Nakumatt Supermarket, Mombasa, Kenya

Last month, after increased rebel activity in Eastern Congo, it seemed a good idea to take a break. Rather excitingly I found myself on the coast of Kenya, even more exciting however was that I found myself next to the supermarket Nakumatt, pictured here in all its capitalist glory.

After spending many an hour wandering, and indeed wondering over the many aisles and goods that were on perfect display, these visits were ended by the obligatory wait at the checkout queue.

I would estimate that 8 out of 10 of these queue standings would be unremarkable if compared to an English queue. They probably weren’t as fast moving as their English counterpart, but I didn’t really notice as I myself am now hardly ever in a hurry.

However, I would like to bring to your attention a couple of factors that could create a problem for the potential queuing visitor in Kenya.

The first problem is large Indian families. On more than one occasion I noticed that, rather than queuing, they tend to gather in the queuing area behind many queues, thus increasing their chances of being served faster.

We have seen similar behaviour in England, although never before attempted by a large extended group where such characteristics are also encouraged in the very young.

There may still be hope for this young lad however, notice the pensive, even hesitant stance that he has adopted in the queuing area. His elders were not so shy and with brusque confidence they took their positions across two and a half supermarket checkout queues.

The second factor to look our for when shopping in Nakumatt, Mombasa, is the rogue shopping basket. It is actually something to look out for from the very start of your shopping experience as you will never find one near the shop entrance. Instead you will be in competition with your fellow shoppers, hopeful to find a basket before you reach the dried pasta or, and I do not wish this even on my worse enemies, the bottled water. But let me not digress, I can already hear Gary Wood shouting “The queue William, what about the queue?” And yes, my dear Gary, the queue indeed.

Well, as the shopping basket has become such a sacred, sought after object in this temple of consumerism, it is only natural that those who have it, flaunt it.

And so here you can see this chap, like a child with a new umbrella, he has not put the basket to its proper use and is instead spinning it nonchalantly, while he holds his soon to be purchased toothpaste and bag of three onions in his other hand.

Not only is this a hazard when standing behind him, the real obstacle to my queuing experience occurs when he decides to leave the basket on the floor of the queuing area.

As you can imagine, I found myself in the uncomfortable position of wondering whether I should just step around the basket as if it was a normal occurrence, or, bring attention to this faux-pas by moving the basket myself to its correct position under the conveyor belt.

Luckily for both of us, after a few hesitant moments the basket was snatched up by a small girl sent in to the queuing area by her older sister, who was standing nearby with her arms laden with bread, powdered milk and cassava.