My First Flight: How it Turned Into a Horrible Experience

Wilson Airport
An aerial shot of Wilson Airport in Nairobi (file image)

Everyone wants to remember their first flight. That's alright. We all grew up watching airplanes crawl across the skies - and we'd make stories. Is that our President going to Britain for a meeting?  We'd even pause games to day dream. Will we fly in a plane one day?

Life happens.

My first time on a plane, was a local flight - to Lamu. It's a personal landmark I try hard to forget. 

It ended not so well.

Manda Airport
A board showing entrance to manda Airport, in Lamu County (file image)

It was a regular work assignment, to cover a cultural event. I had not been expecting a plane ticket. I arrived at Wilson Airport, an hour early.

At the boarding queue, I asked a rather sour gentleman to snap a few photos of me. He graciously snaps away. He seemed like a frequent flyer, and he was amused. He had several tags on his travel bag.

It was a rather small plane, a 14-seater Cessna, I think. I had a window seat, I could see the rotors and wing stretching forth. Right on the next seat, there's this guy, an Indian - with a full beard, dyed brown. His name is Raja. He's chewing Khat, and quite merry. He starts chatting immediately.

I couldn't refuse, when he offers me a bunch of his Khat. I hardly use Khat, but, hey, it's my first flight. I'm literally on cloud nine. It was a short flight - say, a little over 40 minutes. There's a  short landing in Mombasa, a few more passengers embark.

I didn't even have the time to sample all the snacks. Pleasant surprise, when I learn that the snacks are free.

We land shortly, at Manda Airport, in Lamu. Quite deserted, wind swept and extremely hot. Everyone in sight was in linen shirts, shorts and sandals. What hurt is that no one seemed bothered by our arrival.

In my dream landing, I'd expected dancers in traditional costumes shaking it, as I wave from the ladder.

On the tarmac, my friend Raja nudges me on the ribs with his elbow. He asks me to accompany him. He beckons towards the front of the plane. The pilot is a lady, she's disembarking. He wants a word.

I felt like I owed him or something, so I agree, and follow him.

Well, Raja upfront demands to know where she was flying next - and since there didn't seem to be any return passengers, if he could 'catch a lift' to Malindi.

The message was quite simple, but the delivery was off. In retrospect, Raja hadn't meant to be rude, but English wasn't his first language.

Unfortunately, the lady pilot is seemingly in a foul mood.

The lady pilot is the type that shoots from the hip. She asks Raja to 'get a life' - and it escalates pretty quickly from that point.

Manda Airport
An aerial view from an aircraft flying over Lamu Island, Lamu County (file image)

An Indian social set up grooms the male members in a way that frowns on anything less than absolute authority. They do not expect any questions or defiance by the other gender.

Raja explodes, flings a water bottle at the lady pilot.

Long story short, Raja and I end up getting picked up by the airport police. I spent three long hours sweating in a cramped police cell. It was a hard task wringing myself out of this situation.

"Afande, mimi siko na huyu Mhindi...nimemjulia tu kwa ndege... (Officer, I am not in the company of this Indian guy, I just met him during our flight)."

It was an horrible first time flying experience.

I've never touched Khat, since.