Kenya: From Mombasa to Tiwi Beach, a taste of the real Africa

Mombasa to Tiwi beach is an interesting journey that takes you through some of the real Africa which, if you’re not used to it, can be a bit of a surprise.

Leaving Mombasa to the south you need to take the Likono Ferry across the new harbour mouth. There is no bridge and no bypass so this is the only way. The ferry runs all day every day carrying hundreds of thousands of people and many vehicles across the water. On first seeing the ferry you would be right to feel some trepidation. There is a big sign warning people not to take any photos beyond a certain point ie. No pictures of the ferry. I can understand this for even in a country where health and safety are rare and expensive luxuries, the ferry stands out as more risky than most things. But people have to use it, they have no choice. After paying your 90 bob (Kenyan Shillings) you battle the other traffic onto the platform. The traffic is in three lanes and you need to be aggressive or the other cars and trucks will cut you up and you’ve got a good chance of missing your slot. You’ll be stuck there for at least another ten to fifteen minutes if you do!

In the poorer countries of the world you have to accept the fact that people will stare at you. This is not aggressive behaviour, they just do it because you’re different to them and your world is a million miles away from theirs. Imagine if you lived in a town which had just rebuilt itself after a bunch of irresponsible people made a mess of it … then those people and their children come back to visit as tourists, and each one of them has won the lottery. Not only do they have more money than you, their children eat well and don’t die young, they have time to have holidays and they waste and destroy so much for the little they give in return. You’d stare at them too, wouldn’t you? Considering how unfair the situation is, they’re actually very very civil to us. I didn’t meet an unpleasant or aggressive person, the whole time I was there. So if they want to stare, that’s fine … I find myself staring back, and taking pictures when the armed guards aren’t looking.

The ferry trip is fairly quick, around five minutes. Best to keep your windows shut as it’s not unheard of for people to reach into your car and steal things. Unfortunately the result of this is that the car will get very hot as you have to switch your engine off and this means no air conditioning. I look at the faces of the commuters, why are they visiting Likono? It’s one of the poorest places I’ve ever seen. I asked one of the locals who told me that actually there is much more affordable housing there and so that’s where the majority of people live. Having just come from Mombasa, parts of which look reminiscent of the blitz I’m amazed that house prices are so high, but then I come from the UK and I’m thinking like a Brit. In Africa, things aren’t always what they seem. I was taken to a supermarket by some friends of mine which, on the face of it, looked more like a backstreet MOT garage … but inside it was great with great food. Money doesn’t get spent on making this place pretty, but it is a thriving city.

Arriving at Likono the bun-fight now happens in reverse and we drive up the ramp and away from the ferry. Immediately I’m struck by the drop in living standards over here. This is the real Africa that was hidden from my eyes in the ex-pat bubble. True poverty, not in a desperate sense, but in an everyday sense. Looking around I see buildings made from rubbish, bikes converted into knife sharpeners, toys made from rusty metal and numerous inventive uses for old car tyres. The car is held up for a moment by group of men pulling a cart so overloaded with bananas and sugarcane that I can scarcely believe it’s axel can hold it, let alone the men control it. To my right I see a man riding a bike, on the front and back are boxes of eggs, ten or twelve trays each carrying four or five dozen. How on earth does this man expect to reach his destination on these bumpy, pot-holed roads without breaking all of them? But he will, and I expect he does the same thing several times a day. Moving to the top of the ramp we are held up again and the hawkers come with their wares, today it’s bags of nuts, water, sunglasses, necklaces and plates, tomorrow it maybe pirate DVD’s or sugarcane. I wondered whether these poor souls were forced to sell this stuff on behalf of some agency but it turns out that they buy the goods in the morning and try to make money on them during the day, they’re privateers. Who would buy them I wonder? Visitors are advised to keep their windows shut and not make eye contact with anyone … that does put the kybosh on their sales pitch somewhat. Someone must be buying them I suppose. At least this crew have a captive audience, I saw similar people selling on the road up to Tsavo West a few days ago, and they would be lucky to see a parked car, let alone make eye contact. Once again I’m filled with pity for them and I must not feel that way because it belies their status. They are poor but dignified. Moving up through Likono I see men, women and children with next to nothing, but they hold their heads high, wear brightly coloured, immaculately clean clothing and their bright white smiles are everywhere. How few smiles are in evidence on that grey drudge in and out of London every day, how discontented we are in the UK, and yet we have riches, freedoms and opportunities that will never, and I mean, never be available to these people. They make me feel very selfish and ungrateful for what I have.

Leaving the ferry port and its busy market we head on along the main Likono road passing more and more stalls selling dusty hardware, everyday gear, fruit, meat, fish and all the bits and pieces that keep this little world ticking. Goats root around the rubbish tips while the strange hump-backed cattle stand in groups at the side of the road awaiting the next episode of their uncertain lives. Everyone is just getting on with it, not weeping for their terrible fate but living. They’re survivors, doing whatever they can, and it’s so natural, they seem so relaxed that to the casual observer it may seem as if they’re walking home to a semi-detached house in South London with a plasma TV and a fitted kitchen. Whatever the truth of it, I admire them so much, they’re stronger than me. As we pick up speed and move out of the town proper we see a man pulling one of the heavily laden carts up a the hill. It’s a big hill and a big cart full of water tanks. The temperature outside is 35 degrees and he’s powering along without breaking a sweat. Such strength, built like a brick wall this man didn’t earn his muscles from a personal trainer and box of whey powder!

Our friends in the car behind have missed the ferry and so we need to pull over and wait for them. It’s a bit dangerous, apparently, to do so in the town so we wait till we’re on the outskirts and pull in by the entrance to a school. As soon as the children notice our 4x4 on the side of the road they begin to gather in a semi-circle laughing and pointing at us. They’re really fun, all dressed beautifully in their uniforms, so happy and easy-going, laughing at us as if we were the funniest thing in the world. I feel like a travelling circus, a four wheeled cage containing bizarre white zoo animals from the frozen north. I want to take their picture but it seems a bit petty, it’s more fun just to make faces at them and watch them make faces back. Hopefully this little moment will provide a talking point for them.

Soon we’re on our way again and the buildings begin to fade away. One thing you notice in Kenya is that there are a lot of half-built structures. Strangely you’ll often see a perfectly good building with a roof and windows lying derelict, and there next to it is a construction site where someone has decided to build an identical building but run out of steam or resources mid-project. Why not use the derelict building? Who knows? This is not an isolated incident, I see many similar scenarios as we race past.

Palm trees are the predominant flora around here, tall and fairly boring they stand equidistant upon the scrubby grass like so many upturned mops. I’m told the coast is less than a mile to my left and we’re running parallel to it. The coastline is supposed to be stunning, and yet here, just a few hundred yards inland, it all seems very dull. Soon we turn down a dusty track that leads us to Tiwi beach and my boredom is utterly obliterated by the sight that greets me there. Parking the car and stepping outside we walk past the line of bandas to view the ocean through the line of palm trunks. It is so invitingly blue that it’s all I can do not to run straight in regardless of my ipod and phone getting destroyed. Please read my blog: Tiwi Beach, to find out about our stay there.

For More Blogs on Kenya, please see:

Kenya Safari Experience

Tsavo West animals

Last Night David Attenborough saved my life