Mombasa. I dreamt of Mombasa again last night.

Mombasa, just saying the name makes me remember the salty smell of the ocean. Mombasa watching the blue green Indian Ocean that stretches as far as the eye can see all the way to India. Mombasa meant swimming in the Indian Ocean at high tide, holding hands and jumping the big waves, being part of the blue green ocean; feeling the cool, salty water flow all over us as we jump the waves yet again. Mombasa.


We went to Mombasa every April for a two week holiday. The trip I remember best is the one we took in 1972, when I was ten. Dad loaded the station wagon with Mum, Ma, Julie and us three kids. The cook would come by bus. The back was crammed with suitcases, food, toys etc. We stopped at the Sikh Gurudwaar at Mtito Endei for some…

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