Once the decision to spread Raymond products to East Africa and beyond was made, the responsibility fell on me, naturally, as I was the company’s Marketing Director. My first stop was Lusaka, Zambia. Incidentally, the first shop I walked into with the samples and explained what I was trying to sell, the shopkeeper asked me only two questions; how much I would sell the yarn for and how much yarn did I have. I told him that we had 6,000 kilogrammes for export, although I think we had more.

Then he said to me: “If I buy all that, will you give me a monopoly?”

I had not expected such a question so I asked for time to consult the other directors.

“Take your time,” he said to me. “But leave all your samples with me.”

Getting people on the phone was not an easy thing in those days and it took me the better part of a day to get through to the other directors, all of who agreed that we should give the businessman a monopoly. We had a deal.

From there, I flew to Harare, Zimbabwe. Although I did not get a businessman who wanted to monopolise the trade, I managed to sell to different retailers in small lots. Many of them found our yarn both of higher quality and lower price compared to what they were importing from South Africa and this gave Raymond an edge.

From there, I flew to Ndola, the third largest city in Zambia, and which lies in the famed Zambian copper belt. Ndola is very close to the border with the DR Congo.

In all, after three years of aggressive marketing both at home and in the region, Raymond made its first profit. We had effectively embarked on our growth journey.

Hiring advertisers 

With our yarn business firmly established, we took another decision to diversify and bought spinning mills for making blankets. We hired a British company to do the advertising for us but all the concepts they came up with were too alien for the Kenyan market. As the man responsible for marketing, it was my job to approve the commercials but I felt that something was missing in all of them.

One day, as we were discussing one of the commercials, I had a brainwave. I remembered that in most Kenyan cultures, when a prospective groom goes to pay dowry for his prospective bride, the groom’s family must present a blanket to the father of the maiden. I explained the idea to the advertising executives and told them to try it out, only this time, the commercial must leave no doubt that the old man was receiving a Raymond blanket. The commercial was shot in Ngong and within days, the team was back in my office.

After I watched it, I said to them: “This is right but it is not complete.”

“What do you mean it is not complete?” they asked. I suspect they were on the verge of exasperation. I told them that once the old man accepts the blanket, it means he has blessed the impending marriage, and that calls for celebrations.

“We need a traditional ngoma dance at the end of the commercial,” I said.

Testing adverts

The team went back to Ngong to shoot the ngoma scene. To test the acceptability of the commercial, we asked the agency to air it at Leicester Square in the UK. Every time the commercial ran, audiences would be so mesmerised that they would rise to their feet and cheer when it ended. When it eventually hit the airwaves in Kenya, it instantly became a runaway success. And for my trouble, the agency gave me an award as a token of appreciation.

There was another advert we commissioned, showing an elderly couple sharing a Raymond blanket, creating the impression that it was so good it had literally brought the warmth back to their marital bed. Many people in Kenya still recall this advert because it evoked a happy home even in old age and it is not surprising to hear it mentioned figuratively during wedding ceremonies to this day.

I remember one day, the chairman, Singania, visited our factory in Eldoret and was received by Dr Njoroge Mungai, Kenya’s Foreign minister and close confidant of Mzee Jomo Kenyatta. As they were chatting, Singania invited Dr Mungai to visit India so that he could see for himself what other ventures Raymond was involved in.

Dr Mungai decided to travel in his private capacity, taking the trip as a holiday. However, he duly informed the President who approved his travel. Once in India, Dr Mungai was taken around various cities in Singania’s private aircraft, visiting the factories run by Singania’s numerous companies. In Rajistan, he was shown the company’s polyester plant, which impressed him a great deal and he expressed interest in having such a factory opened in Kenya. However, as his tour ended, he stopped by the Kenya High Commission in New Delhi just to say hello to the staff before flying back home.

Dr Mungai’s trip to India

The Kenyan High Commissioner then introduced him to India’s Foreign Ministry officials, but they were at a loss over how to treat Dr Mungai, since he had breached protocol by travelling to India without informing them. They felt that even if he had been on a private visit, the responsibility of hosting him and taking him around rested with the Indian government. They were particularly unhappy that he had been in their country without any formal security arrangements.

The Foreign Office at once dispatched a letter to the Indian High Commissioner in Kenya, demanding an explanation on how such a high ranking government official could travel to India without the embassy alerting authorities back home.

The High Commissioner tried to reach me several times, to find out what exactly happened but I was too busy to meet him. Eventually, he hatched a plan, visiting the office of a lawyer whose office was on the same floor as mine. One day, the lawyer invited me over, saying he had a guest he wanted me to meet. When I walked into his office, I found the High Commissioner waiting for me. Since I could not avoid him anymore, I told him that Mzee Kenyatta had okayed the trip and Dr Mungai had travelled in his private capacity and since he had a great time anyway, there was no reason to throw a tantrum. Armed with this information, he filed the report back to his superiors and the diplomatic matter rested there.

On his return from India, Dr Mungai recommended that Raymond build a polyester fabrics factory in Kenya. He said he would offer his support for such a venture. So we embarked on a market survey, which indicated that there was a market for such fabric.

With Dr Mungai’s help, we met Mzee Jomo Kenyatta and asked him where he wanted the factory set up. He suggested Thika, on the Thika-Garissa highway and even allocated land to Raymond for that purpose. We embarked on the process of applying for the relevant licenses and other approvals and this was when we started running into headwinds.

When the applications reached the office of the Cabinet minister Gikonyo Kiano, we could not move. After eighteen months of waiting, however, we ran out of patience and went back to Dr Mungai. Back in those days, the two politicians, one from Murang’a District and the other from Kiambu, were bitter rivals, competing for the President’s attention. Indeed, a story is told that so bitter was their rivalry that Dr Kiano, Kenya’s first PhD holder, at one time stabbed Dr Mungai, a doctor who was also Mzee Kenyatta’s physician.

Meeting with Kenyatta

When we brought the issue to Dr Mungai’s attention, he said our best option lay with seeing Mzee Kenyatta himself. Dr Mungai was close to the First Lady, Mama Ngina Kenyatta, and he called her, seeking her assistance in securing an appointment for us. Mama Ngina gave us an appointment for 7am, saying that was the best time of the day to discuss business with Mzee.

On the appointed date, one of my fellow directors and I made our way to Mzee Kenyatta’s Gatundu home. It was a chilly morning and Mama Ngina served us tea and biscuits in an outhouse, where we were to wait for the President.

When he came and saw me, he said in a loud voice: “Mr Shantha! What brings you here?” Although he had difficulties pronouncing my name correctly, he had remembered me from our earlier meetings.

“Your Excellency,” I said him after the preliminaries. “We wanted to build a factory to create jobs for your people here in Thika but so far, we are yet to get the license and other permits that we need to get started.”

Kenyatta used to have a big diamond ring on his index finger. He picked up the phone on his desk, and with the index finger, he dialed Dr Kiano’s number.

“Gikonyo!” he growled into the phone. “Shantha is here with me. Why have you not given him the license?”

As they talked, all I could hear Dr Kiano, then infamously known as Mr Ten Percent, saying was “Ndio Mzee, yes Mzee.”

When he replaced the telephone receiver, Mzee Kenyatta informed us that we would have the license by 11am the same day. 

The hurdle had been cleared in just ten minutes of tea with the President. It would be only a matter of time before the Thika polyester mills roared to life.