Having a godfather named King has opened many doors for me in my life journey spanning over half a century. Visiting my godparents, Mr. and Mrs. King at their Kitisuru residence in Nairobi, in the 1960s and later in 1980s at their Walpole home in Suffolk, United Kingdom was like a trip to Disneyland, exciting, humbling and satisfying.
When I was a toddler, my parents would take my four siblings and me to visit the elderly couple who served in the Royal Airforce as a pilot and at Maendeleo Ya Wanawake as a volunteer, respectively, at their posh residence in Nairobi’s leafy Lower Kabete neighbourhood.
The Kings had been invited my parents to attend my baptism and to stand in as my godparents. My mother had met and became friends with Mrs. King during her stint as a member of MYWO in the early 1960s.
During our exciting and treasured family outings to The Kings, we would wear our Sunday best outfits and be in our best behaviour lest we annoy our parents and are excluded. I would always brag to our friends and neighbours in Nairobi West ‘Mbaos (timber houses) saying: “We are going to visit my godfather, The King!”
And off we would go and squeeze in my father’s Volkswagen (VW) Beetle and enjoy the dreams of what lay ahead more than the ride and the company.
Visiting The King
On arrival, the couple would receive us like royalty, and give me extra attention as they served us with cookies, juice and later high tea. The home was like a scene from the Garden of Eden in the Bible, the gardens were well tendered with flowers, trees and shrubs lining the drive way, and butterflies and a variety of birds had a field day.
The spacious sitting room had a wall of books, while the building was sparkling clean and was well decorated. It left us imagining how much better Buckingham Palace, the official residence of the Queen of England, in London, would look like if these were the standards of her subjects in a former British colony!
By then, my godmother had started a tradition of sending me a standard $1 dollar birthday present through my mother every year without failing after she had opened a postal bank account for me. That opened my eyes to money matters early in my tender age.
First forward to April 1997
I had the privilege to visit my godparents at their retirement home in Suffolk in the United Kingdom. Thanks to an uncle, Joseph Jotham Orlale, who was a Kenya Airways supervisor. He organized for me a staff complimentary round trip ticket from Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (JKIA) to Ipswich Airport in the United Kingdom.
The standby ticket on Lufthansa, German Airline, had my name and destination marked very clearly, and with the amount of fare marked as: “0.000000.” In other words, it was freebie and would only be used when there was an empty seat in the plane whenever a paid up customer was late or cancelled his or her trip.
The 8-hour flight was very exciting as it was my maiden trip to Europe and to the land of my godparents whom I had admired and kept communicating with through letter writing over the years even when I was studying at University of Arizona in Tucson, the United States, after they retired and relocated to Suffolk from Kenya.
On landing at Ipswich Airport at dawn, the couple was at hand to receive me and my hand luggage. They introduce me to their pet and then drive me to their home on the banks of a river in a village set up. But I was unable to get my luggage which I was later informed was off loaded at Frankfurt International Airport in Germany, where I was expected to alight and connect with another flight to the UK, but I ‘forgot’ and sat through!
The breathtaking view of the British countryside was not only refreshing, but relaxing. It reminded me of cool weather and the tendered tea and coffee plantations in Kericho and Limuru areas back home. Once in the home, they welcomed me with a cook glass of juice and sandwich before giving me time to unwind and clear the jet lag.
After I woke from my slumber land, it was time for a delicious warm lunch before my godfather took me and his pet on a tour of several tourist attractions like the Dover Castle and East Anglia Museum. In the evening Mr King shocked me with a sundowner, ale, brewed in his garage. When I asked him whether it was illegal to have a brewery in one’s house, he was amused and said the law allowed anyone to brew a drink as long as it was for domestic and not for sale to the public!
While on the road, I was shocked by sounds of gunfire and when I asked my godfather he told me they were electronic recordings in hidden speakers around the large scale farms used by farmers to chase and scare away birds from their farms!
Awesome British countryside
The next day was more interesting as the couple took me to lunch at a beautiful restaurant in downtown Suffolk and a visit to a port town overlooking the French coastline across the British channel, which is the narrow arm of the Atlantic Ocean separating the Southern coast of England from the North Sea.
We later visited Cambridge University, some 150Km away, and toured the second oldest campus in the UK, founded in 1209. The massive building was not only a marvel, but the architectural design; landscaping and well stocked library was a scene to behold. No wonder they refer to it as “an Ivory Tower!”
The significance was that Cambridge University had a memorandum of Understanding with the colonial government and later the Kenyan government until mid-1960s to have all Form Four and Form Six candidates sit the national examination, called Cambridge, then have the papers airlifted from the three East African states (Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania), have them marked and returned.
However, my UK holiday was not without a hitch. During one of the tours, the pet insisted on taking the front seat reserved for my godmother. After pretending for the first day, I demanded for my place the following day; the dog was not amused being forced to go back and by the window as I enjoyed the co-driver’s seat and conversing with my godfather, his company and good sense of humour.
One of them was about the very straight roads made of stones by the Romans during their occupation of the United Kingdom. I thanked him for sharing that part of British Empire story that was not included in the Kenyan syllabus.
Tom Mboya UK Airlift
On the eve of my departure to London by train, the airline telephoned my godfather and informed him that my luggage that had gone missing between JKIA and Ipswich had been found and would be delivered immediately. The confusion was caused by my decision not to disembark at Frankfurt International Airport in Germany and connect with another flight to the UK.
I arrived in London and was excited about one of the most famous cities in the world, especially for those from the former British colonies who had been taught almost everything about it, its people, politics, geography and Royal Family.
From the train station I detoured to visit an international book publisher, Edward Arnold Publishers, who had employed one of my siblings, Kenneth Cainan Orlale, as their Kenya Country Director.
The official took me to a restaurant for lunch and then connected me with the famous London Double Decker bus heading to my uncle, James Agutu’s residence, where I was accommodated for four days.
But the link with my uncle, James Agutu, and my cousins, was a nightmare after I alighted.
My uncle had gone to university there in the 1960s under Tom Mboya airlift programme. But the most famous airlift for Kenyan students was to the USA by the likes of Barack Obama Sr, the father to Barack Obama, the 44th US President (2008-16).
For an agonising one hour, I was unable to connect with a cousin who had been sent to pick me by foot and take me to their house. The problem was communication breakdown: I had a Kenyan-US accent while my cousin had a heavy English accent. The road signboard showing the name of the street was also a headache. It was on a high wall, not at the eye level as we are used to in Nairobi.
We later connected and he helped me carry my luggage to their flat some 200 metres away on the second floor where he introduced me to my uncle, who relocated to the UK in the early 1960s to search for a job and later decided to marry and settle there as a train driver.
Coming to London
The next day, I went on a day’s tour of London and visited the famous Buckingham Palace, official residence of the Queen of England; West Minister Abbey built in 960 AD. and later rebuilt in 1517; it is famous for serving as a site for royal coronations and burials; Parliament, London Bridge and The Tower of London (Big Ben) among others.
I also had an opportunity to go shopping at one of the biggest malls I had ever seen by then where I had the responsibility to buy bridal dresses for my brother Joe Kimko’s fiancée, and her team.
Those were days of the telephone landlines and it was really stressful agreeing on the colour, design and dress sizes, especially as far as the length of the skirts was concerned. My bro and his fiancée were bother conservative and were born-again Christians who would not tolerated mini-skirts!
I used my discretion and balanced our needs and wants as far as the budget was concerned and bought the beautiful outfits which were packed ready for the overnight flight the following day.
One of my cousins later escorted me to the bus stop and later to the train station for my connection to Heathrow International Airport for my dawn flight to JKIA.
Stress galore
I missed the flight by a whisker15 minutes, and was forced to literally beg the Alitalia Airline ground crew to allow me to take the next flight, which would be 12 hours later.
It was stress and more stress as I tried to explain why I was late by 30 minutes; why I should be allowed to use a stand by ticket on another airline; and the headache of communicating in English to an Italian whose pronunciation was something out of this world.
Anyway, we had to agree somehow. He told me to stay put and wait for the midnight flight, hoping against hope that a vacant seat would be available.
So with that good news, I made the best of the waiting time by taking long walks along the walkways, visiting bookshops and music shops to entertain myself and learn what the market had to offer.
The clock had never crawled like it did during my marathon wait. At 11 o’clock, I was all set for the trip in an hour’s time. The crew helped me to clear and board the long-awaited flight back home. It was a big relief when I finally boarded the flight, settle down and took a much-needed sleep after taking a sumptuous meal and downing it with drinks.
Eight hours later, we landed at JKIA and I not only sent a thanks-giving prayer, but sighed in relief to see the “Karibuni Kenya” sign.
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