Forty years later, I am yet to understand why my eldest brother, Martin Juma Orlale, chose Yuma, Arizona, of all the places in the 50 plus states in the United States of America (USA) for his higher education, in 1975. But for whatever reason, I ended up joining him in the wildest and hottest parts of the US, five years later in 1980, to pursue a degree in Journalism and Economics.
By then my bro Martin had graduated with a Bachelor of Science (BSc) degree in Agronomy at University of Arizona, in Tucson Arizona. Martin was winding up his stay before returning to Kenya to join the civil service as the Kwale district Agricultural Extension Officer in Coast province (has since been renamed county and region, respectively).
My maiden trip to the US was in a direct Pan-American overnight flight from Jomo Kenyatta International Airport (JKIA) in Nairobi to John Fitzgerald Kennedy (JFK) International Airport in New York, some 11,840 Kilometers, with a brief stopover in Monrovia, Liberia, in West Africa.
Maiden flight
Armed with my treasured student’s visa, I connected with a Delta Airlines plane to cross from East to West Coast and landed at Los Angeles, in California, another 3,935 Kilometers, where I made a three-day stop over.
I was hosted in LA by Sam Okungu, who doubled as a family friend, relative and Kenya's Tourism Attaché and Consular-General. Okungu later booked me in a Greyhound Bus service for the 726 Kilometer-day trip to my new home in Tucson for the next five years. The over seven-hour ride was both an eye opener for me to see the American countryside and ordinary folks traveling in our bus, driving and going about their business along the marathon route.
That was a far cry from the glamour portrayed effectively in the American popular magazines, newspapers, radio programmes, television shows, Hollywood movies and local and international news bulletins.
By then one of the most popular Kenya Broadcasting Corporation (KBC) TV series was Dallas, which focused on the opulent and flamboyant Ewing family and their huge ranch and family infighting, sexual and financial scandals among others.
On the music scene, leading artists like The Temptations, Elvis, Michael Jackson and The Jackson Fives, Diana Ross, Isaac Hayes, Kenny Rodgers, Lionel Ritchie and The Commodores, Barry White, and Aretha Franklin among others dominated the airwaves and disco scene during our teenage years.
My mind raced on as our Greyhound bus driver took us across California and into Arizona; it wandered between my mission to get an education and the opportunity to "enjoy" life in the land of the free and the melting pot of different cultures, religions and nationalities from all over the world in to make the mighty USA what it was in the 1980s.
During the long trip, I took a break from the boring scenery of farmlands, desert and a few small towns along the way by taking a nap. I later convinced some three teenagers who sat opposite me to allow me to join them in playing chess, my favorite board game. They obliged, and didn't I love it! They were shocked that: "A native from Africa" not only knew how to play the game invented in India and later adopted as “royal game” in Europe and was the preferred game of Kings and Queens, but that I thrashed them all, and to add pain to injury, in four tactical moves!
Fast forward to my arrival in Tucson in the evening where my bro welcomed me with a long-waited bear’s hug and warm handshake. He then ushered me to his huge American gas-guzzler car and drove me to his two-bedroomed apartment near the University of Arizona, as we caught up on family and Kenyan news.
My bro shared the apartment with, Peter Kimani, who was a fellow Kenyan, from Kiambu District, and was also a student at U of A. By then the only reliable news source for Kenyan students and expatriates abroad was The Weekly Review, edited and published by veteran Hillary Ng'weno, which was posted and arrived one week later. But the yearning for Kenyan news made the belated issue a gem to not only Kenyan students, but even their colleagues and friends, especially from the East African region.
I took two days to settle down before hitting the ground running by registering as a student and being shown around the massive campus by my bro. For the next six months I was at Centre for English as a Second Language with fellow students from China, Panama, Mexico, Eastern Europe among others.
Cultural shocks
Despite having passed my Kenya Certificate of Secondary Education, with a distinction in English and Literature in the Form Four national examination, I used the English Centre as an entry point into the USA to circumvent the very stringent visa requirements at that time.
My first month on campus was a challenge because of the many cultural shocks, harsh desert weather and adjusting to speaking American English and adopting their culture. Off campus, my orientation was by my bro, who took me out to explore “the real world” at discos, pubs, and house parties organized, almost every fortnight, by fellow Kenyans and or their African colleagues to celebrate one thing or another, or just “the good times!”
My fast shock was a visit a former cathedral at night not to pray but to drink, dance and have fun! The building had been sold to an investor who decided to convert it into a disco club with the pulpit area reserved for the Disc Jockey and the Head Bartender to sell alcoholic drinks, drugs and cigarettes!
The main hall, which had been used by the congregation to seat on pews, was converted to a dance floor with flashing disco lights beaming from the roof top. Meanwhile, in place of ushers, the management had hired some pretty ladies who were dressed in tight, skimpy dresses and hot pants and worked as waitresses.
Before I took a cold can of Coors, the most popular American beer then, that scene had reminded me of hell as my grandma and pa had warned me before my departure to keep off such places saying “Satan” would use them to destroy my bright future! But after settling in and having a few cans of Coors, my eyes “opened” and I was on the dance floor shaking a leg like never before to such hit songs as: “Get down on it” by Cool & The Gang and “You wan’a get started” by Michael Jackson, past midnight when we left and called it a night.
Loss of direction
My second cultural shock was in my first week when I visited my bro at his work place, Jack in the Box, a fast-food restaurant, and lost my sense of direction on my way back to his apartment.
I had never felt so helpless, stupid and rudderless as I did despite the streets and avenues clearly marked numerically and East, West, North and South. It reminded me of a hit song in the 1970s by Chaka Khan, another famous American musician, which had the following lyrics: “I’m on the right street, but wrong direction.”
Indeed, that is how I felt for the next two hours as I sweated profusely; I made silent prayers and hoped against hope that I would get my bearing or just bump into my brother, the only person I knew and who knew I was a visitor from the bundus in Africa. By then I was in the ditch, literally, and decided not to dig any deeper as I had no phone contacts of my brother nor his roommate. Those were days of the landline.
After wandering and wandering, like the biblical Moses and the Israelites in search for the Promised Land, lady luck struck as I finally saw my bro’s apartment right below my nose. Phew! I sighed in relief and dashed into the building for the well-deserved drink, snack and nap.
Once beaten twice shy
That was a baptism by fire! From that day henceforth I ensured I was very cognizant of the directions as I went to college and visited my new found friends and went to the shopping malls.
But my transition was jolted two months later when my bro, who was a jogging enthusiast, got himself on the wrong side of the law when he accompanied his American friends and collegemates to Nogales, a border town between USA and Mexico.
But after the marathon race, they decided to cross over to Mexico to have fun and return later the following day. Their plans were nipped in the bud on their way back by the no nonsense immigration officers who allowed the American citizens to re-enter their country, but blocked my bro and demanded to see his passport and visa.
On examining the visa, the officers asked him to step aside reminding him that his student visa had expired 12 months earlier when he graduated! All attempts by his friends to have him released was in vain. The “small matter” blew up and he was allowed to deposit his passport with them and pay a bond before being released to travel back to Tucson on condition that he would wind up his stay in the US withing 60 days, or face deportation.
What a traumatic experience that was for me. By then our uncle, Joseph, who worked at Kenya Airways in Nairobi, managed to apply and got a round trip complimentary air ticket for my brother and him, the following month.
We had an emotional reunion when uncle Joseph arrived; we made the best of the situation by having quality time during his short visit and return trip with Martin. Tears flowed freely at Tucson international Airport on the day of their departure when I once again found myself facing my future alone, without my parents and siblings to hold my hand.
Tears flowed freely
I picked the pieces and moved on as a roommate of Peter for one month before I relocated to student’s hostels, which were more affordable for a student like me on self-sponsorship.
One of my first roommates in the hostel was a Master’s student from Iraq, I recall how he shared with me his coffee on the eve of an exam and I stayed awake the whole night and almost missed my exam. I later suspected that he had laced it with cocaine or some concentrated drug!
Later, I got a part time job working in the college cafeteria to raise funds for my rent and upkeep as my parents struggled to pay the tuition. Odd Jobs. For the next four years that was the modus operandi as a juggled between my studies, exams, odd jobs and time out to unwind in Sunday church services, discos, pubs and sports events.
A World Apart
One of my best friends was a Nigerian called Akin, who claimed he was a son of a chief, something that was common among most Nigerians. We met one week after he had landed in Tucson; by then he had already furnished his apartment and bought a powerful stereo system and television set; next was a brand-new car in cash and the following month he had secured a sale agreement for a two bedroomed bungalow!
On the lighter side of life, I managed to attend several live musical concerts by musicians and popular bands like Earth Wind & Fire, Cool & The Gang, Luther Vandross, and Kenny Rodgers among others. But I could not afford to travel and buy the highly priced tickets to watch the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, in neighboring Los Angeles in California.
The same applied to Lionel Richie and The Commodores concert during the July 1984 grand opening of the Los Angeles Olympic Games, and was left with no option but to watch him on TV.
On the college life, it was not only book and work, I managed to save some funds to buy a round trip ticket to visit an aunt, Esther Odera, in Omaha, Nebraska, at the height of the airline controllers’ strike which forced US President Ronald Reagan to order the military to take charge which was a big gamble for the crew and passengers.
Honored by Phoenix Rotary Club
The brief visit was very relaxing and enjoyable as my aunt took me around the city and we ended up in a beautiful park with one of the most beautiful flowers, shrubs and trees I had even seen as ducks, geese and other wild birds complimented the serene environment.
The next trip out of my hectic schedule in Tucson was with a Kenyan friend, Michael Mwangi Kamau, by road to Los Angeles (City of Angeles) in California. He was a childhood friend and neighbor at Moi Estate in Nairobi, and also was my elder bro, Kenneth Cainan Orlale’s schoolmate at Lenana School, in Nairobi.
Other day trips were to an Indian reserve occupied by native American Indians in the outskirts of Tucson; the Sabina Canyon to see desert animals, plants and trees; the famous Tucson Old Town, famous as venue for making Hollywood cowboy movies; another trip was to neighboring Phoenix city, the capital of Arizona State, to assist some friends sit the TOEFL, English language test, and the last one was to attend a Rotary Club meeting and luncheon where I was presented with a flag and certificate in recognition of my participation in community programmes in Tucson town.
Back at the University of Arizona, I was actively involved in the Journalism Student’s Editorial team as a writer; and at African Students’ Union (AFSU) where I was the organizing secretary, and also doubled as the Editor of AFSU Newsletter.
The best part of the AFSU stint was the responsibility to organize parties for members, mostly in their apartments and share our unique backgrounds, challenges and successes in college and our dreams together.
During such parties it was common to have friction between Francophone and the Anglophone students with overtones of the colonial hangover issues. Nigerians and Senegalese and Ivorians stood out and were ready to go physical if their favorite lady crossed the floor.
Most of the issue were on egos over the colonial powers, France and Britain, and how they had “brain washed Africans” to believe that they were the best favored the dark continent by bringing civilization to the continent!
I still vividly recall another incident in my apartment where I had a Nigerian as a roommate, when he disagreed with our Ghanaian friend over his claims that: “There are no grass-thatched houses in Ghana, like you have in Nigeria!”
After my four-year stint, I graduated with a Bachelors of Arts degree in Journalism and Economics, and was glad and proud to have my mother, Mary Orlale, who had applied for leave from Standard Bank Limited, her employers, to travel all the way for the graduation, though a week later!
My father, who was the Chief Draftsman at National Housing Corporation (NHC), was expected, but he lost his passport while on transit in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where he had gone to visit a good friend of his, Charles Anyama, who was the Trade Attaché at the Kenyan Embassy.
For the next four days, I showed my mum around, introduced her to my Kenyan and African friends before we packed up and boarded a New York bound plane to meet Mr Okungu, who had been transferred from LA office.
Graduation Day
Okungu once again assisted me to get a travel document to Kenya as I had sent my passport to Washington DC for renewal a month earlier, but there was a delay. After getting my travel documents, my mum and I boarded a Swiss Air flight to Nairobi via Zurich in Switzerland, where I, for once felt ashamed of being an African.
Why? News had just broken of a military coup in Nigeria, as was common in West Africa in the 1970s and 1980s, and the new regime had directed that all diplomats stationed abroad with their families had to reduce them by fifty per cent with immediate effect.
The major impact was that men were only allowed to maintain one wife and five children; the others had to be sent back home. So it was in that atmosphere that we met a village of Nigerians, most of whom had over stayed at the airport for over a week waiting for the national airline to repatriate them.
To be honest without exaggerating, Zurich airport resembled a village market, with women and children dressed casually and speaking at the top of their voices as they played Nigerian music at high volume. They carried everything from hand luggage to TV sets to radios.
Phew! I was glad when the air hostess called out my mother and my name to board the next flight to Nairobi. But there was a small hitch at the customs and immigration desk when one of the officers removed a hammer that I had carried in my hand luggage and demanded an explanation.
“I am a returning student to my country, Kenya, and will need it: it is my souvenirs!” with those words, I demanded to be cleared. She gave in but with a frown.
Nigerians behaving badly
Eight hours later, our flight landed at JKIA and my uncle, Joseph, and elder brother, Ken, were there to welcome and drive us to our parent’s house in Onyonka Estate, in Nairobi. A week later, we organized a re-union party for the Orlale clan to welcome me back home.
Two months later, I received two letters of appointment; Kenya News Agency (KNA) as a Machakos District officer; and Nation Newspapers Limited, as a reporter. I opted for the latter and served for 21 years until 2008.
Fast forward to 2021, I managed to use my network to call and meet two former U of A colleague, Charles Kaburu, who served as a Senior Water Engineer in the Ministry of Water Development before he retired; and Clement Gem Argwings Kodhek, who had been my roommate, who worked at TEGEMEO Institute and as Agriculture Minister William Ruto’s advisor as an Agricultural Economist.
Our other colleague, Ellie Osir, who worked for ICIPE and later IDRC in Malaysia, was unable to make it for the re-union and sent his apologies. Other alumni of University of Arizona whom I have tracked down and been in communication with are Dr Matilda Okech, Samuel Milanya, my eldest brother Martin.
Matilda’s late husband Ben Okech, was the Chairman of the Kenyan Arizona Students Association who welcomed me on arrival in 1980. Matilda graduated and relocated back to Kenya with her husband and children in the 1980s; she worked for ICIPE and later retired from Uganda International University in Uganda; Samuel Milanya, stayed in the US after graduation with a Bachelor of Science in Food Technology and relocated to Kenya in 2017.
My eldest bro, Martin, served the Ministry of Agriculture, UNICEF, German Agro, SISDO, and British Volunteer programme in Papua New Guinea in Far East before he retired. I served Nation Media Group for 21 years, as a Bureau Chief in Kisumu, later as a Senior Parliamentary Reporter before being given an early retirement at 49 years in 2008. I then joined African Woman and Child Feature Service (AWC), whose founder is Rosemary Okello Orlale, my wife and others, where I am the Monitoring and Evaluation Officer and Media Consultant. But I have been unable to track down Ruth Waithera, who was on track scholarship, graduated and returned home; she was later reported to have relocated to Australia.
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