From Another Era

It seemed Kimani came from another era, another time period in Kenya when everything was still a colony and growing coffee and tea was just one big experiment.  He was like a character straight out of Isak Dinesen or Osa Johnson's books.  Well-worn hands. Slightly hunched shoulders. Lanky.  Sage.  He walked through the forest without making a sound.  He knew every rock and tree and plant, even their scientific names. He could tell you what medicinal purpose they served and how tall they grew.  He could tell you how some trees were destroyed and how some grew back.  He could tell you of the colobus monkey who lived on the farm roof and his mischievous ways. He could tell you of how to cut the tea leaves off properly.

He spoke slowly, with his Kikuyu-like accent. And he promised he knew his way out of the forest we were about to enter.  I had no problems trusting him.

Kiambethu Tea Farm is one of those places where you stop and you tell yourself, "I could live here forever."  It was a little slice of heaven on earth.  Tranquil.  Serene.  Quaint.  We met Fiona, the farm's owner and after being in her presence for just a few moments, I found myself wanting to use words like "bloody" and "corker" an awful lot.  (I refrained.)  She's this petite, soft-spoken woman with a lovely British accent and an even lovelier farm to boot.  She grew up in Kenya - or Keen-ya - as they say, having come from a heritage of tea farmers.  She spent some time explaining the process of growing tea, harvesting it, selling it and so on.  Then we wandered through the forest with Kimani, along with the farms' dogs, who seemed well-acquainted with every stop along the way, as they would stop and sit quietly while Kimani gave his speech, knowing when it was time to move on.

After the forest walk, we wandered back to the main house and had lunch (mashed potatoes and roast beef - my stomach wasn't sure what to do!) with 3 Austrians who had just climbed Mt. Kenya, one man who had worked with NGOs all over the world, claiming Afghanistan surprisingly enough as his favorite place, a woman from Zimbabwe who was a classically trained singer, an elderly neighbor of Fiona's and Fiona herself.  So many stories, so many lives intersecting on this small plot of land in the hills of Kenya. 

I loved my time at the tea farm and would love to go back soon.  Oddly enough, though, I had a cup of coffee.  I know, shame on me for drinking coffee at a Kenyan tea farm.