04/06/2026
The more things change, the more they stay the same."
Here I am. Once again at Mwembe Tayari. Things seemingly different but awrily similar. Sitting alone along the same street i was in eight years ago writing about Mwembe.
This time I'm some sort of a superstar. Of course without the glamor, money and lavish lifestyle but a superstar all the same. Everyone here seems to know me, remember me, and, to them, I'm a mysterious success story. I can see that "we always knew he would make it" look in their eyes.
Be careful what you pray for, you might get it.
I told you Mombasa is my City, didn't I? Feels good to see people's eyes light up when they see you. Most former foes getting easy and casual. Like I've got the "cross poverty line" Master code or something.
MOMBASUNNY
Here I am, sitting at the far end corner of Mwembe Dishes restaurant, Joel's restaurant, typing thoughts into my android. The same spot I used to sit eight years ago doing the same thing. The only difference is that back then, I was using a Bic pen and an A4 hard cover book that doubled as my inventory and orders checker for my supplies business. A smile curves on my face as I travel back in time. "MombaSunny" that's what I used to call it. MombaSunny and the Arab Swahilis loved it.
I had contemplated how bad things would get thousands of times in my mind long before I landed in Mombasa. I'm a "worst case scenario " thinker and I had tried my absolute best to think through every imaginable predicament that would befall me.
Trust me, I had even made plans of how my fate would be known if I died in one of the thousand weird ways to die. Even the contact names on my phone had been strategically altered for maximum Impact. Such that if, for example, you were my brother and we never spoke, I'd save your number as "My only brother. " I know you get the picture.
All the preparedness didn't make it hurt any less. I suffered like the prodigal son but in my case, the option of going back home to my "loving father" to seek for forgiveness wasn't an option. I was either going to make it, simply exist and survive or die trying. As appealing as the option of death as a shortcut seemed, that was off the table too. I simply had to exist, survive, get hurt, hurt even more and slowly heal. Easier said than done, isn't it?.
MombaSunny was birthed out of desperation. My brainchild. I'm no genius. Not by a long shot but I've always believed in my exceptional problem solving skills. Simon, I'm a major problem and I have been solving myself for decades. I felt like an author who could no longer write, an artist who couldn't create art and that was in itself a source of great pain. I had approximately one hundred and thirty dollars when I arrived in Mombasa. It was meant to be my upkeep, sustenance, rent, emergency cash, food ....everything. It was this same amount that I used to get a room for the night at Mikma. It was what I used for food, fare ci******es and the one thing you can't live without in Mombasa, water.
Needless to say, my funds got depleted in a very short time. I was about five hundred kilometres away from everyone I knew and as the hunger pangs grew worse, my phone became a very tempting disposable asset.
Back to brothers. I only have one. Eleven years younger and I love him like he were my son. Now, here's the joke, he lived in Mombasa too and as I would come to painfully learn, blood ties run very shallow.
No, I haven't drifted away. No, we're still talking about MombaSunny, my brainchild project.
Times had gotten quite tough and by that time, I had metamorphosized into a fully fledged, smartly dressed, over-educated, homeless man who went about his business like he was oblivious of his predicament. As I said, Mwembe Tayari is to Mombasa what JKIA, "country bus," or River road is to Nairobi. This is where everybody lands. Save for ma SGR, those who fly in or ship in. Mwembe is the reception desk for Mombasa. The first people I got to know were the "hungries" of Simba coach. This was merely by chance. Mikma Lodge is located next to Simba coach offices and the company's bus park is right in front of Mikma. They were the guys I used to say hi to when going to buy a few ci******es. The guys I made first contact with.
Naturally, once my funds began diminishing, they were the guys I spoke to. "Hungry" drawn from hungry tiger, is a slang term used in reference to those manambas who would swear by anything on heaven on earth to convince you to travel aboard the bus company they work for. Actually they don't, they just get commissioned for every passenger who buys a bus ticket. Soon, I had nowhere else to go, especially when it got dark. I would be sitting on a bench adjacent to the Simba boarding terminus looking like a disgruntled traveller disappointed by a Simba bus not arriving on time. As the hours drew closer to midnight, fewer people would be left behind and we would spend the night seated on a wooden bench. After a few falls, you'd get the hang of it and learn the art of sleeping upright.
