Old Town Mombasa

This morning I learned as great as it is to sleep in a little, I should probably start going to breakfast a little bit earlier. By the time I had arrived, most of the food was cold and all of the tables were taken. I took a table out by the pool and was forced to find my own chair and silverware. I also learned there is no such thing as “silverware” in Kenya. Silverware is known as cutlery. Thankfully, the waitress eventually understood what I needed. No wonder no one was sitting out where I was; the chairs were soaking wet. I resorted to standing and eating. The cab driver informed me last night that he had another party to pick up at the airport so moved my time of pickup to a half hour earlier. I thought this would be fine and arrived at the office slightly early. As I was sitting outside of Miriam’s office waiting for her to arrive, a man whom I had met yesterday told me sitting in the library would be more comfortable and took me up there. If the view from the conference center wasn’t distracting enough, the view from the library was even better.

When Miriam came, she took me to a lab for a tour. I do not particularly remember which labs we visited, because the lady she dropped me with ended up taking me all over KMFRI. I saw research from sea grasses to fish productivity. I found the natural products lab interesting, as the people there were trying to devise ways for rural fishermen to preserve their caught fish for longer. One such way included a solar drier. After my tour, I headed back to Miriam’s office where I read while waiting for her to take me to town in the afternoon.

Our first stop in the Old Town area was Fort Jesus. Fort Jesus was built in 1593 (if I remember this correctly) by the Portuguese as a way of securing the port of Mombasa for exchange. After one-hundred fifty years, the Arabs conquered the fort. Two hundred years later, the British captured it, until Kenya gained independence. The fort is called Fort Jesus due to its form—from an aerial view, the fort looks like Jesus on the cross. As soon as we arrived at the fort, a tour guide immediately followed us in, wanting to show us around (and get paid of course). Miriam made sure we wouldn’t have to pay extra for this guide we found on the street. After much discussion, most of the time of which I stood staring blankly since they weren’t speaking in English, it was settled we would use a guide from the museum and this guide would show us around the Old Town area afterward. Our guide from the museum didn’t speak English very well and asked if I spoke any other languages. I told him I knew some French, but wasn’t very good. He didn’t speak French either so we were at a loss. Without any English brochures, he did give me one in French. The only problem is reading the brochure will be a challenge. As the guide showed us around the fort, we learned how 4,000 slaves were brought in to carve the fort out of coral and plaster over the walls. Looking at the structure, it’s hard to believe it was in existence so long ago. To think about all of the people who have touched it, or even walked where I was walking was mind boggling to think about. Miriam insisted on taking many pictures of me. She even made the tour guide join in some. This made me laugh, as this tour guide was really confused, as was I.

When we finished up the tour, sure enough, the guide we had left outside was waiting for us. He insisted we take a walking tour of Old Town Mombasa. The buildings in this area were extremely close together, with only walking space in between homes. We walked through these spaces looking at historic buildings, many of which I had a hard time understanding why exactly they were important, but somehow they were. We passed by many people who looked at me and immediately sprang to their feet in greeting a mzungu girl. I usually just politely smile so the people do not beg me for money or bother me after that. As we were walking through one alley way, many children sat playing on a sand pile left in the middle of the street. When I passed and they greeted me, I smiled as I normally do, and when we passed them again, I smiled once more. A few steps past, I felt something pelting the back of my legs and shirt. One of the children had taken a handful of sand and thrown it at my back. The child ran away with a guardian running after him. I turned to Miriam to tell her what had happened and she said not to worry about the kids. However, I couldn’t help to think what may have caused this child to feel the need to throw sand at me. Obviously, the child could see I was from another country, so is there some hatred to other countries? Maybe parents can’t openly show this hatred, but their children can, or just don’t have the skill set to know it is wrong. Many people think it is their duty to help people in countries such as Kenya, but do the people we are helping really want our help? I know some desperately need it and welcome any help they can get; others probably want nothing to do with us, though.

Another strange instance happened on this tour. When the guide asked me where I was from, I said, “The States.” Miriam instantaneously interrupted me saying I was confused and was from Germany. At first, I thought Miriam must have been confused. I never received a full explanation for why Miriam did this, however she did tell me not to say I was from the United States if anyone else asked again. All of these happenings were very interesting, and made me reflect on how Americans are perceived throughout the world. Do that many people really not like us? If so, why?

Our tour of the cramped and crowded Old Town was followed by a trip to the local Swahili markets. With such small spaces in between the homes, the streets were even more crowded with people. The roads turned into one way and multiple times I found myself face to face with a Tuk Tuk’s blaring horn. Many of the fruits sold in the markets looked different than those sold in Nairobi. I inquired about a big red block. At first I thought it may have been dried tomatoes; however Miriam told me they were dates. Also, piles of round wooden things lined the streets. Miriam said these were coconuts before they became ripe—people drank the water inside. She insisted on me trying one as they are very unique to Mombasa. We took a seat along a bench as the vendor pealed and opened one for me. The juice inside tasted much like water, but there was something about it, I didn’t really care for. To be polite, I finished the drink anyways. We also headed to a store that sold leather sandals. The walls were literally covered in different pairs and men were sitting along the walls, hammering away. We sat there for a while, as I looked at all the options and eventually decided on a pair. Miriam wanted to get home before traffic became too bad, so we headed back to the Northern shore where I am staying. At dinner tonight I once again sat with the mission team from the States. Although this group is probably over twice my age, they provide good company and many inspirational stories.