Irrespective of gender, religion, class, tribe or our other silly biases and stereotypes, Kenyans love Mombasa like crazy. That is if you discount meat, tea and ugali which we devour from Malaba, across Mt Kenya, down the coast and all the way up to Moyale.
This love is so profound that my own people, the Wanga of Mumias, have a full-fledged welfare association in Mombasa. In fact, they even own a bus for transporting their dead back to the ancestral land for burial, confirming the age-old stereotype that when a man from Western Kenya sets foot in Mombasa, the only way back home is in a casket.