This happened barely three years after Kenya had attained independence. The government’s agenda was to develop its citizens and give them jobs, land and business opportunities for national growth. Children who had performed well in their exams were being given scholarships to study abroad. Those were the days when people with various desirable academic qualifications were taken from their homes to go and serve in government offices, schools, industries, corporate organizations and other places.
Having stopped schooling in class 8, I did not possess meaningful academic papers (certificate, diploma or degree) that could help me secure a white collar job. Even though the white collar jobs were not as limited in those days as they are now, I knew I stood no chance of serving in an office. The realistic option for me was to use my hands and other relevant life skills to eke out a living. I was ready to do any kind of job. I had done a lot of farm work at home, and I did not mind doing more as long as it would enable me to generate income and stop me from having to beg from people.
I arrived in Nairobi and came face-to-face with a huge city full of people. I did not know anybody here. I could not even figure out my way around the many streets. There were many people rushing about, everyone minding their own business, not talking to each other. This was not what I was used to back in my village. Nobody greeted me in Nairobi. I would have received many greetings in Kangundo.
I walked through the streets, admiring the levels of development. The buildings were big and clean. The roads were good. Everything looked smart. The people were well dressed. The items on display in the shops were marvellous. There were so many people in town. But I also noticed a couple of beggars and street families.
After walking aimlessly through the city, I became very hungry. I had not tasted a meal since I left Kangundo three days previously. I had been surviving on only water and wild fruits. I slept on the town pavement for another two nights. On the third day, I walked outside the city and found myself in one of the high-end estates. It was mainly inhabited by Europeans and Asians. It had nice bungalows. The compounds were full of trees and well-manicured lawns. The gates were large and made of iron. Years later, I learned that this was the Runda estate.
I knocked on one of the gates repeatedly until an Asian woman came out. She was visibly angry. “Why are you disturbing us?” she asked me. I told her that I was desperate and I wanted some food to eat. She hesitated for a moment and then told me, “Come inside.” She gave me some very good food, and I gulped it down quickly.
I thanked her profusely for her kind gesture. I then told her I was looking for a job. “I will do any job you want,” I told her.
She did not mull it over for long. She called one of the senior workers, who came running, and instructed him to assign me duties in the garden.
I became engaged in tilling the garden, cutting grass, pruning flowers, washing clothes and cooking in the kitchen, among other domestic chores. My salary was 65 Kenyan shillings (KSh65) per month. This was good money at the time. I could afford to buy clothes and even had money for my mother and siblings.
Suddenly my life changed. It was now good. I did not worry about my next meal, because I was given three meals a day by my employer. Plus, I was given a room and a bed to sleep on. I repeatedly thanked God for creating this chance for me.
While doing this work, I exhibited a lot of patience, honesty, trustworthiness and commitment. Most importantly, I obeyed my employer. Every time I was assigned a duty I ensured that I accomplished it well. Generally, I liked doing my work with a degree of perfection. Whenever I cleaned the compound I ensured it was thorough. The same applied to washing utensils and even pruning flowers. Some of my fellow workers complained that the pay was so little; they felt like we were slaves who suffered as others enjoyed. But I had a different opinion. I told them I had come from a worse situation than this. So I had every reason to like my job and be happy.
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Six months later, the man I was working for, Mr. De Souza, though I hardly interacted with him, decided to transfer me from his house in Nairobi to his company (Kakuzi Ltd.) in Thika, where he was the managing director. Initially I never knew where my employer worked. All I gathered was that he was a rich man who owned a palatial home in the city, drove a very nice car, bought so many things for his family, and occasionally held parties for his friends at his house.
So on that morning, on the day of transfer, I received a message that the boss wanted to see me. I was scared. Most people who received such messages ended up being sent away. Normally, when the boss summoned us, we rushed to clean our hands and feet before going to meet him. I quickly spruced myself up and rushed to the main house. I was told to dress well and wait at the gate.
When the tall man came out of the house, he called me to enter his Mercedes car. I could not believe what I was experiencing—a shamba boy being given a ride in his employer’s luxurious car. We went for about one hour along the present Thika road, past Thika town, before reaching the Kakuzi farm, where he appointed me to serve as a farm clerk. This was a very huge promotion. I worked both in the office and on the farm. My duties included keeping a record of workers who had reported on duty. This farm had over 200 workers. My salary increased. Slowly but surely, my life was beginning to take a new turn. God had released His favour upon me.
Here I exhibited strong managerial and leadership skills and was further promoted to the position of an assistant manager. My job entailed assigning workers their duties in the farm and supervising the coffee picking process.
While working in Kakuzi I met and fell in love with Esther Nthenya, who was also a casual worker, and we eventually got married on December 22, 1970.
Then came another step forward. In 1971, I joined Strabag Road Construction Company in Mwea, Embu County, where I was put in charge of the stores. I was not given a specific title, but this position was similar to a procurement officer. I was involved in receiving construction materials from suppliers, storing them, issuing them to workers and keeping records.
Later that year, Strabag was awarded a tender to construct the Timboroa-Eldoret and Nyaru-Eldoret roads in the then Rift Valley Province. I was transferred to this region in the same capacity.
In 1972, the Strabag Company completed its road construction project in Kenya and embarked on a new project in Saudi Arabia. I was offered an opportunity to continue working with Strabag in the new location in the Middle East. But after a moment of soul-searching, I declined the offer and opted to remain in Nyaru, where I continued to engage in various business activities, mainly public transport.
I became a bona fide resident of Nyaru. This was a forested place with temperatures much colder than I was used to. The transport system was very poor. It was not easy to travel to Eldoret due to a lack of vehicles. Eventually I decided to start a matatu (taxi) business along the Eldoret-Nyaru route. I drove the vehicle myself. My business expanded, and I bought minibuses. I christened the company Mullyways, and it operated between Kapenguria, Eldoret, Nairobi and Machakos.
Besides the transport business, I operated a small shop in Nyaru that was managed by my wife, Esther. I also engaged in different agricultural ventures, which included dairy farming, poultry keeping and large-scale farming of maize in Uasin-Gishu for commercial purposes.
With time, my business ventures flourished, and I built a house in Pioneer Estate in the town of Eldoret, where I relocated with my family. I diversified further by opening a hardware shop and establishing Mullyways Agencies Ltd., a multi-purpose company that dealt in insurance, microfinance, real estate agency, security and debt collection. I even bought 50 acres of land on the Thika River in Ndalani that I would use a retirement property for our family.
Esther and I were blessed with seven children: Janey, Grace, Ndondo, Kaleli, Mueni, Isaac and Dickson. We also adopted and raised Miriam, my youngest sister. I enrolled them for school in the then prestigious Kaptagat Preparatory. As a devoted family man, I ensured that my children grew up to be responsible people. I led them in daily devotions where they sang and memorized Bible verses. Everything had exceeded my wildest expectations.
At least that’s what I thought.
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