Settling into Life in Kilifi

The past few days have been quiet, in the best possible way.

Simply being here.

We’ve slipped into an easy rhythm: school in the mornings, long afternoons at the beach, card games appearing three times a day, and evenings shaped by the sound of the ocean. In between, monkeys in the trees and the occasional night storm, often followed by a sudden electricity cut, is already part of daily life.

One moment made us all smile.

Walking along the beach, Assunta suddenly found herself the centre of attention. A group of young men called out cheerful “I love you” as we passed. She blushed, half amused, half unsure what to make of it.

“I think as a European, I’m very popular here… everyone says ‘I love you’ to me,” she said.

Then, after a pause:“In Europe, nobody would ever say that on the street.”

I had to laugh.

Over the past days, we’ve also started to follow the rhythm of the ocean. We took pictures every two hours, watching how dramatically the tide changes. A friend we met at Salty’s, a lovely place just next to our house, told us that during a full moon, the difference can reach up to 3.4 meters.

It’s one thing to hear it, and another to watch it happen.

One afternoon, we sat by a carefully built sandcastle and watched as the water slowly crept closer… and closer… until, within twenty minutes, it had completely disappeared. Quietly, almost gently.

Of course, there were also small highlights, like ice cream with real Nutella at Salty’s, which made everyone very happy.

On Sunday, we joined a local parents’ community for a beach clean-up. Among bottles and flip-flops, we found something unexpected: countless tiny pieces of plastic, especially bottle caps, and even small diapers.

While picking them up, I found myself thinking about the European rule that bottle caps must stay attached to the bottle, something I always found slightly annoying. But standing there, surrounded by loose caps scattered across the sand, it suddenly made complete sense.

Seeing how much rubbish washes up, even right in front of our house, made us want to do something ourselves. So we decided to try cleaning a small part of the beach twice a week.

In theory, we start tomorrow morning.

Let’s see how that goes.

Today, after homeschooling, we visited the school in the area, Kivukoni, set on a large plantation near Kilifi directly at the Takaungu Creek.

We had heard so much about it. Some families have even moved here just so their children could attend. Naturally, we were very curious.

The children immediately spotted the tennis courts and sports field. The school itself feels open and spacious, with small buildings and wide windows. No glass, just mosquito screens, sometimes up, sometimes down.

It felt very different from what I expected.

Compared to places like Dubai, where we lived for a year when the children were younger, where everything is modern, air-conditioned, and highly structured, this school feels simple, natural, and calm. There’s a certain softness to it.

The kids wandered around, imagining where they would belong.

And then there was the pool.

A group of students was training, swimming lap after lap. The children stood there watching, slightly amazed.

“I think I’ll train like that as well,” Assunta said.

We’ll see.

One detail I loved: two geese casually standing next to the pool.Not something you would expect at a school in Switzerland.

Other small moments continue to catch our attention, kitesurfers out on the water, our tuk-tuk rides, and motorbikes stacked with what seems like impossibly high loads. And of course, the clever motorbikes with umbrellas, something we first noticed in Nairobi, are everywhere here too, adding their own quirky charm to the bustling scene.