I grew up in Nairobi in the 50s and have vivid memories of Mau Mau although I was oblivious then and for a long time thereafter to the horrific treatment of detainees and natives in the reserves and on farms.
I came across the following in a book my father, J M Nazareth, wrote about his political career in Kenya in the years preceding independence. The book is titled
Brown Man, Black Country: On the foothills of Uhuru.
The pusine judgeship that Rawcliffe [D H Rawcliffe,
The Struggle for Kenya, 1954] mentions was an acting judgeship in 1953, expected to last about three weeks to try Mau Mau cases carrying a mandatory death sentence. Offers had been made to N.S. Mangat and Jall Sorabjeee, both of whom had served as presidents of the Kenya Law Society ... My wife was against my accepting, fearing the danger believed to be involved. Asians had been complaining for many years about not being appointed to the Judiciary. For that reason and because I considered it to be the duty of citizens to assist in the maintenance of law and order I felt bound to accept this unwelcome offer. However, I thought I would consult Apa Pant, the Indian High Commissioner. As he was of the same opinion, I had any doubts removed, and I accepted. In the event the tenure lasted about five weeks instead of the expected three weeks. When, however, the registrar suggested that I continue or serve for another period I declined. The obligations of my practice demanded my return and I found the strain of trying a bullet case (being found with a bullet in your possession) which also carried a mandatory death sentence, unbearable. In that case I had been able to acquit the accused, for it was not until the third search, after he had been in police custody for an hour or some hours or possibly days, that the bullet was claimed to have been found in his shirt. But I felt myself unable to face another trial of a bullet case. I bought a revolver on accepting this appointment and used to sleep with it near my pillow, the first and only revolver I owned. I had done some target shooting with my brother's revolver at Nakuru, but from this new revolver I never fired a shot. When I went for a holiday to England I surrendered it and, having had enough trouble looking after it and preventing my Kikuyu house-servant from any certain knowledge that I had it, I did not reclaim it. The government ultimately retained the revolver without my receiving any payment or compensation for it.
Brown Man, Black Country, p. 174