Some mornings merely begin another day. And then some mornings awaken the soul. Friday, 10th July 2026, belonged to the latter.

As part of its commitment to nurturing collaboration and value-driven leadership, Strathmore University brought together members of its leadership team for a day-long leadership excursion to Murang’a County. More than an outdoor adventure, the excursion was intentionally designed to foster teamwork beyond the office environment and create space for reflection, renewal and shared learning

Long before the city had fully stretched itself awake, the leaders of Strathmore University gathered quietly at the University’s main campus. Jackets zipped against the July chill, backpacks resting lightly on hopeful shoulders, steaming cups of coffee disappearing into eager conversations, they stood ready for an encounter.

The heavens themselves appeared to have conspired in favour of the journey. A blanket of silver-grey clouds gently draped over Nairobi, allowing only whispers of daylight to filter through. The air was crisp, fresh and contemplative. The kind of weather that persuades one to slow down and listen. July is renowned for its cool, cloudy mornings with occasional mist and light drizzle, making it one of Kenya’s most refreshing seasons.

The bus slowly rolled out of the university gates. Behind them remained the city. Behind them remained calendars filled with meetings, inboxes overflowing with emails, endless Teams notifications, spreadsheets, deadlines, presentations, and the beautiful but often exhausting glass-walled offices that define modern leadership.

Technology had connected them to the world, but nature was about to reconnect them to themselves. One remembers that leadership was never meant to be imprisoned behind screens. Human beings were first shaped by rivers before boardrooms, by forests before filing cabinets, by birdsong before notification tones. Perhaps that is why every deep breath outside Nairobi felt less like inhaling oxygen and more like breathing possibility itself.

The farther they travelled, the quieter the city became. Concrete slowly surrendered to rolling hills. Billboards gave way to eucalyptus trees. The metallic chorus of traffic dissolved into the symphony of birds, rustling leaves and distant streams. Mother Nature welcomed them not with speeches, but with silence.

The land where hands tell stories

Their first destination was Makomboki Tea Factory, nestled among endless carpets of emerald tea bushes that rolled across Murang’a like a green ocean frozen in time. Waiting to receive them was Engineer Eliud Kimani.

His welcome carried both warmth and wit. “Murang’a,” he smiled, “is the land of manual work.” The statement drew laughter, but it carried the weight of truth. He narrated how he had left formal employment to dedicate himself fully to tea farming, not as a retreat from success, but as another definition of it. Then, with theatrical confidence, he reached into his pocket, produced a pen and a sheet of paper, handed them to one of the leaders and declared, “Write your resignation letter today, and tomorrow I will teach you how to grow tea!”

The factory erupted with laughter. Humour, however, has a peculiar way of carrying wisdom disguised as entertainment. For leadership often demands the courage to resign, not necessarily from employment, but from fear, comfort, routine, ego and certainty.

Inside the factory, another classroom awaited. The leaders followed the remarkable journey of tea. From the tender plucking of two leaves and a bud, through withering, rolling, oxidation, drying, sorting, grading and packaging, until eventually the humble leaf became the comforting beverage shared across continents. No machine interrupted another. No conveyor belt competed with the next. No process sought applause.

Each fulfilled its assignment with precision before passing responsibility forward. There, amidst the rhythmic harmony of steel, steam, and spinning drums, leadership revealed one of its oldest secrets. An institution succeeds not because one department is extraordinary. It succeeds because every department understands that its excellence depends upon another’s. The machines were not merely manufacturing tea. They were composing a symphony. Like violins, drums, flutes, and trumpets in an orchestra, every machine had its own sound. Individually, they produced noise. Together, they composed harmony.

The lesson was unmistakable. So it is within Strathmore University. Academic Affairs cannot flourish without Finance. Finance cannot thrive without Human Resources. Lecture halls are useless without students; Communications cannot tell stories that others refuse to create. Every faculty becomes stronger when they move not as isolated departments but as one living organism.

As Shakespeare wisely wrote, “How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.” Every office becomes that candle. Every department becomes that light. And together they illuminate the University’s mission of excellence in teaching, ethical leadership, impactful research, innovation, service to society and the holistic formation of men and women for others.

Where mud gives birth to life

Leaving Makomboki behind, the team pressed on, following the winding trails through the with every step, the landscape unfolded into a crisp air. Then, almost as if revealing a well-kept secret, the magnificent waters of Ndakaini Dam appeared before them, calm, majestic, and timeless, stretching across the valley in serene silence. It lay between the surrounding hills like a giant mirror reflecting heaven itself. The irony was impossible to ignore. The name Ndakaini translates from the Kikuyu language as “the muddy place,” a reference believed to reflect the area’s muddy terrain before the dam was constructed. How beautifully paradoxical! From a place named after mud flows water pure enough to sustain millions of people in Nairobi. Leadership often follows the same mystery.

The finest leaders are rarely produced by perfect seasons. They are born in muddy seasons. In seasons of criticism. Of failure. Of uncertainty. Of sacrifice. Like water filtered through layers of earth until it becomes crystal clear, great leadership emerges after travelling through life’s muddy valleys. The mud is never the destination. It is merely the purification process. Water itself flows to the lowest places. It refreshes without discrimination. It serves without demanding applause.

It nourishes everything except itself. Leadership ought to do the same. True leadership is strength clothed in gentleness—power expressed through service. Influence exercised with humility. No wonder Nairobi drinks daily from a place whose greatest virtue is quietness.

The hike itself slowly became therapy. Every step left more than footprints. It left behind anxiety. Every climb elevated the body more. It elevated the perspective. The oxygen carried by Murang’a’s forests seemed to sweep through minds cluttered by meetings, deadlines and decisions. One begins to understand why Jesus often withdrew to the mountains before returning to serve multitudes. When the feet move, the mind begins to breathe.

Water sang and fellowship blossomed

The final destination was the magnificent Twin Waterfalls. The cascading waters descended like white silk woven from the sky, their continuous song filling every corner of the valley. Here, the day’s lessons found their conclusion. Leaders spread picnic blankets beneath the cool skies. Meals were shared. Stories were exchanged. Laughter echoed through the valley. The cool weather remained remarkably faithful throughout the day—cloudy, fresh and pleasantly cold, providing ideal conditions for reflection, hiking and fellowship without the burden of harsh sunshine.

The Vice Chancellor Dr. Vincent Ogutu congratulated everyone for completing the journey and commended the spirit of cooperation, resilience and unity that had characterised the entire excursion. His words affirmed what everyone had quietly discovered. This had never been merely an outdoor activity. It had been leadership experiencing itself. The mountain had become the lecture hall. The waterfall had become the lecturer. The tea factory had become the case study. Nature had become the curriculum. As the bus began its return journey to Nairobi, the skyline looked exactly as it had that morning.

The office buildings still stood. The emails still waited. The meetings still occupy tomorrow’s calendars. But something invisible had changed. The leaders returning were richer than the leaders who had departed. For they had learned that leadership is not measured by the height of one’s office but by the depth of one’s service. That departments, like tea machines, produce excellence only when they move together. That muddy places can produce life-giving water.

On this cool July day, the leaders of Strathmore University stepped away from their screens. They walked into creation. And somewhere between the tea leaves of Makomboki, the still waters of Ndakaini, and the song of the Twin Waterfalls, they rediscovered that the greatest leaders are first willing to become humble students of nature. For sometimes, the best strategy meeting is held beneath a cloudy sky. Sometimes, the greatest boardroom has no walls.

Article written by Jacob Oreki Kubasu