The first time I went to Malindi, I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I just wanted peace. The moment I arrived, everything felt different. The breeze was warm, people looked relaxed, and the ocean moved like it had all the time in the world.

I stayed in a small guesthouse with coconut trees and a sandy path to the beach. In the mornings, I walked barefoot along the shore. The sea was calm. Fishermen pulled in their nets, kids laughed and splashed in the water, and life just moved at its own slow pace.

The town smelled of fish frying, spices, and salty air. One day I went to the Gedi Ruins. It was quiet. Old coral walls stood among trees. I touched the stone and imagined the people who once lived there. It felt peaceful, like the place was still breathing its old stories.

Evenings were for slow walks. I would grab some roasted cassava or fried fish and sit by the ocean. Watching the sunset over the water made everything else fade away. And at night, when the stars came out, I didn’t need anything else.

Malindi doesn’t try to impress you. It just welcomes you. And if you let it, it gives you something back—quiet, calm, and space to think. 

 

Agnes Irungu