with them from England or purchased from elsewhere such as Australia or the United States. As such, the Kenyan economy didn't thrive as much as it should have. It all boils down to greed and money, wanting what another man has. Sometimes that greed and jealousy extends to those other man's 'possessions' as well.
Most of the Brits who moved to Happy Valley tended to be older, wealthier and not have the gaggle of little children with them that the younger couples had. Because of that, they were more into the sophisticated things such as throwing elaborate dinner parties and ballroom dancing. If you could imagine, what would you think of the travesty of having well dressed Brits in their tuxedos and evening gowns entertaining their well-heeled friends while the rest of Africa was subjected to dire poverty?
After dinner at the Lake Naivasha Country Club, the men would sit in the clubs den with animal trophies lining the walls and smoke their cigars and drink expensive brandy while playing snooker. The ladies, dressed in their finest clothes, gloves and fancy hats, would chit chat in the saloon until the after-dinner dancing began. It wasn't much different from when they were in stodgy ole England except here they were safe from the terrors of war. Or were they?
This was twenty to twenty-five years before the infamous 'Peyton Place' in the United States but The Happy Valley Set, as they were called, had their own special kind of Peyton Place with all of its own adultery, jealousy and wickedness. While many of the Brits were still very loyal subjects and attended the Church of England services on Sunday mornings, Saturday nights were a completely different story of excess and decadence. Saturday morning was the usual round of golf or even polo at Lake Naivasha Country Club which was located in a spectacular setting. Saturday evenings started the beginning of not only the night's darkness but also its decadence.
Some of the products that the Brits actually liked to buy in Nairobi were the locally made ivory trinkets that are now banned. But a little known item which was very popular with the English gentlewoman back then were the items made from the now extinct black ivory obtained from the tusks of ebony African black bull elephants. This ebony ivory was made into phallic symbols said to be patterned after the huge black African cocks of the Mandingo or Zulu warriors.
These ancient dildos were reputed to have aphrodisiac properties so the Englishmen could use them on their own wives to make them aroused as proper Englishwomen weren't known at that time for their sexual liberation. It was also rumored from an old African legend that in attaining her passion, these dildos would turn into either the giant cock of the proud African warrior or the trunk of the rutting African bull elephant that was so long, thick and had those exciting ridges along the thick skin of the snout. These had the same powers as French ticklers. Oh, those naughty, naughty French. One difference between the two dildos was the one single 'eye' on the African cock or the twin holes for the nostrils from the African black bull elephant. Either way, it was said that the use of these dildos turned the normally dispassionate timid English wife into a raging wildcat in bed. It was also reported that a readily-available potent aphrodisiac was made in the region that was sure to turn any dowdy housewife into a raging nymphomaniac.
Douglas and Greta Stanford where invited to live in Happy Valley by their sponsors, Sir Jock Delves Broughton and his lovely wife, Lady Diana Broughton. Sir Jock, as he was called, was one of the senior British Colonial officials. He was in his sixties while his lovely 'trophy' wife was just barely thirty-five. Did they have trophy wives in the nineteen forties? The wealthy men surely did. If the Queen of England had known what was happening in Happy Valley, she would have looked upon her upper-class British subjects with disdain and embarrassment. Fortunately, either she never found out or she turned a deaf ear to the reports of extreme decadence and heavy drug use in Happy Valley.
Douglas Stanford was a barrister and Greta taught school back in jolly ole England. Because of the few English children in Happy Valley, Greta was complacent as well as content to just be the bored housewife. She had all the comforts of home except BBC radio. But alas, she had to make do. Their African cook's name was Thika Njorowa and her husband, Gorge, was also the gardener. 'Thika' was an appropriate name for the cook in that she cooked very well and was thick in the waist from eating her own excellent cooking. Thika and Gorge lived together in one of the small huts behind the Stanford place along with their young, pretty fourteen year old daughter, Seremai, who also worked as the house servant.
Their chauffeur, Joseph Maaisai, lived by himself in the Stanford's old carriage house. It no longer housed a 'carriage' or a horse and buggy for that matter but instead was the garage for an old Jaguar that was in constant state of disrepair. The damned English never could build a car that ran well. The Brits couldn't even make other equipment that ran either. Having reliable, mechanically top of the line equipment like the Germans almost beat the English twice if the Yanks hadn't saved their sorry limey asses, not once but twice. Fortunately, Joseph was pretty good at fixing up the Jag when it broke every so often and was able to get one of the local mechanics in Nairobi to come out to the Stanford mansion from time to time to do the more intricate repairs. As was the custom, the chauffeur was armed not only with a pistol but also with a high-powered rifle for protection of the family from any wild animals. Joseph also carried a 'kibokos, ' which is a rhino hide whip, and a 'pangas, ' a type of machete. There were many pangas available to most of the Kenyan men as it was a common agricultural tool but it was also very lethal in battle.
Joseph served as the Stanford's security. His last name was a nickname given to him by his enemies. 'Maaisai' in the Kenyan language means, 'rough, ' and his terrifying demeanor could certainly be that. One didn't want to be on the bad side of this bad boy. If Douglas Stanford had known that his African chauffeur was a member of the Mau Mau's as well as the Kikuyu Central Association (KCA), he would never have hired him to be their chauffeur and security guard let alone having him carry a pistol on his person or a rifle in their vehicle. But as it was, the Mau Mau's kept quiet and bided their time at least for the time being. The Mau Mau's were made up of primarily cut-throat Mandingo and Zulu warriors who didn't like kissing the pompous asses of the white British bastards and their condescending manner. Their time would soon come and retribution would certainly be sweet!
Due to the hot African weather, Greta had succumbed to not wearing the hot and constricting brassiere that she would have normally worn in England. Because of this, many men were attracted to her full, untethered white breasts. Her husband noticed that many of the African men also enjoyed staring at his lovely blonde wife. She must have looked like an unattainable goddess to the black men. It gave Douglas an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach and even made his own dick hard when thinking about his lovely blonde wife with those savage Africans.
.... There is more of this story ...