Annamaria on Monday
My credentials as possessor of a riotously romantic heart are
well-established among frequent readers of this blog. A passionate aria, an antique map, an image
of the clock tower of San Marco in Venice.
The strains of a tango. The
sight of a lone giraffe standing under an acacia tree. They all take my breath
away. A list of images and sounds that
provoke longing in me could easily fill up this page.
Today’s post—about how people traveled from Britain to East
Africa in the 19-teens—needed a good title.
Something that would stir a sense
of adventure in you. Once I typed out
the words above, it took me ten minutes to settle down to work. I was high on the visions they evoked, floating
a hundred feet up, watching my long-ago-and-far-away characters travel from
London to Mombasa: their clothes, their conveyances, the scenery as their
Victorian-style train click-clacks through France, the ship, the luggage. They call at Naples. I know that bay well. Vesuvius.
Ischia. Capri. The deep dark blue of the Mediterranean. And on to the south past Stromboli, spouting
fire in the night.
 |
| I took this photo of the Mediterranean on a trip from Livorno to Catania. The deep blue sea is really blue there. Not so the Atlantic Ocean I played in as a child |
If I wanted to set a scene in Suez, I would have to research
what it looked like. One day perhaps I will go and see it for myself, but it won’t look as it did a hundred years ago.
My head already holds a composite historic picture of East
Africa’s major port. From photos I know
its landscape, its buildings. From many
eyewitness accounts I know the colors, the bustle, the emotional impact it had
on arriving passengers.
By the time the second book in my African series came along,
I also knew quite a bit about how people traveled from Europe to British East
Africa—and to German East Africa and South Africa for that matter.
The facts were easy to come by, from the Handbook of British East Africa, 1912, a
copy of which is in the New York Public Library. Just recently, I found a reprint I could
afford (originals run in the thousands of dollars—if you can find one!). For people of the time, the book had invaluable
advice. Today, it is a complete guide
for this historical novelist. How else
would I discover details like: The quickest and most comfortable, therefore the
preferred route, from London was by train to Marseilles and then steamer to Mombasa
via Suez. The handbook also has ads
telling which companies offered passage, their schedules, and the price of
various levels of accommodation.
The Idol of Mombasa, my
upcoming book, begins with Vera and Justin Tolliver coming home to Africa after
a honeymoon in Yorkshire, Glasgow, and Italy in January 1912. I chose for them the steamship Galacian of the Union-Castle Line.
Founded in 1853, Union-Castle operated cargo and passenger
ships serving this route from 1900 till 1977, when it went out of
business. The Galacian, built in Belfast, was turned into a hospital ship during
World War I. In March of 1917, it was
damaged by UC-65, a German submarine. A
year later another German submarine torpedoed and sank it.
 |
| This is a poster printed on metal. It sits on a shelf over my computer. I found it on a rack outside a fancy stationary store on an elegant street between Piazza Navona and the Ponte Sant'Angelo in Rome!!! |
In my story, arriving at the same time as Vera and Tolliver,
is the Grand Mufti of Egypt, a character whose presence plays a pivotal role in
the action. He comes on a different
line: Deutsche Ost-Afrika Linne, which
was established in 1890, to compete with the British ships, which dominated the
market.
In the last scene of
the book, the Egyptian clergyman leaves Mombasa, this time sailing on a French steamer
of the Compagnie des Messageries Maritime (Certainly the most romantic name for
a shipping company. How it sings to
me!) This one even had
nicknames—“MesMar” and “MM.” It was
privatized in 1996, and now operates under the totally prosaic name of CMA
CGM. UGH!
The British-India Steam Navigation Company, founded in 1856,
sailed mainly between the British Isles and India, but since there was a great
deal of interplay between India and British East Africa, this line also served
Mombasa.
I have always said, romantic as I am and with a soul
overtaken by historical fiction, I would not want to have lived in a time when
there was no deodorant, hot showers, or painless dentistry. But I would put up with a great deal of
discomfort for the experience of steaming through Suez on one of those ships of
yore. As long as I could come back to
the present—horrifying as it often is these days.
Oh, for a time machine!
