Kenya
- a mystical name that conjures up teenage memories of Hollywood extravaganzas
starring rampant savage warriors, great white "Bwana's",
wealthy indulged "Memsahibs"and promiscuous romps under
the trees.
In many
countries there's a misconception that SOUTH AFRICA comprises the
entire area south of the equator, with the exception of Kenya. That
is incorrect. As the various map illustrations in this narrative will
reveal. "South Africa" is in fact a fairly small country
situated at the southern tip of the continent.
My first
visit to Kenya was as a student in 1957 whilst en-route to the Continent
and British Isles on an educational Tour. Our aircraft was an old
DC10 so we had to make a stopover every evening to refuel. These stopovers
were carefully pre-planned to incorporate places of historic and geographic
interest and we were fortunate to have a pilot who banked and circled
whenever we flew over extraordinary areas such as The Zimbabwe ruins
and The Victoria Falls. At Nairobi, Kenya the old craft experienced
engine trouble during takeoff and we were stranded there for ten days
whilst a replacement engine was flown in from the USA. Of course we
all fell madly in love with the country and resolved to return, but
during that era duty came first so my education, career, marriage
and children put my dreams on hold for 37 years. Finally, in 1994,
Bob and I visited Kenya together.
Our first
base was an up-market safari camp on the fringe of the Serengeti,
where we were accommodated in spacious luxury tents. We had absolute
privacy as the tents were "pitched" in a semi-circle facing
outwards, with a view over the river. A double four-poster bed with
a protective mosquito net dominated the centre of the tent. A manservant
dressed in flowing white robes entered with buckets of steaming water
to fill the Victorian hip-bath at the foot of the bed and the porcelain
water jug standing in the wash basin on marble-topped table. This
was all a luxurious facade as there was a modern hand-basin with running
water in the toilet and a Victorian "loo" that flushed perfectly.
But of course we lapped it all up and I told Bob that I'd had a wicked
urge to snap my fingers.
We'd
chosen this particular lodge because it was the closest to the area
where a South African pilot operated flights over the Serengeti plains
in a hot air balloon and we'd reserved a flight. Lift off was at dawn
and within minutes it was light enough to distinguish animals moving
across the plains below. Drifting over the magnificent landscape was
a moving experience, the absolute silence only being broken when the
pilot activated the heat blowers. This caused the animals to break
into a canter, looking backwards over their shoulders from time to
time to identify the "danger". It was early Summer so we
were surprised to see that the plains were parched and arid and sad
to hear that the area is gradually degenerating to desert conditions.
With
the exception of the romantic accommodation and the hot air balloon
flight, we were disappointed in the quality of game viewing in Kenya
as South African safari parks, particularly Londolozi, are far superior.
Here guests are taken out in small parties of four and are guaranteed
to see the 'Big 5' viz. leopard, lion, elephant, buffalo, and rhino.
On arrival they are received and welcomed by their ranger/driver who
remains their exclusive host for the duration of their stay. As it's
imperative to observe absolute silence in the bush it's refreshing
to have the time to pose all the unasked questions over a cup of tea
or a pre-dinner cocktail in the evening.
We also
spent a few days in Nairobi where I'd hoped to recapture the happy
memories of my short stay there during the late 50's. Sadly it had
degenerated into a dangerous city and we were forced to remain holed
up in our filthy, insanely-expensive hotel, considered to be the best
in Nairobi! We were actually relieved when the time came to leave
for Mombasa but a little shaky to find that our aircraft was an old
DC3 - in the mid 90's! It was a lengthy but enjoyable flight with
stunning views of the countryside and snowcapped Kilimanjaro - the
highest mountain in Africa.
Our Mombasa
hotel was situated on one of the Northern beaches and, although we
couldn't find a trace of the 5 Stars it pretended to own, it was paradise
as compared to the hole we'd just crept out of in Nairobi. We relaxed
on the beach and soaked up the sun for a couple of days, then took
a side tour which included the highlights of the city, lunch at Mtwapa
Creek and a trip out to sea on a massive wooden dhow.
On arrival
at the creek we were treated to a display of traditional dancing by
the Watusi "Warriors" in the parking area above the restaurant, then
herded into the curio shops. We weren't interested in the curios as
the identical goods are produced and marketed in South Africa at a
quarter of the price. However, we found an audio tape of traditional
Kenyan music which we thoroughly enjoy and saved ourselves the embarrassment
of having to walk out of the shop empty handed.
A long
flight of steps led down to a waterfront restaurant where lunch was
provided. Throughout the meal we were entertained by the waitresses
singing the Swahili song "Malieka" as they served the tables.
This is the theme song of the restaurant and we later discovered that
there was a cut of it on the audio cassette we'd purchased.
After
lunch we boarded a large wooden dhow and sailed out to sea with .
Fritz the Captain, a massive man in both in height and girth and a
German/Swiss by birth . He has operated from the restaurant for many
years and carries an African band on board to entertain the guests.
Bar service is provided and we were treated to a cabaret show featuring
fire-walkers, belly-dancers and jugglers. Duly relaxed by the festive
atmosphere and wine in the sun, some of the guests were persuaded
to come up on "stage" and treat us to a taste of their questionable
talent. In festive mood we laughed, clapped and cheered as overindulgence
and the movement of the vessel caused them to stagger about in the
midst of their "acts". Then some of the passengers got up
to dance to the accompaniment of a raucous sing-along. It was a happy,
noisy ship that returned to the creek and sailed up as far as the
dhow was able to manoeuvre.
Our visit
to Mtwapa Creek had proved to be the happiest day of our holiday so
we were delighted to hear from the crowd at Tanga that Mtwapa was
also the finest anchorage available in Kenya and the most convenient
place for Northbound yachts to check in.
During
the Southwest monsoon, the North-flowing current off Tanzania and
Kenya moves at about four knots. Soon after leaving Tanga "The
Fat Lady" was in full flight and we reached Mombasa hours ahead
of our ETA. We hove-to 'til daylight, then continued northwards to
Mtwapa.
Mtwapa
Creek
The entrance
to the creek is by way of a well marked "dog's leg" channel
through the outer reef and it's essential to proceed with the tide
as the current is very strong. However, once through the reef, the
situation is idyllic. The creek is deep and quiet with high lush green
banks boasting the customary palatial mansions. Long flights of steps
lead from each home down to the water's edge where the owner's boats
are tied up at their private moorings.
We approached
the restaurant where several yachts lay at anchor and the terrain
levelled out to rolling lawns on the water's edge. We noticed that
a clubhouse had been constructed and that thatched chalets dotted
the lawns all the way up to an office block. This pretentious setup
is the property of a German ex-pat Joe Leicham who also owns two of
the yachts. He attracts cruising yachts from all corners of the globe
by providing free anchorage and allowing the yachties to purchase
their beers at half price. Seerose swung on her anchor about 30 meters
from a quaint thatched outdoor bar.
Bob was
advised to liaise with the manager, Tony Pape regarding immigration
procedures, so we contacted him on VHF and he invited us to call at
his office. Bob explained our predicament regarding the dinghy so
he sent his son Graham to fetch us in one of Joe's tenders.
He told
us he could make arrangements for Customs officials to travel up to
Mtwapa the following day to clear the yacht, providing we were prepared
to reimburse their bus fares. This suited us perfectly as it would
obviate the necessity of sailing all the way back to Mombasa. We were
then introduced to Joe who immediately offered us the loan of one
of his tenders until we'd found a replacement.
Whilst
in Tanga we'd met an English ex-pat John and his stunningly beautiful
black wife Nancy. He'd told us that he had a used six-man Avon for
sale in Mombasa and had given us a contact number where we could arrange
to view it. Tony's driver Joseph was going into Mombasa that morning
so he suggested that we ride in with him to examine it. The chap who
was storing the dinghy on John's behalf then pointed us in the direction
of someone who had a nearly-new 15hp Yahama Enduro long-shaft outboard
for sale. It was far from ideal but we'd already been warned that
we'd be fortunate to find any equipment of this nature in Kenya, so
we decided to take it.
Joseph
travelled into Mombasa every day and visiting yachties were welcome
to catch a free ride with him whenever they wished. We took frequent
advantage of this and on one of our trips, paid our respects at the
Mombasa Yacht Club. Sadly, we found it to be down-at-heel and in it's
death-throes. There were only two yachts at anchor and, judging from
the rubbish growing on them, they clearly hadn't moved off their anchors
in years. There were only a handful of members aged between their
late 60's and mid 80's. In conversation they mentioned that the harbour
was full of sharks and that many of the locals had lost limbs - and
some their lives, whilst swimming and diving.
A "conveyor
belt" in Mombasa harbour.
With
our business completed and the dinghy patched and repaired, we we
had time to relax and socialise with the other yachties. This was
Ern's first visit to Kenya and he became fascinated with the Watusi
dancers. Every day he went up to the parking lot when the tour bus
arrived and never seemed to tire of watching them dance, or listen
to their strange humming accompaniment.
It's
customary for Africans to give "whities" nick-names. These
are apt, clever and amusing and at times, scathingly insulting as
they sum up the subject's personality. Consequently I was overwhelmed
when I discovered that the restaurant waitresses referred to me as
"Mama Saffi" (Apparently In English the word saffi means
clean or pure)
"The
League of Nations" would have been an appropriate name for the
little thatched bar on the jetty. Every evening the yachties congregated
there to rub shoulders with visitors from all corners of the globe
and most evenings we joined them. The local ex-pats regarded it as
their "watering hole" and it was also frequented by many
of the staff.
We
met Ian & Chrissie from yacht "Cruise",They hailed from
East London, South Africa and had been sailing offshore with their
cat "Put-put" for several years. On returning to their yacht
one evening they discovered that the cat had gone missing and as it's
bed was a wooden hammock situated aft, they presumed that she'd fallen
overboard whilst asleep. Armed with flashlights we all took to our
tenders and unsuccessfully combed the creek for hours. Next day she
was found ashore, apparently none the worse for wear.
Gary
on "Mission" was a South African ex-pat who'd emigrated
to Australia years previously and he and his wife Kim were en-route
to South Africa to visit his ailing father. When they reached Kenya,
Kim had reason to consult a physician who diagnosed her to be pregnant.
As this was her first pregnancy he advised her to see a gynaecologist
immediately. As Gary was unable to leave the yacht unattended, he
put her onto the first available flight to Johannesburg
Both
yachts had crossed from Australia in tandem, spent the season in Thailand
and Malaysia, then moved on to Chagos. They raved about Phuket and
Chagos and we later heard that Ian & Chrissie had ultimately decided
to return to Chagos instead of continuing home to South Africa.
Another
Australian yacht arrived with a young couple and their small son on
board. They'd travelled via South East Asia, Sri Lanka and Chagos
and she too was pregnant. She asked me where to collect their mail
as she was expecting educational material for the child.
Everyone
knows about the excellent education system provided to children in
the Australian outback but I was really impressed to learn that cruising
yachts received the same service, and that one small boy could travel
the world and remain under the caring umbrella of his country. All
his parents needed to do was notify the Education Department of their
next Port of call and their ETA. Noting my interest she showed me
the contents of the parcel she'd just collected and what impressed
me most was the fact that a pair of blunt-nosed scissors had thoughtfully
been included, as the lesson required him to do some cutting out.
Good on ye mates!!
I
kept a very watchful eye on our expenses due to our ridiculously low
forex allowance, but this young mother was something else. She kept
records of every cent they spent (including Customs and Immigration
charges) and copious notes on where to acquire the best produce at
cheapest prices. She was also very well informed on where to find
free moorings!
On
Saturday evening a dinner/disco was held at "The Moorings"
- a floating restaurant situated further up the creek, so we all set
off in our dinghies to join in the fun. We ran into John and Nancy
from Tanga and gave them the news that we'd bought their dinghy. A
local band was playing and the floor was packed to capacity. Judging
from the varied dance-styles it seemed as though every nation on earth
was represented and we watched in amazed interest and uncontrolled
mirth as the revelers jumped, jived and gyrated - each in their own
peculiar style.
The
disc-jockey made an announcement requesting that we tone down our
enthusiasm a tad as the float was in danger of breaking away from
it's moorings. There was almost a stampede as people pushed and shoved
to get off the float and onto the assortment of dinghies, row-boats
and dhows tied up alongside. We've never seen a party come to such
a sudden end!
Jimmy
Cornell's "World Cruising Routes" indicated that we should
make ready to leave if we were to catch the window across the Indian
Ocean, so our happy sojourn in Kenya drew to a close. At 11h00 on
11 September we lifted anchor for our last port of call in Africa,
Kilifi Creek, where Bob wanted to meet and thank Tony Britchford for
his invaluable assistance during our journey northwards. Over the
ensuing years we've picked him up on SSB from as far afield as Natal
in South Africa and Thailand in South East Asia and have also heard
him communicating with yachts in the Med. His wife Daphne hails from
East London in South Africa and she handles the fax and telephone
service they provide.
Once
again the conditions were perfect and it was glorious to be sailing
again. At 15h00 we spotted the leading lights into the creek and called
Tony on VHF. He enquired about the height of our mast and when we
told him, he offered to drive down to the road bridge that spanned
the creek, bringing his hand-held VHF with him. This way he could
forewarn us if it seemed unlikely that our mast would clear. As it
transpired, it was impossible for him to make an accurate judgment
whilst standing on the bridge.
Par
for the course, my ingenious Captain had a brainwave and without a
word to anyone, swung the yacht round with the bow into the incoming
tide and drifted under the bridge backwards. He'd schemed that if
a crisis developed,it would be easier to move forward to get out of
trouble. Fortunately we cleared without a problem but before I'd even
caught my breath, we heard Tony's chuckle over the radio and his remark;
"Well I've never seen it done that way before!"
Kilifi
Creek, Kenya.
We spent
eight nights in Kilifi Creek and found it to be yet another treasure
in Africa. The Britchfords invited us for sundowners the following
evening, so we crossed the creek in the dinghy and made fast at their
landing. A long flight of steps led up to a large house which clung
to the cliff-side above and nestled under the branches of an old gigantic
gnarled tree. We gawked in amazement - there wasn't a window or door
on the ground floor - it was (this is almost impossible to describe)
just an open square with with few arches which supported the floor
above..
The ground
floor comprised an open-plan lounge, diningroom, study and kitchen;
the upper floor housed the bedrooms and bathrooms. When seated downstairs
it gave the illusion of sitting in the middle of the African bush,
under the shade of a gigantic tree. Magnificent heavy, carved furniture
stood on a slasto floor scattered with with Persian rugs. This brilliant
design was absolutely ideal for coping with the African heat and humidity.
Tony
kicked off the conversation with; "There seems to have been a
hell of a lot going on in Chagos this season, everyone's pregnant!"
Bob answered "Yes I know - we're giving it a wide berth!".
We all fell about laughing and the ice was broken.
The following
day we walked up to the main road where we hailed a taxi and travelled
northwards to Malindi. It was a beautiful drive along a highway lined
with giant indigenous trees. The streets of Malindi were breathtaking,
it's verges covered with massive flower beds, it's fences heavy with
flowering creepers.
We continued
on to the adjoining village of Watumu to visit "Hemingway's"
and waltzed through the club as though we were members. The walls
of the passageways were lined with fishing trophies and whilst we
were studying these, we heard Afrikaans being spoken. We peeped through
an arched doorway and discovered that the voices were coming from
the bar, and a group of our countrymen were in there. Apparently they
weree living in the hotel whilst taking part in a fishing competition.
Salutations and introductions behind us, Bob asked whether they knew
the latest rugby score .... that kept us talking for hours!
Franco
and Sally on the Kenyan registered catamaran "Twende" (meaning
"Let's Go" in Swahili) were also anchored in the Creek and
they too were heading for South East Asia. We crossed at the same
time but as they were travelling a lot further South we had difficulty
maintaining radio contact. As far as we're aware their yacht is still
in Thailand as we seem to run into them whenever we're there.
We spent
the next few days provisioning the yacht amd making ready for the
crossing. Finally, we departed Kilifi Creek at 06h40 on Tuesday 19
September 1995, bound for South East Asia
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