The lure of Kenya’s empty shores

As I walked along the empty shore on our stretch of Kenya’s north coast, I noticed a big fish, a giant trevally, swimming in the gentle waves parallel to me. When I came to the coral rag cliffs at the end of the beach and turned around, the fish also turned around and swam alongside me, keeping abreast with my stride. The tropical noon sun burned my bare back and I began to wonder if this creature wanted to tell me something, or that perhaps he was awaiting my confession for all my wrongdoings in 2023. I waded into the limpid water towards him and he swam away into deeper waters. At that moment I realised that the trevally was probably the ghost of my mother or my father, both of whom we scattered as ashes in these waves. On this beach, I often find myself talking at my parents, hoping for some sort of response in the ocean. Today, I became distracted by the quantities of rubbish on the sand, the detritus of the year.

I went to call Bobby, who works at our coast shack, and we split up to walk to either end of the beach, 500 metres long, carrying a bundle of large bin bags. Over the next hour we worked our way back towards each other while collecting 12 big bags of plastic waste. The garbage included bottle tops, plastic bottles, flip-flops, plastic syringes, vaccine vials, toothbrushes, lighters, nylon rope, plastic cups, beer cans, jerrycans and condoms, both used and unopened. To my surprise I also found one large dildo that had been savagely chewed halfway along its length, by a dog or perhaps a shark.