tiwi and diani

We stay at Twiga lodge for 2,000/- for two. There’s a shower (cold), a balcony (with a glimpse of the beach) and a fan.

You can borrow a book in exchange for another book at the reception.

There are less beach boys and tourists. The sand is clean and there is a lot of shade.

safari by numbers contd. (without the numbers)

PART 3: TIWI FINALLY

MK is so impatient he runs from the taxi to the beach and then comes back when he realises i'm carrying all the luggage and we have to at least check in.

but it IS a relief!! to finally step foot on sand. the rooms are simple. twiga lodge has the following options;

budget rooms:

1,100/- single
2,000/- double

superior rooms with sea view, hot baths and showers

4,500/- double with breakfast
3,000/- single with breakfast

camping (with own tent. showers and toilets provided)

300/- pp
200/- per child 3-12 years
free for children under 3 years


the double budget room we take has a shower (cold), a balcony (with a glimpse of the beach) and a fan.

you can borrow a book in exchange for another book at the reception :)

the distinct quiet that tiwi has in comparison to diani is something i really enjoy. the sand is clean, there is a lot of shade and a lot less beach boys and tourists.

i'm quite amused by the red bodies around though and i take to taking pictures of them. MK doesn't understand the fascination but for me it amuses me like wildlife lol.

safari by numbers, a blog framed by numbers.

PART 1: TO VOI

09:45, the time i'm in town.

10:00 the time it is when i'm still waiting for MK to come from umoja.

30-40 mins, he says, the amount of time he'll take to get here.

10:30, the time of departure for the tickets i buy for 900/- each.

10:15, the time when MK is still nowhere to be seen and i'm beginning to become frantic (for potentially losing 2 x 900/- tickets)

10:25, the time he says he's arrived at the stage. i speed walk to afya centre and then walk to the stage.

no MK.

where are you? tuskys. there are 2 tuskys, i will discover, conveniently located within the same block.

4. the number of times i call him.

when i finally do find him (at the other tusky's), i hand my bag over to him to carry (late do-ers must be punished) and we run to the mash bus.

2. the number of other buses that go to mombasa from river road. coast bus and modern coast. but we take mash because the next departure time would have been at 12:00 and i wanted to leave as early as possible.

09:00, 09:30, 10:30, 12:00, 12:30, 13:00 and 1330, the morning departure times between the 3 buses.

900/- to 1,400/- the price range for tickets.

i follow a map as we pass athi river, emali and kibwezi before deciding to stop over in tsavo to to see if we can go for a safari.

15 mins, the time we have to decide before the bus leaves to carry on to mombasa.

15:30. the time it is when we get back on the bus, having decided to alight at voi instead. the conductor, a one christopher takes a liking to my 'brother' and will continue to call me for some months looking for him.

16:00. the time we arrive at voi.

the first hotel we enter, doesn't give us any information about any other places to stay or even discuss a safari if we don't stay with them. even after saying we’d be happy to camp, they tell us that every other place is booked and the best they can offer us is $100 BB.

we settle for $50 bed only.

4,000/- the price we settle for, for an evening safari (from 10,000/-) and 6,000/- for a 4-hour morning safari the next day.

ONE HOUR. the time it takes us to haggle for that, recognising that if we want to have a safari at all today, we’d have to settle somewhere.


17:00. the safari is anti-climatic but better than nothing and a relief at least from a day on the road. the KWS wardens take their sweet time signing us in etc.

i’m resentful enough about being cheated/not camping for $10(!) to not have dinner. i do order a sandwich however - 250/- for the morning safari because the kitchen won’t be open before we leave.

20:00. the time my mother calls me to tell me i have no decency with the way i travel.

22:00. the time we sleep and MK cheers me up by telling me that his father thinks him a sex tourist for choosing to visit thailand and the philippines repeatedly lol.


05:15 the time we're up.

05:40 the time we're off on safari. (we must punish the tour guide for wasting our time yesterday)

one hour, the amount of time we drive around for, as the sun rises.

where you find buffalo, steve the guide says, is where lions will go for a killing in the early morning. but today, there wasn't one.

1 out of the big 5, is what the buffalo turns out being. we don't find any other (except the red elephants from yesterday).

marabou stork, grand gazelles, guinea fowl, sickly wild dog, zebra, waterbuck and baboons... they are at once familiar and exotic. familiar because documentaries can make you feel like you've seen them up close and in real life. and exotic because it really is a treat to be in their company.

10:00. the time it is when steve takes us back to tsavo lodge. we pack our things, check out and have him bring us to town to take breakfast.

he takes us to new distar hotel, a place he says, he goes to himself, and order beef biriani and doughnuts: 250/-.

PART 2: TO MOMBASA

200/- each is the price for bus tickets to mombasa on frontline safaris.

3 hours, the amount of driving time from voi to mombasa town.

5 mins and 15/- for the matatu to the ferry.

50/- each and 20-30 mins for the matatu to ukunda.

300/- from the road to the beach by monopolising taxis.

we offer 200/- to a mat which happens to be passing there. and they agree. but then the taxi drivers rally to save their clientele;

"this is not your business. why do you interfere with our business? you are supposed to be a driver for school children. why are you even going this way? stealing our customers? do we interfere with your business?" they confronted the matatu driver.

the tension in their dispute surprised and unsettled MK and to avoid it, he changed his mind to go with the taxi drivers instead.

it’s 17:00 when we step onto tiwi beach.

salt and soda

you hear more about the maasai and the flamingoes than the salt lake. after all, it's not like you can swim in there (or can you?)

the road to magadi is a straight 120km from nairobi, descending into the rift valley. MK is so excited he sticks his head out the window like a dog, lol. and by day's end, only his left arm is thoroughly sunburnt.

he says he wants to cry. that he's never seen such beautiful nature. that he comes from a place without horizons. a place where clouds don't come as close.

i think at that moment that he is beautiful and i envy him for appreciating nature as much as he does.

there's a railway line that ends at the salt plant and i'd like to come by it the next time i go. so if you know where it starts from, do tell me.

at the gate, you register and pay 200/-. they don't give us a receipt and we in ignorance dont't ask for one. the rest of the journey however is plagued by the lack of one.

the plague comes in the form of maasai men-cum-wardens who refuse to let us pass without a receipt.

after much discussion (discussion enough for MK to climb up and down a steep hill and for me to take pictures) we take one with us, the one conspicuously carrying his faithful receipt book and continue the discussion in the car.

he directs us to take the road available during the rainy season. says our toyota can hack it as another car of the same size went just a few days ago and was able to pass.

MK is amazed that we use this street racing car (in japan) for safaris in kenya.



we pass a few wildebeest and zebra on the way. MK scares them off by running at them. he wants to try everything, to tame the zebras even. but everything doesn't want to be tried by him.

the hot springs aren't shaded (don't know why i expected them to be). they're out in the open for all the (few) flamingoes to see.

i tiptoe into it as the water burns and the rock is slippery. my feet redden and the thought of immersing myself doesn't seem possible. but MK runs to it and within moments he's wincing as the springs turn his skin red.

there's a log across the deeper area and i slowly make my way to it, hoping to balance on it as i dip myself in.

-----------------------F-O-R-T-Y DEGREES.

i finally immerse myself. it takes fooling myself that the waters really aren't hot. or that i shouldn't panic even if they are.

i stay in them long enough to 'test' their 'healing powers', long enough to justify the 3 hours on the road it took to get there. and 3 hours it'll take to get back.

but it is our skins in the end that tell us when to leave. and as we make our way back to the car we are bombarded by the maasai women who had been waiting to sell their wares.

we buy (or rather, MK buys) one necklace, one bracelete, one gourd and one cow horn for 1000/-. one woman appears discontent with her share of the deal because she chases the car, yelling at MK through the window, thrusting her arm inside to grab at the gourd. MK rolls his window up and she stands away as the car turns and drives away.

our maasai warden eventually agrees to let go of the receipt issue as we exit the barrier. he even recommends a nyama choma joint. perhaps he just wanted lunch or a ride.

but the place he directs us to has nothing ready so we decide to head home and to wait until ongata rongai for dinner.

i want to go to turkana - to see the jade blue sea - lake - it's a lake (but lake didn't rhyme). and i read somewhere that there are busses from eastleigh. and so i went to eastleigh to enquire.

i took the number 4 and roamed about until i found 'dayah express' on 7th street. i verified that it goes to lodwar, kakuma and then to lokichoggio. trips aren't regular, according to abdikathar osman abdille, the manager but when they do go, they leave at 7am. and return trips leave at 6 in the evening.

22 hours people. 22 hours of your life on a bus to get there.

we had lunch at tamar restaurant, formerly kbs garage (that's what it says on the receipt) and ordered fried goat with rice. the goat comes as large as 3 fists. so it's a good thing we only ordered one dish but with 2 portions of rice.

they offer fresh carrot, mango and watermelon juice. not forks or knives or serviettes unless you ask for them. the toilet is a latrine. and the service doesn't speak much english. there is no menu. they tell you the types of meat they make and then give you the option: fried? or boiled? for lack of words to describe the difference, they brought out the dishes, fried goat... boiled goat on plates that were more like platters.

the man on the opposite table ordered spaghetti and ate it with his hands. it came as plain pasta with a side bowl of sauce (which looked very much like the sauce we had with our goat). he poured it onto his pasta and then scooped it into his mouth.

we paid the 650/- (1 fried goat, 2 rice, 1 sprite, 1 carrot juice) at a counter behind which the woman serving us was counting stacks full of 1000 notes and the other two men with her, counting their own bundles.


there is a room separated by a sheer curtain for women and family. i wanted to look for a buibui/abayah/hijab/burqah because i was beginning to feel the need to be covered. the black satin ones were going from 2,500/-

we took the number 6 or 9 on the way back.

we passed a dumpsite, besieged with egrets and vultures, picking their way through - it was at once horrific and majestic. another one of those moments you wished your eyes could take stills.

the road became proper the closer we got to town. and it's only when you're on good road again that you realise that eastleigh had none.