It has been a while since I took the night train from Nairobi to
Mombasa, but I still remember that last unforgettable journey and
my futile attempts to sleep.
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The railway track was an engineering marvel of its time, created with
the intention of opening up markets in Uganda.
There are two books to read which tell the story of how this line was
built, 'The Man Eaters of Tsavo' by Col J H Patterson and 'The Lunatic Express'
by Charles Miller; where everyday hazards included waterless deserts and consumption by lion . The hunt for the lions was made into the film 'The
Ghost and the Darkness'.
Despite all the odds the railway has lasted the test of time, which for
Africa is impressive.
My previous trip to the coast by overnight bus had been enlivened by
unscheduled stops in remote dark places for unknown reasons, where the
slightest light attracted vast swarms of flying insects into the
coach to happily feast upon their captive audience for the remainder of the
journey. I felt sure any alternative would be an improvement.
In Nairobi the train was clean and smart, with sittings organised for
dinner and the service was great. It all looked quite promising until it was
time to turn in.
It quickly became apparent that there was going to be a party in the
next compartment.
They had come well prepared with a primitive music machine and two
unspeakable tracks which they played again and again at increasing volume.
One visit to the near riot next door assured me reason would not
prevail.
I returned with a selection of my favourite African music tapes as a
contribution to the revelries and left them to it.
The rest of that terrible night was to hear my once favoured music
tracks slowly murdered at volumes I would not have thought possible for the
human ear to endure .
Sometimes the train stopped and the faint hope the torture would soon be
brought to a close was extinguished, until with agonising slowness the
journey shuddered back into life.
Finally as the sun came up you could feel the temperature increase as
the coast drew near.
The music had expired and the inhabitants of that appalling pit next
door lay sprawled, stunned unconscious by the racket.
I left the train, excited to be back in Mombasa, and assured that
however tired I felt, my nocturnal suffering would be as nothing compared to
what my fellow passengers were about to endure when they woke up.
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Today the lunatic express is an experience for the history books for in May 2017 it ran for the last time; the end of a legend.
