Colin Campbell's tribute
On Peter Marrian’s 80th Birthday
Jambo effendi na watuwote. I said I’d be short to Peter, but then I thought for only an instant of the kaleidoscope of important and milestone memories of my own and others’ experiences of this ever youthful man, and I knew I couldn’t be short; but if you’ll allow me, I will try to be brief.
I was first introduced to Peter Marrian by my cousin Guy Campbell in 1955 in the old Cavendish Hotel. I was about to leave for Kenya to serve with the Kenya Regiment, a treat after four monotonously repetitive years in Germany. The Kenya Regiment was commanded by Guy, with his Second-in-Command his twin brother David — a family posting. This insight into my autobiography is only justified and relevant because Peter and his then wife Susie’s coffee farm at Mweiga had been a vital focal point in the more intensive period of Mau Mau operations as Marrian’s Farm, a base from which a specialist force of the Kenya Regiment launched very effective aggressive patrols into the adjacent Aberdare Forest with the inventive ruse of so-called pseudo-gangs, European locals dressed down as Mau Mau gangs. Peter, with his own invaluable airstrip, his experience of 2nd War military service, and characteristic boundless hospitality had turned Marrian’s Farm into a mini-replica of Cairo in the Western Desert Campaign, a beacon of civilised and cosmopolitan life at the front line; and Peter playing an important intelligence role himself through his intimate knowledge of the locality and the constant valuable information given to him by his mainly loyal farm employees.
When I arrived in Kenya the Mau Mau campaign had gone into a lower key but the stories of the important role Marrian’s Farm had played were still fresh in everyone’s reminiscences, even though Marrian’s Farm was now just that, except that the situation still demanded a loaded revolver on the elegant dining room table at Peter’s right hand, and this incongruous necessity reminded his guests at the glittering table, changed into evening dress, that anything could still happen and was happening.
Needless to say I enjoyed in my five years of wonderfully varied life in Kenya a growing friendship with Peter and his family, nurtured by, I remember, 35 weekends at Mweiga. Peter taught me to fly, in more ways than one, although he did get me to the stage when I was able to take off and land with his hands only inches off the controls; but more importantly, to realise through my friendship with him the importance and particular courage of his thinking for the future of Kenya. Peter had not only encouraged David Stirling in his farsighted and imaginative ideas for the future of the multi-racial colonies of East and Central Africa, but Peter living on his highly efficient model farm in Kenya was to implement and propagate the philosophy of the Capricorn Africa society. While its aims were not fully achieved, it is fair to say that Peter, inviting ridicule and often hostility even from his closest friends and neighbours, never flinched and eventually not only earned the respect of many who had opposed him but through his dedication to a realistic political policy for a future independent Kenya, won the confidence of the incoming African government of Jomo Kenyatta who asked him to be involved in the administration of the newly independent country. Peter’s boldness and conviction that there was a way for different races to live together had assured a future life beyond their wildest dreams for many the Europeans and Asians who decided to stay on after independence.
Today in the 1990s, despite its many serious problems, in Kenya there are the families of many of the old settlers still living there and quietly adjusting to modern times; and the present generation of these families are playing a leading part in advancing the prospects of the country. Peter’s role in making this possible, and acceptable to the Kenya Africans cannot be overstated.
Through all the political turmoil of the late Fifties, Mweiga with Peter and Susie was a veritable haven. For all those who visited Africa — politicians, writers, film stars, adventurers, explorers or just old pals — a visit to Kenya, nay Africa, without a stay at Mweiga was unthinkable. The enjoyment, the laughter, the comfort and beauty of the place, and also the quiet reasoned update from Peter on what the undercurrents were and what the future prospects might be. Through all this was the invigorating and delightful presence of growing Anthony, Simon and David. They taught me more cricket than I taught them. I was lucky enough too to be present in Mweiga when David Marrian arrived for his first day over Easter 1956.
Over all these activities and particularly over his younger guests’ romances Peter kept a watchful, amused and, where he thought merited, an encouraging eye and word. It was luckily for me easy to maintain our friendship after leaving Kenya. Peter came and joined David Stirling’s TV company for a time, where I was employed as a result of Peter introducing me to David. The glorious mixture of Peter’s wisdom and knowledge and his never failing to see the humour of everything kept that hilarious but strangely effective company on its tracks, particularly in its successful dealings with African television.
On one’s visits to Kenya from then until now, it has been a constant challenge to get an evening with Peter even if one is staying with him: tennis one night, golf the next, bridge evenings, mysterious rendezvous that were not to be revealed, and one only heard later that he’d been spotted in the company of always young, always glamorous girls from every multiracial corner of the globe. This magical gift of effortlessly attracting the most intelligent, sparkling and lively young women has stayed with Peter all his life and I see no chance of it waning. It is really very exasperating. I remember once in New York, not that many years ago, a young American couple had been making a film on the Masai and it turned out they’d met Peter. I watched that film - rather good, very, ethnic, lovely Mara country - then a small aeroplane appeared on the film, landing on the local air strip. The door opened: one, two, three, four striking young women emerged, and then a fifth girl. It was like a Pakistani taxi, and finally an immaculate, unruffled, graciously smiling Peter Marrian appeared. “That’s him!” I cried in the rather solemn screening room.
Many must doubt Peter’s 80 years. I can vouch for them. There was an exclusive envied group in the Fifties in Kenya: Peter Marrian, Frank Waldron, Robin Johnstone and others. David Stirling tried to join. He was rejected - too young. They were the fabled Vintage Club, year of birth 1916. Hooray for 80 years old, ageless Peter, whose courage, sense and character, wise friendship and hospitality are legendary. In my opinion one of the most vital of life’s achievements is spreading happiness to as many as possible. By that score alone, Peter’s 80 years have been supreme. Asante sana mzei rafiki na yake watoto. Congratulations. Thank you Peter, and thank you Anthony, Simon, David and Anna for this wonderful day. Many, many happy returns Peter.
Colin Campbell, 9th June 1996