Tafaria Castle: architecture as a metaphor for social, economic and environmental conquest

When one comes upon Tafaria Castle, there is a sense of incredulity – what is a European medieval building doing in rural Kenya? The structure is not very large but its location at the crest of a long climb, which goes on towards the Aberdare Range, makes it imposing. The land surrounding the castle was once a white-owned ranch during Kenya’s colonial period but has now been settled by many Kenyan families including that of the castle's owner. It is his life’s story that lends meaning to the architecture of Tafaria Castle.

Tafaria Castle - the Aberdare Range is in the background (photo by the author)

George Tafaria Waititu’s family settled in the area in 1980, the pioneer Africans to do so, when he had just began school. One of nine siblings brought up by a single mother, he spent his early years here, walking to and from school, herding livestock, fetching water and doing the chores expected of most rural folk. Being the only life he knew, growing up was fun and there was plenty of time to play and dream, notwithstanding the modest home, physical exertion and remoteness of the area. “We had a lot of dreams and amazingly, we always dreamt of wanting to transform or change this place, never mind that one would have no idea how that would be done,” he told me during an interview in 2012, a few months before the opening.

I had just returned to Nairobi from a visit to the construction site and that incredulity had driven me ask for an explanation of what he was building and why. There was no doubt that a lot of thinking had gone into the design of the main and surrounding buildings and grounds but the medieval theme seemed totally out of place.

Kenya is not known for good architecture; the country is strewn with pretentious mimicry and frankly ugly and dangerous buildings. One just needs to visit the financial and corporate heartland of Upper Hill, Nairobi, to see the uglification of Kenya. In the lower part of that hill, at the corner of Bunyala and Lower Hill Roads, stand two of the most hideous edifices – the Co-op Trust Tower and Imperial Bank Building. You would have thought that after Kencom House, a battleship run aground smack in the middle of the city in 1978, we would have hit the bottom of the creative trough especially when this monstrosity is seen against the iconic Kenyatta International Conference Centre of five years earlier; but these two more recent buildings and many more coming up around the country illustrate that we are not done yet.

It has not always been this way. Two recent books, A brief tour of the buildings of Nairobi by Yuko Iwatani and Evelyne Wanjiku, self-published in 2010, and Nairobi in pictures: political icons 1899-2000 by Dr. Lydia Muthuma, published by Focus Publications in 2013, illustrate that poor architectural taste is a contemporary Kenyan affliction – we were designing much better up to around 1981 when the elegant Co-operative House in Nairobi was completed. There have been a few exceptions since – the Coca-Cola Building (2008) and Geminia Insurance Plaza (2008) in Upper Hill are notable departures from this downward spiral but one just has to be confronted by Nation Centre (1991) and the I&M Bank Tower (2001) in the city centre to be reminded of this persistent condition. As such, when you come face to face with Tafaria Castle, the instinct is to see it in light of this trend.

A metaphor is when you appropriate a discourse and apply it in a new or unfamiliar context, for example, using road traffic symbols to illustrate the route to good health; here, the road signs become metaphors for wellbeing. Such rhetorical devices are used to present something in a new and refreshing way with the objective of creating impact and ultimately to persuade. This is the lens through which an appreciation of Tafaria Castle is made possible.

Castles are a European invention, dating back to the 10^th century and originally built as fortified defences. They were usually erected after an area had been conquered and due to this military origin, their prevalence is a historical marker of warfare. Waititu’s dream is to transform the “harsh” environment he grew up in. His means is not war but rather, social, economic and environmental investments with the aim of improving human and physical conditions. Tafaria Castle is the symbol of this intention – the mark of social, economic and environmental conquest; when viewed in this manner, it no longer appears out of place.

Making sense of Telkom Kenya’s market failures

A lot has been written about the troubles at Telkom Kenya, majority owned by Orange Group of France, but not from a customer experience point of view. Late last year, we moved our home and office from Nairobi to Laikipia County, North-West of Mount Kenya, and set up our information design and market research office in Nanyuki. I wanted dedicated office telephone lines so looked up the Orange / Telkom Kenya website mid-year, several months before the move; on the website, there were clearly defined service and product offerings and a simple web form to lodge my request which I completed and submitted.

The derelict Orange / Telkom Kenya building in Nanyuki, Laikipia County (photo by author)

I received an email response after a week. Unintentionally, the person who responded included a long email thread originating from the initial request. Apparently, my original enquiry, which plainly stated what I wanted – a post-paid wireless telephone line for an office in Nanyuki – had instigated an internal skirmish that revolved around which business region Nanyuki was in and who, therefore, should handle this business opportunity.

The internal email exchanges were hilarious to read but betrayed the lack of clarity, market knowledge and decisiveness at Telkom Kenya. The tussle started, encouragingly, with a volunteer: “Let me follow up from Nakuru.” This was promptly smothered by someone else who considered this an encroachment: “Laikipia falls under my region” followed by the apparent referee in this matter: “unless I am mad or confused, Nanyuki is under who exactly?” followed by a tail-between-the-legs moment from the volunteer: “I guess Laikipia is quite large…” and finally “Laikipia is my area!” from the one who had finally been tasked with following up my enquiry.

This internal tiff having been settled thus, the beneficiary emailed me a quotation on a plain Microsoft Word document which stated how much the sim-cards and telephone sets would cost and how much the post-paid deposit would be. I called to ask if this was an official quote from Telkom Kenya since there was no branding, address or named source on the document. I was told to pop into the Nanyuki office if I wanted an official quote. The telephone sets, however, were not available so no progress could be made.

I re-visited the Orange / Telkom Kenya website again in May 2014 and resubmitted my request. In the meantime, I had migrated my Safaricom post-paid modem data line to voice and inserted the sim-card into an old mobile handset which now served as the office telephone as I awaited Telkom Kenya to come through. The response this time was without incident and I was assured that someone would get back to me soon. The next day, another person called and began the conversation by asking what I wanted to which I responded in complete exasperation: don’t you people speak to each other? Don’t you read the enquiries before making the calls? What exactly do you want to know beyond what I have submitted for you to establish what I need?

Despite the Orange / Telkom Kenya web form being immensely simple to complete and covering the basic information to complete a sale, they have not closed this one, one year after the initial enquiry. My experience tells me I am not alone. At Telkom Kenya, making a wireless sim-card sale and supplying a desktop telephone set is considered a rather complex manoeuvre, demanding exhaustive internal deliberation and repeated customer inquisition. Any wonder customer numbers are dwindling and usage of their telephone services is shrinking? Since they still have people calling and running around but are not completing sales, any wonder they are not profitable?

Despite the pervasive mobile phone, desktop phones still have a place in business and Telkom Kenya has a reliable wireless technology. What is lacking is the kamikaze-like zeal of the street vendors who sell car and home accessories, DVDs and other knick-knacks on many African streets. Perhaps the knowledge that, with no sales, there will be no money for food, rent, school fees and other important needs drives these sellers. At Telkom Kenya, there appears to be no connection between effort and reward, the legacy of being a former state-owned entity. The evidence that this culture pervades in Telkom Kenya years after the buy-out by Orange demonstrates the latter's failure to convert its employee’s attitude from a desk-bound, civil service mentality to a street-smart, commercial-savvy mind-set.