Inside the Tembo!!! First class this place… There are normally loads of willing girls here, sometimes hundreds… When it’s ladies night on Fridays, there could be anything up to a 1000… And the girls figures, super, there is something for everyone there. The Kenyan girls, respectively the girls from the different tribes, who hang about in the discos are all completely different anyway. They range from short and delicate though tall and slim to rounded and FAT, really everything! Admirers of the more girly figures such as I am will be just as able to make a find as those who are friends of medicine ball back sides. The girls characters are just as differing as their figures: They range from shy to bashful, from cheeky to pushy and there are beginners and hardened hardcore whores. It’s simply paradise. Everyone finds something, or should I say, everyone is found… Of couse the girls want to sell themselves and gladly bring themselves into the game.

The place is a real corker. In principle it’s open 24 hours a day, of course there is more going on during the evening, or one could say less during the day. There is also an ST hotel for those who made the mistake of not booking a “guest friendly” hotel. The website:

Tembo Disco, Mombasa

Here a few pics from the Tembo, that’s where you’ll get to know Gina, she ran across my path on the first evening. I though, “get in there”, her or nobody at all. I did the usual things, signalled a strong beating heart, she wanted me to join her on the dance floor… Noooo, that’s not for me, I never dance. So I simulated a stiff leg, really exaggerated a limp, of course that produces the usual laughs. After 10 minutes I had made it, one just has to wrap things up. I kept her for a few days (with a break), went on trips with her to Tembo, bought something to drink at the petrol station and had a party with her. She even escorted me to the FLORIDA CLUB.

A quick word about the photos: Naturally a lot of the photos are in the partially dark, or have bad lighting. The small flash is not that much good in larger rooms. Thanks to the subsequent image processing, one can recognise quite a lot of details. This sometimes has the disadvantage that some of the photos seem to be off focus. Unfortunately this is the only possibility I had, sorry; I hope the atmosphere is still apparent…

Towards the south, Likoni is connected to Mombasa Island. One has to cross with the ferry, during the daytime, the waiting and crossing time amounts to no more than a few minutes. After that one carries on with a taxi across Shelly and Tiwi beach to Diani beach. This part of the coast is around about 30 kilometres long. This is one of the reasons why the respectable sex tourist prefers to visit the beaches up in the north. The infrastructure, if any at all, is very sparing and not very easy to use. Discos and the respective bars are also few and far between. All this makes it obvious that the number of freelance artists are pretty scarce in comparison with the north.

One thing though: The admittedly nice hotels are not very hospitable, that means it is not very easy to take your girl with you into the hotel. You have to “declare” her as your wife or whatever. Those who continually change their girls, and that’s why we are there, can stuff that for a start. I have taken a look at several facilities. The service seems to be super; the food is not bad either and should be expected to be with the comparably horrendous prices charged. Besides, I can’t imagine lying at the pool with a black whore with all the others being white. Ok if you’re black, then you are at work, as a waiter or waitress, chambermaid, gardener, security, but not as tourist’s companion. The big fat white “catalogue tourist” mother’s chins would just hit the deck.

The beaches are really very nice, that’s a plus worth mentioning. If anyone happens to find a “steady girlfriend” meaning a girl that one would like to spend one or two weeks with, then it’s worth trying to check in there. I didn’t save any costs or effort and travelled from Mombasa city with a friendly taxi driver to Diani beach where I took photos (and also on the other beaches) using my adaptable wide angle lens (see video also).

The CASABLANCA CLUB – Great, this is where things really get going! One of my 3 favourite spots…. Situated right in the centre of Mombasa, right near the Tusks. It’s easy to reach with the taxi from Bamburi (see appropriate chapter). I’ve been there quite often but didn’t discover it straight away. Two storey; downstairs (pretty miserable) Kitchen and Billiards, big screen. Above is a disco with good music, ok, they often play African hits, yes, that’s right, we’re in Kenya.

There are always more than a hundred hens there and they are all in desperate need of cash for a beer, mobile and the hairdressers. Well, a Rastafarian hairstyle costs 3000 KSH (approx 34 Euros), that’s half a Kenyan monthly wage. Have taken girls there quite often, never been a flop. They were all sweet and nice girls. The place is open 24 hours a day but during the daytime nothing much is going on. The GOOD girls are still asleep, one or the other who are pretty much over the hill make an offer. See photo. Was pretty hard getting rid of them, Africa! One needs to be on the ball all the time.

After about a week I had had enough of Mombasa town, so I moved on to the beach, the north beach! Next to the connecting bridge to the mainland is the Nyali Beach, the smaller Kenyatta Beach and finally Bamburi Beach where more or less everything goes on. Right at the end is the Shanzu Beach, such as the other small beaches, this beach should not be taken that much into consideration.

I hired a taxi driver who took me to Bamburi where I took a look at one or the other of the hotels recommended that I had found on the net. The information is not that good. I landed in the INDIANA BEACH HOTEL. Even though it was more or less the main season, I was able to haggle the price of 3000 shillings down to 2500 shillings. I was genuinely satisfied with this hotel, would go there again. They have self contained apartments; it’s mainly Muzungus who live here with their wives or girlfriends. The apartments are nice but worn, they have plenty of room and the showers run like waterfalls.

Which brings us to the slight disadvantages of the other hotel room: The shower was only average. Apart from that the room was quite nice. A small balcony with a view of the palms, and beyond that the sea, air-conditioning ok, mosquito net, large telly and a small fridge which was quite sufficient (see hotel description on the homepage). Oh yeah, 2 pools, you can swap girls several times a day, It’s better to register them at the reception for safety reasons. One books a double room (without a surcharge) then there is no discussion about a surcharge in the event of a guest being bought along.

They have a nice beach restaurant with Indian and international dishes. The food is ok and affordable. A meal costs about € 10,-, a large bottle of beer € 1,-. I mainly order the chicken curry or fish and chips. One has a good seating position facing the beach enabling one to beckon freelance hens in.

Of course one is able to book half-board and full-board with the price being anything up to 6000/Person, but who in their right mind wants to eat hotel grub every day, and with that having to be punctual as well… Noooo, nobody needs that. Better just to book a bed and to eat when and where one pleases.

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.