The ‘small Indian man’ who created Nairobi’s skyline

Ishwarlal Becharbhai Patel is a small man, but not so his works. The fruits of his labour tower majestically over Nairobi and beyond  NATION

By PETER ODUOR
Posted  Thursday, May 2   2013 

In Summary

• My early childhood rotated around the rich farmlands of my neighbourhood, which partly explains why, growing up, I thought an engineer is a person who drives a train.
• Since then, the past 45 years have seen the skyline of Nairobi transform from diminutive, nondescript structures into spectacular architectural marvels that belong on postcards.
• When I sit on my balcony in Westlands, looking at the swing which my daughters — both now married and living in the US — played on and the trophies that they collected as they pursued their academic endeavours, I am filled with joy and happiness that my life, however much it began in a cold and uncertain way, has turned out the way it has.

Hello, my name is Engineer Ishwarlal Becharbhai Patel, but most people simply call me IB Patel. What you are about to read is just a few of the lessons I have learnt in life.

I tell this story because I feel that it would be unjust not to pass along the wisdom I have gathered in the 80 years I have walked on this planet. I hope you will pick up one or two things along the way, bits and pieces that will either inspire you or change your life for the better.

In 1931, as architects, constructors, designers, and engineers were putting the final touches to the Empire State Building in New York, I was born to a farmhand and kiosk vendor in Kikuyu.

My early childhood rotated around the rich farmlands of my neighbourhood, which partly explains why, growing up, I thought an engineer is a person who drives a train.

As part of an Indian family that was barely making ends meet, the language I first learnt to speak coherently was Kikuyu so that I could interact with the children who lived on the farm that belonged to the famous Chief Koinange, father of former Attorney-General Charles Njonjo.

The Empire State Building, at 102 floors, was the tallest skyscraper in the world when I was born and it stayed that way for the next 40 years. Kenya, however, attempted its own small feats in the building industry and 37 years after the completion of the Empire State Building, Nairobi put up its first megastructure, the International Life House on Mama Ngina Street.

That building scored a first in many ways. It was the first attempt at a high-rise structure in Kenya. It was the first building in the country with two basements. It was the first fully air-conditioned building in the country. And, lastly, it was my first major job as an architectural engineer.

That was in 1968. When the established engineers in the country, mainly white, heard that I was the man behind the job, they could not believe it. “We hear the small Indian man has landed a big job,” they muttered within the industry. Yes, the small man had finally “arrived”.

International Life House launched my career as a consultant engineer. And, not to be vain or chest-thump — I have no chest to thump anyway — that was also the beginning of highrise structures in Kenya.

Since then, the past 45 years have seen the skyline of Nairobi transform from diminutive, nondescript structures into spectacular architectural marvels that belong on postcards.

Today, Kenya is home to some of the greatest, most magnificent property landmarks in Africa and, looking back today, all I can say is that I am happy to have been part of the team that crafted the city’s skyline over the years.

And it was not just Nairobi. Whenever I make a new acquaintance, I like asking them which part of Kenya they come from, first, because I find that an easy ice breaker and, second, because I like testing the waters to see whether I have extended my architectural arms wide enough.

And I think I have. Sample these: Kijabe (Rift Valley Academy), Njoro (Egerton University), Mbita (ICIPE Mbita Point), Bungoma (grain silos), Homa Bay (sisal factory), Sagana (Sagana Lodge extension), and Kisumu (CDC facilities). I have also left a few footprints in Tanzania, Malawi, and Somalia.

Get up, do something

Many have asked what inspires me, what gets me going. My simple answer is that analyses and theories need to be turned into action if we are to make any progress. Dreaming and talking about issues is not enough. You need to get up and start doing something.

I also like to create things, a drive that perhaps comes from my childhood and an early introduction to innovation and creativity.

Some people think I have had it easy, that probably I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. But they are wrong, and this is why: During the early 1930s, many social amenities, including schools, were racially segregated.

The good ones belonged to the whites and Indians were looked down upon just as much as Africans — though probably a little less. Coupled with the fact that my parents earned little, going to school for me and my sister would have probably been impossible were it not for an unfortunate incident that forced our family out of Kikuyu.

Bang in the middle of one cold night, local criminals, high on the notion that all Indians were wealthy merchants, broke into our house and demanded money.

Our parents had very little, but the robbers would not let them off easily. They did not know that my father husked wheat grains to survive, and so they beat him to a pulp before walking away with what they had collected. Soon after this, we moved to Nairobi, almost penniless, but determined to get off the farm that had now become unsafe for us.

Graduated top of the class

That relocation marked the beginning of my education. I joined a primary school near OTC and went on to Government Indian High School — later renamed Jamhuri High School — where I graduated top of the class.

It is hard to talk about one’s academic achievements without sounding bigoted and conceited, but allow me to go on because my performance in school was the main reason I became an engineer.

My teenage years were a little different from that of other children. When I finished top in my high school, the next thing to do was go to India, since it was the cheapest, for further studies, but there was the little problem of funds and how I would subsist there. I solicited money from those who had faith in my academic ability and, at the age of 16, boarded a ship to India.

Even as we sailed off, I knew well that the next time I would be home would be after five years, yet the money in my pocket could only see me through half of my first year in college. Still, I went and thriftily survived through my first year on a strict budget.

At year-end, I was placed in the top two positions, a feat which earned me a scholarship for the remaining four years. You can call that luck, because I have never known what to call it.

I arrived back in Kenya in 1954 and, in the next five years, worked at the R A Sutcliff Engineering firm, got married to my wife Kamla Ben, and earned Sh600 a month.

In 1959, I got a Fulbright scholarship and off I went to America, followed by my wife after a few months.

America was a revelation. The buildings were imposing and, from their magnificence, I could tell that the engineers had done a great deal of work on them. Somehow, it was in America that my skill and love for skyscrapers was harnessed.

The small Indian man

After graduation, I worked in the US for three years before coming back to Kenya, then heading off to India again. I did not stay in India for long and, in 1967, came back to the country and established a base. I was still referred to as “the small Indian man”. Then in 1968 came the first major job I did on my own; the International Life House.

Among my most technically complicated projects, Lonrho House takes the cake. When I got the deal to do the house, there was a two-storey structure on site which had existing tenants who were not expected to move out of their premises or close shop. We had to construct the house around and over them as they went on with their daily duties.

It is worth mentioning that of all the jobs I have done, I have never gone out to seek any. Never. They come to me. And if they do not — and there are many that do not — I never feel bad about it because I know there are only two possibilities that could have led to that end; either they had a better engineer or they had other ideas.

When you do a good job, people will always come to you. And they have for me. If you look out of any office window within the city, there is an eight-out-of-10 chance that the building you will be looking at was done by my engineering consultancy firm.

Through all this, my policy on professionalism has remained one; be creative, do a good job, and work on your own terms.

Someone might wonder if I should not retire, now that I am aged 80 heading to 81. The answer is an emphatic No. I still get up to work every day and will not retire any time soon.

When I sit on my balcony in Westlands, looking at the swing which my daughters — both now married and living in the US — played on and the trophies that they collected as they pursued their academic endeavours, I am filled with joy and happiness that my life, however much it began in a cold and uncertain way, has turned out the way it has.

For whatever price, I cannot change a thing about it.

Yes, my name is IB Patel. I am an engineer and this is neither the whole nor the least of what my 80 years on Earth have summed up to.