In 1938, Jomo Kenyatta, two and half decades later to be the first president of independent Kenya, published an account of his Gikuyu culture entitled Facing Mount Kenya. For his and dozens of other communities, Mount Kenya loomed magnificent and eternal over their lives, whether they lived in the ancient forests under its slopes or on the plains undulating away in every direction.
For many like myself, however, born since the explosive growth of Kenya’s economy, the mountain has been shrouded by Nairobi’s smoggy skyline. It was only when Covid-19 swept across the globe in 2020, precipitating an unprecedented pause in air travel and industry, that residents of Kenya were shocked to see the evocative twin fangs of Mount Kenya visible from Nairobi, then the Mara, and indeed across the entirety of Kenya.
It was suddenly and immediately, with disputed translation but often interpreted as “the dwelling place of God.” became when early European travellers attempted to transliterate the Bantu sounds, the mountain the obvious unifying feature to the landscape.
