Only Elephants Were Missing on This Rail Ride

Even at 7 a.m., the scene at the bustling Mombasa railroad station seemed a metaphor for contemporary Kenya: a colorful, multiethnic collision of new and old.

Disco sounds blared from a loudspeaker at passengers and well-wishers in their traditional garb: Africans in bold, bright kangas, Indians in swirling saris, Muslims in their austere prayer robes, white for men and black for women.

As we threaded our way through piles of valises, baskets and makeshift luggage toward our compartment, it was apparent that no commuters wait on the crowded platform. In East Africa, workers get to jobs on jammed trucks, packed buses, dented bicycles or on foot. Trains are for journeys.

Our trip would be 15 hours, about 302 miles, the distance between Mombasa, the island-city on the Indian Ocean, and Nairobi, Kenya’s mile-high inland capital.

Kenya Railways runs through the world’s largest wildlife sanctuary, Tsavo National Park, and passengers in the northwest or “up” direction say they always see wild animals from the windows as the train crosses the Athi Plain.

That prospect is augmented by an indisputable bonus: the opportunity to travel first-class, a la the Orient Express, for about $17 per person.

The most important aspect of the trip, however, was one we failed to anticipate: the opportunity to transcend the safari syndrome by viewing Kenyan life, too.

As we settled in, we took stock of our compartment: seats that converted into berths, a table that converted into a sink, potable drinking water and a window, screen and workable fan. The compartment contained virtually every necessity for a daylong excursion; there were lavatories at both ends of the car.

Xylophone Signals

At precisely 7:30 a.m., the whistle blew, the diesel locomotive lurched forward and an attendant knocked politely on the door to ask if we wanted our berths made up.

The charge for mattresses, sheets, blankets, pillows, towels and plastic cups was about $4 U.S. (A $1 tip brings a broad smile, a silent bow and an enthusiastic “ Asante sana. “)

The conductor knocked next. Mustached and dapper in a tan uniform, he wished us a pleasant day after punching our tickets.

“Breakfast is soon,” he said, and, sure enough, the sounds of a portable xylophone signaled the first of the day’s four meals.

The train ground through the switchyards and, afterward, a burgeoning industrial complex on Mombasa’s outskirts.

The landscape changed swiftly as we chugged out of the flat coastal plain and up a 5,000-foot grade.

Lakes and forests appeared and disappeared on the horizon as the track swerved on its circuitous course. As we moved inland, the settlements seemed to regress: dwellings became increasingly simple, life styles more rudimentary, people closer to nature.

Few Changes

Outside, it was the Africa of centuries ago. Mud huts topped with thatch, stockades fashioned from stakes and sisal, men and women cultivating plots of sugar cane with wooden tools, or herding scrawny goats and cattle, naked infants cavorting like cubs.

Unlike the red-robed, spear-carrying Masai tribesmen, these Africans seem to have been ignored by progress and overlooked by change. They are without lights, heat and running water.

Even drinking water must be fetched from a community well or tap. At each stop, children crowded around the train, beseeching passengers to toss coins.

By contrast, the railroad stations smack of maintenance and concern: freshly painted exterior walls, paths outlined by whitewashed stones, vivid petals pushing up through arid ocher soil.

Smartly attired stationmasters waved from doorways.

At Maungu, there was a bit of commotion. A blue-uniformed Kenya Railways police officer strode forward to investigate. A group of prospective passengers at trainside exchanged insults with those inside.

There was shouting, then luggage was tossed in through an open train window. Those outside formed a human ladder and boosted another inside.

Midday Meal

The xylophone music summoned us to the dining car at exactly 12:30 p.m. The car was venerable and well-preserved: dark, wood-paneled walls, quaint table lamps in niches, white napery, gleaming china and flatware.

For $3.25, we got a slice of bread, a pat of butter, a bowl of tomato soup, curried chicken with rice, or beef in gravy, mashed potatoes and squash, a mango and pineapple fruit cup and coffee or tea.

Small bottles of Tusker, Kenya’s native, government-controlled beer, are sold throughout the country for about 40 cents apiece.

Day service between Mombasa and Nairobi began last August to supplement the long-standing overnight run. The Mombasa-Nairobi day-trip takes longer. The train stops at every station on its way. As a result, interest in the new day service has been slight, except in third-class.

No Sign of Elephants

Since the tracks run through Tsavo National Park, it was necessary to look out of both sides of the train, more or less simultaneously, to see all the animals. Officials at Tsavo claim “the world’s greatest concentration of elephants.”

Still, we saw mostly domesticated animals in this area--humped Brahma cattle, goats and sheep.

The open country was reminiscent of the American Southwest, with mesas and shrubs in the foreground, the omnipresent Yatta Plateau in the mid-distance, and the dim profile of mountains on the horizon.

Termite hills dotted the plains and oblong weaver-bird nests hung from trees.

The Kenyans are a friendly people, and quick to start a conversation. The occupant of a nearby compartment took note of a photographer’s frantic dashes and counseled relaxation instead. Pointing to the arid landscape, he said: “It’s too dry. The elephants are off in the valley.”

Most Kenyans are multilingual, speaking their tribal language and Swahili, as well as English, which, like Swahili, is taught in school.

In addition, those Kenyans who regularly deal with foreigners--such as tour operators, hotel personnel, restaurant workers, safari driver-guides, even curio sellers--are able to converse in German, French and Italian.

It also appears, at least among the middle class, that there is no gender discrimination in employment.

At hotels and lodges, for example, it is men who make the beds and clean the rooms while women work as cashiers and receptionists. When meeting a foreign couple, Kenyans are likely to inquire about the occupation of the woman, too.

The hot afternoon dragged on without a single animal sighting. We quickly downed a cup of tea, plus some bread and jam in the dining car and returned to our vantage post.

The train labored along as it climbed ever higher toward Nairobi. The sun dipped toward the mountaintops, assuring another glorious African sunset. But still no animals.

Soon it would be dark. No elephants appeared. We saw some huts and cooking fires through their shadowy doorways.

Civilization was encroaching. This no longer looked like animal country.

In a few hours, after dinner, we would reach Nairobi, with its hotels and traffic and a million inhabitants.

For more information on travel to Kenya, contact the Kenya Tourist Office, 9100 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 111, Beverly Hills 90212, (213) 274-6635.