Mombasa

The Thorn Tree Cafe

The original Stanley Hotel (1902) in Nairobi was the place for new settlers to stop off before heading up country to set up a farm. Men would come first and families would follow later. Right outside the front door there was a large Acacia thorn tree and this became Nairobi's unofficial post office where you would post messages to be collected later.  As tourism grew, it became the place to start and end your safari, but the message board continued to be used, as it still is, however the original hotel burned down and was replaced in the 1960s by the New Stanley Hotel which had almost no character. Outside, in the Thorn Tree Cafe that surrounded the tree, we saw messages between travellers, especially those wanting to form a group to go on a budget safari. (Today I'm told that the Stanley has reverted to its original name and is a very smart international hotel.)

Our own Safari was nearly over but we were looking forward to the coast. To get there, we took the luxury train to Mombasa which only took passengers at night. I didn't think about it much at the time, but there must have been a reason. Was it to prevent us seeing something? Security? Health and safety? Avoiding the heat? I think it was probably because they used the line to carry freight from the port to the capital during the day. The return journey was also at night.

We enjoyed the trip and had a lovely evening meal, served in the dining car by friendly, smiling staff. The train stopped a few times and I looked out into the dark to see very little. When  the sun rose we were following a mangrove-lined creek into the busy post of Mombasa. It was getting pretty hot already.

Shimoni

We stayed at a very nondescript hotel in an uninteresting suburb of Mombasa. My only excuse  for this booking is that there was no internet then. A lot of women came and went in the night and we did the same, going for long excursions in the day. Mombasa was not the place for us really.

We hired a young Swahili man to be our guide and driver. He wasn't a proper tour guide, but he tried his hardest to keep us amused and to keep his uncle's old banger going. When he came to pick us up, he had no money for petrol and we didn't make it to the gas station. Anyway, guiding isn't that hard on the coast because you can only go north or south. We did both.

On the drive south to Shimoni marine park we drove past beaches, creeks and plantations, but our plan was to go snorkelling. Nico and Nancy had done this before in the Philippines, but the rest of us had never tried it. As we waited to be served at the vistors' centre we were offered a snorkel trip that our guide suggested we accept. This turned out to be an unofficial tour involving no money going towards the upkeep of the park, but we knew nothing.

Snorkelling at Shimoni

We set off in a wooden pirogue with a dodgy outboard motor and moored up close to a small white island. Our guides pointed over the side and that was it. Nico was in the water and having a great time, but we were not happy out there in the big ocean. We persuaded the men to drop us on the little island and we played at snorkelling in the shallows, but it was a bad introduction to fish-watching. The guys made up for it though, by taking us ashore to Wasini Island where they cooked us one of the best meals of our trip. Swahili fish is just good, fresh fish marinated in lime and coconut with a bit of spice and then grilled on wood. We learned to make it ourselves back at home. Follow that up with a fresh mango juice and you  have a Swahili lunch.

Inland, it was usual to ask people what tribe they came from; Masai, Bantu etc. Our guide described himself as a Swahili saying he had no tribe. They are the people of the coast, all mixed up from an assortment of peoples who migrated there, willingly or unwillingly. Mombasa was an Arab port with links to countries all round the Gulf and the Indian Ocean, as well as up and down the African coast and the population reflects that. There must be dozens of languages in use and that is why the shared language of Ki-Swahili was invented.


Christian missionaries tended to die of malaria on the coast and so the Christian strongholds are in the hills around Mt Kenya and Kilimanjaro where the climate is more like that in Europe. That is why most people we met in Nairobi spoke good English. The coast is 90% Muslim and English was not commonly used when we went there. In fact, the beggars asked us for money in German, reflecting the number of German tourists going there at the time.

Our trip north up the coast took us across the little ferry at Kilifi. We had to wait for a quite a while on the slipway, but it was a beautiful spot to hang around, just watching the world go by. We bought some cashew nuts from a young man and enjoyed a snack, until a female  American voice said "Your not eating those are you? Have you heard of hepatitis?". We were a bit shaken when she explained that, as an aid worker (I guessed that meant missionary), she was trained not to eat "street food". I half expected her to offer us a Big Mac there and then. We talked about this afterwards and decided that the cashews were just great as they were and that they probably got exported to the UK in the same state as we bought them in Kilifi.

Kilifi ferry.

Our target was to visit the ruins at Gede, on the edge of the Arabuko-Sokoke Forest. This is a great archaeological site and a brilliant place for bird watching. I could have spent a week there. We found bats down the wells and monkeys in the trees. It looked like a stage set from "The Jungle Book". What's more, we had the place to ourselves. Today there is a butterfly farm there.

We left the highway at Gede and drove down to Watamu Beach where there was a beach resort just like the ones you see in holiday brochures. This was the first time we had seen anything like it. There was a shady bar, a pool, a beautiful beach, sun-beds, beach toys, boats and floats; and no tourists that we could see. The signs indicated that most visitors at that time were German. The local village kids were playing with the boats and having a great time, so we joined them.  I must say our feelings were a bit mixed. This was more like the Caribbean than Africa and we hadn't come here to meet other tourists. On the other hand, it sure beat the hell out of Mombasa.