Unfortunately, these days tragedies are often like alarm bells ringing – belated and jarring, like cowbells piercing your eardrums – to bring about change and urge the authorities to take action.
This happens in Italy just as it does in Kenya, where development should go hand in hand with respect for the environment – not merely for aesthetic reasons or for the sake of ‘sustainable tourism’, but to foster a sense of living in harmony with nature and to preserve the beauty that this place has always represented for the thousands of people who visit it.
Thus, the collapse of a section of the eyesore (let’s call it that, because that is what it is) on Twiga Beach in Watamu – which resulted in one worker’s death and several injuries – has sparked major protests from the local population, environmentalists and even foreign residents who, whilst supporting the area’s tourism development, are realising that when things go too far, it is right to speak out.
The risk is that we’ll lump everything together, failing to distinguish between those who, when building new accommodation facilities, comply with current regulations, take care not to spoil the environment, and apply a sort of virtual planning scheme – which, unfortunately, does not exist but which common sense and the absence of corruption can ensure is followed without overstepping the bounds of decency. It is quite possible that the building in question is fully compliant with the regulations, for goodness’ sake. But the aim of the controversy may also be to deter attempts to copy it.
The national media – more or less all Kenyan television news programmes – have been covering the Watamu incident in recent days, even without specifying that the company is building a five-storey block right next to the beach, with foundations more or less in the sand and a visual impact that only the worst property developers in our ill-fated tradition could conceive of for a building project on the Kenyan coast.
The images shown on TV and shared on social media depict not only the families of the collapse victims and the usual ‘troublemakers’ who cause a fuss regardless, but also beach workers, neighbours and Kenyans who are perhaps beginning to realise that what is ugly is often also poorly built. Because if you build something decent, if not beautiful, you want it to stand for ever and for people to be able to enjoy it because it blends in with the landscape.
 
In short, if these buildings aren’t brought into line, little by little what we have hitherto rightly called the ‘pearl of the Indian Ocean’ will become one of the many symbols of commercial barbarism, attracting above all a clientele that will not regard Watamu as a special place, a paradise for relaxation and immersion in equatorial nature, but simply a maritime and climatically attractive offshoot of Mediterranean slums that prioritise a cheap sea-view rental over the beauty of an unspoilt beach, service staff on 200 euros a month rather than integration as equals in a foreign country,
 concrete over yet another felled baobab, and a licence easily obtained through bribery rather than work carried out properly and with a clear conscience. And getting away with it fuels countless attempts at imitation, even by those who arrive here now and will arrive in the future. That is why a change of direction is needed.

But that’s the way it is, and thankfully there are still those who believe that investing in Kenya is a privilege and that bringing a certain vision of Italy here – one of which we should be proud – could serve as a form of vindication for those who have always seen us as opportunists, if not outright profiteers.
Now there are many of them – even the very same ‘beach boys’ who, thanks to some other compatriot who, whilst operating on a small scale, has sponsored other unsavoury practices that might be considered ‘African-style acceptable’ – protesting and making their voices heard by the institutions of Kilifi County. Perhaps one day, in turn (though this may not be the case in question), they’ll stop getting massaged like bigwigs in a massage parlour and start thinking about the long-term good of their wonderful beaches.