A widower is determined to get to the bottom of a potentially explosive secret involving his wife’s murder, big business, and corporate corruption.

When Justin Quayle, a British diplomat working in Kenya, learns that his wife Tessa has been murdered, he decides to unravel the mystery: His journey takes him to her place of death — Loiyangalani. Welcome to the set of The Constant Gardener, a 2005 Hollywood blockbuster that put this rocky outcrop on the shores of Lake Turkana in the international limelight.

Known as “the place of many trees” in the Samburu language, Loiyangalani has palm trees lining the lake and a town that glitters on the outcrop.

Locals say the town came into being through missionaries. Then came a German investor who put up the Oasis Resort. The lodge is located behind rows of swaying palm trees, with outstanding stonework that makes for paths to the main restaurant, with an enviable view of Lake Turkana and the airstrip adjacent to it. He gave life to the place, before losing his life in an accident, and his brother took over the establishment.

At the time of the making of The Constant Gardener, Loiyangalani was the wild north. A place where thrill seekers went and adventure filled the petrol tanks of their off-road machines. From fishing to drinking clubs, this was the place to be.

A decade later, the story has changed. Poverty, despair and a hot sun depict the new face of the town. When you drive into the town, business comes to a halt. It’s not every day that vehicles are seen. People are seated, or squatting outside the shops, under the shadows of the verandah, away from the scorching sun; some chatting, others with blank stares.

The town is made up of round thatched mud huts, and several lined shops, a few camp sites, two lodges that have swimming pools fed by a hot spring, a police station and a Catholic mission.

We stop at a sign board reading “Cold Drinks Hotels.” In the first room, there is a wall hanging with black and white photographs of patrons eating at the hotel. It looks like it has been hanging their for decades. The pictures must have been taken in the early 1990s.

“Welcome and make yourself comfortable,” says Mzee Chongo, the proprietor, as he ushers us into the VIP section of his hotel, which doubles up as his living room. Chongo, an aged Somali man, has run the place “ever since the sun died,” a reference to the 1973 solar eclipse.

He shouts out our orders and a tall light-skinned boy, whom we later learn is his son, brings them over. He is wearing an Arsenal T-shirt, and Chongo tell us that he is a diehard Chelsea fan too. Interesting, given that there are no signs of a television in this remote part of Marsabit.

Chongo explains how Loiyangalani has seen its fortunes change. He speaks fondly of the late 1980s and early 1990s, when he controlled the miraa and money-changing business.

“We used to have hundreds of tourists fly here on the twice-a-week flights on Air Kenya. The town was bustling and the economy was good,” he said.

Tour vans would make weekly excursions, either through the Chalbi desert, Marsabit or the dreaded Suguta Valley, through Baragoi, but when the town’s only lodge, Oasis Resort, ran down, fortunes changed.

“The tourist numbers dropped because of the treatment they received at the resort. Given that they didn’t have alternative accommodation, they stopped coming and that is when life dipped for most of us,” he said.

“I used to import my miraa from Nairobi using the planes that would ply this route every Monday and Friday. They would land at the airstrip and everyone would be at my front door waiting to purchase it. That all changed. Our airstrip is in a shambles and its current state does not allow a plane to land,” he points out.

As we finish our breakfast of samosas, beans, beef and injera, Chongo surprises us by quoting different prices for the meal.

“Why?” I ask him.

“Here we have different prices for different people,” he jokingly says as he tells us that the breakfast was on him.

“Do you have a cold drink?” I ask. He informs us that his fridge broke down two decades ago and is still in Nairobi for repairs.

“So why do you still have the sign board that says ‘Cold drink hotel?’” I say.

“That’s the way to do business. With the high temperatures here, you will definitely want a cold drink, and therefore make a stop here,” he responds as we part, and take a drive around the small town.

We pass by Oasis Resort, the cosy establishment that was once the bedrock of Loiyangalani. The hotel seems to be under renovation. The fence is new and we can see work ongoing. A year ago, we had spent a night in this hotel and the reception was less than pleasing.

Despite the poor service, I can still remember that the lodges’ artefacts; local memorabilia and pictures framed on the walls. A few metres from Oasis is the newly-constructed Malabo Resort, sandwiched between doum palms.

We go back to the town for some refreshments before the sun sets. We pass by the busiest retail store. It’s owned by a man called Muriuki and our guide tells us it is the lifeline of the residents. It stocks groceries, construction materials, drugs, phone services, and transport services using his lorry that transverses the town and Nyahururu, through Baragoi and Maralal.

Just last week, the town played host to the Lake Turkana Cultural Festival, a colourful week full of festivities, cultural performance. For in Loiyangalani, despite its misfortunes, life goes on.

READ: Lake Turkana Festival- a feast for the senses