Bamburi is situated very nicely; I had chosen the north beach because there is more action there, more bars and more whores. Bamburi also lies slap bang in the middle of everything; it’s easy to get everywhere.

Anyhow, in one way I had expected the holiday to be a little different: Sun and sea: I am not what one would call a sun-bather, but I am a water-rat, which doesn’t mean this is confined to sex in the bath, I love to go for a swim in the sea.

Everything was a bit different in Mombasa, I had my NBC equipment for snorkelling with me, but I didn’t even use it, in fact I was only in the water once in 6 weeks. The reason for this being the character of the coast. The carpets of seaweed didn’t bother me that much, but the circumstances that one had to walk such a long way for a swim, especially when the tide was out kept me from going for a dip. The water right up to the 1000 metre away reef was more suited for a walk than a swim, even when the tide was in, it was just too shallow. When the tide went out, there were suddenly large areas just lying idle, Seaweed etc formed a dark sub-surface which meant that the extremely hot sun heated everything up to a great extent. When the tide comes back in, it is then as warm as bathwater which is nice and pleasant.

Talking about the sun: Extremely hot. It’s not so much the environmental temperature, I’m used to around 30 – 33 degrees centigrade from Asia, and it’s humid at the turn of the year, but that’s not it either. It still seemed to me as if the sun was pulling the fur off – simply brutal. Maybe it has something to do with the equator, or it really is just how I seem to feel it.

Anyway, I decided to concentrate my activities to the dry and shady part of the beach, and to reduce my sporting activities to hunting for hens.

It started off quite well. On the first day I had something to eat in the hotels beach restaurant and let myself be chatted up by the next best hen that came along. Of course I was ignorant to everything and asked her stacks of questions, anything I could think of. She showed me, for example, another nice beach restaurant which I most surely would not have found on my own, it was a long way off, 50 metres. We had a drink, and then I decided on an excursion to a gigantic supermarket called NAKUMATT which was supposed to sell shoes. Even in my size (46) was not supposed to be much of a problem; well that’s what my new girlfriend told me anyway. I had made the mistake of not bringing any open shoes (sandals) along with me, because I had planned on buying a pair on location. Wrong! Size 44 was the largest I could find so what now? Walk around bare footed in the hotel and down the beach? One thing was certain; it was much too hot for normal shoes.

I noticed the shoes that many Massai men (and all of those who wanted to be) wore – self-made sandals cut out of old car tyres. I spoke to one in front of our hotel on the beach, and asked him if he was able to arrange a pair in my size. What a stupid question, there is nothing that one cannot arrange! I haggled the price from 950 KSH (ha ha, new shoes only cost 900 at BATA) down to 500 because I couldn’t really be bothered to haggle and had hot feet, paid 50 in advance, and the next day I had my new shoes.

After all, the tread was the same on both sides and not quite bare, so I still had good aquaplaning qualities. They were a bit concave, but we shouldn’t forget that car tyres are round. They weren’t that comfortable but better than nothing at all. Apart from that I was now the only Muzungu on the whole beach who had a pair of Massai shoes. The others on the beach had a good look, and of course a go od laugh.

I got rid of my first acquaintanceship after we had carried our bags of beer, water and shower gel into the hotel: She was much too HC and the Dollar signs lit up in her eyes, apart from that she was touchy… Can do without things like that.

Apart from that, what happened on the beaches was that what normally happens on such beaches… The usual beach peddlers set up their stalls at their usual places and try to sell the usual rubbish that they usually sell, of course if possible to the white people, and the whiter the better using the same old talk to get people to buy. The fruit sellers with their meagre supply, trying to get rid of it to anyone who passes by; pensioners in pastel coloured suits dragging carrier-bags full of grub towards the next possible seating place, of course with their coloured girlfriends tagging along behind them. A camel is waiting patiently, but mainly futilely, for a few idiots who want to take a ride up and down the beach. Female sex tourists with their worn out rasta-boyfriends rush shamefaced towards the hotel entrance. “Dr. Important” with gold rimmed glasses, non-lit pipe in the corner of his mouth and an army rucksack over his shoulder talks to the believably interested Massai junk peddler about the weather back home, only so that at home he can with pride talk about his “close contacts” to the natives of the country, but not without showing his third class wooden elephants that he had, after a hard bout of haggling, only just managed to knock the price down from 5000 to 4500.

Divers stroll in full panoply packed with their bottles towards their boats; a few freelancers laugh, because of the civil police presence more or less shamefully at the Muzungus; a group of snow white tourists who have probably finished their safari and are now having a weeks holiday on the beach, let themselves – well protected – be shown the dangerous beach by their guide for a fee of 200 KSH, for this pleasure they naturally had to leave the safety of the “all inclusive bunker” of the African safari club. A paraglider is hanging onto his chute like a wet sack and hoping for a soft landing. A fisherman is repairing his boat and hardening it in the fire, and a bit of a pissed up old bloke snapping left right and centre, runs jokingly with his fresh conquest towards the hotel to give her a good working over.

Mombasa is with its 500.000 inhabitants, not as big as one may think. Due to its geographical island position, it is quite straightforward. The town is very lively, and during the daytime pretty safe. One doesn’t have to wander about in the worst of the slums. Below a few pictures of a sightseeing tour around the town, oh well, what did I do… The famous tusks, I only took a photo of the famous tusk because I had been to the hairdressers and passed them on the way there. I will spare you of the big cultural tourist program on this CD, don’t worry. Anyone who wants to see the sights, of which there aren’t that many at all, apart from maybe “Fort Jesus”, can hire a tour guide or taxi and let oneself be driven around. By the way, there are Tuk Tuks in Mombasa… I hadn’t expected to meet the rattling three wheelers (see picture) in Kenya. In Thailand they belong to the street scene. We’ll get back to transport later.

There are large and small ones. Where shall I start… The largest was probably that I was just not aware that Kenya is mainly a Muslim country, especially down by the coast. In Mombasa about 80 percent of the population are Muslims. They are all very nice and friendly. It’s just sex and things that they don’t seem to care two figs about, what I mean is in public or during a revealing discussions about the topic. The result of this, and the reason why at the beginning of the report I issued a big warning (and not for no reason at all), is that sex toys of all types including dildos, vibrators etc, are not only frowned upon, they are strictly forbidden. This also applies for such things as all types of pornography, CDs with sexual contents, porn videos and printed pornography of all types. 

I myself had the usual equipment with me on holiday; this includes, apart from around 10 DVDs containing hard core porn, a whole array of sex toys. When entering the country I was not controlled, what a bit of luck, one should however not relay on this, I mean that one will not be controlled. I first became aware of the problems when told about them by a couple of mates who I got to know during the holiday, they had been coming to Kenya for quite a few years. They told me stories of Muzungus who had been locked up after being caught by the province police after been grassed on by a hen who had scented lots of cash. Unfortunately it is a fact that one should be very very careful. When for example, a hen with her uncle from the police and a couple of colleagues think that there is someone who has stacks of cash with them, they could be tempted to try and earn one or two Kenyan annual wages (per head) on the side. They knock on the door and find something. It’s even been said that it could be a planted joint.

So, don’t show too much money, it’s better to pl ay cheap. The last piece of advice came a little bit too late for me, but I had preferred to get rid of all the porno stuff in the end. I’m not the anxious sort of person, but it is a fact that one should take heed when being warned, especially if one is a newbie in a foreign country. The variation of the 1000 – 2000 Euros that one is lightened of by corrupt cops is the more harmless variation. It is a lot worse if one is unable to pay (cash and immediately, the hotel safe is opened in the morning), or to be stubborn and think that things will sort themselves out down at the cop shop, they won’t. It’s just the opposite, we haven’t got 3 coppers any more, there are now 7, or maybe even more who would like to earn a bit of cash. This is where it starts to get critical. I was luck, I’m talking about the los of material, apart from that nothing else happened.

It’s best one doesn’t tell the girls how long one is going to stay or where one is going to go etc, the less they know the better. And once again, cheap is better.

By the way, this all has nothing to do with sexy underwear, suspenders etc etc, there is nothing that anyone can have against these things.

Next topic: Travelling with taxis. : Most of them are ok and try at the most to agree upon a much too high fare. One should always agree upon the fare BEFORE commencing the journey, if not, ALL drivers will name an extortionate price at the end of the journey. The best thing to do is use the drivers who wait outside your own hotel, the reason being is that one knows them and will recognise them in future, that’s what they think anyway. Once I had a load of stress with one of these bastards:

I took a taxi together with a hen from Casaurina to Mombasa in the Casablanca. I looked for a driver who would do the return trip for a 1000 and who would also wait for 2 or 3 hours in front of the place. I managed to come to agreement with the first one I found. At first he wanted 2000, but as he saw that I was off towards the other taxis, he quickly agreed to my price, a 1000 for both journeys including the waiting time. The waiting time is no problem at all, the boys spend most of the day waiting anyway and mainly in vain, so they prefer to do a tour for that price than not earn any money at all. The single trip normally costs only 800, all in all a bit is earned.

On the way there during the 20 minute journey I enjoyed a nice blow job on the back seat of the taxi, that’s the reason why I took the girl with me. Normally taking a girl to the Casablanca is the same as carrying wood into the forest. The place is packed out with chicks. Just before arrival, trousers up and fasten belt, everything is ok, the driv er waited downstairs in Casa, I bought him a beer.

After a couple or three hours we made our way back, blow job technically the same procedure as on the way there. During the journey the driver started a discussion, he reckoned I had to pay him 2000, I was completely astonished and replied with a “What!!!” The girlfriend also confirmed that we had agreed upon a 1000. He said that a 1000 wasn’t enough, I told him I was only going to pay a 1000 and not a shilling more. On this he pulled over on the left hand side and stopped. I opened the door, got out and set off towards Mtwapa.We were just a few hundred metres before the bridge to Mtwapa, in the middle of the night, not a very good time at all. No white person would walk along here at this time of night but I was absolutely determined, removed my (silver) chain and put it in my trouser pocket.

After a short distance I went back to the car and asked my girl friend if she would like to come with me. I asked the driver what his intention was, whether he was trying to rip me off and told him that I was not afraid and would prefer to walk than let him do so. In general, lots of coloured people would hate us, but touch us, that’s a different matter; there are horrendous penalties for doing so, working down mines etc. My hen had a word with him as well, in the end he said ok, I should jump back in the taxi. At the Casaurina I banged the 1000 on the car roof and disappeared. I needed to knock a beer back, yeah, I was pretty angry. Afterwards I realised that I had reacted wrongly, instead of threatening to walk (I really would have as well), I should have stayed in the taxi and agreed to the 2000 but on arrival only given him a 1000. Anyway, all turned out ok, and this prat came off worse, I would have given him a 200 shilling tip, something he didn’t get in the end.

Advice for the Casaurina: Never use one of the taxis there that are standing directly outside, they are a rip off, that’s what I have experienced. It’s better to walk the 15 meters to the road, a lot of taxis drive along looking for customers. The best thing to do is take one that you already know.

These are more or less the main points that I would like to warn you about. If one takes heed of the smaller pieces of advice found within the text, there is not much that can go wrong really, ok, we’re in Africa, one may have to learn the hard way as a newbie and pay one or the other bill at a higher rate than expected, maybe someone cashes in where one isn’t expecting it at all, but if one takes heed of all the advice, and keeps ones eyes open, then it shouldn’t be as bad as one might expect.

Oh yeah, I could just let you know about something else, about when I am in a room with the girls… I do it the same all over, it seems though, to very important here. Don’t give the girls the slightest chance to steal anything from you, and then nothing will happen!

The best thing to do is to have the girls registered at the reception, or if not, put here ID together with her handbag (if she possesses one), clothes and mobile in a hard protective suitcase with combination lock. I always do that, they don’t normally complain. Don’t forget to switch the mobile off; the ringing can get on ones wick. I also put my own things that I don’t need for the night in such a case and lock it. I mainly only have the digi camera lying around, and I keep my eye on it all the time. In the night the girls would have to go and get the case, it is not that likely that they will bugger off naked. Like I said, I’ve been doing this for years now; I have never been robbed except for one very minor incident. When I was on a Cuban holiday, a slag nicked my Eau de Toilette out of the bathroom; the Cubis are renowned for stealing anything that hasn’t been nailed down. Things like that are a peccadillo there.

Related to this, there is something a bit more serious that comes to mind, on the last day, just before leaving.

This young lady here was with me early in the morning on my final day, it was about 5 in the morning when I dragged her out of the Casaurina. Instead of something a bit more established, I had a nice time with the blower above. Instead of considering this as the final “blow”, and being satisfied, I decided that I still had a bit of time until the alarm went off (packing my case is always the same and takes just 30 minutes). Off I went for a few beers and of course the young lady here. The way she sat on the bed and discussed gave me the impression that something was wrong. So I went as I was to the bathroom with her and everything is all right, we’ve already had a shower, I was doing a bit of water-sports (passive) with her when she stopped right in the middle when things were getting good and told me if that’s what I wanted, then it would cost 10000!!! I thought I hadn’t heard her properly.

No, she really did want 10000. Two good Kenyan months’ wages for something that other chicks did during the course of things without even thinking about it. I told her that she could piss in bottles and try and sell them down the Mtwapa market, and then she would see how much she got for them. No, 10000! “OK” I told her (if I hadn’t been under such time pressure, she would have been chucked out straight away), because I’m in such a good mood, I’ll give you 2000, all you have to do is make me shoot my load, my flight to Nairobi leaves soon, I’m checking out in 60 minutes. Everything is agreed upon. Right in the middle of things, I was lying on the bed having a blow job when she started to discuss things again! That was the last straw, I told her to go home and that without any money. She started shouting her mouth off, wanted to know where her 2000 were etc. 

After I had explained the alternatives to her a few times, either to go on her own accord without money, or to be chucked out by me without money, she decided upon the second variation. So I got her clothes, chucked them out into the corridor, and she went flying after them, naked of course. I got a scratch on the neck from all this, but that didn’t matter. Where the hell are we then, she got dressed in the corridor whilst swearing and threatening to return with the fuzz. You do that darling, I though, I’ll be faster gone from here than you can even imagine. That’s how it was as well, the taxi came, and I left, just like that.

Oh yeah, there is something else that has just come to mind, something to do with the airport and being in a hurry. On the return journey, I had to open a case in Mombasa, something that hasn’t happened to me in a hell of a long time. The reason for this was quite harmless really, as I was being screened (everything is check by X-ray when checking into the airport), they couldn’t make out what the cables belonging to the digital camera were, and wanted to see them in original. Luckily I didn’t have anything else with me that could have caused any bother, so they took a quick look inside my case, and then I was able to close it again.

That’s Sunny again, who had a lot of fun sitting in a pile of linens feeling happy as a lark because she was able to try the whole lot on. A short look of joy in her eyes as she thought that the whole pile could soon belong to her, no chance, I also need it for the other girls, darling, OK, at the end I gave her one or the other item to keep. Miriam definitely wanted the blond wig… I told her that I might give it to her at the end of my holiday, but she would now have to really beg me for it, and I mean really beg!!!

She slid around on her knees in front of me for a quarter of an hour, her hands folded in front of her and begged, put “it” in her mouth and gave it the best she could. No lads, I’m not a sadist, that was only a bit of fun, she thought so to. Had a good laugh at the same time. The reason why she in the end did not get the wig was my timetable. I had to give the, in the meantime pretty tatty, wig to someone else in the end.

How much do you have to pay for the chicks in and around Mombasa?

ST (Short time):  500 – 1000

LT (Long time): 1000 – 1500

Of course it’s quite normal for the girls to try and get as much out of one as they possibly can, but don’t pay more! They will still be satisfied with the normal price. Sure, all over in all countries it’s just the same: Not to pay too much so as not to ruin the prices (BTW the same applies to the service). But in Kenya this has another component, and this was new to me. There is the danger of some people due to a certain lustfulness, being ripped right off. All of a sudden the police are standing at the door and happen to find a “massage stick”, revealing photos, some porno material, at the worst drugs are planted that are promptly “found” just by coincidence. Reports from Kenya specialists (travel there very often), which are believable, that things like that do happen, such stories have come to my ears very often.

This means, that people like me who treat the girls like the own girlfriend, are at great danger. I have always allowed the girls to order something to eat, and so long that one of them was good for me, she was always allowed to drink as well, I let them drink what they wanted and as much as they liked. When I’m out for the evening, I don’t worry about 20 Euros or so. There could be people, the girls themselves, or their black boyfriends (yes, they all have one, no false illusions), or maybe an uncle with the police, who think that it’s about time that they earned a bit more cash, and that a rich Muzungu could fork out a months wages. Just for this reason, play cheap, it’s healthier. I didn’t want to believe it at first; I’ll gladly pass on my experience to you. See the chapter concerning this (“Snares”).

Just get back to the prices again. It seems better to agree on a price beforehand, if not, the next morning one could be confronted with unreasonable wage demands. So, agree upon a price and within this price range, and then nothing can happen. I myself have ignored this rule a few times, preferred to pay 500 more or too much than getting mixed up in a load of stress. The girls are all sweet, but the Kenyan whore’s temperament is very full of spirit, which does have its advantages at times, but not when they are all worked up about a disagreement regarding the payment.

By the way: ST is absolutely unusual, the girls are happy to have hooked a Muzungu. They cannot keep chopping and changing as in Pattaya, there are just not enough white men running about here. Another reason why they like to stay for the whole night or if possible even longer is because they are glad to get out of their usual dirty environment, those who have seen where most of them live will know exactly what I mean. A little more information on this topic later on.