Where residents obey strict code left by missionaries 115 years ago

Images of young men huddled near a hedge in a deserted corner puffing and talking animatedly, conjures up memories of naughty boys defying school authority. The wisps of blue smoke emanating from the group of five men is an act of defiance.

But even in their defiance, the young men are still afraid of consequences. That explains why cigarette sticks have to be gripped between the thumb and the index finger, and the smoker ready to snuff it out in the event an elder appears. In the meantime, the thin thread of smoke has to be constantly fanned downwards lest it betrays their forbidden indulgence.

To a stranger, the young men could be just a bunch of loafers, exchanging banter to counter the unaccommodating chilly weather. In reality, they are labourers contracted to trim overgrown hedges along the narrow road.

The group, whose members are clutching razor sharp slashers and machetes, vanishes like smoke at the approach of a stranger and would not volunteer answers to anyone looking for directions. After all, this is Kijabe where spies lurk behind every hedge and adverse report to the authorities has unthinkable consequences. Everybody lives in the shadow of their omnipresent and unseen ‘spiritual’ fathers.

Not far from where the group of men are smoking against regulations, another man is waiting impatiently outside a shop.

“I have sent a boda boda operator for my drink and I cannot have peace until he arrives. Every time I need a drink, I have to send for it from Gichiengo (Barrier). When it arrives, I have to lock myself in my room and gulp it down, alone. I dare not do this in public,” the man, who gave his name as Peter, explains.

He forbids the Sunday Standard from using his name or photograph for fear of being kicked out of town for violating one of Kijabe’s golden rules of no alcohol in the town.

A short distance from where Peter is, a rickety wooden tower stands. It is a picture of dereliction, with some pieces of timber hanging loosely.

Rotting bell tower

A metallic handle, which once held a big bell is also hanging loose, like a rotten tooth which is of no use to the owner. At the top of the imposing timber structure, some shingles are missing and at its base is a tangle of lush green grass crying out for mowing.

The rotting bell tower was once the signature of Kijabe town. Every Sunday whenever it chimed, pious residents would scurry into the compound, and troop into the small stone church building.

The bell last toll from the rickety structure sometimes in 1957, at the height of Mau Mau rebellion. Then the old church collapsed!

The church, according to the founders, Africa Inland Missionary, was meant to withstand elements when its foundation stone was laid in 1903.

Although by today’s standards the church is extremely small as it measures about 20 by 40 feet, its walls were three rows of building blocks, making the width of its outer wall about three feet thick. For some inexplicable reasons, the sturdy building whose roof was supported by red cinder beams collapsed.

However, a baptismal pool which was meant to symbolically wash away the sins of the converts stands defiantly just at the edge of the church, its plastered walls intact.

The precolonial missionaries may have gone but the strict discipline they codified after Charles Hulburt, who wanted to spread the gospel to all directions from Kijabe after he moved his base from Kangundo, reigns.

Although Kijabe first had contact with the missionaries in 1903 when an outpost was established, it was not until 1909, at a time when other hamlets comprised of reed and grass thatched, mud-walled hovels, that it would rise to prominence.

This is after Hulburt, who was desperately trying to provide education to his children, convinced then immediate former US President, Theodore Roosevelt, to lay the foundation stone for a school.

Later, to honour Roosevelt, a hospital was built in 1915 and called Theodora Hospital but was later renamed Kijabe Mission hospital.

The colonialists are long gone but structures established by the missionaries are still intact, their shadows still haunt locals and their authority still unquestionable in a town run tightly like a military barrack.

It is illegal, residents whisper, for a male worker to entertain a female friend in his house. Female workers in the church and the hospital are not supposed to give birth before they have a church wedding.

“I have been in this area for over 40 years. It is unacceptable for an unmarried couple to live together. This is considered immoral,” says Daniel Kinyanjui, a 70-year-old grandfather.

Monitor all weddings

His friend, Samuel Kamau, explains how some elders monitor all weddings by workers to ensure they had not tasted forbidden love before they were married in church.

“To keep youngsters out of mischief, whenever a youth announces he is to be married, an elder will be dispatched to whatever part of the country the ceremony is taking place to ensure it is not a sham,” says Kamau.

“After the wedding, if the bride becomes expectant, the days are carefully ticked off the calendar to cross check if the child is born exactly nine months later. If there is an early delivery, explanations are expected and if they are unsatisfactory the mother will lose her job and become a pariah.”

Although Kijabe is supplied with electricity, residents occupying business and residential premises do not pay their bills to Kenya Power. Drilling a borehole by residents is also prohibited.

“I have never received a bill from Kenya power. Every month I pay to Kijabe Station Management who issues me with a receipt. Last month, I was told my bill was Sh1,900, out of which Sh280 is security fee,” a trader explains.

It is this management committee that all traders must sign a contract with, swearing that they would not sell alcohol, cigarettes, drugs and condoms. Any person who contravenes these conditions is banished from Kijabe.

Situated in a valley surrounded by a beautiful, dense forest, Kijabe can only be accessed through a road that passes through a narrow tunnel (kimungu kia nduma – tunnel of darkness) from the Nairobi-Nakuru Highway. The tunnel can easily be blocked to deny entry or exit.

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