Kaptagat Preparatory School (1936): The Last Horseman and the Scoutman Remember

By Hillary Kosgey Arap Masut, from An Anthology of Memoirs

The Last Horseman

My search for the Horseman began with an old 1972 photograph of a man on horseback near Kaptagat Preparatory. I eventually traced him to the outskirts of Eldoret, where he welcomed me for an interview that lasted about two hours. He told me that in those days he earned 118 shillings a month, a salary he considered more than enough to eat, drink, and dress well. His life revolved entirely around horses, handling them, shoeing them, and cleaning them. Those who worked with horses were called syces, and he began as one of the junior syces under Mr. Bergman, guided by rally driver Linda Morgan. With time he rose to become an instructor, proud of the work that defined his youth. He still recalls his favourite horse, a white one named Silver, as well as others with memorable names like Whiskey, Mouse, Ballerina, Soda, Firefly, and Tiger.

Through my gallery and his collection of photographs and newspaper cuttings, the Horseman unfolded the larger world of Kaptagat Preparatory. He showed me an image of himself in khaki with a cowboy hat astride Silver, and another with a visitor named Bruno taken in the early seventies. I showed him recent pictures of the red bricked pavilion built in the 1950s and he identified it as the one that once served as a hub during horse races and sometimes as a squash court. He spoke with pride about the order and discipline of the school, and about working under Mr. Chitty, whose pay and leadership he considered unmatched. Life at Kaptagat was busy, structured, and filled with activity.

Among the Horseman’s most treasured keepsakes were sports records. One newspaper cutting celebrated the unbeaten 1965 Kaptagat Preparatory Rugby XV, who claimed the Western Kenya Inter-Schools Challenge Cup with victories over St. Mary’s, Manor House Kitale, and The Hill School Eldoret. Another photo captured the Kabaka of Uganda, Sir Edward Mutesa II, attending a prize giving at Kaptagat Preparatory when his son, Prince Richard Bamweyana Walugembe, was a pupil. In one photo Richard stands next to his seated brother, Prince Ronald Mutebi, today's Kabaka. Richard sadly died after a long illness in 1992.

I also showed him an image of a Cessna plane that had landed in 1969, and he agreed that during his time growing up in Kaptagat, his birthplace, he often saw such planes on school opening and closing dates. The photo showed a Cessna 210 with construction number 57091. It was first registered on 22 May 1962 as VP-KRZ under Endarasha Ltd in Mweiga, and in September 1964 it was re-registered in Kenya as 5Y-KRZ. The same aircraft later carried other registrations, including N7391E and eventually G-BBRY in the United Kingdom. It was damaged in a landing accident in April 1978 and its UK registration was cancelled in 1983. Laughing, he told me how much he disliked the sound of landings, recalling a time when a Cessna nearly struck him as it touched down. To him, these stories showed how Kaptagat once thrived as a place of gymkhanas, sports, and weekend gatherings, a sharp contrast to the quiet centre it has become.

Today the Horseman is in his late seventies, and of course I took a photo with him. He is now a great grandfather and a farmer still living with his wife near Eldoret. Though his body has aged, his memories remain sharp, and he treasures the years when horses gave him purpose and pride. He spoke warmly of the friendships he made, the trust he earned, and the energy of a school that once drew Eldoret’s business community every weekend. As we finished our tea, he thanked me sincerely for coming and invited me to return. In his words and in his photographs, Kaptagat’s past endures, alive through the Last Horseman.

Memoirs from the Scoutman

It was a cold afternoon when I met the Scoutman for lunch at the Kaptagat Arms Hotel. He is eighty one years old now, but his eyes are bright and alive with the memories of a world that seems almost forgotten. Our lunch of kuku boil, ugali and sodas (he took a Sprite) set the stage for the stories he was about to tell me about the school that once stood as the pride of this place. When we rose from the table for a photograph together, it felt as though I was stepping into a living archive. From there we made our way to the old Kaptagat airstrip, now long covered by church land. He wanted to show me where the planes once landed and lifted off, and the excitement in his voice was the same as that of a boy scout from the fifties.

Inside the compound of the old Kaptagat Preparatory School the past still lingers. The first building I saw was the guest house that stood proudly just inside the gate, welcoming visitors in days gone by. A few steps further was the headmaster’s house, once the residence of Mr. Jim Chitty, Mr. Rushbrooke and Mr. Ross. Behind its doors I discovered a corridor that once connected directly to the matron and the girls’ hostel, a clever arrangement that bound together the domestic and institutional life of the school. On one side stood a white painted brick hut, said to have been the playroom for Chitty’s own children, a reminder that this was not only a school but also a family’s home.

The Anglican chapel still looks as solid as the day it was consecrated. Its walls seem to carry the whispers of morning prayers and Sunday hymns. Beyond it I found the old laboratory, its structure plain yet sturdy, and then the main class blocks that held generations of children. Next to them stood the black timber classrooms where dance competitions once filled the evenings with music and cheer.

I walked to the swimming pool, guided by the Scoutman's stories. The white steel board still hangs there, etched with the names of swimmers who once made the school proud. The pool itself lies quiet, but at one end stands a fountain like structure, its purpose no longer certain. To me it looked like a monument to the celebrations and the laughter that once echoed in this place.

The staffroom revealed another layer of memory. Inside stood a fine chimney, and I imagined a circle of teachers gathered there on a cold morning, warming their hands before returning to the duties of the day. The compound also held places that spoke of stricter routines. There was a room once used for gun handling and training, a reflection of the unsettled times when scouts were taught not only discipline but vigilance. Not far from it stood the old horse stable, and near it a clubhouse where the teachers were allowed to party, but only on Fridays.

One of the most striking discoveries was in Chitty’s own room, where an old Howards piano from the 1930s still stood, its keys silent yet carrying the weight of old songs. The Scoutman recalled that the school was self reliant in food and drink. Weekly shopping trips were made to Aziz and Akbar’s shop in Eldoret, a name still familiar to him after so many decades. By 1976, the school fees had risen to nine thousand shillings per term, a fortune at the time, a reminder of the exclusivity of the education offered here.

The original main gate was shifted fifty metres down the slope, leaving behind a lonely stone that may once have carried the school’s emblem. The sewer system, remarkably, still functions after nearly ninety years. I was shown a tree that has stood here since the earliest days. Though I could not identify it, the Scoutman assured me it has been a silent witness to the lives of all who passed through these grounds. In Kaptagat the cold is sharp, as it must have been for the children in their uniforms, yet the school ensured that all students were given hot baths, a small luxury that made the chill bearable.

Walking with the Scoutman through these grounds was like moving back and forth in time. The voices of children seemed to rise again in the halls, the names on the swimmers’ board gleamed with pride, and the piano stood ready to strike a note. These photographs I carry are not just images but fragments of a living past. They tell the story of a school that prepared its pupils for every field of life, and of a place that, even in ruins, has never lost its soul. In my upcoming memoirs book, Kaptagat and its surroundings will feature largely, from the golf, polo, rugby and other tournaments that were held here.

First shared in The Wonders of Sergoit Hills Facebook group. See also Kaptagat and The Fosters of Kaptagat.