Blog 8

Wednesday, June 25, 3:35 p.m.

I did not think I would have much to tell you from Mombasa, but here
is another adventure.

So, remember those taxis I told you about? They're called mutatus.
Well, today we rode in one to go into Old Mombasa and Fort Jesus and
come back to the hotel. When one pulled up here this morning, it was
about half full of locals, but they made everybody get out and move to
another one. There were 14 of us piling into the van, plus a driver
and a money-man. Whoo Hoo! Off we went into major city traffic!

Br. Francis has returned to the trip, and he was our guide today.
However, he and Lucas and Justin followed in another mutatu.

Things seemed to be going well and then we pulled into a petrol
station. They have attendants at their petrol stations and as one
proceeded to put diesel in the tank, the hose or the spout broke,
spewing gas everywhere. Ah -- TIA (This is Africa!)

With a change of drivers we were off to Fort Jesus. A guide at the
fort latched onto us, giving us the options for seeing the area. We
opted for an external tour of Fort Jesus and a tour of Old Town
Mombosa. And what a tour we got!

We were wandering through walkways, alleyways, streets, stores, etc.,
for over two hours. Unfortunately for me, I seem to have caught a
cold, being in the stage that made me wish I had remained at the
hotel. However, I would not have been happy to miss this adventure.

Once again, we saw things that few tourists would see. I have read
about such things in novels and travel books (not guides so much), but
we needed to experience to believe it.

Mombasa is an interesting city. It was settled by Arabs, Portuguese,
Indians, and of course, native Africans -- our guide told us by a
tribe of cannibals. He said he was descended from that tribe, but
later he recanted. His name is Muhamed Ali -- not the boxer. He wore
an official tag and carried official papers, and he was quite
knowledgeable, but who knows. One thing he did was chase away people
who came too close to our group.

I can't tell you everything we saw and learned. Here are some brief
memories -- my head is not functioning too well right now:

Baobob trees are HUGE deciduous trees that can live 3000 years.
We saw jasmine and henna trees also.

The fort has an interesting history, but that has slipped my mind
since it went through many occupations, as forts are known to do. When
the fort was built about 400 years ago (I think), the water from the
inlet came up to the walls. Global warming through the years has taken
it well away from the fort.

We passed a British Club where Muhamed told us "the big bellies" meet.
I guess he was not looking at us, but we would not be welcome there.
We would call these people "big wigs.
We shopped at a couple of stores, probably relatives of Muhamed. We
saw more hard living conditions. Workers came off the job for lunch
which was served from pots in the streets. Children were sitting on
the sidewalk eating from a pie tin. There is trash collection of a
sort here, but the containers are right on the street.

We saw a flea market, the produce market, little shops of goodies. The
area we were in has been taken over by the Somalis, who, Muhamed tells
us, have no hope of returning to their land.

The Muslim population is large. There were women in various veiled
states, including the full Burka. Muhamed is Muslim and did lots of
explaining about the religion -- that women and men cannot be in
services together because men's minds always turn to one thought
(women), that a woman could never lead men in service, but she could
lead the women on the other side of the curtain from the men.

When someone commented negatively about women, Muhamed was quick to
react, telling us of the respect that Muslims have for mothers. If you
ask a Muslim who is the most important person in his life, he will say
"Mother." If you ask him again he will answer the same two more times
before he will say "Father. These answers, of course, come after God.

There is no such thing as fundamental Islam -- Islam is Islam and
there is no variance from it. He did say that they respect all other
religions because there is only one God. No shoes are worn in the
mosque. He also defined jihad for us, saying it had nothing to do with
terrorists, rather it is facing a challenge -- like protecting one's
family from robbers, or preparing for exams, or a doctor performing
surgery.

I did not hear it when we were in town, but we have heard it
elsewhere, and that is the call to prayer for Muslims. It is done with
the voice and amplified through speakers so everyone can hear.

Burial customs are interesting. We passed a cemetery. Muslims are
buried in white gowns to indicate purity for meeting God and also to
show that there is no difference between the people -- pauper or king.
They are buried in the ground, on their right side, facing Mecca --
the center of their religion. Whenever people make the pilgrimage to
Mecca, they also only wear white for the reasons above. There are no
grave markers, just a mound of dirt to show others that they will be
following their loved one to the grave in the future.

Our tour lasted quite awhile and we were tiring out, ready to get back
to the fort and into a mutatu again -- believe it or not. More
adventures on the trip home. Lots of passing, horn-honking, scary
driving in general. We picked up one additional passenger for part of
the way. But we made it, piling out of the van at the entrance to our
hotel. Hooray.
I believe I will take a shower to get the grit off and wash some
clothes --laundry, just like home. Well, not EXACTLY like home where
my washer and dryer are. Here it is a shower with a tub this time (not
always the case.)

Laundry is hanging out to dry.

I am skipping tea today and will try to rest up from this cold.

Kathy