Escaping the Riot I planned to write about yesterday’s trip to map the Pungu Watershed with a handheld GPS. Thanks to our efforts, we can now view the area using Google Maps and I collected some really interesting information from a sub-chief, a sand miner, and several other local contacts which created a nice picture of the causes and consequences of the environmental degradation surrounding the watershed. I probably will still write about those interviews, at least on the Green World Campaign blog. But, now yesterday’s adventure trekking through the bush to take GPS readings of a lake rapidly being destroyed by Mombasa’s demand for pure white sand bricks does not seem so exciting compared with what happened today. It actually started last night when a Muslim cleric and 3 of his friends were shot in Bombolulu (a part of the greater Mombasa area about 10-15 minutes from my apartment). Tensions between the Muslim and non-Muslim populations in Mombasa are already high due to the terror attack in Nairobi, and rumors began to spread that the police were responsible for the death of this cleric. A similar situation arose a little over a year ago, right before I came to Mombasa, which resulted in days of rioting and multiple casualties. When I arrived at the office this morning, Eve, who is doing some data entry work for us, told me there would likely be demonstrations by the Islamic community in response to the death of the cleric. We monitored the news and Twitter, but outside the office everything was quiet throughout the morning. It seemed like a perfectly normal day. Last Friday there was an Imam who died, creating the same tension, but nothing came of it, so I was relatively relaxed. Then, a friend called me and said her father wasn’t allowing anyone from their company to go into town today and made me promise to check in with her regularly, in case something happened. Shortly after that, around noon, my boss’ wife called and requested quite firmly that he come home rather than staying at the office, just to be on the safe side. We packed up the office, but decided to have lunch at our usual spot before leaving Old Town. I stopped back by the office after lunch to use the restroom and thought about buying a couple of DVDs from the burners. I’m not really sure what would have happened if I had. Instead, I went to the matatu stage, boarded a matatu, and waited for the conductor to fill the bus. My mind wandered away (my usual waiting-time occupation) and the next thing I know, the matatu is taking off, jumping the median, hitting a small tree, and speeding toward the main road. I looked around me and realized everyone was running, panicked and all the vehicles were speeding away, jostling for space and a clear exit. There are barely words to describe that moment when you know you could be in serious trouble. The oh-no-this-is-actually-happening moment. Your mind begins to rapidly fire thoughts and questions and a desire act, to run, to make yourself safe. There were some people running in the direction we were going and some running in a different direction. I remember thinking, “What if we are going toward the danger? What if we hit traffic? I don’t want to be trapped in a matatu!” Then, there was the sick moment when I realized the man in front of me was holding a toddler and the realization of how vulnerable we all were became even more vivid. We didn’t hit traffic until we came to the bridge off the island. At that point, vehicles were actually using the oncoming traffic lane to go in the opposite direction out of town. Some people were still running, but not nearly so many as before. I took a breath and another and another. After we were off the island, it was almost normal. The matatu conductor collected our fares (I told him to keep the change, seeing as he was so quick to remove us from danger) and I disembarked at my usual stop to walk the rest of the way home. I spent the afternoon and evening reassuring friends (and my mom) and keeping an eye on the news using my phone. As of right now, 4 people are dead and a church has been burned. I’m not sure if the trouble is over or not, but the news is not reporting active riots right now. Mombasa can be a wonderful place, full of life and bustle, bright cloth and colorful food, and diverse people with rich histories. I love this strange mixed up city with Arabic architecture and Indian cuisine, Maasai warriors and smartly dressed women in skirt suits and heals, where I can just as easily buy dates from Saudi Arabia as Quaker Oats from America. I hate the tarnish today and days like it leave on the city and my heart breaks for those trapped, terrified, injured, and killed. I really hope tomorrow brings calm and closure, so we can all begin to move on.
Posted on: Fri, 04 Oct 2013 20:54:58 +0000
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