I thought I would send you this. Was not going write anything till I got to Sudan but this was quite funny.
Friday 25th August
I have now been back in Africa for over a week. I leave for South Sudan on Monday.
I was the lucky lady to accompany P for a four night trip to Mombasa for a well earned R&R (for her!). It is easy to please P, as a flush loo, hot shower, a light to read by and some good fresh fruit and veg is all she asked for! We got that and more, but to see and hear the sea I think was her highlight.
We had a great trip into the old town of Mombasa, first invaded by the Portuguese in 1496, so there are some very old buildings and a long history of the slave trade. Had a stroll around Fort Jesus (World Heritage site) built in 1593 to protect the city from attack and was used as a military base.
The spice markets were a great sight - I have never seen so much saffron, star anise, and nutmeg in my life, the aromas were wonderful. That is not quite what I could say about the meat market. Above all the stalls were bulls ‘balls’ hanging over a pipe. Next to that were camel humps, a slightly pink flesh, not unlike lungs, and then a row of goat’s heads. Under one table was a whole family of cats. Mum Dad and 6 kittens all enjoying a pile of entrails. We did not linger for long.
I should really tell you how our adventure to Mombasa began.
Our flight was to leave on Saturday at 8am and we had to be at the airport at 7am. We arranged with a taxi man to pick us up at 6-20am price 2000 shillings (about$20).
Not as much traffic on Sat morning, plenty of time we are told.
We were up early all ready, 6-20 came and went. We were up at the gate; Father C was there also to see us off. The gate keeper started ringing other taxis. P trying to use her phone but realised there was no cash in it. Time now 6-45, at last a taxi arrives, well the gate keeper tells us it is a taxi.
We pile in, bags on knees; tell him we are late “Quick to the airport”. He grunts, seems a little distant, but we set off. Traffic is quite heavy, a lot of changing lanes and near misses, the usual for NBI.
We start relaxing thinking at least we are on our way. Then suddenly the car starts to slow down and slowly comes to a stop on a main highway with trucks thundering past belching out masses of black smoke. The driver keeps trying to start the engine, he must have tried 8 times and we could see the red light saying empty.
He would not answer our enquiries of ‘what’s the matter’.
Time now 7am. We had no idea where we were, no phone that worked, and it was then we realised that our driver was so drunk he could hardly get out of the car, never mind talk to us.
He staggered to the back of the car hanging on to the door and removed a jerry can from the boot. He then proceeded to flag down a matatu (a local small bus) but none would stop.
P and I could not believe what was happening, we had no chance of getting to the airport unless we took quick action, ‘Let’s hijack a matatu!’ We were determined to get that plane, Mombasa was calling. We leapt out with all our bags and we flagged down a very old and battered matatu and it stopped.
(‘The Lord was looking after us’ swears P) - it was chocker block full, but they made room for us up with the young driver, we could hardly see out, as our luggage was up on our knees. We had no idea where it was going, but they said they would take us to the air port. We speed off leaving the drunken taxi driver looking very forlorn, with no petrol or customers and no money, not happy.
The driver was called Douglas and his collector Daniel - what a team!! They quickly, over the next few kilometres dropped off their bewildered and confused passengers and we speed off to the airport. He whipped down his matatu sign and said ‘you hire us and now we are a private taxi’
We told them we would give them 2000 shillings if they could get us to the airport; they were ecstatic, ‘chicken tonight! (the fare for a trip is average about 20 shillings).
The only thing we could see of Daniel was a pair of smiling eyes through a letter box size hole through to the back of the matatu. As expected we were stopped as we drove in to the airport by the police. Matatu’s are not allowed in, BUT ‘we were a taxi now we explained,’ they allowed us in.
We needed to get to terminus three, so we had to go all the way round. The lads screeched the ‘limousine’ to a halt outside the Kenyan Airlines door at 7-30am 30 mins to go. We left them very happy with a bundle of notes, the most exciting morning run they had ever had and a great tale to tell the family when they got home.
Ours was not over yet, oh no!
The airport was so busy - bags and people everywhere. No proper queue just a mass of people pushing to the 3 poor people behind a counter somewhere at the front. So many flights leave from this terminus we had no chance to get this plane. UNLESS we can push in somehow.
I asked every person I saw with a uniform on if we could be ‘processed’ flight due in 15mins. Eventually with a lot of negotiation we were at the front. I handed over both passports and our e tickets to this poor young girl who appeared to be just overwhelmed with it all. The sea of people was still coming. We explained we would take our luggage as hand luggage (too late now any way to check it in). She pressed in the numbers for P in to her computer and out came her boarding card - almost there!!
Now my turn, no such luck ‘no-compute’. She suggests that P goes and gets on the plane and I have to wait for the supervisor. P does her little grin and prepares to wave me goodbye. A few seconds pass and she is just sitting looking at the screen. Time now 8am, I say ‘where is the supervisor’? She shrugged her shoulders. I say a FEW WORDs and she is gone, much to the dismay of all the other passengers. Two mins later she is back, punches in some numbers, Bingo I receive my boarding card and passport returned.
We both took off with our bags, went through the first check point and find ourselves on the runway, with many planes to choose from and no one around to guide us.
We head for the first Kenyan Airlines one we see, suddenly a man appears and shouts “no, that one”, pointing in the far distance to two other Kenyan Airline planes. Our bags are quite heavy, but we are so determined to board (at this point any plane would have done). At last, we find the correct plane and head up the stairs. When we reach the top, we realise we are not seated together, but who cares we are on.
We are both intent on finding our seats and then finding room in the overhead lockers. P is well ahead of me. This done I look around and realise I am in business class, and a tray of cold drinks is already being served.
I push my way back down the plane to find P who by now is seated next to a screaming child and a large lady. As a good friend would, I offer her my seat, as it is after all her holiday. And in true P fashion she refuses, it was too crowded to have a fight with her, so sooooo reluctantly I returned to my seat for my glass of chilled orange. We then sat on the runway for 1 hour with seat belts on engine running, not going anywhere. We did at last take off at 9am - what a start to the holiday but we made it and we landed safely into paradise.
