Karin was born in 1934. We have just celebrated her birthday on 31 March.

Her father, Walter Francke was a teacher of modern languages. Her mother, also called Karin, was partly Swedish. Karin’s father was born in the extraordinarily beautiful mountains of Ladakh in northern India,  where Karin’s

grandfather, Herman Francke, was a scholar of Tibetan language and culture and a missionary. On Karin’s mother’s side, they have some Swedish blood, a very  musical family, including Clara Wieck, a well known concert pianist and composer in the nineteenth century. Karin and her sisters obviously inherited this  musicality. They  enjoyed singing together, singing in parts, and as a child Karin played the piano and the recorder.

Karin’s pet name in the family was Kajsa, according to her sisters who were born in quick succession after her.  They  were brought up in a beautiful wooded area and loved the outdoors. Karin was evidently a leader of their games in the fields and the woods. She loved reading from an early age and her younger sisters regarded her as knowledgeable. This was obviously a time of happiness and simple pleasures at home, at school and in the countryside.

But then came the Second World War  in 1939, disruption, displacement, fleeing from advancing armies, and separations from time to time, then family reunions, as the family coped somehow. Karin bravely put all that behind her when she was in Kenya and didn’t allude to this difficult time.

As she grew into  a teenager at secondary  school, Karin began to show her independent mind and spirit.  She was bright at school, courageous and curious but sometimes fretted at rules and regulations. Her sisters marveled at how sociable she was even at a young age. But we  have now come to appreciate the extent of the challenges she faced during the war and as a teenager after the war,  through emails sent to us this week from her sisters whom she would often comfort when they had to face difficulties alone. We salute Karin and her sisters for overcoming those hard years. We note Karin’s fortitude for smiling, laughing and living a full life as we  have seen her live for over forty  years in Kenya.

Karin took a keen interest in every individual she met. She had an insatiable curiosity about life, events, social dynamics, politics and justice. She read intensively. She debated incessantly. Her love of Kenya took her into  all manner of topics and issues of the day.

Karin is noted in the NGO world of the 1980s  and 1990s  and continuing up to today, for the deep interest she took,  in her role  as a DANIDA Officer,  to follow  the issues of the day, to strengthen the role  of DANIDA in promoting democracy, and to interact with  donors on collaborative efforts in development. Her peers at the time, Kenyan and from the donor world, noted her commitment to integrity and transparency. She was involved in grant and scholarship selection and evaluation of progress being made through donor support towards achieving human rights, constitutional reform and election administration. Karin was an excellent networker and the contacts and friends she made during her work  with  DANIDA has brought her lifelong friends. And, one could add, as many of the DANIDA grantees studied journalism, she too has developed a lifelong interest in the power of the media.

During a couple of interim years in the 1990s  between contracts, Karin also worked for a time in administration at UN Habitat in Nairobi.

When Karin retired from the Embassy, she enthusiastically took on a new career as a specialist tour guide. Some of the most prestigious international tour companies sought her specialised guiding skills because Karin knew so much about the land, the peoples of Kenya, the history and current issues. She also became well versed in wildlife, nature and ecology. She would plan the tours meticulously. From her hilarious tales of the world of tourism, it is obvious that the tourists had a lot of fun on Karin’s tours and learned a lot.

After almost forty  years of life together, Karin and Peter solemnized their marriage on 16 November 2017. It was a great day in all its simplicity and quiet elegance. They were so deeply happy and content with this  decision and this  day of theirs.

We should note also something of Karin’s everyday life in the little community of maisonettes where she lived  in Kilimani. She simply loved the children of her neighbours. The visitors to her house know those children better than we  do the parents because they would happily wander in and out of Peter and Karin’s house at all times, knowing they were welcome. Auntie Karin had bought crayons and colouring books, coloured sheets of drawing paper and other things besides that the children could settle down with happily at the dining room table or on the floor. This was a house of welcome. Friends could pop in any time and find  a cup of tea. It was a happy house. But when Peter died Karin found it hollow. She grieved deeply for Peter. She missed him with  a raw pain of loss.  She would of course rouse herself and greet the next friend who came to the door, offer the next cup of tea, but there was a massive hole in Karin’s life. Peter had gone and life was simply not the same any more.

Karin’s sisters watched these travels and exploits and found themselves married in England and in Australia, also far  from home. This was indeed an adventurous family and we  saw the result of this  when Karin reached Kenya, made Kenya friends, met Peter, her beloved husband, and decided to stay. Kenya would be her home for the next 43 years. At Peter’s funeral just three years ago, Karin told us of their amazing chance meeting, at the side of the dusty road at the foot of the Ngong Hills, and they travelled together the one hour’s journey back into  Nairobi. That was the beginning of four  decades of happiness for Karin. Life had its up and downs, of course, but Karin would always praise Peter for his infinite patience, his love and count their many blessings. Peter was a good man and Karin knew this  to the depths of her soul.  Peter, in turn loved Karin’s honesty, her generous spirit, spontaneity and her enthusiasm for all things Kenyan.

Peter was devoted to his family and to their land. He and Karin would make so many visits  to Kisamis, bearing trees to plant, and looking after the various agricultural and livestock projects Peter had with  his father. Karin got to know the family and the little sisters, who were quite young at the time.

Karin expanded her role  in the Danish Embassy to a variety of areas. Her curiosity about Kenya became experience of and knowledge of Kenya. She became a valued source of information on all manner of subjects to her Embassy. She met a never-ending stream of visitors to the Embassy, particularly young Kenyans starting off on their studies and careers, many of whom are now leaders in their professions and in the Parliament of Kenya itself.

Tragically, when Karin was only  15 years, her father died of a brain tumour. Her mother struggled heroically to work  and look after her three daughters at the same time. When Karin left school she travelled on her own to England to work  and learn English and to Sweden. She followed courses and she then lived  and worked in Paris,  and studied French. That was a time she particularly enjoyed and reveled in French culture. And Karin’s other adventure was to work  for some time on cargo ships that came as far  as West Africa. In the 1950s  this  must have been an extraordinary, pioneering thing for a young woman to do.

Then came marriage and the birth of her son, Robin,  and about two  decades living and working in Esbjerg and

Fredericia in Denmark, both towns by the sea with  a rich  historical heritage. We can imagine Karin looking out to sea and somehow knowing she was destined to travel again. Meanwhile Karin dedicated herself to Robin and to her home but a time came when she was to be alone, looking after her little boy.  She had a full time job  but also managed to study Danish literature and Italian.

How did  Karin come to Kenya? Apparently, she heard of a vacancy in Danida, in the Danish Embassy in Kenya, she applied and was accepted. And so began, in July 1977, the saga of Kenya where Karin settled then for the rest of her life. Robin, her son says: “The high sky of Kenya, the light, the red earth, the sounds, the scents and the people, must subconsciously have given Karin a sense of natural relationship to this  continent and maybe for the first time in her life she felt at home. She loved Africa  and everything in it with  all her heart. Bless Peter’s soul.”

Karin bore illness and acute pain bravely when it came at the start of this  year. She faced hospitals, doctors, an operation, and endless tests. The pain was intense at times and it overwhelmed her.  Covid reduced her friends’ visits  drastically. She was more alone than ever. We felt at times we  were losing Karin. But she would rally. She began to eat again. She braved the stairs and ventured out into  the garden.

Her birds had returned to the bird table Peter had made. The sun was shining after days of rain.

Karin had a very  happy last day, in the garden, enjoying two  visits  from friends. Rose,  her neighbour was generosity personified popping over to Karin, morning and evening, before and after work, and giving all the uncountable kindnesses and care to Karin in those last months.

Elizabeth stayed with  Karin for weeks. She was so much more than a maid. She became a dedicated companion, a nurse, a constant support for Karin, a friend, with untold patience, gentleness and fortitude. Karin depended on Elizabeth entirely in the last weeks. These dear people and others, Karin called “her  angels”, when she spoke to her anxious sisters and Robin over the phone.

Karin will remain a special, dear friend to so many people. They  each have their unique anecdotes to share and their memories of Karin. She was a truly outstanding daughter of Kenya loved by so many.

She cherished every single one of you here today. Robin writes: “Bless her soul and may her force continue to bless Africa  and its people.” Karin said in the last weeks that she had had a very  happy and wonderful life, that she was ready to leave now,  if that was to be.  She was ready to be with  Peter once more.

Dear Karin, rest in peace. Fare thee well on the next journey.