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Ruby

As my previous post was a letter I thought I’d continue the theme with the next one. This one is not as mysterious but it describes a stunning place of natural beauty with an abundance of wildlife seen from the air; a birds eye view from a small plane. Lake Naivasha is a shallow fresh water lake in Kenya, just outside of the town of Naivasha in Nakuru County. It was always, still is, a favourite stop on any journeys through the Great Rift Valley.

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This is an extract of a letter written by my Mum, Annette to her cousin M and his wife P having taken journey in his plane “Jack” from their farm Karamaini in Thika. It is dated 21st February 1994. The painting is by Vera Baker dated ’58 and shows Crescent Island which divides the crater from the lake with the Kinangop on the horizon, most likely bought at The Bell Inn which is found on Moi Avenue in Naivasha town.

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When you asked if we would like to fly with you from the farm to Lake Naivasha to be truthful I was a bit scared.

But during the past year my eyes have been opened in a new way to incredible beauty. The sunlight heightens my awareness of trees, flowers, birds, animals, hills and valleys. I see so many shades of colour, textures, the vastness of the blue sky, the clouds.

Although I felt a little apprehensive I agreed but checked I had a plastic bag in case I was sick. As you were making the flight preparations I began to feel more relaxed.

Everything looks so different from the air. It is indescribable. There is so much to see – the ridges and a stream in almost every valley. There were buildings, single story with the occasional double story, churches and glinting mbati huts, some red rooves. Intense cultivation, more trees, dark green coffee bushes, bright green tea, the brown earth, even a few rows of cabbages. A large house with a fence around it. The forest, and acres of fir trees, and then something had killed the bush, dead trees, what was it? Aphids or fire? – blackened soil close to a road – it was probably fire. We were buffeted a bit but the plane kept going.

When we we reached the escarpment, I could see two very distinct shelves. We passed Naivasha. We were almost there. It was a grey day with not much blue around the sky. The light on the lake water was iridescent, a whisper of pink, like the inside of an enormous oyster shell. I saw Crescent island. Where was the pearl? We were almost there. People waved from the ground. We hit an air pocket. Jack shot up and down, landing squarely on his feet.

I heard you and Stan talking about the landing. The wind had been blowing in the wrong direction but I had been oblivious to any difficulty. I felt the sun and the breeze, the shelter and the shade of the little plane. We had a pic-nic feast, we met the other people. We examined the excavations of the house foundations that was being built. The solid rock had been broken up and removed.

We drove to your plot and I studied the scrub, the lake, the hills and the peace, joy, an ever changing picture. We try to capture the most precious moments of our lives – but they are gone. We moved on further. You and Stan left me and I sat under a tree. I listened. I heard the wind whistling in the branches, a lighter sound in the bushes. I felt the warmth of the sun. A bird twittered, a fleeting moment of silence.

I heard your voices long before you returned. We went back to the plane and the weather had changed. There was blue sky and a few clouds and soon we were airborne. More fleeting glimpses of creation, a herd of buffalo, waterbuck, flamingos, pelicans. The lake, boats sailing out from Crescent island – all passed by in a flash. We were over the forest and those trees – infinite variety and shapes – green, brown, red – the giant ferns in the gullies, dense bamboo. This time I was more aware of the roads. The old Naivasha Road. It looked good from the air. I could not see the huge holes and bumps. Of course they were there otherwise there’d have been no track, so thick with dust along both sides. The main road, it appeared straight and good. I could not see from that height the crack that was already appearing. The tarmac road through the forest, earth tracks along the ridges winding up and down through the valleys and sharp bends. One steep slope which seemed to have been washed away, a small footpath, a stretch of solid grey stone.

Then we were back over the coffee farms and dams, farmsteads, an avenue of stately trees topped by yellow blossoms. Jack perked up. He knew he was nearly home. Karamaini House, the garden and all too soon we had landed. Jack was back in his hangar. It was a never to be forgotten day. An experience that will live in our memories.

The photo above is one taken in 2024. Our traditional stop at The Bell Inn is still there but we stopped at Buffalo Mall, a retail mall development on the Trans-Africa Highway where we ate our lunch.

I have always felt there is something special about Lake Naivasha, it is a place I love.