Kengele Nalia (The Bells Are Ringing): How the Settlers Left Kenya

By Sonnie Cloete (1987). Translated from Afrikaans and shared by William Kiptoo in The Wonders of Sergoit Hills Facebook group. The full text is given with only light correction of the translation. It is a settler's account of leaving Kenya at independence, told from his community's point of view.

First shared in The Wonders of Sergoit Hills Facebook group on 17 October 2023.

In 1941, my brother Schalk and Harry Fouche are sitting on the crown of old Sergoit kop (hill), about 9,100 feet above sea level, from where one can see far into the distance: the mountains Moroto and Dabasien in Karamoja (Uganda); the Cherangani mountains in the north, where there is only a break at Kacheliba for the road to Turkana and Lake Rudolf; and then where Mount Elgon begins in the north west and rises to over 14,000 feet.

In the west stand the three Nandi hills, Kapsabet, Kapjet and Kapton, and as far as one can see in the south east, where Kaptagat begins, to Kamariny, which drops 3,000 feet into the Rift Valley, and on the other side the Kamasia mountains can be seen.

So, thoughtful, they sit and listen to the badgers calling and the francolins flying by, while a reedbuck antelope quietly sneaks past. They sit and look at the beautiful farms that have been built up over the years.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Schalk?"

"This is a beautiful world, isn't it?"

"Yes, Schalk."

There was silence for a while, then Schalk said: "Harry, what you see here now, Harry, will soon all be black Africans."

Yes, like the prophets of old, they already heard the bells ringing in the distance, not very clearly, but unmistakably. A roar that would grow louder and closer, eventually sending the British Empire to its death. India, Ghana, Tanganyika, Uganda and of course Kenya, where the white people who bought their land and built it up would also have to leave.

These were also the words of Duncan Sandys, the Colonial Secretary, later echoed by Macleod in Nyasaland: "Kengele na lia."

After other countries gained independence, the storm clouds began to gather over Kenya. However, there was still hope when Princess Elizabeth visited Kenya and promised that the land belonged to the settlers forever. The farmers were even asked to convert their land to longer leases.

But then everything changed. The Lancaster House Conference started, and it became clear that the British were leaving. People started making plans to leave Kenya and go to different parts of the world, like South Africa, Australia or England.

When things started to go wrong and we realised that England had abandoned us, we started the Southern Africa League, with branches across the country. We met regularly in Nairobi or at the Jolly Farmer Hotel at Timboroa, along with representatives from the South African offices in Nairobi. It was a place where we discussed and figured things out.

Through the actions of the SA League, we obtained many privileges as Kenyans, privileges that many did not even know about or took for granted. Here are a few examples. All people of South African descent, young or old, could immediately regain their South African citizenship by simply telling the customs office that they were going to South Africa. It did not matter which country in Africa they had a passport from (except Ghana). Each family could bring £10,000 worth of goods, a motor car and a lorry. Every person who came to South Africa was entitled to £60,000, provided they applied for it. Children born after 1949 had to get a new birth certificate from the Home Office. Old people could get a pension immediately. Many ex Indian Army people also received pensions.

We also had offices in Durban, Pretoria, East London and Cape Town to advise new immigrants and help them find work. You could even live in one of the old mine houses and receive £30 a month to help until you found a job. I remember that not everyone liked the SA League, but we remain grateful to South Africa for all these things. Unfortunately, just before Uhuru, we had to stop all meetings and burn all the minutes in Kenya. It is particularly unfortunate, because we could easily have brought all the minutes with us.

Yes, that is how everyone left. They had to leave the country with very little money. Some had to hide money in unusual places, like a cupboard door or a drum. Uhuru, independence, hit the old people hard. It was a time of great disruption, and many could not resist the pull towards the unknown. Many people died of grief during that time. But we will never forget them. They were the ones who embodied the soul of Kenya and made it what it was. We must remember how everyone contributed their part.

A few, however, remained lying down and could not get up again. But slowly they began to stir and find their footing. They took root wherever they could. And now, after twenty years, they stand tall and strong, with many young sprouts full of courage. You will not find the "Kaburu" anymore. It is for these young people, who barely remember Kenya and see it as just a place name, that the old people talk.

They talk about a land of contrasts, a way of life that was very, very special. Kenya was a country where people had a sense of humour even in the toughest times. They could still laugh and be kind. It was a country where people trusted each other and where one's word was one's honour. Everyone had to share to make Kenya what it was, the crown of all the colonies. Listen to the stories told, of laughter and hardship. They are filled with jokes and experiences. It is just a pity that we cannot share all these experiences with you.

But now we have a different country, with different problems, different people and totally different circumstances. We who come from Kenya and are descendants of the old Kenyan families must make sure that we are worthy of the country in which we live. We trust in you.