Mervyn Maciel when he was a government official in Marsabit.
Having recently celebrated my 95th birthday, and with my memory still intact, I am keen to record some remarkable events during my two decades in the Kenyan Civil Service from 1947 in this new series for the Weekly Review.
In this third instalment, I recall my unusual trip to northern Kenya as a newly-wed and a touching turn of events * The year was 1952, and I had just got married in Kitale to Elsie, the love of my life, and was returning to my post in Marsabit with my new wife who had never before been to that part of northern Kenya.
I wondered how a young girl who was so used to the social life in Kitale would adapt to the quiet and sometimes solitary life of a wife in the wilds of Kenya.
I knew she had experienced a slice of this lonely life when she visited me during my stay in Turkana. I had invited her and her family to spend a few days with me at Lodwar.
She seemed to have enjoyed her short stay in Turkana and often told me how much she was looking forward to experiencing life in Marsabit once we were married.
I needn’t have worried as she coped quite well with the rough road journey from Isiolo to Marsabit, sitting alongside me in the front seat of the trader’s cab without any problem at all.
It was a unique trip as we were on our honeymoon at the time!
How many of us would think of spending our honeymoon on the long, rough road to northern Kenya, I wonder! Well, my brand-new wife and I were made of sterner stuff and looked forward to this rare trip of a lifetime. I sometimes wonder how my mother-in-law would react to our journey since my wife was known to be a bad traveller, often getting car sick on long journeys.
This time, her experience was quite the opposite! Amazing what married life can do to a young bride venturing out into the wilds of Northern Kenya.
As was the custom, we had left Isiolo late in the evening because of the excessive daytime heat and had now camped out in the open at the Rendille village of Laisamis.
Despite the odd hour of the night, there to greet us were several Rendille warriors and, surprisingly, the chief of the area – Chief Ejerre. My wife and I were both overcome by the warm reception we received from everyone.
We were tired and sleepy, but no such strain showed on the faces of those who came to greet us. They seemed genuinely happy to see us and this warm welcome made us feel so much at home.
They were genuinely so welcoming and this has remained in my heart to this very day.
It was during this romantic journey that the incident I am about to relate took place.
As we were preparing to retire to bed for the night in the open, with the African star-lit sky to greet us, a Rendille woman, to whom we had given a lift, walked up to my wife in a distressed and worried state.
She was carrying her little son who was burning with a fever, and the woman wondered if my wife had any dawa (medicine) that could help relieve the boy’s condition.
Running through her handbag, my wife found an aspirin tablet she was carrying just in case she felt any discomfort on this journey.
She promptly broke the tablet in half and, getting a drink of water, got the little boy to swallow it. Visibly upset at seeing the little boy suffering, and wondering how he would cope on the long journey, sitting on top of the truck with his mother, my wife hoped that the ‘magic’ tablet would do the trick.
We thought nothing of this incident, but many months later, this very same woman appeared outside our Marsabit home carrying her son who looked a picture of health and holding him up said to my wife, in Kiswahili, Huyu ni yule mtoto wa huko Laisamis (this is the little boy you helped at Laisamis).
She said she had come to thank my wife.
I cannot tell you how humbled my newly arrived wife felt to see the trouble this poor woman had gone to just to express her gratitude for what we considered was something quite insignificant and normal in the circumstances.
To thank this good lady for taking the trouble to travel all the way from her manyatta, my wife offered her a mug of tea which she gratefully accepted.
That was not all – before leaving us, she kept repeatedly thanking my wife and holding her hand she said Watoto wengi.
By this, she meant my wife should be blessed with many children. We were both humbled to see the trouble the woman had gone through merely to come and thank my wife.
That simple act of kindness left a lasting impression on my wife and me, making us feel truly humbled, especially since my wife had not done anything out of the ordinary but merely tried to do what any decent human being would do in similar circumstances.
Coming from Kitale, a more developed part of Kenya, I initially wondered how my wife would take to these new and desolate surroundings.
But she seemed to love the place, and above all, the residents. Within a few days of our arrival at our new home, my wife was feted by the women of the township who turned up in their bright clothes, singing and dancing and ululating to welcome us both as newly-weds and showering my wife with gifts.
Earlier on, during our journey, we were given gifts of live sheep to welcome my brand new wife to Marsabit. She was overcome with emotion and hugged the women in a display of gratitude.
Seeing how welcome she had been made, I was convinced she would have no difficulty in settling down in her new surroundings.
This feeling was later enforced when she met many of my office colleagues. They were all so pleased to see and welcome her, and it is no exaggeration when I say that she was truly in love with the place and the people!
