When I was very young and the urge to be someplace was on
me, I was assured by mature people that maturity would cure this itch. When
years described me as mature, the remedy prescribed was middle age. In middle
age I was assured that greater age would calm my fever and now that I am
fifty-eight perhaps senility will do the job. Nothing has worked. In other
words, I don't improve, in further words, once a bum always a bum. I fear the
disease is incurable.- John Steinbeck
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| Photo: Dinesh Korday |
The morning I left home I had high fever. It was a legacy of a recent respiratory tract infection. A kind flight attendant offered paracetamol and the temperature was under control. Thankfully some some infections in life are still remediable or should I say medicable. Reaching Mumbai I was glad to meet my friend Dinesh Korday. While together we enjoyed coffee I showed him the book that was taking me back to Africa, once again after 3 years. Good coffee, a close friend and a good book; was certainly a lot more than I had asked for in those few hours in Mumbai. While all the 3rd or 4th generation antibiotics fought a courageous battle inside my physical system, my spirits rose high. I was ready for another adventure. Boarding the evening flight to Nairobi I could identify myself with what John Steinbeck once said, 'once a bum always a bum' and I was glad that this disease of mine was 'incurable'.
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| The empty terminal |
Reaching Nairobi somehow felt like homecoming. My flight to Mombasa was not leaving till next morning. So I decided to spend the night in the terminal ( Terminal 1-D) itself. Pretty soon, around 11 pm, the whole terminal became empty. The airlines staff, the janitors; everybody left. Only 4 security men and myself stood guard. I was in peace and almost felt that I could start living there in this terminal. The security guys were super friendly and after I spend a few weeks here I will be like Tom Hanks in the movie 'Terminal'. My thoughts must have been corrupted by the movies I watched on the Kenya Airways flight and the super dull food they served. I dozed off putting an untimely end to my 'terminal fantasies' only to be woken up next morning with the arrival of passengers and crew of the first flight to Mombasa.
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| Arab style coffee near the old port of Mombasa |
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| Afternoon football next to Fort Jesus, Mombasa. A glimpse of Indian Ocean beyond |
Mombasa felt humid and suffocating. But my fascination for its history helped me keep walking through the lanes and alleys of the old town. The history of Mombasa is not without its vicissitudes. Egyptian idols, Arabs, Portuguese, British; everything of each period has left their marks. I was engrossed in these thoughts and even felt partly hypnotized while walking the by-lanes of the 'old town'. It was then, a stranger approached and warned me of dangers of walking alone in certain areas. I understood the threat was real. Activities of Al Shabab is yet to be eradicated from here. The scars and blood stains in people's mind here are still fresh. I took his advise. Other than this incident I could roam freely and talk to people near the old port area and Fort Jesus.
Finally sitting by the bay and sipping aromatic black coffee ( with lots of cardamom, cinnamon and sugar I guess) I thought this must the 'death of distance'. Once it took people months to sail and reach here. And today, it took me just a few hours from the banks of river Ganga to this ancient port city of East Africa. I remembered, that it was at this very place, in 1498, the great Vasco da Gama, nearly lost his ship and life through the treachery of his Arab pilot, who plotted to wreck the vessel on the reef which bars more than half the entrance to the harbour. I remembered, that it was at this very place Shankar arrived with Prasad Das Bandyopadhyay to find a job at the Uganda Railway.
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| Old Town of Mombasa |
Like it? Keep reading. Watch out for Part III in my blog. Don't know when I will manage to write it though. :)
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