A Chance Encounter
It is a hot, humid and overexposed kind of Mombasa morning. The sun started its rise with a vengeance, as if it woke up in remembrance of a thing that had made it rage in anger before its descent. It shone with the light of a thousand bulbs and emanated heat so intense, it could make you faint. Sama stood by the roadside, flapping her fan vigorously as she waited for the taxi to the airport to arrive. Harrod stood next to her, flushed red as radish, his face filled with beads of sweat that melted down past his brows and stung his eyes in revolt. He squeezed his eyes together and ran the back of his hand against his forehead, partially concealed by golden blond hair that had turned into a fringe a few weeks after his last haircut. It is mostly hot in Mombasa, but some days are so hot they are best enjoyed indoors or under the shade of a mango tree.
The silver sheen of a car flashes in the distance. They can soon sit in the cool, fan freshened air, away from today’s severe sun. As the Suzuki Alto taxi slows down to make a stop on the side of the road, Sama and Harrod glance at each other in silent relief and pull their bulging suitcases to the back. Sama’s dress strap drops down her right shoulder as she releases her bag into the boot and sits it on top of the two suitcases.
They have been traveling through the coastline over the Christmas holidays, spending days in resorts and cosy chalets, mingled in with some rough camping among throngs of partygoers at the Kilifi New Year, festival. They had spent one night in a simple Mombasa hotel to be close to the airport for a one hour flight to Lamu. This would be their first time in Lamu.
Sama was born and raised in Nairobi, to parents who hailed from the cool countryside of Molo. She had traversed the country through work and for leisure, but as most Kenyans, she would often holiday in the more popular towns like Malindi, Watamu or Diani. This was their first year living together, they had started off as long-distance lovers, and it was proving to be a challenge after a year had passed with several plane tickets, and extended holidays in their resident or neighbouring countries.
Now they were at the threshold of a new journey they didn’t even know was about to begin. The salty breeze blasted through the windows and Sama drifted off into a short deep sleep. Slowly the chatter of casual conversation between Harrod and Ali, their taxi driver, merged in with the wind and she was gently teleported to a long sandy beach between mangrove trees and the sea. It was a clear blue sky, kind of day as she strolled along the beach, feet digging in the sand. She noticed a lone cloud that ballooned as if in minutes to slide before the sun. Goosebumps pricked her skin and the breeze grew cool, a slight chill washed over her body. The kind that makes you want to wrap a scarf around yourself or throw on a light sweater.
Soft drops of rain began to fall, they started off as the size of cents and grew into the size of squash balls, scattered and spaced out. She knew it was about to pour, so she ran towards a small cottage. Her foot caught on an overgrown root and she almost fell before she heard a voice that brought her back! “Time to go, sweetheart, we’re at the airport.” She drowsily took in Harrods cheerful yet casual baritone and shook her head as she let out a deep sigh. “What a strange dream…” she thought.
*The story continues next week.
