What Tea Plantations in Kenya Taught Me About Slowing Down

As a freelance copywriter, I’m used to living inside my browser tabs. Deadlines, client edits, and endless back-and-forths across WhatsApp, email, and Slack rule my days. I write pretty much anytime, mostly from my apartment, and I rarely stop. Even when resting, I’m still calculating. How many articles this week? What’s the projected lead quality for next month? Which keywords should I target next in Google Ads? And the big one: how much longer can I keep up this hustle before burnout comes knocking?

So, when I took a break to visit some of the best tea plantations in Kenya (first Kiambu, then Kericho), I didn’t expect much more than a change of scenery. A few quiet days, maybe some good tea, and back to work. But those trips ended turned into a reckoning and solid reminder that sometimes, the only way forward is to sit still (complete with some of the most breathtaking views I’ve ever seen).

Where Green Meets Stillness

Kericho and Limuru are the typical answers for anyone wondering where tea is grown in Kenya in large scale. But after the seemingly endless green, what hits you next is the quiet. There’s a kind of hush that lives in the slopes and expanse, softened by mist and the occasional hum of wind through leaves. I experienced it twice, in two very different ways.

Kericho…

Kericho is almost cinematic. The fields stretch endlessly like a green ocean, broken only by inspection points and tarmacked roads that make the place feel like a gated community powered by agriculture. Plus, they are heavily mechanized. Browns Plantations, a subsidiary of a Sri Lanka-based conglomerate, owns a significant portion of the Kericho green gold previously operated by Finlays. For those searching for the Browns Plantations Kericho address, several online sources list it as P.O. BOX 223, Kericho 20200, Kenya. Then there’s the Unilever Tea estate, which can easily pass off as the largest tea plantation in Kenya.

One side of the Londiani–Kisumu road ripples with Kericho tea plantations, while the other unrolls into one of the most beautiful hilly landscapes I’ve ever seen (including a horizon lined up with the Nandi hills that I had the opportunity to see up close during my Kericho-Sondu trip via Kapkormon). And the rains? Relentless. Set out early, or the afternoon clouds will surely catch up with you.

And if you’re curious like me, you’ll want to know: the KETEPA headquarters and factory are about 7 km from Kericho town, at a place called Brooke Centre.

KETEPA and its surroundings

In addition, the Tea Research Institute has a center here. The other one is located in Kangaita, Kirinyaga. Speaking of which, I visited Kangaita tea plantations earlier this year. You want to stick around for the juice and views, but for now, the teaser below (complete with a few snaps of the Kangaita tea factory) should do.

The greenery at Kangaita

More of the Kericho panorama below:

PS: Wouldn’t it be a shame to proceed without a glimpse of the beautiful Kericho town? Enjoy the photo dump below:

Kiambu…

In Kiambu, the tea fields start a few kilometers from Kiambu town, past coffee farms, through Karirana tea estate (Home of Eden Tea), and to Tigoni. I’m told Browns Plantations owns a section of the land, too, but the vibe doesn’t scream “corporate.” It’s more neighborly than industrial. The estates here are tucked between small forests and settlements, creating a vastness of green that feels both rural and lived-in. You’ll also find chill spots like Camellia Gardens and Burudani Adventure Park amidst the tea bushes.

Here’s a glimpse of the lush scenery, plus a quick look at Kiambu’s neighborhoods at the end for good measure.

Men and women moved between rows with practiced grace, battery-powered tea pluckers silently humming in their hands and tea plucking bags strapped on their backs. One moment you’re passing kids and boda riders, and the next, you’re almost invisible in the thick of manicured tea bushes. The air is crisp, earthy, and laced with the scent of damp soil after early morning rains. I’m told that the Kiambu tea zones are evergreen.

Oh, and did I mention that Kiambu is home to the popular Kiambethu Tea Farm (bought in 1910 by AB McDonell, a pioneer in commercial tea farming in Kenya)?

The difference between the two tea regions

It’s hard to say which of the two tea-growing areas in Kenya takes the beauty crown.

You’ll find patches of forest breaking up the tea stretches of Kiambu, adding contrast with their deeper greens and supplying firewood. And unlike Kericho, there are noticeably more homesteads within the estates. I get the sense that many of the plantations are individually owned, but I’ll leave that to Kiambu locals to confirm. That said, when it’s about sheer panorama, Kiambu’s views fall a bit short of Kericho’s vast, cinematic sprawl.

Kericho tea plantations, Kenya, are grander and more panoramic, with more factories. The tea farms stretch endlessly like a green sea. Plus, compared to Kiambu, the estates here are more heavily forested, with both native trees and planted ones, giving the landscape a denser, wilder feel. It’s also where I first saw a tea plucking machine in action (quite big but with a quiet hum).

Closer to Kericho town, you’ll find the larger, company-owned plantations, complete with their factories. Farther out, modest, individually-owned farms supply local KTDA factories, a clear example of how small-scale tea farming in Kenya powers the broader industry.

Time Reimagined

What struck me most was how time behaved differently out there. In the city, minutes feel like currency. We’re always spending them. A rare rhythm makes you pause in the Kenya tea plantations. At first, I found it unnerving. No pings or rush. No backlit urgency. Only us, our thoughts, and phones in our hands, not to respond to emails, but to capture the quiet beauty of tea fields and hidden gems like Murara Plants, Chesumot Dam, and Chagaik Arboretum.

I once tried opening my laptop, thinking I could squeeze in some writing (cue those Instagram pics of freelancers writing by the sea)… only to find myself staring out at the greenery, caught in the stillness. One farmer from Kiambu told me they start work before sunrise and finish when the sun begins to set. “The tea won’t run away, though,” he said. That line echoed in my head for days. The tea won’t run away. Neither the work nor the internet. But our health, joy, friendships, or familial ties? Those can slip away quietly, while we are busy refreshing emails or scrolling through ChatGPT.

It was as if my body understood something my mind didn’t yet: slow down.

Rest as a ritual, not a reward

Something shifted during those slow walks through the best tea plantations in Kenya. My breathing deepened. My thoughts softened. I felt my body for the first time in weeks. I began taking long morning walks, sipping tea with no agenda, journaling without thinking about repurposing content. And it wasn’t just resting in the absence of work. It was something richer. Sacred, even.

The culture of intentional pauses in rural Kenya is something we rarely celebrate. But it’s always been there. Tea breaks that last longer than necessary. Fireside chats that stretch into the night. A walk to the local market that turns into three different conversations (read, gossip) along the way. There’s a built-in reverence for slowness in these communities, and it’s not because they don’t work hard. They understand something our goals-obsessed minds forget: you cannot pour from an empty pot.

Before my trip, I treated rest like a reward, something to be earned after I’d pushed myself to the brink. But in those quiet hills and expanses, rest was baked into my daily living. And for someone like me, wired to go-go-go on an office chair and behind a screen, you bet that felt revolutionary.

The Takeaway?

I thought I was taking a break from life to visit Kenya’s popular tea farms in Limuru, Tigoni, Karirana, and Kericho. Turns out, I was stepping into it.

The irony, of course, is that I had to leave the city to remember something rural Kenyans have always known. That a full, present life isn’t only about achieving but also absorbing. It’s about sitting still long enough to hear the rain hit the leaves, or to notice how the scent of tea changes from field to cup.

Back in Nyeri now, the to-do list still exists. Deadlines still loom. But I brought some of the tea country vibe with me. In addition, I have started taking chai breaks with no phone in hand and leaving my laptop closed during lunch. These are small shifts, but meaningful ones. Because rest, I’ve learned, doesn’t have to be a full stop. It can be a comma, a breath, or even a sip of something hot in the chilly July.

Enjoyed the read? Well, this was one stop of many; feel free to scroll through the rest of my travel reflections.

Ezekiel Maina

Ezekiel Maina is the brains behind ContentGenics, where he pairs creativity and strategy to craft B2B and B2C content that real people love to read. He has written for brands like House Digest, iFoundries, Harmony Home Medical, Postaga, and BeamJobs, and covered topics like home improvement, real estate, freelancing, digital marketing, career growth, food & travel, automotive, durable medical equipment (DME), and Cannabis. By day, he’s crafting content, catching up with clients from his home office, lost in a good book, or occasionally chasing nature and greenery in another county. By late evening, he’s typically deep in a documentary rabbit hole on Netflix or YouTube.