How woman's loss took Kenya to the skies

The story of Wilson Airport does not begin with a government blueprint or international contract. It begins with grief—and with a woman who refused to be grounded.

Florence Kerr Wilson was 49 when her husband, Major William Herbert Wilson, died in 1928. The couple had moved to Kenya after World War I, settling into the rhythms of colonial life. His death left her not broken, but determined to change Nairobi—then described by white settlers as a place of cool waters.

She turned her mourning into a transport solution—looking to the skies.

A year later, Wilson invested £50,000 of her own money—an enormous fortune at the time—into what many considered a foolhardy endeavour: an airline. She purchased a Gipsy Moth biplane and founded Wilson Airways. There was no grand terminal or hangars—just a stretch of grass near Dagoretti Corner on the outskirts of Nairobi.

She called it Nairobi West Aerodrome. Kenya, still under British colonial rule, was not ready for flight. But Florence was.

In 1930, she earned her pilot’s licence—becoming the first woman in Kenya, albeit not a native, to do so. She hired Tom Campbell Black, a skilled aviator and future MacRobertson Air Race winner, as her chief pilot and managing director. Under their leadership, Wilson Airways offered chartered flights, mail delivery, and emergency transport across East Africa.

By 1933, the airline had outgrown its bushy beginnings. It relocated to what is now Wilson Airport’s current site, then known as Nairobi Aerodrome. That year, Wilson was awarded the Order of the British Empire (OBE) by Buckingham Palace for her pioneering role in aviation. Her fleet grew to 13 aircraft by 1938.

World War II brought turbulence. Colonial authorities commandeered the aerodrome and its fleet for military use, converting it into a base for the Royal Air Force and the Kenya Auxiliary Air Unit. After the war, the airfield returned to civilian hands. Wilson Airways, though battered, remained central to the region’s post-war aviation revival.

In 1962, Kenya honoured its aviation matriarch by renaming the aerodrome Wilson Airport—a rare tribute to a woman whose wings had lifted an entire industry. She died four years later, in 1966.

Today, Wilson Airport is anything but a sleepy airstrip serving colonialists. Located just four kilometres south of Nairobi’s Central Business District, it handles about 120,000 take-offs and landings annually. The airport is a lifeline for medical evacuations, conservation missions, domestic tourism, and flight training. Airkenya, Safarilink, and Skyward Express ferry passengers to the Maasai Mara, Lamu, Eldoret, and beyond. Humanitarian aircraft operated by AMREF, AIM AIR and Mission Aviation Fellowship also call it home.

Its two runways—each measuring just under 5,000 feet—are a far cry from the original grassy field. Since 1991, the Kenya Airports Authority has managed the facility. But Wilson now competes with Nairobi’s expanding real estate—raising growing concern over safety and land grabbing.

“Encroachment is a general problem we have across the country. Today, if you go to Malindi Airport, you will find it’s encroached. Even Jomo Kenyatta International Airport was facing the same problem. But here, given the location, it becomes more sensitive because it impacts the safety of aircraft,” said Transport Cabinet Secretary James Macharia on July 22, 2016.

The airport’s 1993 master plan envisioned a parallel taxiway—land that officials now admit was “lost to land grabs”. Aviation experts have repeatedly warned that illegal buildings under flight paths pose serious risks to pilots and passengers.

“People are even claiming ownership of the approach funnel,” said Colonel (Rtd) E.K. Waithaka, head of the Kenya Association of Air Operators, in 2016. CS Macharia ordered an inquiry into the matter, terming it a threat to national aviation safety.

Yet even amid modern challenges, Wilson Airport endures—just as its founder did. It stands as a testament to vision unshaken by tragedy, to female leadership ahead of its time, and to the improbable idea that from the depths of loss, one might take flight—and never look back.

“The airport’s 1993 Master Plan had a parallel taxiway whose land has since been grabbed. This taxiway is now history as the land is gone. They now want to take the approach path as well.” — KAAO CEO, 2016.
Despite the concrete pressing in from all sides, Wilson Airport remains one of East Africa’s busiest general aviation hubs.

What Florence Kerr Wilson built nearly a century ago still flies—though not without turbulence. The runway she laid, both literal and symbolic, continues to carry Kenya forward. But the sky she once cleared for flight now competes with rooftops and land deeds. Her legacy, once again, depends on how determined this country is to protect it.