Sand Island Resorts, Tiwi Beach

The overnight train from Nairobi to Mombasa is just like out of an Agatha Christie movie - not that I have ever really watched one but I can only imagine its the same. This is the only train in Kenya and I think it was built following WWII as a method to transport goods from the port of Mombasa to the center of the country. Six of us climbed aboard and settled into our first class, $36/night sleeping quarters. The dinner bell rang promptly at 7:15 and the restaurant car was dressed in white linens and white place settings. The wait staff wore black and white. The food was upgraded rice and lentils with the addition of either chicken or beef. It was about the same as "home" just a nicer presentation and more jerking to and fro while trying to shovel into your mouth. The toilets were just holes in the floor so you could see the tracks flying by while aiming. At night, we stuck our heads out the windows and watched nothing after nothing go by for a while. The moon was almost full and the stars jumped from the sky. Every so often there was a stray person standing in a field. I couldn't begin to understand what they were doing.

The morning breakfast bell rang at 630 and we had the standard eggs and toast with the addition of baked beans and sausage. Watching the scenery as we got closer to our destination, it was obvious that we were leaving rural areas and headed to more urban settings. We passed a dump that looked like it was straight out of Slum Dog Millionaire. There were people standing on top of it and huts that had sprouted from the mounds. Kids picked through the piles and in a moment we were gone.

By 930 we were in Mombasa ready to get to the beach. Our cottage is a self contained unit on the coast in Tiwi Beach which is about forty minutes south. We made our stop at the Nakumatt (which is the Kenyan version of WalMart) and shopped for food and necessities. The big goal was to get some cheese. Cheese, cheese, cheese please. We got a brick of cheddar and about 6 boxes of EZ Mac. I am traveling with 18-20 year olds. They crack me up - buy water? No we can boil it. I am like "are you kidding me? $2.00. Get the water.". We leave with umpteen bags and Phillip, our driver, heads us towards our new residence. The paradoxes don't hit me as they are happening.

Mombasa is an island. There are bridges every direction except south so we boarded the ferry and ended up in the next town - something that starts with a "M". It was a huge market town with vendor after vendor and the poverty and debris that has become "normal" to me. We eventually arrive at Sand Island Resort which consists of 8 cottages in the middle of nowhere. There is a great sense of hospitality in this country and the locals are always glad to have new blood arrive.

The house is about 100yds from the Indian Ocean. We are surrounded by palm trees, overgrown grass and coconut trees. The beach is deserted and the water is warm. There are tons of little beach craps and a couple of the guys we are traveling with are enjoying crabbing. Some locals came with bunches of fish that were caught within hours. We picked from about eight different kinds with different shapes, sizes and colors and had them fileted for dinner with too much rice and veggies.

This morning we spent time with Francis Foster, the 78 year old owner of this establishment. We stopped in the fruit "store" which is really like a garage attached to his house and then ended up staying for tea and his life story. It seems as though his family came to uganda in 1915 because of cotton. They were hunters and he has huge ivory tusks at the entrance to his office. They are bigger than the doors themselves. He told us about lion and elephant and rhino expeditions. Sadly during one of the lion chases, uncle robert's gun jammed as he was trying to unload his second shot and the mountain of an animal was bearing down on him. He ended up with a broken neck but was still speaking. He told the family to not create more hardship by getting sunstroke. Tough right? Robert eventually died in the bush and a shallow grave was dug for him and a cross made by one of his workers was placed as a header.

Francis's father had started a book about their adventures and Francis has finished it. There are pictures of the family standing atop elephants and multiple sets of tusks lining the cars and unusual family pets. There were baby gorillas and tame cheetahs and odd birds sitting next to teddy bears and terriers. Francis is alone and has never been married and was rather ecstatic with the opportunity to share his story with people. I think this is the same anywhere. Old people just want to be listened to. I guess everyone does but for someone who has most of their life behind them, there must be a need to pass on information or to at least feel validated that their life was meaningful.

Other recent points - the crabber boys found a place to go cliff jumping. It was probably fifty feet up and we all went. Geronimo!!!! This morning we found a mango half eaten on the counter. Our best guess - a fruit bat. Our cottage is not tightly constructed, ie. Walls don't meet roof so this is a distinct possibility. We are making plans to go camel racing tomorrow. I am SUCH a tourist!!!!

Hugs to all!!!

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