Anybody who lived in Kisumu in the late 80s and 90s knows the prestige and standing of the Imperial Hotel. When you passed by it along Jomo Kenyatta Highway, as a child, you imagined royalty lived there. It seemed taller than it is, grander.
You never imagined you’d ever sleep in their bed until you found yourself in it as an adult. Of course, Sarova now took over its management, did a major renovation, and turned it into a modern hotel of the times with the retained touch of the past.
I recently stayed there on the fifth floor with a stunning view of the lake. Everything was either clean, tasteful, or white. [Food is truly delectable] I sat on the bed looking out through the window at the rooftops of Kisumu at night, feeling like a child again.
I thought of my mother who I’d wait for as she withdrew the little, she had from the KCB bank down the road (May her soul rest in peace).
I thought of the sweet smell of bread from the bakery, Sunblest, up the road, and the smells of kebabs from the Wimpy.
The derelict-looking communication masts of the Posta building stood defiantly against the skyline, in the face of relentless technology. An exclamation to the changing times.
The first night I took a walk around the city centre. The second evening I went up to their rooftop bar called the Perch Bar (a smart wordplay on Nile Perch and its position on top of Kisumu).
The sun was setting in a furious beauty of orange over the lake. There, I nursed a double scotch.
A young man was taking photos of a girl in a short dress, clutching a bouquet. “It’s your birthday?” I asked her. It was. Was there any better moment to be young, I wondered.
To be 19 like her, and have the courage to walk into a hotel like “The Imperial”, with flowers to take photos in your short dress? To be free and limitless! Unimaginable in my time. A pipe dream.
