Wonders of Sergoit Hills

 By William Kiptoo On the fringe of Eldoret town, where the rhythm of modern life meets the hush of memory, stands an aging relic with a name that refuses to be forgotten: White Highlands Inn. Set along Elgeyo Road in what was once the heart of Kenya’s colonial “White Highlands,” the inn is more than a building. It is a story carved in stone and cedar, one that speaks not just of bricks and beds, but of belonging, exclusion, and the slow turning of history’s wheel. In the early 1900s, Eldoret was a new town born of conquest and ambition. The British colonial regime, seeking to reward white settlers and affirm racial superiority, designated vast swathes of the Rift Valley as The White Highlands—land reserved exclusively for Europeans. It was in this climate of exclusion that the inn emerged. Back then, it wasn’t just a hotel—it was a social fortress for settlers. Local folklore recalls how Africans were only allowed in as kitchen hands, gardeners, or cleaners—never as guests. Step o...

 By William Kiptoo The Jacaranda tree (Jacaranda mimosifolia), with its striking purple-blue blossoms, is not native to Kenya. It originates from South America, particularly Brazil, Argentina, and Bolivia. Its arrival in Kenya is closely tied to the country’s colonial history and the migration of Boer settlers from South Africa in the early 20th century. Following the Anglo-Boer War (1899–1902), many Afrikaner (Boer) families sought new lands to rebuild their lives. The British colonial administration, eager to populate and develop the fertile highlands of British East Africa, encouraged Boer settlement in the Uasin Gishu Plateau—what is today part of western Kenya. Between 1908 and 1911, several Boer families moved to the area and established farms around what would later become the town of Eldoret. Jacaranda trees were already familiar to the Boers from their homeland, where they were widely planted in cities like Pretoria and Johannesburg. These trees had become emblematic of So...

 By William Kiptoo The name "Kipteberr" comes from the local Marakwet word for a bull’s hump, as seen in the hill’s distinctive, rounded silhouette. A popular legend tells of a meteorite crashing into the hill centuries ago. Story has it that a crow warned locals of impending doom—yet those who ignored it perished when the meteor struck. This folklore endures in local oral history . The hill is a revered ceremonial site for the Marakwet community, believed to be central to their ancestral origins. According to tradition, it was here that the five founding Marakwet territorial groups established roots along both the Kerio Valley and the Cherangani slopes. Today, local efforts are underway to document and preserve the hill’s heritage, weaving together traditional knowledge with sustainable tourism practices. Kipteberr Hill rises to approximately 2,774 m and is part of a trio of “foothills” alongside Kipkunurr (3,063 m) and Koisungur (3,167 m). It’s known as one of the easier pe...

By William Kiptoo   In the early 1900s, British colonial officer   William Spencer   marked a safety boundary along the Elgeyo Escarpment in Kenya’s Kerio Valley. This line was later known as the   Spencer Line.  It   was created to prevent human settlement on unstable, erosion-prone upper slopes. Spencer observed that further land clearing and farming beyond a certain point posed serious danger to both people and the environment. For decades, the Spencer Line guided land use. Locals respected it, and forests above the line remained intact, anchoring the fragile hills. However, after independence, pressure for land led to the slow abandonment of the line’s wisdom. Families began moving uphill, clearing trees for charcoal, and farming risky slopes. The land weakened. Then came the 1997–1998 El Niño rains, triggering deadly landslides in places like Kabawa, where entire homesteads were buried. What Spencer had warned against had now become reality. Today, ove...

 By William Kiptoo Despite its historical richness and cultural diversity, Eldoret lacks two critical institutions: a public museum and a proper archival center. This absence is not just a missed opportunity—it is a glaring gap that weakens our identity, memory, and ability to plan for the future. Every town that hopes to understand itself and tell its story with pride needs a place where its history is preserved and interpreted. Eldoret, and the wider Uasin Gishu region, has a remarkable and unique history. From the prehistoric Sirikwa communities who lived in stone-lined depressions and caves, to the early colonial settlement by the Boers, the contributions of Indian and Sikh traders, and the resilience of indigenous African communities, our past is layered, complex, and deeply meaningful. Yet today, there is no formal space where residents or visitors can engage with that history in a structured, educational, and inspiring way. A museum is not just about artifacts in glass boxes...

 By William Kiptoo Nine months ago, in September 2024, I highlighted the story of Jimmy—real name James Nderitu—as a humble hero of Eldoret’s Ronald Ngala Street. His story moved many: a man who, without pay or recognition, had dedicated more than a decade to beautifying one of our busiest streets. Today, his trees still bloom, the street still stands transformed—but Jimmy remains unseen, unsupported, and, heartbreakingly, harassed. Jimmy is not an official employee of Uasin Gishu County. He doesn’t wear a uniform or get paid from any public budget. Yet no one can deny the value he adds. Since 2013, Jimmy has cared for every tree lining Ronald Ngala Street—trees he planted himself. He waters them, tends to the flowers, and makes sure the stretch from the Tuck Center all the way down toward Zion Mall remains one of the most inviting corridors in our growing city. It’s hard to find a better example of civic pride in action. Yet despite widespread praise and attention last year, ...

 By William Kiptoo Hidden behind rusting gates and overgrown shrubs along Iten Road in Eldoret lies the European Commonwealth War Cemetery—an enduring but forgotten symbol of Kenya’s colonial and wartime history. Once a solemn place of memory, where Commonwealth soldiers and early European settlers were laid to rest, the cemetery has now become a haunting monument to neglect. What was meant to be a site of reverence and honor has tragically turned into a forgotten relic, overshadowed by rapid urban growth and collective indifference. The European Commonwealth Cemetery was established during and after World War I and II, serving as the final resting place for European soldiers—mainly British, and some Frenchmen—who perished in service to the Crown. Some were victims of disease or accidents, while others died during the East African Campaign. Their tombstones, neatly aligned in military order, once stood proud in memory of sacrifice. Among the graves also lie colonial administrators,...

  From Habari Magazine (2013), Friends of East Africa Newsletter. J.C. Kopie Eksteen, the farmer featured here, previously owned Kapnyagi, now Chepkoilel North Secondary School, in Uasin Gishu County, A well-known farmer from the Uasin Gishu, who represents that district on the Board of the Kenya Farmer's Association, is this month's personality. He is Mr J.C. (Kopie) Eksteen who, in his own words, "came to Kenya in 1931 and has never regretted it". Born and brought up in the Eastern Transvaal, in the Maize Belt, Mr. Eksteen comes of a South African family with generations of farming behind them. When the depression hit the Union in the early 1930's his farther came to farm in Kenya and the family's growing accounts of Kenya as the perfect farming country persuaded their son to leave his studies at Witwatersrand University and join them at Sergoit. For several years before the war he took on any job that he could do in order, as he puts it, "to scrape tog...