From dawn to dusk our childhood was marked with heavy toil.
In the freezing Nyandarua cold, in pounding rain and in blistering heat,
there was never rest for these weary Pioneer children.
We never understood why our parents worked us like donkeys.
We almost doubted their love, wondering at times if we were adopted.
They drove us hard to complete every task with precision and purpose, and
demanded good performance at school, for an education they never had.
They shaped our lives by talking to us endlessly about life in general,
sharing their painful life experiences to warn, guide and encourage us.
We rolled our eyes at their constant, lengthy, “boring” lectures.
But as we grew up, their immortal words became the foundation on which we built our own lives, and we are still using them today to raise our children and help them build their own lives,
because we realized, our parents words of wisdom were time tested and supersedes any academic or professional qualifications we may possess today.
Before the Corporate world demanded productivity and efficiency,
Our parents had already instilled those values as our only work ethic
back home in Nyandarua.
Before scientists sounded the alarm on global warming,
our parents had already warned us something drastic
was happening to our weather patterns.
Before Wangare Mathaai put up a fight to save trees and replenish forests,
our father had already made us aware there is no life without trees, and made us plant them by the thousands throughout our childhood.
Before teachers demanded respect,
discipline and hard work from their students,
our parents had already instilled those values in us in good measure.
Before leaders pleaded with the nation to shun tribalism,
violence and civil disobedience,
our parents had already used their painful MauMau experiences to hammer those warnings into our heads throughout our childhood, even to this date.
Before the women’s liberation movement swept the globe,
our father already demonstrated to us the power of women by
entrusting the running of a massive farm to our mother,
a job that she did to perfection while raising a bunch of us kids,
silently teaching us to respect and honor women as equal partners.
Our careers took us to world’s my parents knew nothing about.
We advanced and even attained a measure of success.
But that did not intimidate our parents or made them feel inferior to us.
Instead, they acknowledged our success but remained our undisputed superiors, warning us of pitfalls of success and constantly reminding us never to forget who we are and where we came from.
They wanted us to remain grounded,
embracing whatever success God gave us with humility and gratitude.
“Success and wealth does not define who you are. It is humility and dignity that makes the world pause and recognize you for who you really are”, said our parents constantly.
That is the moral compass our parents instilled in us unapologetically.
We have not always lived up to those ideals,
but even when we deviate from them, we eventually turn to that compass because we know it is always pointing us to the right direction.
We watched our parents work together and accomplish
great things together.
We knew the sacrifices they made for our country’s struggle for independence and the heavy price they paid for that choice.
We knew their struggle in acquiring our land,
developing it and finally owning it.
We knew the sacrifices they made, to get us an education they never had.
We knew the health struggles our father gallantly bore until his final breath, playing down the seriousness of it all, to save us from worrying;
and we now know how our mother stood strong for us, disregarding her own pain and loss to keep our family strong and moving forward.
Time has marched on and the torch has now been passed to my generation,
the second generation of Nyandaruans.
Our parents prepared us well to be worthy inheritors of this land.
We now understand why they taught us hard work in our growing years.
They knew we had our work cut out for us if Nyandarua was to remain standing and scale new heights of development.
Sometimes I feel so inadequate compared to the powerhouse Pioneer Parents who raised us,
but then I remember how well they prepared us for the future.
But I still wonder if my generation and our children could make the kind of sacrifices our parents made for the country, and pioneer new frontiers like they did, a prospect that often sends chills down my spine.
But then I realize: We may lack the boldness and courage to do exactly as our parents did to confront the battles of their time, but we have their example to emulate and an education that
broadens our horizons beyond our parents’.
We may not face the same struggles they did, or fight the same way they did, but we can face our current struggles with the same attitude
and commitment that brought our parents victory in the
struggles of their generation.
Wherever I work and live, whatever properties I may own elsewhere,
nothing really compares to my portion of land in the highlands,
gifted to me by my warrior Pioneer Parents.
The OlKalou air is fresh, the scenery beautiful, the soil rich and fertile, the milk creamy, the harvests bountiful and the tall trees swaying in the cold breeze reminding me of my childhood innocence;
a time when my siblings and I had no care in the world,
filling our home with endless chatter, mischief and hearty laughter.
A time when our parents were youthful, energetic and healthy,
our home a beehive of activity every waking moment,
now replaced by an eerie quiet that stirs up both sadness and nostalgia.
I hope my children will value this land as much as my parents did,
teaching their children and future generations to treasure it and nurture it,
because it was purchased and developed at a very high price
of blood, sweat and tears.
I hope they will want to invest here and build even stronger communities they can be proud of and the world can marvel at, and desire to visit and stay a while.
This is my parents home and I am so glad they left Gikuyu and came here.
This is our home because this is where our roots run deep and strong.
It is my Nyandarua, Now and Always
