Jambo Express - Not!

It's a joyous affair to travel in Africa, the journey pendulum swings a wobbly arc from indulgent luxury to eye popping squalor with an adventure around every corner.  Things quite often don't go to plan but most times travellers return safely home towing a trunk full of stories which are told and retold for years. That's serious holiday add-on value.

Take 25th December 2015, for instance.  We exited our deluxe Nairobi (Kenya) hotel room in search of breakfast and were childishly enthralled by the morning paper in a stylish canvas bag jauntily hanging from the doorknob.  This, we decided, was a special touch of class, and on Christmas Day, too.

Minutes later an email plunged our joyful spirits to basement level.  Rift Valley Railways regrets the cancellation of the 18h30 Jambo Express today. The train will depart at 21h00 on the 26th December instead. Huh?  Christmas night, and we were unexpectedly homeless!

An extra day in Nairobi gave us the opportunity to visit Denys Finch-Hatton's grave and have lunch at the divine Talisman restaurant so all was not lost. As instructed, we arrived at the station at 20h30 and met the the puckish Station Foreman, William, who enthusiastically greeted "my customers" and confided that the train was running late, but we were welcome to wait in the restaurant. 

"What sort of delay?" we enquired.  "It'll arrive from Mombasa at 10pm," he gushed.  "Then I have to clean and disinfect it which will take an hour." Suspicious, we questioned how sure he was of the train arriving at 10. 

William's answer will forever sum up for me what Africa is all about.  "That is my closest guess," he chortled.  Such a jolly chap, he relishes meeting and chatting to travellers and his good cheer was so infectious we headed to the restaurant rather excited about the delay.  We now had an adventure on the go!

Previous "adventures" have taught us to prepare for the unexpected, so we broke into our emergency wine and snacks while playing a few hands of cards. 

Further confuddling any stereotyping, the charming, shabby station offered free (and very fast) wifi.  The cafe served cold Tusker beer and passengers could relax on several comfy couches and armchairs on the platform, which also accommodated handbasins that wouldn't look out of place in suburbia snuggled between baby cots and wooden beds. The Victorian building is delightful - cast iron pillars and beams support a tin roof, the sandstone blocks remain warm with the day's heat, wooden doors are hand carved, the brass light switches glow and cast iron lamp posts are straight from Jack the Ripper's London. 

Ten o'clock came and went. We paced the platform, desperate to photograph the pasted security notices - exhortations to report 'Idlers or people not doing anything. People with their thumbs on buttons. People wearing heavy clothing not suitable for the weather." So much more imaginative than warnings of suspicious packages. 

Finally, Jambo chugged into the station at 10.40 and rail staff came to life. William's estimate of an hour to clean and disinfect, however, was optimistic. And adventurous spirits tend to drop when expectations of boarding by midnight aren't met.  Indeed, we were invited to clamber up at 3am!  

The light at the end of the platform really is a train!

Wilting with fatigue, I was speechless when confronted by the cupboard two of us, with luggage, were to spend 15 hours in. Blithely ticketed as Carriage 2331, Compartment C, the space provided would fit into my car. Worse, due to Him Outdoor's gammy leg, there was no choice but for Vertiginous Moi to climb up a dolls house-sized ladder into the top bunk, where canvas straps are all that prevent sleeping bodies crashing to the floor while the train shunts, shuffles and bumps throughout the night.

The Rotter enjoying my horror

Stunned with fear, I obediently followed the dinner gong and we sat down to a 3 course meal at 3.15 am. Fate rewarded gobsmacked silence, however. On returning, we discovered that Compartment D was empty, so sliding back the interleading door doubled our space and provided 2 lower bunks. Relief!

It has to be said - sleeping on a train is the best night's rest ever.  The swaying motion and monotonous 'clickety clack' did the trick so well, we kept sliding into dreamland throughout the following, protracted day. 

Yes, of course.  The 15 hour scheduled journey expanded like yeasty bread dough into 21 hours, and we finally chugged into Mombasa station at midnight.

It wasn't all Train of Horror, though. We met interesting travellers and shared war stories.  We slept exceptionally well.  We dined off East Africa Rail and Harbour motifed plates which must be 50 years old. We laughed about pretty much everything and ticked another experience box.

And of course, we added one more story to the trunk!