The Windy City that Wasn't, and Other Coastal Travels

There’s so much of Kenya I haven’t seen, and I’ve been here almost a year already. Most of my time has been spent in Western Province around Bungoma, and in Nairobi. These two areas are what I think of when I think of Kenya, even though that couldn’t be further from reality.

I felt this plainly when I recently visited the coastal region of Kenya for a work trip. My colleague and I were observing the programs of a tree-planting company that offers smallholder farmers a way to generate more revenue from unused land. The land situation was clearly very different than the generally fertile Western Province where One Acre Fund works. A drier, more unpredictable climate and sandier soil means people aren’t able to grow many crops consistently. Thus, hardy varieties of trees can present a unique, if long-term, value proposition.

While visiting and learning from this particular company, we stayed at one of the few accommodations in the small town of Kilifi, which happened to be a backpackers. It gave our work trip a nice relaxed feel, and since it was right on Kilifi Creek we were able to start our days with a refreshing morning dip. We also had time one night to go out to eat at a seafood restaurant right on the water. The very friendly, very ridiculous Swiss owner ordered us local oysters, smoked fish, and a whole platter of assorted seafood. It was a nice treat considering our limited fish options in Bungoma. Not a bad place to be based for the employees of the company we were visiting.

 (Walk from the office to our lodging)

(Mahogany tree nursery)

(Creek-side seafood)

Kilifi wouldn’t be the only time I visited the ocean in the last month either. At the end of August I traveled for the first time to Maputo, Mozambique. I was there to speak at a conference for financial regulators, from the perspective of rural financial inclusion. I also arranged to visit another MFI while there, up in the center of the country. But in between, I would have a weekend to spend in the city.

I booked an Airbnb as it was by far the most affordable option, and it was really a great deal. The people I stayed with were super friendly (even if they didn’t speak English that well), and their apartment was beautiful, with a balcony overlooking the water. It was also walking distance from a lot of key places, including the conference site.

I arrived in Maputo to grey skies, below 60 temperatures, and a strong wind from the sea that whipped the 8^th floor apartment violently every night. It was chilly and blustery for my first few days, even though my hosts assured me it was never ever like this and would change by tomorrow, then the next day, then the next day…

It didn’t matter too much as I was there to work anyway, and the conference was indoors. The event went well, I met some interesting people, and even as I confront the video evidence of me speaking I still feel it went ok. The Saturday following the event I braved the cold at a waterfront café for a few hours before retreating back to the apartment, but not before checking out the very small, very old Museu de História Natural on my way back. It was 50% closed, and 90% of what was open consisted of dead stuffed animals, looking pretty worse for wear. What really struck me was the staged violence of so many of the exhibits; I guess drama and gore are great ways to generate interest in your humble museum.

(The natural world is a violent place)

Luckily, on my last day in Maputo the weather cleared and I enjoyed a day exploring the town. Maputo reminded me a lot of Dakar, both cities on the water, both a little bit crumbling, and the only two places I’ve been where non-British countries were the colonizers, and the difference is really palpable. Of course the language is the most obvious distinction; most people I met spoke little to no English, and I speak little to no Portuguese, so I got a lot of mileage out my ten words of Spanish. The difference goes deeper than language, though, and it’s hard to describe, but not having those familiar British undertones in a the place makes you feel doubly foreign.

I enjoyed Maputo a lot though, despite the wind and cold. It feels very safe and walk-able and there seems to be lots to do in the way of food, music, and activities. During my day on the town I enjoyed some clams beachside, then watched 20 people pull in a huge fishing net from the adjoining beach. After that, I went into the seafood market where there are stalls and stalls with the widest and most colorful variety of seafood I’ve ever seen. There were prawns and clams of all sizes, blue crabs, huge gaping fish, and rock lobsters the size of my arm that looked like they’d been painted. I selected a single tiger prawn, which was whisked away and grilled behind the scenes while I waited. Sea to stall to table- all within sight of each other.

(My tiger prawn)

Though I only had one nice day in Maputo, and my second stop in Mozambique, Chimoio, was not nearly as pretty, I got a good feeling from the country and hope to be able to return and explore more someday soon. The one highlight from Chimoio: the existence of selfie-sticks in this tiny town.