Wajir, Kenya: My Quest for a Decent Espresso in the Middle of Nowhere

i'm sitting in a dust-coated cafe in wajir, kenya, and i can't believe i'm actually here. i came for the coffee, but i'm starting to think i'm the only one who did. i mean, i'm a coffee snob-i grind my own beans at home, i have opinions about water temperature, i turn my nose up at anything that comes out of a *nespresso machine. but here? here, they drink chai by the gallon and instant coffee that tastes like burnt socks. still, i had to try. just checked my weather app-it's a scorching 35.2°C out there, humidity at a bone-dry 31%. the air feels like it's been through a dehydrator and then set on fire. i stepped outside and my skin immediately started to tingle. i love a good sunburn as much as the next person, but this is next-level. here's the exact patch of desert i'm camped in:

the cafe i'm in is called cafe m-sik (or something like that-my swahili is rusty). it's a hole-in-the-wall with three plastic chairs and a charcoal stove that they use for everything: making tea, roasting beans (maybe), and warming up mandazi. the owner, a guy named hassan, has a grin that tells me he's heard a thousand tourists ask for espresso. he says, "we have nescafe." i cringe. but then he adds, "sometimes i make harranga coffee from ethiopia." i perked up. harranga? that's a type of coffee cherry, i think. he showed me a bag of green beans-looked like they'd been through a dust storm. still, i said, "let's try a pour-over."

the brew came out in a tiny plastic cup. i took a sip. it was... not terrible. actually, it had a winey acidity and a hint of blueberry-maybe a naturals processed ethiopian? but the grind was inconsistent, the water was too hot, and there was a distinct earthy aftertaste from the charcoal. still, for being in the middle of nowhere, it was a miracle. i told hassan, "this could be amazing if you get your roast right and use filtered water." he just laughed and said, "water is water, bwana." i've been here three days and i'm on a mission. i heard from a truck driver at the market that there's a guy roasting beans behind the mosque using a rickety pan-apparently his brew is the closest thing to espresso this side of the tana river. i tracked him down. his name is abdullahi, and he roasts over an open fire, stirring constantly with a metal rod. the beans were popping like crazy, and he dumped them straight into a mortar to remove the chaff. the smell was incredible-caramel, smoke, dark chocolate. he ground them with a hand-crank mill and pulled a makeshift espresso using a phablet (yeah, that thing you use for calls) as a pressure device? i'm not kidding. the shot was thick, syrupy, with a crema that actually lasted a few seconds. it was the best coffee i've had in east africa, hands down. i tried to get his recipe but he just smiled and said, "some secrets are buried in the sand." when the dust gets too thick, a quick hop over to garissa or moyale can break the monotony-just jump in a car and go. (just be sure your 4x4 has enough water and you're not on a deadline.) i took a day trip to garissa and found a tea house that served a decent Kenyan AA brewed in a chemex. the barista there was a former barista from nairobi who got fed up with the city. he source beans directly from mount kenya farms. it was a solid cappuccino with proper foam, but the milk was slightly scalded. still, it's a win. i also stumbled upon a marafiki (friends) gathering where they roast coffee as part of a ceremony. they use a flat pan over charcoal, toss in green beans, and roast until they're dark and oily. then they grind in a wooden mortar, boil in a jebena (clay pot), and serve in tiny cups. the flavor is smoky, bitter, and meant to be sipped slowly while discussing village politics. it's not my style-too much sediment-but it's a cultural experience i won't forget.

the heat is relentless. i've started carrying a cooler with ice packs just to keep my beans from turning into rock. i learned the hard way that leaving them in the trunk is a bad idea. my hand grinder gets so hot the metal burns my fingers. i now grind in the early morning before the sun hits the tin roof. these are the tips i'd give any coffee snob daring to venture here: always ask for freshly roasted beans; taste before you buy; bring your own portable filter if you're picky; and never trust a coffee that comes from a vending machine (yes, they have those). also, respect the locals-they might think you're crazy for obsessing over acid levels while they're just trying to survive the drought. speaking of drought, the region's been in a water crisis for years. the price of bottled water fluctuates like the stock market. i've seen donkey carts delivering water to remote villages. it's humbling. my espresso martini fantasies have been replaced by dreams of a simple glass of cold water.

one evening, i was sitting on a charpai (rope bed) outside my room, watching the sunset paint the sky orange and purple. a camel caravan passed by, bells clinking. i sipped my cold brew (made in a French press with beans from abdullahi) and thought: maybe coffee isn't about the perfect extraction; maybe it's about the story behind it. the fact that these beans traveled across hundreds of kilometers on a donkey to reach a makeshift roaster in wajir is more impressive than any latte art. i'm still a snob, but i'm learning to appreciate the raw, the unrefined, the real. i'm leaving tomorrow. i'll miss the hospitality, the dust, the chaos. and i'll definitely be back for more of that desert espresso. but next time, i'll bring my own scales and a thermometer. because you can't trust the weather, you can't trust the water, but you can trust your palate-if you keep it hydrated. if you're planning a trip here, check out the tripadvisor forum for tips: Wajir Travel Forum. also, there's a lively yelp page for the cafe scene: Yelp - Wajir Eats. and don't miss the wajir coffee society board where locals share gossip: Wajir Coffee Gossip. for a deeper dive into kenyan coffee, read this specialty coffee association article. safe travels, and may your beans be fresh and your water cold. a note: i forgot to mention the monkeys that sometimes steal sugar from the cafe. they're clever. watch your pastries*.