170 THE BONDS OF AFRICA 



traders, with a fair sprinkling of Japanese, 

 Zanzibaris and multi-coloured peoples of the 

 East. 



From Kilindini runs a tram-line character- 

 istic of Mombasa, where it is always too warm 

 or else too wet to walk. Along this line trollies, 

 or " gharries," are propelled by Swahili boys 

 clad in flowing white garments. The track 

 undulates along past Kilindini railway station; 

 and between the jolts and jostlings one has time 

 to observe immense mango trees throwing a 

 wealth of welcome shade. A police station 

 manned by well-knit askaris rushes by. The 

 gharry boys pant and puff and gasp about 

 " backsheesh " between their breaths. But the 

 ride is nearly at an end, for the cathedral, an 

 imposing edifice, cruciform in shape and with 

 ogee-formed dome, comes into sight, and there 

 again beyond this house of worship, built in 

 memory of Bishops Hannington and Parker, is 

 the peaceful blue of the Indian Ocean and the 

 familiar white glint of dhow sails. 



Here is the heart of spectacular Mombasa. 

 On the left are hotels and well-equipped stores. 

 Beyond the cathedral are the public gardens all 

 aglow with colour riot. They form a fitting crown 

 for the statue of Sir William Mackinnon — the 

 Rhodes of East Africa. On Saturdays a Swahili 

 band discourses music here. Skirting the gardens 

 are the Treasury and District Commissioner's 

 offices, guarded by sentries who eye their 

 bayonets with conscious pride. 



Farther on are the Court House buildings and 

 the grand old fort — relic of the romantic past. 

 It is now used as a common gaol, this massive 

 old citadel which once bid defiance to all the 

 ships of murder that seemed to regard Mombasa 



