Today I went to pay my respects to Gertrude Mary Kuhn – an Edinburgh lass and nanny to my mother and her two sisters – who is buried in the old cemetery in Kitale. She died on 18th September 1929 and was buried here at 5:30 pm the following day. My grandfather paid for the funeral and the headstone, but neither he nor my grandmother were able to come to the funeral because the authorities were still questioning them.
We did not know how to find the cemetery but a red-jacketed Boda Boda motorcyclist did. We followed Red Jacket and his girlfriend who swayed decorously, perched sidesaddle behind, while texting. We headed north. The town turned to shanty on one side and a eucalyptus plantation on the other – this cannot be the right direction, we were now five miles out of town. Martin waved his hand out the window and Red Jacket pulled over – Yes, he knew of another cemetery. So we headed back into town, dropped off girlfriend and went through the maelstrom of the town and out the other side – to the Commonwealth War Graves!
We pay off Red Jacket and decide to use logic – the Settler’s cemetery would be in consecrated land beside oldest Church in Kitale, wouldn’t it? We head for Anglican St Luke’s Church, the oldest according to Wikipedia. Logical but wrong. The foundation stone for this church was not put in until 18th March 1929, fully 10 years after my grandfather arrived with the District Commissioner Champion. Settlers needed earthen homes before then.
Martin asks again. Same instructions; so we retrace our steps and head north. After six miles and another enquiry we turn into a narrow lane and pull up by a stone arch leading into a rectangular grassy area with tombstones. There must be a reason the settlers chose this place for their loved ones here, but that is not apparent now. The settlers were already so far from home and this unkempt rectangle was even more remote even then. And there is no church of any denomination nearby at all. Graves from 1920’s were a small number with British, German or Boer names so presumably from different denominations therefore the eternal rest had to be irrespective of race or creed – but not colour, that barrier was not removed until after independence in1963.
Four decades later, the 1960’s Settlers graves map could only name Gertrude Kuhn’s grave amidst other unnamed graves. Nine decades later, I could only find the general area using the photos taken last night of that map.Her grave may not be identifiable but as long as we remember her, she lives on. Many of the gravestones are toppled face down and therefore unreadable. The quiet earthen homes are untended, the grass is long, the trees sparse with flowers. The fruit of their loins are flung far to prosper far from this place where their kind is welcome. There are few left to care or remember and seemingly none to cherish these ancestors. Indifference and time are erasing these people buried very far from home.
A man is employed to look after the cemetery and he trails after us, curious as to why two foreigners are looking at each old gravestone at the unfashionable far end of the cemetery. Newcomers to this commune of souls crowd in the area nearest the car park; their red mounds affront, like slashes between the green old graves and the pathways between. It’s a puzzle quite why these newcomers are forced on the older inhabitants, because the cemetery has plenty of space on the far side in an identical rectangular space, but only two graves, neither recent, lie there with a track beside.