protective wall of our hotel, we were set upon by the "Beach Boys"; a roving band of young men intent on selling you something...anything really. They offer an astounding array of goods and services: tourist souvenirs, other trinkets, glass-bottom boat rides, deep-sea fishing excursions...and on the darker side of things, hookers and marijuana.Malindi Side Story (sorry, gotta do it!)
Malindi has changed. Once a sleepy little fishing village (the world's best billfishing), it has transformed into the Bangkok of Africa...and that is not a compliment. It is now one of the leading sexploitation destinations in the world. Visitors from Europe come to Malindi in search of the bizarre and forbidden: underage sex partners. Malindi is now being run by the Italians, who discovered the resort-like weather and white sand "sugar" beaches a decade ago. They began putting up resort hotels and started booking vacations for fellow Italians. The language is now
spoken by most in Malindi, and the tourist signs are all bi-lingual; English and Italian. How long before the Mafia discovered Malindi? Not very. The business of prostitution has exploded along with gambling and drugs. Places like Kenya have an abundance of unemployed youth, leading to exploitation. It is sad to see young people turn to a life like this just to survive. The government turns a blind eye because of the influx of revenue.
Okay, back to our story...
The Beach Boys made it hard to walk in a straight line. Since they couldn't sell us anything, they went into their Beach Tour mode. Their methods seem innocent at first. "Jambo! Welcome to Kenya, my friend. How are you? Where do you come from? How is my english? Can you help me to understand it a little better? Do you want to experience the beauty of my beach? I can show you many things. Here, we have prepared a nice walking path through the rocks to the reef. Let me lead you. Don't step in the Turtle Grass, there could be a poisonous stone fish there." Non-stop. If you tried to ignore them, they were prepared for that as well. "Everyone needs friends, we are only trying to be friendly. We don't expect anything from you, but to be your friend. How can you refuse our polite invitation of friendship?" They quickly pick up our names as we converse with our own small group, and from that point on they call us by name, or by a nickname they gave us. Our small party of 4 required 12 guides!! Each of them chose one of us as their personal target...mine was Phillip. I told him up front that I had no money and that I was only going to walk to the reef. He assured me that wouldn't be a problem. I wondered why it took 12 of them to guide us, so he tried to shoo 8 of them away to no avail. Phillip figured out my name, my son's name, where I was from, what nationality I was, and why I was in Africa. He gave me a nickname..."Papa Jeff" because I was the father of Jeffrey.
Poor Julie...everytime she wanted a picture, 6 or 8 of them jumped in singing their Jambo song. "Jambo, Jambo Bwana. Habari Gani, Mzuri Sana...plus she was worried that we were going to get mugged by their larger number. After about 15 minutes of the assault, we gave up and let them show us the reef. They were actually quite good at finding things: Cowries, shells, starfish, moray eels, crabs, etc. The only thing we didn't see was an octopus, but they assured us they could find one if we just followed them further down the beach. They wanted us closer to where they all hang out on the beach. It is a small collection of huts with souvenirs, drinks, and more Beach Boys. I could see where that was going, so I figured we needed to get back to our hotel beach. We turned back and as we approached the hotel, their pitch changed tunes..."if you could only buy something small from me, I will be able to buy lunch. I am starving and this is how I make my living. Just one small thing, or pay me some small fee for giving you an excellent tour." The closer we got to the hotel beach, the tighter they encircled us. They milled around in such a way that they blocked us from the wall and ultimately, the safety of our hotel. Good ol' Dave had 1200 shillings and promised each of them 100 when we got back safely to our hotel beach. He didn't have 12-100 shilling notes, so he asked them to pick one representative that he could give the 1000 shilling note to, who could break the bill for each of them. They actually were able to pick one guy to trust. When Dave made his offer, they all rushed Dave to get paid and I motioned to Julie to run for the hotel. She made a beeline for the hotel wall and made it safely. Our relaxing walk was anything but...
I made the mistake of mentioning to Phillip that I enjoyed young coconut water. He offered to bring me some if I could wait. There were coconut trees all around, but he wasn't allowed on the property to climb them; he had to run to the bush to get to a free access tree. He said that it would take an hour to go. I said I couldn't wait, so forget it. He then asked me for bus fare to get the coconuts...again, I said no. He then said he would run to get them, and asked me how many I wanted. I told him if he were to go, I would want two. I then went to the very peaceful hotel pool to cool off. About an hour later there is a commotion on the beach. "Papa Jeff!" I hear someone calling out of my nickname. I see Phillip jumping high in the air to clear the hotel security wall, waving coconuts that he has gotten and cleaned. I couldn't believe that he had come back! Thomas was wondering what was going on, so I sent him down with a 100 shilling note to get two of the coconuts. He came back with two of the most delicious coconuts I have ever had. We all agreed that it was worth the price. It definitely was a win-win for all parties. Phillip had two more, but I was out of money. Ah well.
It seemed like nobody but locals could enjoy a walk on the beach. One mzungu (white) woman walked unmolested on the beach and we asked Phillip why she wasn't being mobbed. Phillip said she was crazy, and called her an unsavory name. Turns out she was living in Malindi and didn't want to be harassed by the boys.
Here is one more story to demonstrate the negative effect the whites have had on Africans. Our money continues to enslave them in what I would term, unnatural trade. Instead of fishing and living humbly, they sell us their services however they can...as tourist guides, sex partners, and even as a temporary friend.
Chow!
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