About Kenny

A FAMILY ALBUM

My mother's grandfather, Solomon Jurgrau, in Radautz (formerly a Jewish shtetl on the Ukrainian/Romanian border), where he had a textile shop.

Kenny Mann, Manhattan, 2007

He married four times and fathered 18 children, one of whom was my grandmother, Emma. She was the first woman from Radautz to attend university, and earned a degree in English Literature a the University of Vienna. She married Jakob Shoenbaum, a handsome army officer, and soon after my mother Erica's birth in 1917, they moved to Bucharest. Very few family members survived the Holocaust, but Emma and her husband, Jakob, did. After her husband's early death of a stroke, Emma came out to Kenya to live with us. In those days, there were no direct flights. She traveled across the Mediterranean, up the Nile, and overland through Uganda and western Kenya to reach us on our cattle ranch at Athi River, about 20 miles southeast of Nairobi, on the road to Mombassa. The story goes that when she walked into my parent's tiny government bungalow, her first question was: "Where is the chandelier?" Emma never lost her desire for bourgeois gentility. She did not like Africa and left us in 1961 to live in Israel, where she died aged 92.

Emma and Jakob Schoenbaum, Bucharest, ca. 1915	My mother, Erica, aged 17, in Romanian national costume, performing in a school play as a man , 1934

In 1939, my father Igor walked out of his home town of Przemysl, Poland, just as Hitler's armies arrived. With the help of underground collaborators, he found himself in Bucharest, where he was housed in a hostel that happened to be run by one of my mother's girlfriends who must have thought that Igor was pretty cute. At the time, Erica had been engaged for seven years to a nice fellow called Zephy. She had been the only female student in Bucharest's School of Architecture. As both the Russians and the Germans made life for Jews extremely difficult, Erica and Zephy moved to Paris, where they thought they would be safe. Erica became an apprentice in an architectural studio. But it soon became apparent that Paris was no safer than anywhere else, and they decided to return to Bucharest. One day, Erica received a phone call from Igor in his appalling German. "I hear that you have very beautiful legs," he said. My mother hesitated for only a split second before replying, "Well, in that case, I suppose you had better come and check them out for yourself!" That was the end of the engagement to Zephy and the start of a 50-year marriage that was not always happy, but took my parents to Africa and consequently all over the world in their professional and personal life together.

Erica and Igor somewhere in Romania, late 1930's

ON THE WAY TO AFRICA!

They don't look like refugees, but here are Erica (right) and a friend on board the soldiers' transport that took them from Israel to Rhodesia in 1941.

Igor opened a veterinary clinic in Bucharest. But after only a few months, it became clear that my parents would have to flee Europe. My father had many prominent clients whose pets he treated. One of them was the American Ambassador to Bucharest. One night, Papa received a phone call from this gentleman, warning him that he and Mama should leave within 12 hours because Hitler's army was marching towards the city. The ambassador promised to send a car to pick up Erica and Igor and drop them off somewhere along the Danube, where a boat would take them across to Hungary and they could make their way from there to Istanbul and by ship to Israel. And sure enough, at midnight that night, a car arrived. My mother was 23, my father 33. Papa had already left his mother and sister behind in Poland, and Erica was too young to realize that they would be leaving Romania forever. From Istanbul, they had hoped to immigrate to Brazil, but they could not get place on board a ship, so they went to Israel, where they spent a year in a refugee camp. At this time, the British needed educated people for professional positions in their African colonies, Papa was offered a job in Southern Rhodesia and before long they found themselves on board a troop transport heading for Africa. My mother had always wanted to explore the "white patches" on the map of Africa, so she was delighted.

Papa loved to pose for the camera. Here he is, acting the "great white hunter" - but the truth is, he was a real pacifist and never handled a gun in his life. In the photo to the right, my mother crosses the plains where our farm would be, followed by a caravan of African porters. 1942.

My parents adapted to life in Africa as though born to the task. For the first few years, they had a cattle ranch on the flat plains at Athi River, to the southeast of Nairobi, where the Maasai roamed in their red cloaks. Unlike British farmer settlers, who drove the "natives" off "their" lands, my parents worked with the Maasai, who are consummate cattle-keepers, to develop a hardy breed of cattle that could better withstand the harsh conditions of the plains. They also grew many fruit and vegetables and sold milk. My father became prosperous and it was into this world of freedom under the vast African skies that I was born in 1946.

Masai warriors celebrate their initiation

My sister Rhodia (left) and I in 1950 - when our little brother Oscar arrived on the scene.

With Maasai friends on our farm at Athi River, ca. 1953. My sister Rhodia (left), myself (center), and our brother Oscar (right).

Eventually, my father sold the farm and we moved to Nairobi. Papa became a renowned expert in parasitical diseases transmitted from animals to human beings. He worked for the Kenya Veterinary Services for many years before becoming a consultant for the World Health Organization. He became famous in his field, and was invited all over the world to introduce his ideas on "human ecology" long before those terms became fashionable. My mother, once considered among the most beautiful women in Paris when she was a student there in the 1930's, worked for the Kenya Lands Department in Nairobi as a Town Planner. She was responsible for planning the many new settlements that dotted the Kenya countryside as the population grew. Together, my parents were a very glamorous and charismatic couple and our house in Nairobi became the gathering point for travelers, professionals, scientists, artists, actors, famous people like Beryl Markham (the pilot), Joy and George Adamson ("Born Free"), Tom Mboya (Kenyan politician considered to be Africa's "Kennedy" before he was assassinated), Buckminster Fuller (of the geodesic dome) and many others. Our house was the first to include Africans and Asians in our social gatherings, long before Kenya's Independence in 1963 made this acceptable.

Our Spanish style home in Nairobi, designed by Mama. Today, a bank stands in its place.

Far from feeling isolated in an African backwater, living in Nairobi, where I was exposed on a daily basis to European, African and Asian culture, gave me a global outlook on the world. My parents emphasized the importance of education, travel and participation in community affairs, and they refused to acknowledge the racial barriers that divided Kenya society at the time. Nairobi boasted an international, cosmopolitan population of aid workers, consular staff and settlers from almost every country in the world, and I had friends of all ages, nationalities and professions.

Erica, dressed for a party, ca. 1956. Papa dressed as a Chinese fisherman at an Arts Ball in Nairobi, ca. 1960

My sister (left), my mother (center) and myself - all dressed up for the Queen Mother's Garden Party at Government House, Nairobi, 1958

In 1968, after graduating from the University of Nairobi, I left Kenya for good. My family stayed there, and I return frequently to maintain connections and to breath the spicy scent of African soil. After two years in England and twelve years in Hamburg, Germany, I moved to the United States, where I now live in a small village on the East End of Long Island, NY. My daughter Sophie is now a model and actress, living in Los Angeles.

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