I Miss this town…

The ten hour journey was long and uneventful. I spend a day in the city reminiscing the sweet times I had there a few years back. Nothing much has changed since them days. The city of tourists and beach boys/girls is still ablaze with money love and the hopes for quick luck without breaking a sweat. The night life is still great, I won’t mention where i stepped for my patronage shall remain a silent memory till next time.

I proceed by land on squeaky bus seats, that were dirty brownish from repeated un-cleaned perspiration from the hundreds of passengers that had to endure the heat of the journey. The power sockets inside the bus are not working thus my phone remains uncharged and the Wi-Fi access too is only a marketing tool since I can’t see an indication of any network throughout the journey.

The smooth tarmac carries us through the town of Malindi, past the Sabaki or Galana Bridge (depending on where you come from). Then the rough patch starts, the road shows signs of having been tarmacked then coated with murram in a weak attempt at smoothing the pot holes. Three hours on that section and my stomach is ready to start spilling its contents. I can feel every iota of food in the intestines threatening to burst out.

Some sense of relief takes over at the Garsen Junction where there seems to have been some recent work on a new tarmac sadly, thirty minutes later we are back on a patch that has never seen tarmac. I almost eat my tongue when someone states that the road was like that all the way to the last point on the main land before the crossing. Two more hours and I am relieved to be staring t the Mokowe Jetty with aching seating allowances

In all the complaints here, someone might be tempted to think that I am not enjoying the trip. Far from that, the scenery from Mombasa to Lamu changes in such spectacular fashion that the roving eye keeps the mind thinking about the changing lifestyles of the populations spanning the vast land areas.

From the mangrovy vegetation near the port, coconut farms in between, large sisal plantations of Kilifi and surrounding areas, the large semi arid areas in the garsen areas to the dense forests near mpeketoni back to the mangroves at Lamu. The occasional playful monkies along the bushes or daring death by rushing past the flying vehicle served moments of cruel excitement as I longed for that one that will be too slow for the crossing.

From all indications, I knew that braking would not be an option if any lazy ape miscalculated the crossing. I just hoped that if it ever happened, the animal would have the courtesy to hit anything below the headlights level, above that would be a disaster for us in this alien land.

This is the time of my life in this island, the high speed boats, sullen donkeys, squeeziest streets in the world and most confused settlement ever seen in a non-slum setting. I pose for photos at some pre-historic cemetery, swim at Shella beach and something else that I may not confess at the moment, perhaps my grandchildren will discover that themselves.

I hear the roads are better now, the town still owes me a great debt of pleasure and this time the show will be fireworks; we will not be aliens to one another, there will be holding back…  I am coming soon