Scores of international tourists are leaving Kenya’s coast as the high season ends and the long rains set in. But this year there are very few Americans among them. Shortly before the Easter holiday period, the United States government warned that the threat of terrorist attacks remained greater in Kenya and Tanzania than anywhere else in Africa.
”The authorities here [in the US] did not prevent our citizens from boarding planes to East Africa, but because of the government warning we could not offer travel insurance to people who chose to visit the region. Many Americans then cancelled their trips — not because they were afraid of visiting Africa, but because they were extremely reluctant to journey without insurance,” said a travel agent based in New York.
The latest ”terror alert” from the US has inspired anger in Mombasa, an ancient harbour city on Kenya’s east coast and home to almost 750 000 people, the vast majority of whom live in dire poverty and are dependent on tourism for their livelihoods. Many believe the US is victimising them simply because they’re Muslims.
”There are bomb threats also in America, but no one warns people against visiting [the US],” said Hussein Abdulrasul. ”I tell you that al-Qaeda is everywhere; in America as well, not only in Kenya. Everywhere Muslims are being persecuted, because [George W] Bush thinks they are all in al-Qaeda. Islam as a religion and al-Qaeda are not the same.”
Kenya and Tanzania have weak counter-terrorism capabilities and are dangerous because they’re close to war-ridden Somalia, according to the US State Department. In addition, the department is convinced that the al-Qaeda cell that bombed the US embassies in Nairobi and Dar es Salaam in 1998 is maintaining a presence in East Africa.
Omar Kehr said that when he read about the alerts from the US, and when the American tourists failed to arrive this past season, all he could think of was a Swahili proverb: ”Ndovu wawili wakipanga, ziumiazoni nyasi.” It means: ”When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.”
Indeed, it’s people like Kehr who are trapped in the middle of the battle of the elephants: the US and its allies on one side; al-Qaeda and assorted terrorists, fundamentalists and extremists on the other.
Ever since the September 11 2001 atrocities in New York and Washington, Kenya has been caught up in the US-sponsored war against terror. Even before this, al-Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden claimed responsibility for blowing up the US embassy in Nairobi, an act that killed 203 Kenyans and 11 Americans. In 2002 a car bomb destroyed the Israeli-owned Paradise Hotel at Kikambala, north of Mombasa. Again, al-Qaeda claimed responsibility. And again Kenyans bore the brunt of the attack: six lay dead in the ruins next to the bodies of two Israeli tourists. But the atrocities in East Africa remain forgotten in the haze of publicity that surrounds 9/11 and the ongoing Iraqi conflict.
”After all the bombs, after all the blood, after the war in Iraq,” Kehr said, ”the tourists returned to our beaches. But now the Americans have disappeared, again.”
Frequent warnings from intelligence agencies in Britain and the US say that ”attacks on Western interests” in Kenya are likely, and that al-Qaeda cells are hidden among the millions of Muslims in the country.
The US has given Kenya $30-million to fight terrorism and US experts are training the Kenyan police in various counter-terrorism techniques, such as detecting and disarming bombs. Kenya has also formed what it calls a ”crack” anti-terrorism police unit.
Yet a security expert based in Nairobi, who has worked closely with US authorities in East Africa for the past two years, is not convinced that Kenya has the capacity to prevent a major terrorist attack. ”Things have certainly improved in terms of security, but the intelligence agencies in this country are still very poor. In the end it is basic, old-fashioned intelligence that saves you from terror attacks … not fancy techniques.”
In Mombasa’s Old Town Muslims are quick to shun American culture, yet the streets teem with youngsters wearing Magic Johnson vests, and baggy, black shirts bearing the image of murdered US rap star Tupac Shakur emblazoned with the words ”Rage against the World!”
Bright English football tops are another favourite: ”I like England’s football teams,” said Mukhtar (14), in a red Arsenal shirt. ”But my father tells me England is a bad place.”
As the warm monsoon rain fell, Hasina Fakurudin and her sons, Majid (4) and Said (7), huddled in a doorway. Fakurudin recalled the days when foreigners toured the Old Town in large groups. ”They used to come into our homes to have a look. I miss them … The Americans I have met were good to us. They bought spices from me.”
Outside the Karama Awadh fish market, a pencil-thin Somali youth dreamed of one day having enough money to repair his battered boat. Abdul Waria’s daydreaming was intensified by the narcotic effect of khat, the plant he chewed on. Like his dreams, Waria’s teeth were broken. But despite his obvious addiction to the euphoria brought on by the khat, he was eloquent. ”One day I will repair my boat and I will be able to fish again. Before, I used to catch many fish and the tourists bought lots from me.”
Despite the poverty, there are few beggars in the Old Town; from the very old to the very young they all engage in some activity: selling fruit, weaving cloth or repairing shoes. But many yearn for the return of the Americans.
Waria broke a flower from a bush, placed it behind his ear and shrieked: ”Peace, Mr America, come back … we love you!”