Mombasa

Today Lois took us into Mombasa. We toured the old fort carved out of coral, Fort Jesus, like most old fortresses you had lots of canons, lots of portholes and lookout towers. There were only four entrance/exits, the main entrance, an entrance for bringing in ammunition, an exit where they took slaves out to sea, and the escape route for the Portuguese as the Arabs took over the fort.

The guide was showing us an Arab carving that showed unity and explained that they were a peaceful people and I couldn’t help but think; how peaceful were they? They had just taken the fort by force and wanted to ship the native people back to their homeland to be slaves.

It made me realize the oppression of the black man started early in history and continues today, even in Africa. There is a form of caste system even here in the black man’s native country where the Indians and Moslems are the upper classes and the black man again falls to the bottom. It is truly amazing that America elected a black man as the most powerful man in the world. I didn’t vote for him but he is my president and I will hope and pray that we have finally elected a leader, God knows we need one.

Later we walked around Old Mombasa, there is a huge Muslim population here. It never ceases to fascinate me to walk around an old city center, stepping back a hundred years, the sweet smell maize cooking on charcoal fires, street vendors hawking their wares, fruits and vegetables laid out like a rainbow across the sidewalks, the mosque’s call to prayer blasting on loud speakers, women avoiding your glance in their hijab, haggling over prices like a game of chess, when you reach a stalemate you walk away; you win if the merchant stops you.

For lunch Lois took us to the Mombasa Club, one of the original British bastions from colonial times. As we sat on the veranda having lunch and a Tusker (Kenyan beer) overlooking the old port it seemed like time was frozen, it could have been 1909, the scene, the people, the smell, the sounds would have been the same. Africa is like a time machine, you can actually transport yourself back a 100 years.

We went to a birthday party tonight, one of Ernie and Lois friends turned 60. The party was at a newly refurbished hotel across from the beach and the Paradise Hotel. I had never heard of the Paradise by name but by reputation. The Paradise is the hotel that Al Queda bombed in 1999. Our media always blows things so out of proportion, the story I heard was a tourist hotel was blown up in Mombasa.

Actually this is a very small hotel a short drive from the home we are staying in Vipingo about 30 miles north of Mombasa. Lois and Ernie were on their porch when the bomb went off and heard the blast. This is not an easy hotel to get to; it is all by itself, way down a bumpy dirt road. The terrorists targeted it because it is owned by a Jewish family and a lot of Jewish people stay there.

They had just gotten in a bus load of Jewish tourists and the Paradise greeted their customers with a singing group of local natives. The welcome had finished and most of the guests had gone to their rooms as the cowards drove up in their bomb laden truck and into the lobby of the hotel.

Although their goal was to kill Jews, they killed 16; 15 young Giriama singers and one Jewish boy who was slow getting to his room. At the same time they were bombing the hotel they tried to shoot down an Israeli plane leaving the Mombasa airport; they missed. I hope they are proud of themselves, I’m sure Allah is.