The process, of course, did not go smoothly.
That being said it may have gone as best it could, given the vagaries of trying to achieve anything by (your) schedule in Africa, and that my shipping agents left their common sense at home every day; but, other than that: seamless ...
As I always suspected the ship duly arrived on the original date of Weds 29, not Mon 27 as the agents had insisted the week before (necessitating my scramble to get across to Mombasa to meet with them and plan our course of action on the Saturday prior). Or on the 21st for that matter, which was the first quoted arrival date. But I was nonetheless pleased on Weds to receive a call at 0900 informing me that not only had the vehicle arrived but had already been offloaded and moved into the secure Customs area and was being audited by my agent’s man-on-the-scene. Good news, but worrying as all very much contrary to the original plan of my being there for eyes-on from step one.
I am told to hurry over to their offices so I can be taken to the docks soonest, which I do and am very pleased to find on arriving at the vast and dirty warehouse that the only thing that has gone missing from my unlocked-and-wide-open-since-Sheerness (UK) vehicle is the (previously well-buried under boxes and tarps) Hi-Lift Jack and, inexplicably, the Hi-Vis Vest off the back of my seat. Some magpie on the ship apparently keen to score the only two brightly-coloured items I’m carrying ... So, RoRo (Roll on Roll off), which has been a huge source of stress and second-guessing since I went cheap and chose that shipping option instead of a secure container has proven to be the right choice in the end as even with replacing the jack I’ve scored a 66% cost savings for going with it.
Unfortunately though, at this point my agents became complete idiots and I, concurrently, am hit with malaria so Thurs and Fri prove a fair test of both patience and fortitude. Through both days and multiple, ever-increasingly terse calls I am unable to get a straight answer out of them about how the process was going to have Customs clear and release the vehicle – or if this had even begun yet. Finally, at 1640 Friday afternoon I am called and informed that my vehicle has been cleared, it is at their office – and that I “cannot have it until maybe Monday as (I) have not paid yet.” Scrambling out of my fever bed I race over to the office – on Moi Avenue, one of the busiest in town – to find my truck parked on a side street, totally exposed and without a private guard in sight. I am, apparently, not to worry about this – it will be fine. I explain clearly that they will not be fine if they do not get my vehicle into secure storage and why the %$#@& am I only being told now there is an issue with my payment that will hold up my actually taking possession of it now that it is released.
They don’t know where it is but their bank says it does not have it. I tell them I transfer funds by Telegraphic Transfer regularly and from my experience (due to differences in time zones) it has always taken 1 business day to the UK, 1 to Canada and 1 to South Africa so why should I accept it is 3 days now and it has not made it through to them yet? It is the only time in 10 months on the road last year and 3 weeks so far this trip that I have lost my temper and unleashed unrestrained wrath and anger. Not my proudest moment – though at least an improvement over yelling at the girl in the estate agents back in UK who cover our house and making her cry because she didn’t have paperwork completed I’d been promised (for weeks ...) – that was when I knew I was not handling the stress of unemployment well and needed to get away again. But still, not good – though it did have the desired effect at least and my vehicle – which they have argued at me for over an hour is going nowhere and will be fine parked on the road until we ‘sort out the payment’ - is duly moved into the owner’s private compound and I am told to return the next day with cash.
(It’s worth clarifying here that it was the agents who asked for a transfer of funds on Weds as a “show of good faith” as they would now be paying for all port fees, etc, up front. And I was fine with this as it’s a secure method for me, easily tracked and reversed if something smells wrong, and far better than having to change a great wodge of shilling into USD and go for a cash payment on release. But never again – cash only at the end of the process, shows of ‘good faith’ be blown .... Also note that shipping agents hold your passport while running through the process – but not at their office as I was to learn - and as you cannot change money without one if a TT goes wrong as mine appeared to you’re stuffed for USD without a second passport or a lot of scrambling about ...)
So Saturday starts with 2 hours in the bank converting Kenya Shilling into USD (bearing passport number two) to pay cash for my vehicle if the TT has still not cleared. On arriving at the offices at 10 as promised the day before (emphasizing I must be on the road by no later than 11 as I must be in Nairobi that evening for a meeting and do not want to drive there in the dark) I find, of course, that nothing has happened - my vehicle is not there, they do not know if the funds have cleared yet, and my passport and docs are “with the boss, not here” And the boss is not there either... I ask if they have gone to their bank yet today and checked the account. No I am told, but they will phone and are again told the bank says it has no such record. But have you actually looked in your account?? Perplexed looks all round. No, we just phone. With restraint I instruct as they cannot do so online (I learn) they must go and personally check the account as I am certain the funds HAVE to be there. Which the young accountant does and *MIRACLE* of course the funds are there and have been since Friday morning. He is most sheepish and explains it had never occurred to him to actually look in the account as they always just phone and ask if the bank has received a telex copy of the transfer docs. As mine obviously does not do so it simply never occurs to them to actually look in the account for the funds – they just took the bank at its word that it hadn’t received a fax and therefore there must be no funds ... Lord lifting Jesus give me strength ...
I ask them where my vehicle is as I must go right now to collect it (and all supporting veh docs, and my passport, which have all – inexplicably and without signed record - been removed from the office) and am told “the guy who was sitting there earlier” has gone to get my truck and bring it back to the office. Which guy? “The guy who was in that chair” I am told. Do you know who that was; do you know his name?? No, but they do think the boss knows him and that this is what he does ... Two hours later and three phone calls to the boss, who is conspicuous in her absence today, and my vehicle does finally show up – and thankfully intact, though I do find his complaints about the difficulty in driving it are likely due to his having done so right the way across town with it in diff-lock Low ... I wince, pray to the LR gods of mechanical forgiveness and am finally able to get underway.
So for my week in Mombasa huge props must go out to the Royal Court Hotel on Haile Selassie Road for their outstanding facilities, hospitality and huge (free) buffet breakfasts; and to the pharmacy around the corner who offered me sympathy and drugs for all of 4 GBP and got me through the malaria in 1.5 days of fever and 1.5 days of slow recovery (even asking that I please come back to tell them when I was okay as they were concerned for me being alone when ill. But then sternly admonishing me, as proxy I guess, that my Travel Clinic back in the UK was “very wrong” and that Doxycycline was “useless” in the region and not to be prescribed as a malaria prophylactic – good to know given 11 months on it the year prior and 40 GBP worth of it packed into my shave kit for this round ...). Well, at least I can now tick Get Knocked on Arse By Malaria off my To Do list ...
And conversely a huge vote of non-confidence for Renex Logistics, who while very good on initial emails fell apart when it really mattered and seemed completely baffled by both the process of bringing in a personal vehicle as well as the requirements of its owner. In a city with literally hundreds of shipping agents there has got to be somebody who could have done it better. And going with rudeness and a bullying attitude towards me when they had the vehicle and ‘not the payment’ was definitely the wrong tack ... And a big thumbs down as well to the local Muezzin, who kicked off his full decibel warbling at 0450 every morning and kept at it, sometimes for 10 minutes sometimes for 3 hours straight throughout the day until gone 1900, like some drunkle at a wedding refusing to give up on the karaoke machine until he'd run through his full list of favorite show tunes ... Religious freedom: fine. Running riot over everybody else's personal freedoms with your sound system: really not.
So now well past ready to turn my back on Mombasa I change the original plan for an easy run up the coast to Lamu to shake out the truck in favour of the far more ridiculous plan to hoon it back to Nairobi in order to meet with friend who arrives at airport that night and I am supposed to pick up. It is now gone 1300, it’s a 9 hour drive and my trucks been sitting on a boat for the past three weeks and in a yard the six months prior – sure I should just stomp it and go! All went fine with stunning views across Tsavo Park til God turned out the lights at 7 and it was then all a bit white-knuckle on the most manic road I’d driven in a long while for the next 3 hours but the Landy was a champion and we made it in unscathed. But definitely not recommended.
Dragging my sweaty, ponging, dirty-garbed bod into the glare and finery of the Hilton I am pleased to find that their professionalism negates any outward response to my dishevelment , and am informed I have more than enough points for a free room, and then also a free upgrade to the Executive Floor - score! Plus on turning around I find my friend just arriving at the hotel himself so perfect timing; up to the lounge we go and get some Tuskers in to recover. Lived like I still had a real job for 2 lux days and enjoyed a great catch-up, but back to reality by Monday and over to Jungle Junction with the rest of the overlanders passing through to strip the truck down, find what’s missing (what – no corkscrew??!!), get the new tent sorted (and me sorted for sleeping in it after a week of soft beds multiple pillows and aircon), change oils and fluids and generally get us both ready – after a month of being on the ground already – to finally get the trip underway. It’s now a week later since arrival and that process is complete ... Tomorrow, Uganda.
