Hitch-hiking up the Coast
A series of short rides got us to Mombasa where we stopped just long enough to eat sausage and french fries. There would be a lot to see here but Scott and I were more interested in our own Africa away from city and the mainstream of tourists.
Sitting in the back of a pick-up truck hauling steel rods, we were joined by an old man and his son. Both had been drinking changa. The bare-footed old-timer wore a dirty white wrap-around, a badly torn T-shirt, and sported a stubby white beard. With bloodshot eyes he stared at us, thumped his chest with a boney right fist, and muttered "Africa!" That was the moment Scott and I realized that we were actually in another world far from home. Early that evening the truck dropped us at the Silver Sands Lodge near Malindi and we pitched our tents for the night.
