In Summary
- We can’t grow tourist arrivals if the ministry does not up its game.
A friend of ours came to visit us the other day.
She had come back a few weeks ago from a holiday in Malaysia and was
eager to regale us with stories about her trip.
Since life nowadays is not as simple as when you
would pull out snapshots of your week in a bad motel, she showed us
video on her phone of some of the exploits.
In one of the videos, her feet were getting
nibbled on by tiny fish. This is a controversial craze – doctors claim
that the fish can help spread infections from one client to another –
but it is proving quite popular.
My interest, though, was not in the nibbly fish—I
happen to be a tad ticklish. It was in the fact that the fish are
located in a Malaysian holiday resort, and not a Kenyan one.
The argument I’m about to make may be simplistic,
but it is an important one that needs to be made for the sake of the
country’s economy and for the sake of an important sector in that
economy.
For the past three years, whenever a media invite
comes across my desk, asking me to send a reporter to cover the release
of the latest tourist statistics by the relevant government minister, I
groan inwardly.
The reason is that the resultant story is so
predictable, so repetitive, that the reporter can write his or her
script before they even leave Nation Centre.
The story will be how Kenya has just achieved (or
just come up short of) the target of a million tourists a year. The
minister will go on to proclaim an ambitious new target (for the
mid-future, incidentally) of three million tourists a year.
An earnest proclamation will follow of how Kenya
finally needs to diversify tourist product from the traditional beach,
bush and parks, to a strategy to showcase the other parts of this
beautiful country.
But the nibbly fish in Langkawi show us the
problem with these announcements. We have treated our tourism offering
the way we have treated our agriculture products.
Kenya produces the greatest coffee and tea in the
world and we seem to have settled on that fact to assume that the world
will then beat a path to our front door to take it off our hands.
The same assumption applies to our country. We
still have some of the whitest, purest beaches in the world and a stroll
on the sands in the South Coast are enough to make you believe in
romance. Our wildlife, when it is not being decimated, is still the most
impressive sight on earth.
Unlike the Kruger National Park in South Africa,
where you need to peer through bushes to catch a glimpse of the Big
Five, the Maasai Mara is truly Big Sky Country, where you can see for
countless miles and spot a sleeping lion from five kilometres away.
Yet the Kruger receives 950,000 visitors a year,
almost as many as visit the whole of Kenya (those numbers announced by
the Tourism minister in those regular press conferences).
We’re still stuck with the mindset that not only
will our superior product speak for itself and attract the relevant
numbers, but that we do not need to add any value to it—visitors will be
blown away anyway by the magnificence of our beauty.
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