Five-decade phone revolution

It has been a long journey in the field of telephone communication.

From a physical electricity-like poles wire network linking only few parts of Kenya – mainly along the railway line – to the current wireless mobile phones.

The evolution to present sophistication has come from primitive telephone sets. It began with winding a gadget used to send a ringtone to a post office operator; to self-dialing sets in telephone booths and finally, thumbing on the present mobile gadgets. And these are getting better by the day.

The first two were predictable in terms of location. If one made a call, it was obvious the receiver would answer in a certain office or residential building.

The cell phone, on the other hand, is unpredictable. Between the caller and the receiver, none would know where the other is located; in an office, home or a lodging room. This has made it all easier for spouses to cheat.

However, as technology improves, the cheats’ days may be numbered because mapping will make it possible to tell the location of an active mobile phone.

Rich man’s facility

Before and shortly after independence, telephones were the rich man’s toys. Only the white community and the elitist Kenyans had access to them.

In 1963, the only telephone in extensive administrative areas would be found at the District Commissioner’s office and in fewer cases the District Officer’s.

The second place where it was obvious to find a phone was at the post offices – usually in the capitals of the original 42 districts.

For instance, for Taita Taveta it was at Voi (telephone arrived in Wundanyi later) while for Kakamega, the telephone was in the town centre.

A Landover bearing GK numbers, or HMS (Her Majesty’s Service before independence) was used to ferry an Administration Policeman with a letter or verbal communication between DCs or DOs.

And when one wanted to make a telephone call from the village, usually to his or her kin working in Nairobi, they would wake up early in the morning to travel and queue at the location of the nearest telephone set.

This was usually the post office. This was a primitive stage of winding like on the 1950s Germany-made gramophone player known as His-Masters-Voice, which has now been consigned to the museums.

There was not so much of an impressive cubicle at the Post Office with a handset box. The phone was operated like the office pencil sharpener.

One would wind the handle to send a ringtone to a telephone operator where there was a mammoth switchboard with many wires looking like the laptop charger.

The caller would talk to the operator of the phone destination – Nairobi, Nakuru, Kisumu or Mombasa – by plugging the wire cords in the relevant hole on the switchboard.

And woe unto you if the operator was a man, for they were impatient and incautious. Women operators were more polite and reliable for a desperate caller.

If you booked a number from say Butere to Nairobi or even Kakamega, it would sometimes take three hours for the operator to connect.

Sometimes people waited until they gave up. The operator would ring back calling out the name of the person being assisted only to be told “ameenda (she/he has left)”.

But in homes – which were mainly upper class in Nairobi, Mombasa, Nakuru, Kisumu and Eldoret – telephone was elitist and prestigious. It was like owning a Mercedes Benz or a four-wheeler today.

For instance, people who had connected telephones in their houses in Nairobi’s Eastlands areas such as Kaloleni or Jericho became celebrities overnight during the late 1960s and early 1970s.

Excitement arrived in the mid 1970s and peaked through the 1980s with the introduction of – self-dialing sets.
Still, these were interconnected throughout the country by a network of electricity-like pole wiring.

First, the country was zoned into manual (the winding ones) and automatic telephones. The major towns including Nairobi, Mombasa, Nakuru, Kisumu and Eldoret were first to be automated.

Telephone booths

Secondly, even with automation, telephone booths were only placed at the General Post Office (GPOs) of the major towns.

If one wanted to make a call, one would be forced to go to the GPO with coins – first it was in cent-coins and later shilling-coins as the cost of living soared.

There was a silver-plated one-and-half foot call box with a hole where the telephone handle was hung. The coinage was rated according to timing.

You would slot the coins, which would automatically send a signal for the line to clear then dial.
All towns in East Africa region were given code numbers – for instance - Nairobi was 02, followed by six-digit number required, Kisumu was 057, Mombasa was 011, while Kampala was 041.

Real excitement began in the 1980s when telephone booths were placed in estates, streets and market places throughout the country.

In the rural markets, they received the booths with a lot of enthusiasm and even the public policed them from vandalism as they had brought civilisation as it were.

The shop next to where telephone booths were situated even became “the owner” as people knew if they made a call to the booth, it would be received by the shop owner and their message would be relayed to their people.

But the dark side of the booths was that they also became susceptible to criminals – usually conmen.

There were criminals who gave booth numbers as their direct lines to be called at a particular top of the hour.

The conman would be at the booth at that the appointed hour and ward off other callers, telling them he or she was expecting an urgent call from the rural area where there was “matanga” (funeral) or such other story.

The conman would transact his business and warn his prey that he was leaving the office for some time.

In Nairobi, a telephone booth which was situated at the popular Garden Square hotel, where people hold funeral meetings was used by conmen as the direct line to their ‘offices’.

The final stage of telephoning was the present mobile.
Still, when the mobile phone came, in early 1990s, it was exclusively a rich man’s preserve.

Its price was equivalent to a second-hand Japanese Toyota car then – between Sh150,000 and Sh250,000. It was also a crude set as it was the size of police radio call handset.

This particular mobile was used by the elite and few politicians to intimidate the common Kenyans. For instance, a politician from Nakuru used to assemble people and make imaginary calls purporting to be talking to State House.

The politician would then boast to the gullible wananchi, at the height of Kanu dictatorship, that he would see to it that their problems were solved. In return, the politician would receive favours in form of ‘‘harambee’’ money.

The exclusivity, intimidation and exorbitant prices are, however, all gone and now a mobile phone is in the hands of vegetables vendors, house maids and any willing person. Thanks to liberalisation of both business and imports in Kenya.