I have my doubts about that date, as I remember when we lived in Nakuru, all the families and the children from my daughters first school gathered at the airstrip near Lanet to 'meet and greet' .... HRH was on his way to have lunch with Mzee Kenyatta at State House, and when he went for his lunch, the air crew from HRH's plane invited the children to have a look around the aircraft, and I believe they were given sweets !
Here, I've got a vast collection of letters that we sent 'home' to our parents, probably around 500 or 600 of them, which I've sorted into date order, so was easily able to find the letters for the relavent time; which wasn't "early 1970's" as the children were too young to have been in school then, and we didn't move to Nakuru until about 1976.
Bingo .... I found a mention of the visit in a letter to my mother from May1977, but D.W., my old Maseno friend, found the article below in the New York Times, which dates this visit to March '77 .... so I am now wondering why I didn't write home about it until May, and only to my mother and not also the parents in law ? One of lifes mysteries ....
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Prince Charles Leads Newshounds on a Merry Chase in Africa
NAIROBI, Kenya, March 9—Prince Charles, who is in Kenya on a photographic safari, is himself the quarry in a journalistic hunt mounted by a Fleet Street caravan.
The press caravan, composed of nine top reporters and photographers of the British popular press, was at Nairobi Airport on Sunday when the Prince of Wales arrived, landing his own plane. He met the group affably, saying, “Sorry I'm late. Had to check the controls. Pleasant flight. Bit bumpy.”
That was all he said before disappearing for unknown places. It was hardly enough to justify expenses for a trip to Greenwich, let alone Africa.
Members of the group, however, are an indomitable breed. Among them is a man who once spent tens of thousands of dollars tracking a milkman in Argentina in the belief that he was Martin Bormann. He found out that he was a milkman.
Through charm, guile and the disbursement of money, the reporters have, among them, ferreted out hundreds of circulation‐boosting secrets and true confessions.
Still, by Sunday night, they had not learned the whereabouts of the Prince. Messages from their London offices demanded stories, offered suggestions, provided goads. Obviously, the situation was serious.
By very early Monday morning there was a breakthrough. The reporters had reliably learned that the Prince was in the Aberdares. This is a forested mountain region about the size of Rhode Island, only much bumpier.
Mau Mau fighters hid in these dense forests for years from thousands of British troops. Could the terrain provide enough covering for Charles to evade the Fleet Street pack?
The journalists set off in LandRovers for Treetops, a lodge for viewing game in the area. It was at this lodge that Charles's mother became Queen when King George VI died a quarter century ago.
The reporters saw elephant and buffalo but no sign of royalty.
For a while the resident Nairobi press corps, all colleagues and admirers of the Fleet Streeters, lost contact with the group. Some of the Fleet Street pursuers had said they would be back in Nairobi for dinner. When they did not show up, one resident journalist explained, “Newsmen in Lion Horror,” offering as well a paradigm of a British headline.
Yesterday came word by telephone that—except for no Prince—all was well. The journalists moved to the Outspan Hotel. Many funny stories were reportedly being told. Expenses were mounting. The man from The Sun said that royal tracking was being impeded by Kenyan soldiers under orders to keep the newshounds at bay.
“They're not playing about,” said the man from The Sun.
But neither are tilt reporters. Those who have watched them in action before are not eager to bet against them. After all, they haven't yet used disguises or hired bearers. They may yet burst upon the royal encampment, emerging from a thicket of thorns, ragged but triumphant, cornering their quarry with a “Your Royal Highness, I presume?”
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