Never in my life have I experienced such a ridiculous ride. We left Garissa early Saturday morning and it was supposed to be around an eight-hour bus ride. What we didn’t know ahead of time was that the road from Garissa to Mombasa was flooded and impassible. So, the bus driver took an alternate route down a dried river-bed. First off, that doesn’t sound like the best plan to begin with. To make things more exciting, though, since it had rained (and flooded the main road) the river-bed wasn’t completely dry.
I spent much of the ride praying and staring wide-eyed out the window at the giant ruts we were going to drive through. On a sixty passenger bus, they managed to pile over one-hundred people in. At one point, Driver (my co-leader) was holding some random African baby. We got stuck at another point, and forty-five people poured out in order to “lighten the load.” We were in the back of the bus, and didn’t have the luxury of the leg-stretch. Dean (one of our guys) all 
but dived out the window in order to take a “bush break.” The rest of us sat in our seats for eleven straight hours–literally. There was even a point at which the bus nearly tipped over, but we were able to lean quickly and offset it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. I didn’t think we were going to die, but we were pretty sure it was going over. I could just imagine getting stuck out in the middle of who-know-where for hours.
After an eleven-hour bus ride, then a switch to a mini-bus [for just our team] for another two hours, we finally arrived at our beach house in Mombasa. I’m not sure that I would ever willingly do it again, but this location was worth the ride. Welcome to paradise–complete with with white, smooth sand and gorgeous water.
