A few days ago, I purchased a ticket in Kilifi bound for Taveta, with a connecting journey to Moshi. They informed me in Taveta that I'd need to buy the ticket to Moshi there. The sales office attendant assured me the Driver would guide me to the correct Matatu in Taveta. Satisfied, I bought the ticket and the office attendant explained my travel plan.
I was to depart from Kilifi at 6 a.m. in a Matatu waiting in front of the office. From there, I would travel to Mombasa, where I would switch to another Matatu parked nearby upon arrival. This Matatu would take me directly to Taveta, where the driver would link me with the Matatu to Moshi.
Everything was clear so far: departure from Kilifi at 6 a.m., arrival in Mombasa by 9 a.m., and reaching Taveta between 12 p.m. and 1 p.m., but no later than 2 p.m. Here, I would transfer to the new Matatu in Taveta, paying 500 KES as planned. The journey promised a scenic route through a national park, offering the chance to spot wildlife.
Excited, I packed and prepared, managing only three hours of sleep that night due to the early wake-up call at 4:30 a.m. After a quick shower and coffee, I reached the bus station after five minutes walk, right on time at 6 a.m.
The Matatu was already there, and I took my seat number 2, the best spot beside the driver with ample space. We waited briefly for the driver who eventually arrived and drove us towards Mombasa. The journey, typically one to two hours, extended due to additional pickups along flooded and muddy side roads. Despite this, we reached Mombasa and stopped at the office where my next Matatu awaited.
I asked the driver about my Matatu to Taveta, and he seemed surprised. Concerned it might have already left, I was relieved when he offered to guide me to it. We walked through Mombasa's streets for 5 to 10 minutes, passing several Bus and Matatu stops where I was repeatedly solicited for rides to Kilifi or Malindi—none of which were my destination. Finally, the young man pointed out my Matatu, and I boarded.
Although the Matatu filled up quickly, there was no driver. It was already past 10:30 a.m. before a young man arrived and started the Matatu. He paused briefly, then left to change clothes before returning, in a shirt with the transportation company's name, to start the journey.
I inquired whether the route to Taveta was direct or involved stops, and he assured me it was nonstop. Despite the delay, I hoped we would arrive in Taveta before the border closed. I had no information on the Matatu in Taveta, trusting the office's assurance that the driver would assist me.
Relaxing back, I even dozed off intermittently during the journey, waking only when the Matatu halted for passengers or briefly in Voi, where I noticed us veering off the direct path to Taveta. Curious about the route change, I soon learned the driver was making a detour near the home of a passenger to drop him off before correcting course toward Taveta.
Entering Tsavo National Park, our pace slowed as we encountered a checkpoint where a soldier halted us. Their conversation, much of which I couldn't understand except for the word "Mzungu," resulted in the driver jotting down a number and exchanging it with the soldier. Apparently, foreigners weren't permitted on that route through the park without booking a safari.
We proceeded cautiously through Tsavo, spotting elephants, zebras, and antelopes. At one point, an elephant blocked the road, engaging in a standoff with a truck. We waited motionless for about 20 minutes until it retreated, allowing us to pass.
Finally arriving in Taveta, I asked the driver about the Matatu to Moshi, only to receive the disappointing news that there were no such Matatus there. Stressed, as it was already after 4 p.m., I couldn't walk across the border. Fortunately, after a frantic discussion with a boda driver, I paid him 500 KES to ferry me across.
Fifteen minutes later, we reached the border, where I completed immigration procedures swiftly due to my eVisa. The boda driver waited outside, and after finishing, he took me to Holili's bus station in Tanzania. There, I paid him, and he paid me a daladala bound for Moshi.
The daladala departed after filling up, and despite the delay, we arrived in Moshi late in the evening. Thanks to two volunteers from Heidelberg, Germany, finding my hostel was quick, and check-in was smooth. With a bed secured in an eight-bed dorm and breakfast included, my Tanzanian adventure was set to begin. Stay tuned for more tales from my African travels!
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