The Knife

One of the objects kept in the little brown suitcase - see earlier blog post here - is this bone-handled sheath knife. Considering it must be almost seventy years old and has suffered decades of neglect it's in remarkably good condition. It's small, the case being less than six inches long, and the blade is a wicked three inches in length.

I was given it by my parents, probably when I was about seven. I don't think it was given to me as a form of protection, even though we lived in wildest Africa; it was more that wearing and learning to use a knife was something that small boys were expected to do - though I have to say that I do not remember any of our friends wearing one.

Both Richard and I had one of these sheath knives and we wore them whenever we could. So if we were accompanying our parents to one of their friends' houses, as we were in this picture, it seems to have been okay to wear it. However, they were stored away carefully when we flew back to England each September, and putting them back on was one of the joyous moments on our return to Mombasa in the summer.

A close-up of Richard's belt reveals two things. The sheath knife was worn on a stretchy 'snake' belt, which had a metal snake as a fastening. While they can still be bought, I note that one is in the V&A's collection. It also shows that Richard was wearing a bracelet, which most of us did, made usually of elephant hair.

In an age when it is difficult to find clothing which doesn't bear the prominent logo of some 'famous' manufacturer - something I hate - it's interesting to note that the only writing on my knife is in tiny letters at the top of the blade, now so rusted it is illegible, and hidden on the inside of the leather sheath where the words 'Made in England' are just distinguishable. So I presume the blade is best Sheffield steel - which would explain why it has lasted so well.