This archive report was first published on 6 November 2021.
November 6, 2021, was a day I'd rather forget. It was my first time on a plane, and I was assigned to cover a cultural event in Lamu. Little did I know, it would be a journey I'd never forget – for all the wrong reasons.
As I arrived at Wilson Airport an hour early, I was excited to capture the moment. A seasoned traveler, who seemed amused by my inexperience, snapped a few photos of me at the boarding queue. He was a frequent flyer, and his travel bag had several tags.
Boarding the 14-seater Cessna, I took my seat by the window and marveled at the rotors and wing stretching forth. Next to me was Raja, an Indian man with a full beard, chewing Khat and in high spirits. He offered me some, and I, being a novice, accepted. It was a short flight, but the Khat had me feeling like I was on cloud nine.
However, the landing at Manda Airport in Lamu was a far cry from my dream scenario. The airport was deserted, windy, and scorching hot. The passengers, dressed in linen shirts and shorts, seemed oblivious to our arrival. I had envisioned traditional dancers welcoming me with open arms, but instead, I was met with indifference.
Things took a turn for the worse when Raja asked the pilot, a lady, if he could 'catch a lift' to Malindi. The pilot, seemingly in a foul mood, shot back with a harsh response, which escalated into a heated argument. Raja, not understanding the gravity of the situation, flung a water bottle at the pilot, and we both ended up getting picked up by the airport police.
I spent three long hours sweating in a cramped police cell, trying to wriggle out of the situation. My attempt to distance myself from Raja, saying 'I'm not in the company of this Indian guy, I just met him during our flight,' fell on deaf ears.
That was my first and last experience with Khat. It was a horrible first-time flying experience, and I've never forgotten the lessons I learned that day.
