A Tree Grows In Kenya

The interviews were fascinating, often taking place in intriguing environs such as grand colonial houses or native huts made of cow dung, but one interview stands out.  Hugh Baker was an older gentleman who had been in Africa since nearly the beginnings of colonial settlement, and had even served for a time as the provisional governor of Uganda.  At his home near the town of Nyeri, he regaled us with stories of elephant hunting, exploration, native taboos and even some interesting curses.

We sat on the verandah of his plantation house, going through old photo albums and newspapers, all the memorabilia of one man's lifetime, and when it came noon, Mr. Baker asked us if we would like something to drink.  We said yes we would.  He disappeared into the house and returned with three tall glasses of gin.  No ice, no lime, no water or juice.  Just straight, warm gin.

Mr. Baker lifted his glass, said "Cheers!" and we were expected to drink up.  To be polite, my husband and I took a sip.  That was our limit.  I had to think of a way of dealing with the gin while not offending our host who was giving so generously of his time.  When he jumped up at one point to run into the house and fetch "something of interest," my husband and I seized the opportunity to tip a bit of our gin into a large potted plant that stood near where we were sitting.  It was a dwarf palm of some sort.  And then Mr. Baker came back.

When he again said, "Cheers!" I asked if he had any souvenirs from the days of the Mau Mau uprising, and as he did indeed, he jumped up to run into the house, and we took the opportunity to tip a bit more gin into the planter.  This went on for the rest of the afternoon, so that by the time my husband and I were collected by Abdul Saleem, our driver, I had three cassette tapes filled with interview material, tons of notes and things Mr. Baker had graciously given us.  And we left behind empty gin glasses.

To this day I wonder what happened to that poor plant.