Before I start telling my story, yes, I know Kenya is a poor, underdeveloped country. I'm not making fun of that, but the fact that this is an international airport, servicing heavy airliners from around the world and NOT only a small local airport servicing a few cessnas for tourist rides, makes it quite interesting.

After a few weeks of vacation in Kenya in 1995, the day of departure came. I'm not gonna go into detail about the exciting journey to get to the airport ;). Everyone who has been to Mombasa probably knows what I mean....

The flight home from Mombasa International Airport was scheduled for 12am. Because of some dubious "security reasons" we had to be there already at 6am, but ok whatever, no problem.
Directly heading to the departure "hall" entrance, our way was barred by the first security check. By the way the very only one that was made.
The female passengers have only been checked hurried using a metall detector and could quickly resume their way inside the building.
The male passengers however have been put to the acid test. Every bag was opened, every pocket scanned by hand. All technical equipments like cameras had to be opened as well, no matter if the film was exposed. At least everybody was forced friendly but assertively by threat of their automatic rifles to show and open his wallet. Hereupon every officer took a few bucks out and after this "terminal entrance fee" was paid finally we could proceed our way inside the terminal as well.

The departure terminal itself was a poor building mainly made out of wood with a roof of corrugated iron. It had only 3 walls and was open to the movement area, only zoned by a small paling fence.
In the middle a few seats were mounted, sidewards very few shops and 1 counter. No annunciator panels, no gates, no announcements, only a few small ventilators, martins and sparrows circling above our heads.
Well, there we were waiting, 6 hours. The "terminal" was filling fast with many other passengers, far too much to fit into this small building.
Time went by...
It was already nearly 1pm as an bored airport employee appeared. She raise a broomstick, with a bell and a small blackboard mounted on top, in the air. Pinging she sauntered through the masses of waiting people. On the blackboard a flight number was written with chalk. Our flight number! Finally! We followed her, the human annunciator panel, accross the movement area, criss-cross by other parking airliners, mostly european airlines, and service cars to our Boeing 757.

This was the most antiquated and surreal airport and I've ever seen. Maybe only a newly build departure building was just not finished though, who knows, but hopefully without "airport entrace fee" this time.