Nairobi is a dangerous city - dangerous in the sense that I have been prohibited to walk anywhere on my own for my own safety. Should I risk it? Tempting. Dare I risk it? Probably not. Should I live within the cocoon of the top hotel in this city, where Presidents of African countries come and go with their entourage, within the confines of security gates where vehicles are searched and personal effects X-rayed, and be completely isolated from the daily life of the ordinary people? I have no answer because I don't have the courage to go out and risk it on my own.
Today, I ordered a car to take me to the Nairobi Gallery. It was another opportunity to experience the choking traffic congestion in the city. Often, the traffic simply isn't moving at all. I had the worst of it when it took 1.5 hours to travel less than 20 km. But I was told that I was lucky because the journey could easily have taken up to 3 hours. Patience is a virtue in this country.
The Gallery is a bungalow located near the roundabout of Kenyatta Avenue and Uhuru Highway. If you blink you would have gone past it in all the traffic. The driver certainly did not know the place, and he had to ask when he filled up at the petrol station where this gallery was. He is more used to taking expats like me to the shopping malls.
It houses the collection of African artifacts of the late Joseph Murumbi, once Vice President of Kenya and his wife Sheila Murumbi, a British woman. Murumbi was an avid art collector and the Gallery testifies to the range of his tastes in tribal artifacts collected from all over Africa.
As this is my first introduction to African artifacts, there was much to learn and absorb, and the young guide who escorted me around the rooms gave a good account of the collections. He was wearing a beaded bracelet of the Kenyan flag: black for his people, white for peace, red for the blood (shed during the independence) and green for the land.
Here are some of my favorites. The photos don't do the objects justice because I lack the skill to take photos of objects behind glass cases.
Sure, the gallery is small and lacking in refinement, and the fee of Ksh 1000 is a bit high, it is a good way for me to see African artifacts first hand.
Afterwards when I was waiting for the car to fetch me, I talked to the young manager of the gallery and a woman who invited me to visit her upcountry mango groves. "Come with me", she said, "You will taste wild mangoes that are so sweet that you will never forget the taste.It's only an hour's drive from Nairobi". She talked about her tribe the Kikuyu: "That's where my home is". The Kenyans are openly inquisitive: where do I come from, why do I have an English accent, what am I doing at Nairobi, do I have children, do I like Kenya, and I find them delightful.
Today, I ordered a car to take me to the Nairobi Gallery. It was another opportunity to experience the choking traffic congestion in the city. Often, the traffic simply isn't moving at all. I had the worst of it when it took 1.5 hours to travel less than 20 km. But I was told that I was lucky because the journey could easily have taken up to 3 hours. Patience is a virtue in this country.
The Gallery is a bungalow located near the roundabout of Kenyatta Avenue and Uhuru Highway. If you blink you would have gone past it in all the traffic. The driver certainly did not know the place, and he had to ask when he filled up at the petrol station where this gallery was. He is more used to taking expats like me to the shopping malls.
It houses the collection of African artifacts of the late Joseph Murumbi, once Vice President of Kenya and his wife Sheila Murumbi, a British woman. Murumbi was an avid art collector and the Gallery testifies to the range of his tastes in tribal artifacts collected from all over Africa.
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| Entrance to the Murumbi Gallery, Nairobi |
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| A room reconstructed with furniture from Murumbi's former residence |
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| A nobleman's ebony chair inlaid with bones and string insets |
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| A collection of African spoons mostly modeled after the shape of women whose domain is in the kitchen |
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| A thumb piano that makes beautiful sounds |
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| A Maasai shield made from buffalo hide |
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| A necklace made from wild asparagus shoots |
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| A cloak that completely hides the dancer (I should have paid attention to its origin) |
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| Head rests used by the Maasai |
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| The Dream by Elkana Ongesa. Dreaming about the end of apartheid. |
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| The point of 0 km |
Afterwards when I was waiting for the car to fetch me, I talked to the young manager of the gallery and a woman who invited me to visit her upcountry mango groves. "Come with me", she said, "You will taste wild mangoes that are so sweet that you will never forget the taste.It's only an hour's drive from Nairobi". She talked about her tribe the Kikuyu: "That's where my home is". The Kenyans are openly inquisitive: where do I come from, why do I have an English accent, what am I doing at Nairobi, do I have children, do I like Kenya, and I find them delightful.
