Promise the Night (26 page)

“Yes, Beru, it is I.”

“But you are no longer Kibii.”

“I am Arap Ruta,” he said with pride. The “R” sound came out as smooth and soft as feathers on the lips. “I am a murani now,” he said simply.

“Congratulations,” she said solemnly.

He asked curiously, “Why are you looking up so seriously? What is there to see but sky?”

“When I was in Nairobi, I thought the stars were different there. But it is the same sky. It was me who was different. Now that I am back, I see that the constellations did not change. Maybe it is the same sky everywhere? Maybe even in London?”

“We are not birds or bats to worry about the sky.”

“But think of it—if you were a bird, you could go from one place to another without using roads, railroad tickets, or papers. It wouldn’t matter if you were from Africa or Europe.”

“Or if you were a white girl or I a Nandi warrior?”

“Exactly!”

“Beru, my father always said you had clouds in your eyes.”

They were silent as they contemplated the night sky. Beryl wondered what it was about talking under the stars that made you feel so solemn and wise.

Kibii broke the silence. “I hear the mare birthed a fine colt.”

“Yes. My father gave him to me.”

“What will you name him?”

“That is why I was looking up at the sky. I was trying to think of the perfect name. I was thinking, perhaps Pegasus.”

“Peg-a-sus?” Kibii could not get his tongue around the unfamiliar name.

“He is a winged horse out of one of our stories. A winged horse that heroes rode.”

“Like the cans of paraffin?”

Beryl laughed out loud as she realized that Kibii was right. The fuel cans that all the settlers used had a winged red horse emblazoned on the side with the motto “Pegasus, the spirit of mileage and power.”

She giggled. “Yes, like the fuel cans.”

“It’s a good name,” conceded Kibii.

“So is yours, Arap Ruta.”

“I came to say good-bye.”

“I know.” Beryl’s heart was full with many emotions. She grieved for the loss of Kibii, but she was happy for Arap Ruta.

“Good-bye for now? Or forever?” she asked.

For a moment, she glimpsed Kibii in the eyes of the dignified Arap Ruta. “For now, I owe my life to the tribe.”

“And I must help my father.”

“Someday, we will be friends again,” he said, and melted away quicker than he had come.

“It’s a promise,” she whispered after him into the night.

You might be wondering how much of Promise the Night is true. The answer is, most of the good parts! The rest is my imagination.

Beryl Clutterbuck was born in 1902 in England. At the age of two, she accompanied her parents and her older brother, Richard, to the new colony of British East Africa, now known as Kenya. Her father, Captain Charles Clutterbuck, was a distinguished horse-man turned farmer, trainer, and miller. He settled in the highlands above Nairobi. His farm, Green Hills, overlooked the Rift Valley, one of the great sights of Kenya.

Like most of the British colonists, the family initially lived in a rondavel, a hut made of mud and daub with a thatch roof. The conditions were difficult and primitive and proved too rigorous for his wife, Clara, who had been a socialite with a reputation for riding well in fox hunts. She abandoned her husband and daughter to return to England with Beryl’s brother. She left with a British officer she met in Nairobi, who was having his wooden teeth seen to by a dentist. Beryl did not see her mother or brother again until she was an adult. Clara left behind a dog, Buller, who did get snatched by a leopard from Beryl’s hut. He survived, but was never quite the same afterward.

Beryl spent her early years cared for by members of the Nandi tribe who worked for her father. She was accepted as an honorary member of the tribe. Her best friend was a boy named Kibii, and together they trained to be warriors in the Nandi way. Their teacher was his father, Arap Maina, who also worked for Beryl’s father.

Beryl participated in many hunts. She wrote about them in her memoir, West Into the Night, and in other short stories published in various magazines. Arap Maina was conscripted by the British forces to fight in World War I against the Germans. He was killed almost instantly. Beryl and Kibii were both very bitter about the senselessness of his death.

The British ladies in the highlands often remonstrated with the Captain about his only daughter being raised by a native tribe. He tried to remedy this situation by installing Emma Orchardson as his housekeeper. She had a son, Arthur, and a husband who was more interested in his research of native rituals than in his family. Emma was very pretty and vivacious. Perhaps inevitably, the Captain and Emma grew closer. Beryl resented their relationship very deeply. By all reports, Emma was never anything but kind to Beryl, but Beryl always hated her.

Because of Emma’s relationship with the Captain, she and, by extension, Green Hills Farm, were ostracized by the other English settlers. This left Beryl isolated from colonial society and other girls her age.

Miss Le May was a real person who did beat Beryl mercilessly. Beryl ran away for several weeks and stayed in a cave and hid with the Nandi before she finally tricked Miss Le May into abusing Beryl within earshot of her father.

It is also true that Beryl was mauled by a tame lion named Paddy. He spent the rest of his life in a cage until he was executed when the Elkingtons could no longer keep him. Beryl describes this incident in West Into the Night. In her own diaries, Margaret Elkington wrote that Beryl had exaggerated the seriousness of her wounds.

Beryl was sent to—and expelled from—not one boarding school but two. Although Arthur was also sent to boarding school with her, Beryl never referred to him in her memoir or her reminiscences. In Promise the Night, I combined the stories of students who knew her, including Sonny Bumpus, who became a lifelong friend and her chief jockey. The steeplechase race, the girls following Beryl home from a field trip, and the shaking of her teacher “as a terrier shakes a rat” are all documented anecdotes from her school years.

When Beryl returned from school the second time, her father gave up on her formal education. He built her a lovely house (that still stands today) and offered her a job running his stables. When she supervised the birth of a foal out of Coquette by Referee, he gave her the horse. She named him Pegasus.

At the age of eighteen, Beryl was abandoned by her remaining parent. The Captain was bankrupted by drought, and relocated to Peru. Beryl told him she could not leave Africa because she did not know it completely, and what she did know, she loved too well.

Beryl became a very successful trainer of horses. She won many of the most prestigious races in Nairobi, despite her youth and her gender—neither of which endeared her to the all-male racing establishment. Arthur stayed in Nairobi and was one of her best jockeys.

In her twenties, just when Beryl was feeling overwhelmed by her responsibilities as a trainer and businesswoman, her old friend,
Kibii, now known as Arap Ruta, re-entered her life and quickly became her head lad. But when airplanes arrived in Africa, she abandoned horses for flight. Arap Ruta was right behind her, learning to be her chief mechanic. She joked that he used to groom her planes. Tom Black was her first instructor and remained her mentor. There was a romantic relationship between them, but he eventually married another woman.

Beryl was one of the first women to receive a commercial pilot’s license. For several years she made a living ferrying mail, medical patients, and supplies to the widespread settlements of East Africa. She even made a very good wage spotting elephants for the “Great White Hunters,” who came to Africa to take home the enormous tusks.

In 1936, Beryl joined other world-famous aviators who were setting and breaking flight records. Lord Carberry dared her to make the flight from England to North America. The flight was considered particularly difficult because you flew into the night and the winds were against you. She crossed the Atlantic, but crash-landed on the coast of Cape Breton in Nova Scotia. She was transported to New York City to a triumphant welcome. Many of the details I include were inspired by Beryl’s account of her voyage that the Daily Express paid her to send as soon as she arrived.

Years later, Beryl wrote a personal memoir called West with the Night. She had married and divorced an English lord, Gervase Markham, and wrote under her married name. West with the Night became a literary sensation and established her reputation as an adventuress. An early admirer was the renowned writer Ernest Hemingway.

After a brief stint advising on aviation for films in Hollywood, Beryl returned to Africa. She took up horse training again, and enjoyed the same success she had as a young woman. Her father eventually settled in South Africa. When he died in 1957, he was a successful trainer. He left his house and estate to Emma, but bequeathed his best horse to Beryl.

Beryl’s memoir is our first source for the anecdotes of her life. Her childhood was not marked by birthdays or years, so I’ve taken the liberty of arranging the story in a way that makes sense to me. Although the tribe that raised her was Nandi, she often referred to them as Masai—a much fiercer tribe. Whenever I needed details about tribal customs, I used Masai references because there is much more research about the Masai compared to the Nandi.

The newspaper articles I quote are fictitious, but typical of the media coverage Beryl’s exploit received. The quotes from her congratulatory telegrams are accurate. Beryl’s reminiscences and story of her flight are based on her life, although the words are mine.

Beryl Markham died in Nairobi in 1986 at the age of 83. A memorial service was held for her in Kenya, fifty years to the day of her flight across the Atlantic.

There are several sources for information about Beryl and East Africa. I have listed some of the most useful.

Gourley, Catherine. Beryl Markham: Never Turn Back. Berkeley, CA: Conari Press, 1997.

Hollis, A.C. The Masai: Their Language and Folklore. Oxford: At the Clarendon Press, 1905.

Huxley, Elspeth. The Flame Trees of Thika: Memories of an African Childhood. New York: William Morrow, 1959.

Lovell, Mary. Straight On Till Morning: The Biography of Beryl Markham. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1987.

Maren, Michael. The Land and People of Kenya. New York: J.B. Lippincott, 1989.

Markham, Beryl. West with the Night. New York: North Point Press, 1983.

Markham, Beryl. The Splendid Outcast. New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1987.

Saitoti, Tepilit Ole. The Worlds of a Maasai Warrior: An Autobiography. New York: Random House, 1986.

Trzebinski, Errol. The Lives of Beryl Markham. New York: W.W. Norton & Co, 1993.

World Without Walls: Beryl Markham’s African Memoir. (Audio) Van Nuys, CA: Wild Wing Productions, 1985.

My mother, Barbara Burns, an amateur pilot and a fan of Beryl Markham’s West with the Night, first suggested this story. While it was nerve-wracking (and eye-opening!) to hear about some of my mother’s harrowing experiences, her insights about flying were invaluable.

My critique group’s support was crucial—as it always is! Special thanks are due to Sari Bodi, Christine Pakkala, and Karen Swanson for their help in bringing Beryl’s childhood to life.

Patricia Reilly Giff’s generous advice inspired me to make sure that Beryl stayed true to herself without becoming a brat.

My agent George Nicholson found more depth in the novel than I knew was there and his wonderful assistant, Erica Rand Silverman, was a great help explaining contracts and other such arcane tidbits.

My editor at Chronicle Books, Victoria Rock, supported Beryl from the beginning and her deft edits brought the book to an entirely new and better place. The striking cover and clever interiors were designed by Jennifer Tolo Pierce. The marketing team, especially Lara Starr and Lea Yancey, have helped this new author understand how to sell a book and most importantly how to reach out to my readers.

My niece Madison and her mom, Anne Showalter, were beta readers—their faith in Beryl kept me going. Beryl’s most infuriating and lovable characteristics can also be found in varying degrees in my beautiful daughters, Rowan and Margaux. And finally thank you to my husband, Rob, for his support and confidence.

Michaela MacColl studied multi-disciplinary history at Vassar College and Yale University, which turns out to be the perfect degree for writing historical fiction. She lives with her husband, two daughters, and three extremely large cats in Connecticut. To learn more about Michaela and her work, please visit:

www.michaelamaccoll.com
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Copyright © 2011 by Michaela MacColl.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.