As I was at the end of my holiday and still had lots of money left I wanted to stay at a better hotel than the rather basic Mvita. I went to the New Palm Tree Hotel where I once had a cup of tea. The receptionist immediately recognised me, because of my palm hat! The hotel was spacious and nice and still a bargain at £4 a night.

It was my intention to complete my shopping in Mombasa but it was Saturday afternoon and all the shops had closed. Instead I slept for a few hours at the hotel, actually my first afternoon nap in Africa.

In the evening I went out for a meal at a Chinese restaurant and then I went to the Salambo disco for a beer. This was another hunting ground for the local prostitutes and although they were quite nice I did not really want to get involved with them. One very beautiful girl wanted to trade her body for my palm hat but of course I would not trade my magic hat for anything! They would not leave me alone and I had to flee rather prematurely. I am sure the girls thought I was a big bore.

South of Mombasa was a string of beaches that I had heard many people rave about and the following day, Sunday, I took the local bus to the most famous one, Diani Beach. I went to the Diani Reef Hotel, a gigantic exercise in ultra luxury. They had no less than seven swimming pools and eleven different restaurants. It was also Sauerkraut Country but the place was so huge I could find a spot for myself.

I was unlucky with the weather. It was very cloudy and drizzling now and then. I walked down to the beach and could admire the nice garden landscaping and the multitude of facilities. The tide was low and I did not find the beach as fantastic as people had described it.

However when the high tide drenched the corals of the reef, left was an unending stretch ofsoft white sand bordered by swaying palm trees. The nice view was marred though by a great assortment of vendors and camel drivers.

I had a very expensive lunch, £8, in one of the restaurants. It was of the all you can eat variety and I did eat all I could. The food was maybe the best I've had in Africa with delicious fresh salads and exotic fruits.

I went back to Mombasa in the late afternoon and in the evening I went to see another Hindi movie As usual the hero had a very unlucky start. The villain not only killed his bride ten minutes after the wedding, but also stole his tractor! Of course, three hours later the villain had got his just deserts and I and the audience were pleased to find out that the dead bride had a twin sister which our hero disappeared with in the sunset on his new tractor!

The following day, Monday, I could at last go about my shopping business. I went to the local market at Biashara street where I bought a number of the colourful kangas. There were an enormous amount of patterns and colours to choose from and I found it difficult to decide which to buy. I was not very successful bargaining as there was no short supply of tourists. The shop owners also seemed to smell that I was leaving today and that I dearly wanted to buy. Still, the kangas were not very expensive £3-£4 each.

I bought a number of T-shirts and a very nice embroidered shirt. As I sit here I regret not buying more but then that's always the case I guess. I also bought some woodcarvings. I also wanted to buy some cassettes with Swahili music but they turned out to be as expensive as here in Sweden.

My train was due to leave at 5 p.m. and I went to station a couple of hours before and had a nice rest in the sun. As I had read the book about how it was built, "The Lunatic Express" I quite looked forward to go. One thing I remember from the book was that the workers were terrorised by two man-eating lions. During a ten-month period they ate no less than 32 coolies, evading every attempt to shoot them. In those days the areas the train was passing through were absolutely crawling with wildlife but today it is almost gone.

But I was not feeling to well. For the first time in Africa I had a slight fever and I had a stomach upset. I travelled 1st class and the carriage was extremely nice. Both convenience and services were in stark contrast to the train in Tanzania and even to Swedish trains.

My compartment companion was a Kenyan student from Kisumu. He was very frank to me in his criticisms of the present political conditions. He was very afraid of getting arrested since he was a secretary of a student union and some of his friends had been arrested after the recent riots. Still, he was quite privileged compared to many other Kenyans as he would attend some conference in Canada.

I invited him for dinner in the restaurant car. The dinner was nice I guess but I could not enjoy it very much due to my fever and stomach ailments. I wondered what I had picked up - maybe it was Ingrid's hepatitis! - and I suspected the Diani Reef Hotel. My stomach was not probably used to luxury food!

We arrived to Nairobi exactly on time and I said goodbye to my student friend. I still was not feeling very well and to make things worse it was raining. Nairobi was not very attractive in the rain but at least I did not have to worry exceedingly about my personal safety as it was quiet.

I went to the nearby Railway Museum, which had a lot of artefacts from the building of the railway and later history. But the museum was rather small and in my feverish state I could not enjoy it very much. I walked around downtown for a while without much purpose. I bought a book by a Kenyan writer, Meja Mwangi, called "Going Down River Road" . I knew that he lived in exile in England and was rather surprised to see that his books were not banned.

I then took a taxi to the National Museum which was a disappointment and not worth the £3entrance fee. Of course my fever may have detracted my interest.

Although it was only 12 am and my plane would not depart until 11.55 p.m. in the night I still decided to take a taxi to the railway station to pick up my backpack and then continue to the airport as I was not feeling well at all. I thought I could check in early and then relax or even sleep in the lounge.

I was very wrong as British Airways had their own building together with Air France and would not be staffed until nine o'clock. Not wanting to go back all the way to town I sat down on a chair nearby their counter. There was no waiting room as such but there was a bar where I could spend my remaining shillings on a few beers.

I read "Going Down River Road" from cover to cover. It took about five hours but you can imagine that I was at the extreme brink of utter boredom in the evening. The book, by the way, was very good. It was about the underclass in Nairobi and both fun and depressing.

I could finally check in at 9 p.m. There was a very thorough check of my currency form and I was glad I had resisted using the black market in Kenya. The difference to the official rate was rather small and it was not worth the trouble.

As I walked along the corridor in the departure lounge there was the absurd incident with the police. I had picked up a Kenyan newspaper from a chair since I had nothing to read. I thought somebody had read it of course and there were no people around. But I took only 10 steps before two Idi Amin police types who wondered what I was doing apprehended me. I was rather at loss and it took some time before I understood what the hell they were talking about.

But they were very upset and accused me of stealing the newspaper. According to them it was exactly the same as stealing a car and I could face seven years in prison! I'm usually in balance but I lost my temper and told them rather angrily to leave me be. Of course, being angry only made it worse and they took my passport and led me to an empty room in the vicinity.

A rather farcical (now in retrospect) discussion about justice in Kenya and Sweden ensued. Did I usually steal newspapers in Sweden? I said yes, if somebody had read it. I probably sneered when they said that in Kenya people were very honest, and they got very angry. They said they would keep me there and I would miss my flight. I saw the irony in the fact that I had tried to successfully evade thieves for eight weeks and was now on the accused bench myself!

I had to change my attitude but while I confessed to the actual circumstances I of course denied the intent of stealing. They changed their tone a bit too when I said I was a journalist and that I wanted to contact British Airways or the Swedish embassy.

They wanted me to pay US $ 50 in what they described as "fines" but I said I had not done anything wrong and flatly refused. Then we were back to square one as I had done something wrong taking or in their vocabulary "stealing" a newspaper that was not mine.

In the end they gave me my passport and let me go. The time was then ten past eleven and I only had 45 minutes to calm down my upset nerves before the takeoff of my plane.

Later I thought that I was lucky. Supposing they had put heroin in the paper then I would be writing this from a Kenyan jail! And as the current events in Iraq plainly illustrate the respect of human rights is not a precious commodity in the third world countries.