The Coastal Job

Mombasa town is known as the capital of raha not just in Kenya and her landlocked neighbors but even by the rest of the world. Its shores receive scores of visitors, a huge chunk of them purely there for recreation. Early explorers like Ibn Batuta gave it glowing tribute as early as the 18^th century, long even before major cities such as Kisumu and Juba. It therefore goes without saying that the picture a guy has when visiting the coastal town is one of profound rosiness and happiness. It’s one of a person in a short with his bare feet caressing the sands of the Indian Ocean.

It’s definitely not of one aloof a motorcycle bearing the brunt of the falling skies in a highway chase for the school bus after overstaying in the conveniences courtesy of a severe bout of loose bowel movement. It’s definitely not of one clutching at his genitals and legs after a loss of a second’s concentration on a hockey pitch turned tragic. The less said about that the better. It’s not of one bearing the brunt of ‘I told you so’ after calling for financial reinforcement or singing antiestablishment slogans due to unpaid allowances.

The furor though about some secessionist group chanting the slogan,”pwani si Kenya” I think though has been blown out of proportion. Whereas their concerns such as unemployment and misappropriation of resources are genuine, they need to realize that these problems are not just limited to the coastal region. That the sultan of Zanzibar was duped by Jomo notwithstanding, this MRC should know people. What will they do for example if Kisumuians begin shouting that Kisumu si Africa? Where would they get their fresh ngege from? Maybe they will respond by the now almost hackneyed cliché that pwani si dunia if the geomorphologists recent stunning claims that the island is sinking are to be taken seriously.

Truth be told, I had looked forward to the Mombasa trip for the whole week and couldn’t wait for Friday to reach. To reach it did, eventually, and the vultures prepared to head to Mombasa to play against Mombasa Sports Club. Call it one of the perks that come with playing in the national league. I wouldn’t of course lament about how the instead of leaving at eight am the bus left about three hours later. The   bone to chew would be about not being able to take my breakfast fully. Food is sacred if you know what I mean. In case you wondering though why we had to travel by road instead of taking advantage of the cheap Kenya airways flight transversing our skies, then I hope bad weather would be an adequate answer. And just in case the reason doesn’t suffice, then the threat of Al Qaida (not Al Shabaab which is just but a terrorist kiosk) shooting down our plane could still suffice.

The task at hand aside, such trips gives people an opportunity to socialize and by that you know am not talking about mingling for the sake of phatic communication, am talking about fusing for the sake of starting nurseries.

In as much as everybody was keen to pluck three points from our opponents, the normal somber match atmosphere was replaced by a boisterous mood as ‘people got no each other better’. This would go on up to the wee hours of the morning in Club Lamabada. In case you were wondering whether I was going to blame fatigue for our loss, you aren’t entirely wrong.

It’s funny though that I only realized that I hadn’t actually used my swimming costume while unpacking. The closest I ever got to the beach was well by a hugging a bitch from there. Instead of the solar that is characteristic of the coast, we had to endure unending drizzles. Amidst this splashes of sprinkles, there were still an overbearing heat in the atmosphere.

Picking from where I left, I realized that out of town trips not only make it easier for people to know each other better amidst games such as poker and bedminton. Alliances shift, relationships begin, others succumb to the pressure while some get the fresh impetus required to survive-they were the least though. Provision of free nyama choma and bed space can earn you a fling for the short stint probably at the expense of some wordsmith. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to see discordant soul mates at such hours, blame it all on uchumi .How people like one Juma Juma crafted and sustained three parallel relationships methinks requires some inquiry.

Now that am talking about nyama choma, I should probably tell you why am not in a hurry to eat meat on the road any time soon if my recent altercations are anything to go by. Am not of course claiming that my resolve is unshakeable, but it would require a lot of persuasion and I don’t think it’s going to be anytime soon. Let’s just say that seventy minutes can be a lifetime while at the mercy of looseness of bowels, especially if you have to pay attention not to fart lest you fart yourself wet. This is the time when every second counts. At this point the person who said that the greatest reliefs on earth are those that involve excreting from the body could probably be the wisest man. Even the smell of naked chicken revolving around a stand doesn’t turn me on-my appetite that is in case you were starting to get some ideas.

If I say am not looking forward to another game like that, it would be the understatement of the year. Playing on grass after my recent upgrade into artificial playing surface looked like a step down especially with the soft and slippery grass not sitting pretty with the tired grip of my shoes.

In all fairness though, the trip down south wasn’t as gloomy as might have been portrayed above. If I was seriously considering deleting travelling on the hobbies section of my CV then these factors might spare it the hangman’s noose albeit for the time being.

I got to finally ‘beat’ a photograph next to the famous elephant tasks-turns out they are just metal. I also got to know of delicacies such as kima, maamri, madafu among others the former because it was apparently the cheapest item on the menu. Most importantly I also got to learn the difference between sima and ugali-the latter is way bigger in size and is the preserve of the western region. While there can be ugali sosa, there is definitely no sima sosa. If I were ever to move there permanently, my call would be to revolutionize this very vital sector. It would be a shame if I dint mention Holla and Butterfly parks. Also invaluable, was the numerous contacts I made along the way. Next time for example if I were to stop in Email town I would know that Kwa Mama Boy serves ugali and not sima. The same however cannot be said of Mama Abdul of Mtito Andei. The dungeons of Mtwapa and its stirring night life is though a story for another day.

The world though goes on as usual. It’s nice though to be in the confines of my bed after having to share it with fix of my friends on the road. I’ll miss though room thirty one of Kenda’s village. The manager though might not be enthusiastic about opening her doors for us again, or any other student for that matter especially with the tissue and paste overuse.

If I wasn’t able to score on the hockey pitch, my form was inspired on the social front. I will let you know on the development when the next episode of the bachelor continues. Somebody ones told me though that what happens in Vegas (read Mtwapa) stays there.

As the reality of the economic and physical toll of the Coast job sinks in, one can only hope that Mondays could be shorter.