I wasn’t planning to do too much in Mombasa.
For once, I wasn’t chasing experiences, ticking off activities, or trying to outdo my last trip. This time, the plan was simple: slow down, get some rest, and feel the rhythm of the East African coast. No pressure. No urgency.
Somewhere above the clouds, aboard RwandAir, I reached for Inzozi, the airline’s inflight magazine. It felt like the right kind of reading for a journey like this—light, curious, open-ended.
I flipped through the pages lazily, not really looking for anything in particular. And then, as if on cue, something found me.
An insider’s guide to Mombasa.
It was written by Josephine Kache, a Mombasa-based content creator. I paused. If I was going to spend a few days in Mombasa, I might as well hear it from someone who lives there.
She didn’t waste time.
Mombasa is a city you don’t rush, she wrote. You arrive, you breathe, and slowly, almost without noticing, it pulls you into its rhythm.
After landing, slow down, grab a fresh madafu, feel the coastal breeze, and let the Swahili concept of pole pole (slowly) guide your stay.
I took a sip of my coffee and smiled. This was exactly what I had signed up for—confirmation at 30,000 feet that I was on the right path.
But just as quickly as the calm settled in, reality tapped me on the shoulder.
A day earlier, I had come across a directive from Kenyan authorities. The kind you don’t ignore. There had been a troubling forecast—torrential downpours, strong winds, and the possibility of flooding along the coastline.
The dates? Perfectly aligned with my stay.
I took another sip of coffee. This one wasn’t as comforting.
For a moment, the timing of the trip felt… questionable. Of all the weeks to visit the coast, I had picked the one where the ocean might be in a bad mood.
Still, somewhere between Josephine’s words and the hum of the aircraft, I chose to stay optimistic.
After all, if Mombasa was truly a place you don’t rush, maybe it was also a place where you don’t worry.
This was my initiation into the pole pole philosophy. Not shaped by perfect conditions, but tested by uncertainty. Somewhere between the clouds and the coast, I began to understand that slowing down wasn’t about timing—it was about letting go. And if Mombasa was going to reveal itself in its own time, then perhaps my role was simply to arrive, breathe, and see what it had in store.