1995:AN INFORMAL HISTORY OF MOTORING IN KENYA by Gavin Bennett
CHAPTER ONE 1895-1907 START ENGINES, OR SHOULD WE SAY ...
PUSH!
Summoning what breath and dignity he could muster, George Wilson
sat poker stiff at the wheel of Kenya’s first ever car and, staring
fixedly ahead, he uttered the historic cry: PUSH!
Today, exactly 80 years later that clarion call still echoes
throughout the land. Kenya’s pioneer motorists were a tough,
enterprising lot. They must also have been quite mad. For when the
first automobile was lowered from a steamship in Mombasa in December
1903, a determined pedestrian could go further without breaking down,
an ox-wagon could carry more cargo, a horse drawn carriage was more
comfortable, and a mule was quicker to start up and a great deal
cheaper to run. And a couple of other things: there were no garages,
no petrol pumps and, er ....only one major road in the entire
country.
Historians always bestow upon pioneers the qualities of vision,
indomitable courage and endurance which they undoubtedly had. Formal
records refer to their other vital attribute as ‘eccentricity’. Thus
is came to pass that the eccentric George Wilson (Bwana Tayari ) (1),
offloaded a curious contraption called a De Dion Bouton before a
bemused gathering of pith helmets and parasols at Mombasa’s old port.
They watched this object of wonder with a mixture of reverence and
disbelief as the cameraman disappeared behind a whoosh of magnesium
powder that doused everyone in clouds of acrid smoke . Little did
they realise how apt a prelude that was.
A gaggle of excited totos (2) ( the adults wouldn’t go anywhere
near it ) pushed that first car from the quayside to the Grand Hotel,
for it was another two days before horsepower actually took over from
manpower and Kenya heard the spluttering concerto of the internal
combustion engine. For its petrol had to be offloaded from the ship
in four-gallon tins, similar to the kerosene debes (packed two in a
wooden box) that were the mode of the era. And Wilson, ably assisted
by his wife, had to pay earnest attention to a service manual to
discover where to put the oil and grease and how to adjust the
various brass levers on the steering wheel to get the spark and fuel
mixture just right (3). And it didn’t help to have sceptical traction
engine mechanics poking around asking where the boiler was! But when
he finally got the engine to fire, he had indeed started something.
For while his De Dion was the only car in Kenya, it was a sluggish
conveyance. But the moment another car followed in its tracks, it
became a racing machine.
Precisely because of the antipathy of the environment, Kenya’s
motoring neither started nor grew in the normal manner. It was born
of man’s universal obsession with chariots - his burning desire to go
further and faster than the next fellow. The growing band of bangers
was spurred on by this and this alone. At this stage, Kenya merely
had a few mad motorsportsmen. In the years to come, the whole country
was to go motorsport mad ... and remain so. Competitive motoring in
France by this time was chapeau vieux, having started in 1887 and
grown into a regular four-way fight between De Dion, Panhard
Levassor, Peugeot and Renault. Thanks to the primitive nature of most
cars, the immediate challenge was merely to keep the beast going.
Motorsports meant Reliability Trials.
For as the apocryphal tale of Mombasa’s first ever road race goes:
the official starter was able to flag the cars away and then climb
astride his velocipede (bicycle) and pedal to the finishing line in
good time to signal in the winner! Whatever speeds those whiz-kids
attained, they rarely maintained it for more than a few miles before
the engine overheated (and they had to resort to the caustic soda
treatment) or the carburettor choked or they had a flat tyre. And
quite apart from the mechanical limitations, it took a man with a
strong stomach to coax a car up to those dizzy velocities of 20 mph
(5). Control of the car was so poor that in England the government
introduced the Red Flag Act, which insisted that any petrol-powered
conveyance in motion upon a public thoroughfare had to be preceded by
an attendant on foot, waving a red flag.
This rule was less bizarre than it might at first seem, when one
considers that the pilots of these vehicles were definitely L-plate
material, and in absent-minded moments were still prone to shouting
‘woah’ instead of depressing the middle pedal. Handbrakes were more
familiar to these recently elevated cart and carriage drivers, though
the automotive version did not press a large wooden spatula against
the wheel but instead caused a belt to wrap around the drive shaft.
An all-or-nothing procedure at best. The manuals did foresee the
possibility of these belts breaking instead of braking, and advised
that: the driver should make appropriate adjustments to the steering
wheel to ensure that the vehicle comes to rest against a suitable
soft obstruction, such as a hedge!
And Kenya didn’t even have any of those! Mombasa was the only
town, and was flattered by the title. It was a steamy island and had
more elephants and leopards than buildings, and its nearest
equivalent to a suitably soft obstruction was a tangled, fleshy
jungle slithering with snakes. The buildings were a tumble-down
shambles of tin and terrazzo, broken by a maze of musty lanes wafted
by the mingling odours of spices, wet rope, sea salt and simple
humanity. Yet a few places have so stirring a history as this ‘town
of war’. No town has been besieged, captured, burned and sacked so
often and the massive Portuguese stronghold of the Fort Jesus has
looked down for more than three centuries on wave upon wave of
intruding influence. At times it might have trembled. At the car, it
probably laughed. Perhaps it should have trembled after all.
When Wilson got moving, the country’s road map was not too
complicated. It was drawn in 1897 and consisted of the dot of Mombasa
on the Indian Ocean seaboard and the dot of Mumia (now Mumias) close
to the North Eastern shore of Lake Victoria Nyanza. These points were
joined by a single wiggly line. That was all - just 590 miles of
earth road, winding its tortured way across the Nyika (cauterised
desert scrubland and the tsetse fly belt) past Kilimanjaro (Africa’s
highest mountain) through the black cotton Kapiti plains to the
bamboo covered Kikuyu Hills, then down through the lakes and
water-courses of the Great Rift Valley (Masai country) and over the
densely forested highlands of the Challenging to the Nile Basin.
Cutting and constructing the Uganda Road - entirely by the hand -
through this spellbinding land teeming with the wild animals was an
heroic achievement. People were scarce. Willing labour was scarcer.
Tsetse fly killed the oxen and the mules so vital for transporting
building materials. Malaria, blackwater fever and dysentery killed
men. Heat and water shortages alternated with the floods which in
turn could wash away months of work in a matter of minutes.
Without doubt the most forbidding section of this road was across
the Nyika (Taru Desert) Nature could not have provided a more
effective barrier between the outside world and the interior. By 1903
a further 190 miles of earth roads were being opened up chiefly
between administrative centres. The most notable of these feeder
roads ran between Nairobi and Fort Hall (Muranga) 56 miles, Lumbwa
and Kericho 19 miles, Voi and Taveta 70 miles, and Machakos and Athi
River 12 miles. In 1888 a mixture of the Sultan of Zanzibar’s
largesse and the British Governments’ abhorrence of slaving had led
to the formation of the Imperial British East Africa Company , headed
by sir William Mackinnon - the first man to establish a regular and
extremely valuable shipping service between Zanzibar and the go-down
of East Africa and Central Africa, and part of Europe and India.
As a businessman, Mackinnon wanted to get to Uganda. Kenya was
merely an inhospitable tract of high land and lying between him and
viability. As a philanthropist he wanted to spread the benefits of
learning the western culture throughout the region. He encouraged
industrial mission stations, set up administrative posts and at one
stage when the British Foreign Office was being particularly
parsimonious he personally financed the building of part of the road.
He chose a 25 year old Australian who came to Kenya in 1889 for the
job. His name was George Wilson. The road followed the alignment of
the old foot safaris (and still does to this day) where the porters
used to muster at Mwembe Tayari (be prepared at the mango tree) and
walk for seven days. There they could stock up for the hell-run
across the pitiless Taru desert, many dying of thirst on the way to
the next sure water at Voi. Those who survived that scorching torture
trudged on, through drought and flood, day and night, through
disease, mosquitoes . . . and larger carnivores. What was left of
them was torn to shreds by the lava near Kibwezi.
And on, on to the big lake and the richer pickings of Uganda. For
this the Uganda Road was built by men like Hobley, Wilson and Fundi
Jones (the Mackinnon Road) and by Sclater, Hall and Smith (Sclater’s
Road) in the footsteps of those extraordinary pioneers, the Wakamba.
The Wakamba had dealt largely in spear tips (with which the buyers
often later attacked the sellers). Arabs and Swahili had dealt in
slaves and ivory, and that alone. The forests, mountains and lakes of
the land called Kenya (meaning ‘mist’) were of no commercial or
esoteric interest to them. The wildlife, the teeming, super-abundant
wildlife was, with the exception of the elephant, merely a dangerous
nuisance to the safaris. Only later did sportsmen from Europe and
America exploit the full potential of happy hunting ground. And as
order was painstakingly overlaid on this empty wild place, so trade
broadened to include hides and skins.
The first Public Works Department carts rolled into Mumia in 1896,
when the railway was still in coconut country near Mariakani. But the
new law and order had rescued much of the country from oppression and
barbaric bloodshed. And the railway, infinitely preferable to bare
feet, soon put the porter out of business as it pressed its steel
fingers toward the target. So by the time Wilson made the rubber meet
the road, the trail was lonelier than ever and the African bush had
begun to reclaim its own. (Now 80 years later, one is tempted to
suspect that the same thing is happening again.)
An indicator of the road’s attractions to early motorists is the
fact that it took 23 years after the arrival of the first car before
a petrol vehicle completed the journey from Mombasa to Nairobi (the
one-armed John Douglas and Syd Downey did it on a Harley Davidson
motorcycle in 1926, and later the same year Galton-Fenzi matched them
in a Riley). There were many cars in Nairobi before then, but they’d
all got there ... by rail. A reliability trial through the meadows of
Sussex was one thing. Crossing the natural low-tide Causeway of
Mombasa and venturing into the interior of Kenya was quite another.
Lion on the causeway had the right of way ... and regularly exercised
it. And that was the civilised bit.
Another factor handicapped the would-be Mombasa-Nairobi aspirants.
Nairobi wasn’t really there. In 1895, when Sclater built his road
through the area, he paused at a camp called Pangani, and sheltered
at a post called Fort Smith (Kabete). He had to slot in a few bends
through the rivers and trees, but it was not until decades later that
these became Forest Road, Parklands Road and Waiyaki Way. At the turn
of the century, Nairobi’s only permanent resident was an illiterate
Maltese sail-maker called James Martin. Otherwise the site was
frequented only by Masai in the role of ‘tourist'. The railway
brought Martin some company and a scattering of tin shacks and tents,
and gradually Nairobi spawned on the ‘Hill’. A year later traders
ensconced themselves on what is now Moi Avenue. There was a little of
this for Wilson to aim at. Had he planned an inland trip, he would
have thought in terms of Kwa Jomvu, the big Ivory market (and now
home of AVA!) Maji ya chumvi (salt water), Mtito, Kibwezi, Fort
Smith, Naivasha, Nakuru, Kambi ya Moto, Eldama Ravine, Nandi,
Kakamega and Mumia.
There were other powerful disincentives to motorised travel.
Although by 1903 in-line engines, clutches, gears and steering were
being tamed so they were (roughly speaking) in their current form,
cars still had non-removable wooden-spoked wheels. You only changed
the rubber covers when you had a puncture. Even in the benign
environment of Europe you had to change covers almost as often as you
changed gears. Kenyans were discovering the added effects of
equatorial sunlight, which perished tyres almost as fast as stones
punctured them. Indeed, had Autonews existed then, its No. 1 motoring
tip might have been on tyre care: immerse the tyre in a solution of
carbolic acid and 5% glycerine to retard perishing, wash tyres with
ammoniacal water to prevent splitting. On no account allow your tyres
to come in contact with oil or fat, which will cause instant
ruination (a fact which still echoes in motorists minds today,
although it is largely a myth now, thanks to modern rubber
compounds).
Any extended journey would have required a trunk full of patches,
although there would have been little need for other spares, besides
a drive chain (the propshaft had not been widely accepted). Early
vehicle chassis were nothing if not simple and robust, and the whole
machine was built to such casual tolerances that almost anything
would be an adequate substitute for the correct part (a young tree in
place of a leaf spring, for example). Spare petrol would likely have
to be sent ahead by ox cart to Kibwezi mission. Had anyone been
determined enough to make the drive to ‘Nairobi’, (with service crew,
perhaps?) it would have taken at least 40 hours if problem free. So
let’s say about a week.
Damn it, the rain was quicker! Still the clique of the motorists
grew fertilised by some compulsive passion that we still all know so
well, despite the confines of Mombasa’s streets, despite the
scepticism of the petty bourgeois on their velocipedes and the
grandees in their carriages (horse and railway). The Wilson’s of this
world had to suffer numerous ignominies ... like discovering that the
hoards of people who followed them round were not so impressed by the
miracle of internal combustion engines, but were more interested in
four-gallon tins they left in their wake. These instantly became the
country’s most versatile containers, and were avidly hammered into
stoves, pots, shower baths, flower pots, roof tiles and even wall
panels. Many of these originals still survive in Mombasa to this day.
The debe is one of two things we can thank America for. The other
is a cloth called Americani-for a time the currency of the country!
Even mules and oxen were wrapped in American pyjamas as a protection
against tsetse fly. Yet, perhaps there is a third thing: For in the
early part of the century, the racing-bred French cars completely
dominated the world market ... and thence the Kenya market. Germany
(Daimler and Benz) came a poor second and Britain a tardy third.
America was almost nowhere. Then, in 1908, something happened that
revolutionised the whole picture. It raised motoring from a farce to
a powerful force almost overnight. It increased the consumption of
motor spirit beyond that of ale and whisky. It first reached our
shores as a rumour. And then someone actually brought one here.
The cause of this fuss was not much more impressive to look at
than the debes that fuelled it. It was even nicknamed the Tin Lizzy.
It was the legendary the Model T Ford. The sceptics suddenly stopped
laughing.
CHAPTER TWO: 1907-1920 KENYA GETS INTO GEAR WITH A CRUNCH
Evil roads, petrol shortages, no spares, diabolical mechanics, car
crashes, currency scandals and a struggling economy. We are, of
course, talking about Nairobi. Perhaps we should hastily add... in
the year 1907. Winston Churchill came to Kenya to have a look-see in
that year, and he left with the impression: ‘Everywhere hard work,
strained resources, hopes persisting through many disappointments,
stout hospitable hearts and the beginnings, at any rate of progress.’
We cannot escape the colossal irony that if he paid us another
visit in 1983 he might leave with exactly the same words. Echoes,
indeed. Then, as now, progress was somewhat anarchic. Then, as now,
it was inextricably linked with transport and travel, at every level
from the basic opening up of the land to delivery of goods to the
general mobility and style of life. While transport became slow and
unreliable, progress matched it stride for faltering stride. But when
the car became capable, reliable and swift, all the other
developments also roared ahead.
In 1907, the only thing that roared in Kenya was the lion.
Progress made a noise better described as ‘clank, tinkle, rumble,
clatter, clink, squeak, moan, chink, thud’ - the unmistakable sound
of railway or ox wagon full of debes. Noise enough to make a
man-eating Tsavo lion run a mile or send a herd of elephants storming
off in trumpeting terror up the side of the Yatta Plateau. Perhaps
the zoologists are wrong, and it was the din of debes that actually
started the wildebeests migration! Either way, the train was
laboriously trying to haul Kenya into the 20th century, with inept
assistance from ox wagons and the monstrously cumbersome
steam-powered trucks that were the only means of broadening the
effect of a Lunatic Line that was, after all, three-feet wide. If
development didn’t happen within spitting distance of those tracks,
it didn’t happen at all. This was an axiomatic that the inland centre
of Kenya, a fort at a place where the big chief used to be, called
Machako, was suddenly totally useless. The authorities decided the
centre would have to be on the railway, and they chose a new site for
a new capital.
For some reasons they selected a railway camp on a stinking bog of
black cotton, and called it Nairobi. In a few months the ground baked
as hard as cement, cracked up and became fine powder. Everything was
choked with dust. In the wet season, the ground dissolved into a
bottomless swamp and anything that moved on it sank. But the more
inappropriate Nairobi proved to be, the more determined the
administration became that it should be Kenya’s premier town. So by
the time the sodden and insanitary miasma of shanty shacks had been
swept by bubonic plague (1902), razed by the fire (1903) and waged
again by plague in (1904), Nairobi’s future was assured. While the
government’s determination was unshakeable, it was not unsinkable.
Bridges were swept away by every healthy downpour, and in
particularly wet May 1905 even an ox wagon got stuck up to their
axles in the main street.
Everything was permanently plastered with mud and choked with dust
- not a good rooting compound for the growth of motorcars which even
in perfect condition, where a whimsical collection of pipes and tubes
and pedals and panels. Nowadays when we bulk at having to service
some of our cars every 2,500 kms because our fuel is so acid and our
dust so thick and clinging and abrasive, perhaps we should spare a
thought for our 1907 equivalents. Their service interval was once
every 24 hours! Many of the early engines had exposed valves and
timing gear, some of the most delicate and fast moving ‘internal’
parts lived in the open air. Few of them had pressurised oil systems
but instead relied on splash. There were precious few oil and grease
seals, so every component instantly got deluged with sticky
substances which collected every passing particle of dirt and insect.
If you had to ‘get out and get under’ (as every car owner did almost
every trip) you also got filthy back and front. Indeed, it was the
difficulty of maintaining a car (one hour every evening) and the
expense of keeping it going that militated against the motor car’s
popular appeal much more than its initial price (about shs 4,000 for
a basic model). You didn’t have to be fabulously wealthy to buy one,
but you had also to hire a chauffeur (to get out and get under) and a
mechanic (to clean oil and grease daily), spares had to be made by
tedious improvisation, tyres wore out so fast that motor agents
advertised the fact that ‘new’ tyres on a particular car had to be
used for test driving it when it left the factory.
Threads on simple nuts and bolts were not standardised, so the new
car owner was advised to buy a screw -cutting lathe for his ‘motor
house’ which also cost money to build. The basic service routine
involved several dozen operations, many of them messy, smelly and
complicated - like moving the gearbox cover to check the oil (no
dipsticks) boiling chains in malodorous Russian tallow, and
varnishing the woodwork (15 coats, please) every six months. For all
this time, trouble, and expense, what sort of a drive did you get?
First, you had to pressurise the fuel tank by hand, set the throttle
level, round to the front to crank the engine, go back and readjust
the throttle, and then crank again to start. On a good day. The gears
you engaged by pressing a pedal, which on same model was also the
brake (engaging reverse, by degrees, was one means of stopping).
You had one High and one low forward gear, that gave you the
acceleration of a mkokoteni, and a top speed of around 40 mph.. if
you could see the car on the road at that speed. You may have had a
windscreen added as an ‘optional extra’ and perhaps some form of
lighting - very likely gas lamps which had to be regularly fed with
water and a special gas-generating tablet. If it rained, however, you
would have to lower your windscreen or peer over the top, as
windscreen wipers hadn’t been introduced. And if you hit a bump...
well, if you really want to know what it felt like then get someone
to push you along in a wheelbarrow over a cobbled surface. At night,
bumps had an added interest. They made all lights go out. Petrol was
bought from the general store (or chemist) in cans. It had to be
filtered through a chamois leather strainer. There was effectively no
instrument to tell you of any impending problem. Indeed, when fuel,
amp and water gauges were first fitted they were considered so
infradig that they were tucked out of sight where the driver couldn’t
see them anyway.
On top of all that, the 1907 driver didn’t have the first idea
about mechanical things. He didn’t really know how to drive his car,
never mind how to fix it. He would labour along in the wrong gear
until the car physically would progress no longer in High up hill, or
the bulkhead in front of his feet was beginning to glow red because
he’d been screaming along in Low for past six miles. He was taught to
switch off the engine well before he came to a halt, and his use of
the brakes would vary between sudden-death stops, rude smells and
real live flames. Even if he was specially talented at the job of
steering and stopping without damaging himself, his car or any
onlookers, the vehicle itself was still a handful - especially in
Nairobi’s black cotton.
His narrow-section tyres were inflated in about 60 psi. The brakes
worked only on the real axle. The suspension geometry wasn’t much
more sophisticated than an ox cart. At over 20 mph in a straight line
on a dry road, the driver had to be both busy and brave. Trying to go
round a corner while braking on a wet night was a form of slow motion
attempted suicide. He did however have some compensation - there was
no driving test, no highway code, no road tax and no insurance. The
phrase ‘traffic jam’ hadn’t been invented. Yet on the basis, he could
have unleashed a four-ton 15-litre Opel into the public
thoroughfares.
Accidents did happen. The most common involved horses, carts and
people on Government Road. The standard rebuke for reckless drivers
seems to have been around shs 75 for hitting a horse (higher if the
horse actually fell over as a result). Apprenticeship for becoming a
reckless driver was served by taking part in rickshaw and mule-cart
races up and down Sixth (Kenyatta Avenue) and Government Road (Moi
Avenue). If you got bored with that, then you shot at any
uncomplaining target that went past the Norfolk Hotel veranda (early
efforts to install streetlights in Nairobi were thwarted because they
proved irresistible to these same marksmen). The dark nights were
once brightened greatly by Lord Cranworth’s mechanic, Thumbi (kamba
for dusty, as his prime job was washing the car). He showed so much
initiative that he was promoted to oil level checking, but one night
peered into the wrong hole (the petrol filler cap) with the aid of a
candle.
Thumbi, his trousers ablaze, very likely set a new record for the
run down Sixth Avenue. In this way did 1907 pass on to greater
prosperity and progress. Kenya’s motorists got their Swifts, Napiers,
Mitchells, Argylls and motorcycles sufficiently under control to
prompt the establishment of several large towns some distance from
the railway tracks. Large scale farming ventures were set up. Nairobi
was actually given some town planning (fittingly by a medical and
drainage inspector, not a designer), and there were even some motor
safaris with specialised ‘outfitters’ catering for growing demand.
Hundreds of new settlers and administration officials continued to
pour into Mombasa and locomote their way inland. Some were a definite
case of foreign dumping - dumping remittance men banished to a safe
distance by their families in Europe, persons at variance with the
law in their home countries, and those who had failed everywhere else
and were looking for a new venue to practice their incompetence.
But there were also many tough, straight pioneers and adventurers,
farmers and ‘eccentric’ nation builders. Through all this, the motor
car and motor cycle population rose well over 100 vehicles. Nearly
all German, French and British. In 1908, Henry Ford’s Model T had
completely revolutionised car design manufacture and marketing. These
extraordinary jalopies reduced maintenance to near nothing, cut
pieces in half and brought reliable motoring to masses... in America.
Kenyans simply didn’t believe the claims for the Tin Lizzy, and
manufacturers in Europe even advertised that their vehicles were not
‘American junk’. Their main sales ploy was to list the names of
people of repute who had bought their vehicles. It took the great war
of 1914-1918 to shake them out of this snobbish complacency.
The reactionary military had stoutly resisted the idea of a
motorised ‘cavalry’. The practicalities of war made them think again,
and thousands of cars were press-ganged into war service. Rolls
Royces and Lanchesters were given armoured car bodies and performed
magnificently in African Campaign. Even the model T box body was
capped with a machine gun, to form an Artillery Corps, and the likes
of Commer Trucks became the back-bone of army supply lines. A
division of such a Carrier Corps was based in Nairobi, at a place now
known as Kariokor! The war did three things for motoring. It tested
vehicles to every limit in thousands of miles of overloaded, off-road
motoring. Lessons were learned and improvements were made. It
introduced legions of young men and women to motor vehicles, and got
them used to, and good at the motoring idea.
Governments produced millions into the motor industry in buying
tens of thousands of vehicles which were blown up as fast as they
could built. The philosophy of mass production - pioneered by Henry
Ford was thus pressured into use and handsomely financed. When the
war ended, big, healthy efficient motor manufacturers were able to
produce cheap, reliable cars for a public that was hungry for them.
In 1918, Kenya started a major reconstruction program to get
farming and industry going again after the neglect of the war years.
Everyone was encouraged to borrow heavily from banks - and borrow
they did. There was a massive boom in spending, not least on cars. By
1919, the vehicle population of Kenya was well over 1,000. The
private car had become a reliable and practical vehicle. It was
usually a four-cylinder side valve machine, relatively quiet and
cheap. In its luxury form, supremely represented by the 1914 Rolls
Royce Silver Ghost, standards of finish, reliability, comfort and
silence reached a level that has not been matched since. While this
all-time classic was a tribute to British engineering, the cost was
beyond most buyers. Small, simple cars were required, and only
America was producing those. American cars simply took over the
complete Kenya market, with only the Standard making any showing from
Europe. The model T Ford, the single most famous and significant
vehicle in the history of motoring, was far and away the market
leader (the VW Beetle was to win a similar reputation in the 1950’s
and perhaps we have the makings of another universal vehicle in the
Datsun 1200 Debe of today). The rest were catered for in order of
popularity, by the Overland (made by Willys, who was later to develop
the jeep), the Buick and the delightful Hupmobiles (Hups).
It was significant that America had very similar motoring
conditions to Kenya’s - great mountains, deserts, mud, heat, dust and
all the other great tests of man and machine. Their vehicles were
inevitably more suitable than Europe’s heavy gentlemen. We needed
vehicles that would skip through life like spiders on a keep-fit gig.
The model T did. More than 15 million Ts were produced, and in 1920
more than half the cars in the world were Fords. The Ts
characteristics and uses are legend, and we won’t fazzle story and
pen even further here, except to mention the vehicle’s most endearing
characteristic: once its engine started, it moved forwards with or
without a driver. And to start it you had to stand in front of the
radiator with cranking handle, then nip round the side and jump in
before the vehicle tootled off on its own.
Thousands of cartoons illustrating the T’s behaviour, the most
famous is of an owner with both hands on top of the radiator trying
to hold the car back and plucking up the courage to let go and make a
run for the driver’s seat. Even in the worst times with terrible
cars, Kenyans had shown an inordinate interest in motorsport. In the
post war boom, competition became inevitable. After newspaper reports
had complained of too many people racing around the streets, despite
the point-duty policemen opposite McCraes, Cearns and the Indian
Bazaar; formal competition simply had to come.
The first motorsport meeting in Kenya came in 1919, with a motor
gymkana in Nakuru and a motorcycle hillclimb at Clairmont House.
Participants reached speeds ‘in excess of 30 mph!’ Ten days later, on
September 30th 1919, the Automobile Association of East Africa was
formed. Motoring had arrived. In the following years, it was to
suffer severe setbacks through currency scandals and enormous
collapse from ravages of drought, locusts and the depression. But
never again was there any doubt that Kenya was now being hauled into
the 20th century... by car. The car did more than revolutionise
development. It also opened up entirely new social possibilities, not
least the facility with which Mr A could temporarily kidnap Mrs. B...
BITS AND PIECES
There’s nothing new about special attention being paid to roads
leading to politician’s doorsteps. In 1907, the first serious road
improvement in Nairobi took place after the government got stuck.
Import duty in 1909 was 10 per cent ‘ad valorem’ on all goods.
In 1911, two Kenya zebra were used to pull an aristocrat’s hackney
carriage in Naples. Meanwhile, an experiment to use Eland to pull ox
carts in this country proved unsuccessful.
In 1914, the importer of the first automobile publicly challenged
Hirtzel’s model Ts to a race. Hitzel’s said it would be a waste of
time unless ..."he wants to run a test in Nyeri and back every day
for a week, or a speed consumption run up and down the rift
escarpment on the road to Naivasha."
As if to emphasise the T’s rather off-belt talents, a few days
later J Mitchell was charged with catching three young wildebeests
without permission, ‘by chasing them with a Model T’.
The Edward-Harris wedding of 1912 was historic - no Kenya bride
had ever travelled to church in a car before. The first officially
organised motorsport competition in Kenya was a Petrol Trial
(equivalent of our Economy Runs) in August 1918.
Contestants had to leave their cars in standard running trim for
the course from the New Stanley Hotel to Ngong Boma and back (12
miles each way). They could choose their own speed. The best result
was 47 mpg by a small Saxon car. Some 10 entrants achieved better
than 30 mpg. There were nine classes and special prizes totalling shs
60. The profit balance of shs 100 was given to charity. There were 32
entrants, paying shs 5 each. Half the cars were ‘works’ entries.
Columnist ‘carburettor’ tried to start a Motor Club through the EA
Standard in June 1919. He then personally organised the first ‘petrol
trial’ reported on the first Motor Gymkhana, and organised a
Motorcycle Hillclimb. One month later EA Motor Association was
formed. It changed its name to the EA Automobile Association, later
to become the Royal East Africa Automobile Association - set up to
arrange nation-wide ‘petrol depots’, get costs of fuel and insurance
cut, to persuade the government to do something about the roads (!)
and to organise competitions.
CHAPTER THREE: 1920 - 1940
Kenya’s motoring fortunes had lots of ups and downs in the 1920s.
So did Kenya’s bedsprings. For by this time most of the new avenues
of morality and motoring had been quite extensively explored and our
pioneers were no longer asking “can it be done” but rather “can it be
done in a different way.”
Behind the wheel, they tried to do it faster, or for longer, or
with less petrol, or while wearing blindfolds and boxing gloves. In
the boudoir (and sometimes while behind the wheel, too) they....well,
the missionary position definitely took a back seat, and the Happy
Valley recipe of wine, whisky and women blurred the distinction
between elevenses and sundowners, and applied an equally soft focus
to such subjects as marital fidelity and group therapy. The motor car
played a significant role in this sizzling set-up, by giving people
unprecedented mobility. Certainly our pioneers used this new
capability to open up the land, to extend trade, to streamline
commerce and industry, to mechanise farming. But they also used it to
wreak a recreational revolution which at its Happy Valley extreme
would make today’s knaves look like Sunday School teachers.
The particulars of this not unsubstantial group are well enough
documented elsewhere, but the same syndrome, to a more moderate
degree, pervaded the whole society. After decades of hard work and
hardship, droughts, plagues, wars, recessions and taming of a
primitive environment (not to mention nearly a century perverted
Victorian prudery) people at last had the time , energy and the
wealth to unwind a bit. Many of them not only unwound but also
unravelled. The motorcar was the perfect vehicle of their playtimes
and also passions. People could meet and interact, go a -visiting,
elope, abscond, abduct, rendezvous, travel, hide and run away, all
very quickly and all thanks to motorcars. Their fun philosophy
persisted irrespective of Kenya’s economic fortunes, which fluctuated
form crisis to Christmas several times during the decade, and
developed around two toys - women, and motorcars. So when they
weren’t fiddling with bra straps or neighbours’ knickerbockers, they
were tinkering with tappets and valves, con rods and piston rings.
In the full-blooded manner of the day, motorsport was
enterprising, highly competitive, and important. Fittingly, the first
motorsport protest concerned a victorious lady driver accused of
deviating from the prescribed route and marring the clerk of the
course’s judgement by knobbling him in the bushes. On the motor trade
front, the 1920-30 decade was utterly dominated by the arrival of an
irrepressible Irishman call JJ Hughes. JJ began with the absolute
conviction that the Model T Ford was the greatest invention since the
wheel, and that it could revolutionise everybody’s life, all industry
and all agriculture. He set about convincing all Kenyans of the same,
by stripping a Model T down to its basic chassis and simply driving
it - anywhere and everywhere, at all times and in all weathers. If a
place was declared totally unreachable, he went there. If a farming
area was completely cut off by floods, he went there, often bringing
the stranded settlers food and their mail, a big smile ... and the
Model T. Everyone soon agreed the Model T was the answer to all their
problems. But one of those problems was a total lack of cash
following the currency collapse of 1920 and the subsequent economic
slump. So the people who needed the Model T most-the farmers -
couldn’t afford to buy one.
JJ was undaunted. He gave the farmers Model T’s in exchange for a
slice of the farming action. He was so convinced that the T as
tractor, the T as transporter, would make farming profitable that he
simply arranged with farmers to set aside 100 acres of their next
crop in payment, and to tend that crop with a Model T which he
delivered in advance. The idea worked brilliantly for both farmers
and JJ, whose boundless enthusiasm and imagination, coupled with a
business acumen that would have made Henry Ford himself proud, won
the Model T an incredible 52 per cent of Kenya’s total vehicle market
by 1923. One wonders what JJ would be up to, and what he could
achieve, if he were here now. Incidentally, his personal Model T is
still parked in a Lang’ata garden. And it still works. Other vehicle
dealers of the day - and there were more than a dozen - must have
felt as though they were in a threshing machine as JJ entered,
analysed and demolished their market, and then built his own. Against
Ford’s 52 per cent share, Overland came a poor second with 14 per
cent. Dodge and Hupmobile commanded six per cent each, and newcomer
Chevrolet took four. The remaining 18 per cent was shared by more
than a dozen makes. The total vehicle population in Kenya had risen
to 2,608, of which nearly half were motorcycles. Triumph, BSA, Harley
Davidson and Douglas were the leading pikis. The total settler
population was around 10,000.
The most famous route opening of the decade was the
Mombasa-Nairobi link - the very first inland thoroughfare in Kenya,
established on foot centuries before suddenly monopolised by the
railway in 1896, and now 30 years later , finally reconquered by the
car. The first motor vehicle to do the trip was the Harley Davidson
motorcycle of John Douglas and Syd Downey, who did it non-stop thanks
to the fact they were charged by elephants when they made a
provisional night stop. A few months later in the same year (1926)
Galton Fenzi made the trip in a Riley car. Sadly, history had
lionised Galton Fenzi for this trip, and in the process of showering
largely empty praise has buried that man’s other incredible
achievements and contributions of motoring in Kenya. The
Mombasa-Nairobi journey was not enough to represent even his big toe.
He was THE man who led motoring, who led motorsport, who led the
formation of the AA, who wrote the first motoring column in the
Standard, who opened up countless routes across the length and
breadth of the country. The prime mover.
The Mombasa trip? He probably didn’t even make a note of it in his
diary!
There is a very fine dividing line, they say, between lunacy and
genius. Which is just as well, for Kenya’s motorists in the 1920’s
were quite mad enough to get themselves into diabolical trouble but,
fortunately, quite ingenious enough to get themselves out again. The
steady improvement in the car performance had made motoring simpler,
smoother, swifter and safer in most parts of the world. Kenyans did
not use these new capabilities to those ends. They used them to delve
even deeper into discomfort and danger. Those who weren’t hacking
around in the bush to earn a living (farming or joining the gold
rush) went hacking around the bush for fun.
The following descriptions of a 1929 Safari incident, involving
Gordon Harvey (of Limuru) and former coffee farmer George Ramsey, is
a fair example of the national syndrome: “We are going for shooting
Safari in the Mara in a couple of Chev boxbodies,” says Harvey. “They
weren’t bad cars .... in those days. The Kedong road was atrocious in
dry weather, with nearly 20 miles of lava dust as light and fluffy as
flour, hiding monstrous potholes. On the open plain we saw what
looked like a cross between a dust devil and an epileptic kettle,
coming towards us. We got on the windward side, and after quarter of
an hour could distinguish the front of a car with a jet of steam
erupting from its radiator. The rest of the vehicle was enveloped in
dust from a following wind. It turned out to be a Model T Ford. A
collection of trophies was tied to the roof, including buffalo
bosses, eland and waterbuck heads, and there was a complete (dead)
warthog draped over the tyreless rim of the spare wheel. Two rough
and scurfy Dutchmen in khaki shorts and terra hats emerged, their
beaded faces grimed with grit. They were from Eldoret, a strong Dutch
farming area in those days. We offered them some water for their
radiator. But that wasn’t the trouble, they said, ‘And anyway these
cars run very well when they’re boiling. We’d be grateful, however,
if you could spare us some engine oil.'
The previous day, they’d ripped a hole in their sump and all the
oil had drained out. They had removed the sump, packed the hole with
kapok from the seat cushion, and then hammered the buckled metal
straight - effectively sealing the crack with the kapok plug. They
then shot a zebra, stripped the fat off it and boiled it up in
sufuria. They poured the hot fat through a mosquito net into the
engine, and travelled around six miles before dark. In the morning,
they put a primus stove under the sump and when the zebra fat was
good and hot again, they set off. They’d done another 12 miles when
we met them. We were amazed! We couldn’t spare them any oil (we
carried just one gallon in case we ourselves had similar problems,
and there was nowhere to buy more where we were going for the next
fortnight.) They quite understood, and as their radiator had subsided
from a volcanic roar to a mere venomous hiss, they topped it up with
muddy water from a jerrycan, waved us farewell and good hunting, and
headed off through the dust towards their next destination - Kijabe!
As they drove away, Harvey remembers, ‘we noticed that both their
back tyres were stuffed with grass.’
Those were indeed the days. This is but a poetic example of a
familiar tale, where motorists showed first an insane ambition to go
a-venturing, then an indomitable spirit and boundless imagination to
come home again. Those characteristics were to serve them well in the
coming years of drought and plague after plague of locusts, the Wall
Street Crash, and the harshest years of austerity Kenya has ever
faced. Those combined onslaughts might have broken both the spirit
and the body of lesser folk. Kenyans merely got a little bit more
crazy.
Motoring technology has come a long way since Kenya’s pioneering
days. But in several ways, it has actually come a long way it has
actually come a long way backwards! In last month’s Autonews, we
reported on the latest car battery from Chloride. It never has to be
topped up, can’t leak or spill, and can have pieces chopped off it
and still it will start a car. What a wonderfully modern idea! Since
then, we’ve seen an advertisement for much the same thing: a ‘Young’
battery with solid electrolyte - unspillable, no corrosion, no
filling with distilled water, indestructible porous ebonite
separators. Similar in every way to Chloride’s new breakthrough ...
except the Young battery concerned was manufactured in 1932! The ad
appears in the earliest equivalent of Autonews: a journal called
‘East African Motoring’. Its 56 pages contained road test reports,
tips on how to adjust your ignition, news of radio, theatre and
cinema, a better driving column, vehicle sales statistics, book
reviews, maps and a few motorsport pictures, and a digest of latest
accessories. Its cover price if 50 cents brought a lump to our
throats until we did some sums. The average car today costs Shs
150,000 or some 50 times as much as the average car in 1932. So their
50 cent magazine could today cost Shs 25, yet AA members pay less
than Shs 3 per copy for Autonews. To illustrate just how lively the
motoring world was in the 30s, EA Motoring had more ads than
editorial -ads which proudly displayed a pair of totally bald tyres
and proclaimed 'still lots of life left after 35,000 miles', another
which claimed ‘the finest hydraulic car greasing in Kenya’ and just
to show how long it has taken us to get back to where we started, an
ad for a puncture-proof tyre, a radiator recoring service, and a big
shout about how shiny duco paint is.
Imaginations were lively too. The Outspan Hotel in Nyeri was
offering a special all-in price of Shs 12.50 per night! ... with an
optional overhaul for your car in the hotel garage! In those days
there was no taboo about drinking and driving, so EA Motoring was
heftily sponsored by Grant’s Whisky, Tuborg Larger and a stuff called
‘Nguvu’ beer (their ad explained that Nguvu was sold only in very
small bottles because a big bottle would floor any man). For all this
up-to-the minute stuff of 1932, there were still some curiously
primitive aspects of motorcar design. Dipping headlamps hadn’t been
invented, so motorists had to stop when they arrived on the outskirts
of town and block out half their lamps with a piece of cloth. Being
dazzled by oncoming cars was obviously a serious problem on the rare
occasions when there was an on-coming car - and a motoring columnist
of the day suggested that a sidelight be angled at rightangles to the
road, so the driver could navigate by looking sideways when faced
with full-fronted beams.
Certain components still wore out rather quickly. A clutch plate
was described as ‘everlasting’ because it had managed 60,000 miles.
Despite such things as the unspillable battery, there was still some
debate over the relative merits of batteries or magnetos, there was
still resistance to ‘fat’ tyres and only recently had the motoring
public got used to cars with roofs. Many die-hards refused to get
into these new-fangled ‘sardine cans’ while others complained of
claustrophobia, or worried about the effects of breaking glass in the
event of a collision. And crashes, despite the paucity of traffic,
did happen. Cars still weren’t all that well behaved if they hit a
bump at speed, and many of the drivers were fantastically
incompetent. One young gent of 17 was charged with negligent driving
after rolling his sedan on a dead straight road. One of his lady
companions (who limped into court) said the driver was busy looking
at the speed (and so impressed with what he saw) that he drove off
the road, and that in picking her up from her house he had to change
gear and reverse to negotiate her driveway, which she could herself
manage in a single manoeuvre in top gear!
The young man’s defence was that the road had a bump in it, that
these new ‘fat’ tyres were a menace and anyway, how could he possibly
be to blame for a crash if he didn’t even know what caused it. The
whole affair lasted only two seconds, ‘your honour’, said the defence
council, ‘Hardly time enough to commit a serious crime in motorcar.’
The excessive speed referred to by prosecution witnesses and which
drew gasps from a packed court, was ... 55 mph! Such exotic pranks
were still novel enough that the prosecution had to call an ‘expert’
witness to establish just what had happened to the car. After serious
thought, the witness declared, and with due attention to the fact
that the bonnet and boot lid were dented, the canvas roof ripped
right off, and the car’s occupants spread variously about the
surrounding vegetation, he considered the car had almost certainly
rolled. The court thanked him for this invaluable advice.
When Kenya’s Automobile Association was formed in 1920, it had an
almost instant membership of 1,000. Though that might not sound an
impressive figure, it was about 70 per cent of the entire motoring
population - a massively powerful motoring voice that the authorities
did not resist unless there was absolutely no alternative. The AA
formed the backbone of motorsports organisation, either in its own
right or through its enthusiastic officers. It tackled insurance
costs, unfair freight competition from the railways, road mapping,
the setting up of petrol depots, and administrated licensing and
carnets, was the driving force behind the erection of road signs (a
cool 17,000 of them by the end of the decade), and actually prompted
changes in the tax on cars and fuel.
DISTINCTION
Interestingly, it gave little or no guarantee regular benefit to
members. It promised only to expose the motoring course and represent
motorists' interests as each new situation arose. It did so with some
distinction added the Royal Aero Club to its portfolio, and within a
few years won a Royal charter to become the Royal East African
Automobile Association, affiliated to the RAC and AA in Britain. Its
splendid progress was to be tripped up from time to time by national
economic collapses, and it was to take its worst hammering during the
traumas of the second world war.
UNANIMOUS
There is little doubt, reading through the minutes, papers and
reports of those early years that the single, unquenchable fire at
the heart of AA was one Galton-Fenzi the honorary secretary. We say
again that the man’s historic drive from Nairobi to Mombasa was among
the least of his achievements. The challenges he faced on behalf of
AA members were tougher than the tasks faced by the AA today in every
respect ... except one: he had the almost unanimous voice of motoring
public. Proportionately, 1,000 members in 1920 would be like 100,000
members today. Given that the same proportion, the current AA could
be infinitely more useful to its members than it ever was in the
20’s. But it has just some 13,000 members, the majority of our
motorists, it seems, don’t know what potential they are missing.
HONEYMOON OFF TARMAC
Kenya was introduced to the wonders of tarmac in 1922. There was
no instant cheering and sighs of relief, but rather a few curious
stares and some suspicious prodding with walking sticks and the like.
But public reactions to a 20 meter long test strip was generally
good, and soon the centre of Nairobi was largely bitumenised. Asphalt
had spread to the other metropolises of Mombasa, Nakuru, Eldoret and
Kisumu by the end of the decade. The rest of Kenya’s road network was
as terrible as it always had been (and always will be). The
Galton-Fenzis were still often carving their way through bush with a
panga, and many journeys that can now be done in half a day still
took half a week. One of most classic bog-ups of all time took place
after a wedding just outside Naivasha during this period. The
blushing bride and her groom zooming off with a gay wave to their 200
guests...and a few miles down the road they nose-dived into a
monstrous mudhole. The guests all jumped into their cars and roared
off to help, so in the end there were some 36 vehicles buried up to
their axles. They all spend the night there. The honeymoon couple
declined numerous offers of jackets and skirts to use as curtains.
(To the best of our knowledge there is no connection between this
incident and the song ‘You Can Do It In The Road’).
In an apparently serious comment on the state of Kenya’s road
maps, and as an encouragement to the new EAAA to start drawing some,
Galton Fenzi said: ‘Any motorist who follows the existing roads maps
would very quickly find himself driving across the plains... When a
through road was opened between Nairobi and Juba in the late 1920s,
the news was greeted with the comment: ‘Kenya has been closer to
England by more than a week.’ It seems in the early motoring boom,
cars were thought of as a direct competitor with aeroplanes! A
possible explanation as to why history has overlooked so many of
Galton Fenzi’s achievements comes from a paragraph in the EA Standard
of 1924: ‘Galton Fenzi is always doing things, and he does them so
quickly the public has no time to recover its breath!’
In 1923 the United States was already manufacturing more cars per
month than Kenya has possessed in total in the past 80 years. There
were no fewer than 186 different US motor Manufacturers.
SEEK, AND YOU SHALL NOT FIND...
Motorsport throughout the 20s and much of the 30s was dominated by
‘Trials’ - based on entertainment and competition, but concerned also
with the very real problem of establishing a car’s reliability. In
publicity terms, these Trials became the means of finding ‘the best’
car for Kenya. Fortunately, there was never a conclusive answer to
this search, so we just had to keep on having more Trials. As their
purpose was to prove cars in Kenyan conditions, our Trials perforce
differed significantly from those in Europe. Ours were also much more
fun, as the Europeans eventually discovered, and so they invented a
new form of sport called motor rallying, exemplified by an event
launched in 1925 called Monte Carlo Rallye. In years to come, Kenyans
would show them how to do that properly, too.
THE CAR AND AGENTS THAT MADE IT
There were 36 main motor agents in Kenya in the 1920s, and more
than twice as many different makes, all haggling for a share of a
tiny market with fewer than 2,000 vehicles in total. In a set-up as
profligate as that, there was an astonishing turn-over of failures
and new hopefuls. Just three of those originals survived to the
modern day - Hughes Ltd, Gailey and Roberts, and Motor Mart. Motor
Mart (now the parent company of Westlands Motors and Bruce Motors)
began with the unlikely combination of GN Light Cars and Denby
Trucks, plus a small godsend called Michelin. Just as they were about
to expire, they cajoled a wealthy British cotton farmer called Arthur
Bulley to buy them out. When he started having to send large
quantities of good money after bad, he send one fat cheque with a
Scotsman called John Bruce, who turned out to be one of the finest
businessmen ever to set foot in Kenya. Teamed up with Alfred Vincent
and Tom Lockhart-Muir, he transformed Motor Mart into one of the
largest and most efficient motor organisations on the African
continent.
Perhaps in their most perspicacious move was to take over
Chevrolet, which was to become a major rival to even Ford in the 30s.
Those Fords which took such an inordinate slice of the early market
were first run by Newton’s Ltd. One of their many dealers was TJ
O’Shea, who in turn employed the irreversible J J Hughes. Hughes
formed his own company in Nakuru in 1928, and had the entire Ford
franchise decade later. Gailey and Roberts have grown into one of the
largest and most varied agencies in this part of the world. They
kicked off with a gem called Caterpillar (formerly Holts tractors)
and quickly added such solid investments as Albion trucks. They have
maintained the talent for choosing exceptional makes ever since.
Oddballs in the overall melting pot included Kettles Roy,
purveyors of Raleigh bicycles and ... holeproof hosiery (with some
ads we’d hardly dare print today!). Many of the most successful
businesses were service stations acting as sub-agents for the main
dealer. As well as births and deaths of agencies, there was also much
swapping, chopping and changing, amalgamations and profitable
sell-outs. Through all this, Chevrolet was getting set to bite big
chunks out of the Ford monopoly, helped by the arrival of the little
Austin Seven from Britain - at last someone was listening to what
Henry Ford had been saying for the past 20 years. Other significant
names of the time to conjure with were Buick, Lancia, Norton, Talbot,
Dodge, Rover, Essex, Durant, Overland, Crossley, BSA, Willy’s Knight,
Bean, Rugby, Packard, Oldsmobile, Chrysler, Hudson, Lagonda,
Standard, Brockway, John Deere, Pontiac, Vauxhall, Case, Reo, Nash,
Studebaker, Thormycroft, Triumph, Fiat, Citroen ... and such nobodies
as Peugeot (whose agents were Carr Lawson).
WE ALWAYS CARRIED A BOAT ON THE ROOF, OF COURSE...
There are still plenty of wild and wonderful places in Kenya, and
today’s safari enthusiasts get up to some pretty hairy antics through
their compulsion to get from wild A to wonderful B. But what is now
considered fairly outlandish adventure was all part of day-to-day
travel back in the 30’s when, as they say man were mad and cars were
crazy. This photographic memoir sent to us by the reader R
Frederickson of Nairobi illustrates the point rather well: He writes:
‘We went for a week’s safari under the Narok escarpment and
crossed the river below Magadi. The water was only ankle deep on the
outward journey, but when we returned it was in flood. I always
carried a boat on my Chrysler for just such an eventuality. We
removed the engine of one car (a Chev) and carried it across in the
boat. We then hauled the Chev body over and rebuilt the car. My son
then drove to the nearest trading post in the Chev and borrowed some
empty oil drums and rope.’
‘We used the drums to float the other two cars (one Chev and one
Chrysler) across intact’. ‘On the way home, the Chrysler’s engine cut
and the brakes failed, so there was nothing to do but back it into a
bank ...the car fell on its side. We attached a pull-u-out to a bush
and soon had it back on its wheels, got the engine running and pumped
the brakes up a bit; and so returned safely home.’
Have a good weekend!
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