For those of you who read No.36 and are waiting with bated breath for news of why the Kenyan Open is “Magical”, the answer is rather boringly simple. The tournament is being heavily sponsored by the Kenyan Tourist Board, who not unnaturally would like us all to think of Kenya as magical and that isn’t difficult. Even with my very limited experience of it so far, it certainly is. The thing that has really struck me is the friendliness of the people, who simply couldn’t make you feel more welcome. However, the whole scene at the golf club is slightly surreal. There is a heavy military presence with combat clothing clad soldiers at every turn, most of them carrying the ubiquitous AK47, the Kalashnikov. It’s reasonable to presume that the magazines are loaded with live ammunition and presumably they are briefed to make use of them in given circumstances. I’m not sure whether to be reassured by their presence or alarmed that its considered necessary! I am certain though that I won’t be testing their patience or attempting to discover what the line is that mustn’t be crossed.
That reminds me of one of the most embarrassing incidents of my early life, which occurred when I was a very young officer in the RAF Regiment in Northern Ireland, back in 1972. My Squadron was responsible for the defence of RAF Aldergrove next to Belfast Airport. One dark evening I thought it would be highly amusing to test the airfield’s defences by trying to get through the perimeter wire. I thought I had found a hole in the barbed wire on the road that lead to the Officers Mess. I was halfway into the entangled mess when I heard a Land Rover approaching. I was convinced that in my camouflage kit and in the dark I would be safe, but it was an army patrol returning from another very unpleasant night in Belfast and a sharp-eyed soldier spotted this illegal intruder. They came to a screeching halt and challenged me. As I crawled back out from the wire and explained who I was and what I was doing I felt smaller than Tom Thumb before he’d reached adolescence. It was hideously embarrassing and took me a long time to live down. Fortunately my fellow officers on the Squadron never heard about it (until now!), otherwise life would have been truly unbearable. It’s amazing how so many of us very junior officers thought we knew everything about everything, when the reality was we knew almost nothing about very little. Now I come to think about it, there are a few of my young colleagues on the TV crew who possibly fall into the same category!
An essential part of my military life, both on the ground and later in the air, involved using radios a lot, with good communication an essential part of daily life. In that regard, not much has changed since I got into broadcasting thirty six years ago. It doesn’t matter how well you speak, if the kit doesn’t work you are helpless. Sadly I spent much of today wandering around a beautiful course watching some good golf, but unable to transmit my extraordinarily wise and entertaining words to the viewing and occasionally listening millions because the bloody equipment refused to play ball. It’s not that I’m frustrated but………where’s that bottle.
Kwaheri na nakupenda.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 