As the taxi weaved its way through the crowds heading down a tarmaced road the sign on the building at the end of the road came into view… Nairobi train station. I’m sure at times of the day it’s a lovely place to sit and people watch. At six o’clock on a Wednesday night it resembles a cross between a mass bar brawl and a rugby scrum.
Thankfully there were large numbers commuter trains, to match the large numbers of commuters. I watched as they carried the thousands of people off into the suburbs. The station itself is clearly a throwback to a colonial past. It looks like it’s just fallen out of a Hornby box and has a wonderful smell of smoke and diesel. I sort of expected there to be a fat controller, but there wasn’t. In fact nobody seemed to be in charge of anything at all.
Soon we were aboard the night train to Mombassa. I was becoming slightly concerned that the only people using this service were Europeans. Did the Kenyans know something we didn’t? The straightforward answer to this was yes! A departure time of seven got pushed back and back, the hours tickled by, with the only movement being shunts of less than a foot in both directions.
Finally, with various loud clunks and a whistle we were off into the Nairobi night. Three and a half hours later than planned. The others in my compartment were three people from Cambridge. They were assessing the chances of starting up some sort of holiday business for tourists. When I told them what I did, they told me I shouldn’t go back. Perhaps unwisely I’ve no plans to take up their advice.
A fairly uninterrupted sleep found us cutting through the African countryside as the sun rose. The whole vast flat landscape of scrubby desert and red sand streached out in all directions. We passed through villages made of just a few huts, at a leisurely pace. In fact whilst the website describes the train as ‘The iron snake of Africa’ I think ‘iron snail’ would perhaps be more appropriate. As we got into the outskirts of Kenyans’ second largest town the buildings began to huddle closer together. This wall of housing was only broken by a five minute tour of Mombassa municipal land fill site. There was a hurried closing of windows and audible cries of revulsion as our driver decided to take this part of the journey at a particularly slow pace. Only a few hours behind schedule the train arrived.
I caught a cab ‘somewhere near the sea please, not too expensive’. I soon found myself sat in a hotel that is not too expensive and near the sea. After dumping all my stuff I walked along a path to the beach. I recoiled in horror at what I saw on the beach. Lying there were hundreds of whales that had been involved in some horrendous mass suicide pact. I glanced around looking for the onrushing teams of willing volunteers with buckets and those large orange inflatable things. Then I looked back at the beach. Closer inspection revealed these were not beached whales but tourists engaged in a ‘who can eat themselves to death the quickest competition.’ No need for a home based feeding program here I think. A few days here and I flight to Lamu. It’s great to catch up on some sleep.
