About Us
Message from Founder
When I first walked the shores of Malindi in the late '90s, I didn't see sand—I saw stories waiting to unfold. My name is Franco Esposito, and Woburn Residence Club isn't just a property to me. It's a living, breathing testament to what happens when Italian precision meets Swahili soul.
For over two decades, I've sat in these same gardens, listening to waves and laughter mix. I've signed paperwork for apartment sales, settled service charge debates over espresso, and watched families return year after year. Some call me “Chairman,” but I prefer “custodian” of a promise: to keep Woburn a place where keys aren't just handed over—they're inherited.
“A home isn't built with bricks, but with trust. Here, we don't lock doors - we open them wider.”
When we dug the first borehole in 2000, neighbors thought I was chasing mirages. Today, that same water fills our pool and nourishes our gardens. When disputes over service charges arose, I sat with owners under these baobab trees until we found solutions. Why? Because Woburn isn't about transactions—it's about transformation.
“At Woburn, we don't just build apartments—we build heirlooms. What you leave here isn't footprints in the sand, but a legacy in the hearts of those who come after.”
To our guests, whether you stay a week or a lifetime, swim in our pool, taste Swahili-Italian fusion dishes, or let us plan your Tsavo safari, remember this—you're not passing through. You're adding your thread to Woburn's history.
“The ocean connects continents, just as our tables connect stories. Here, your 'neighbor' might be a retiree from Rome or a teacher from Mombasa—but by sunset, you'll share the same sky.”
To our team, you greet dawn before the guests' wake, polish floors until they mirror the ocean, and turn requests into memories. You don't just work here—you craft the magic that makes Woburn timeless.
“Luxury isn't gold faucets or marble floors. It's the security guard who knows your child's name, the chef who remembers your spice tolerance, and the certainty that tomorrow's sunrise will greet you just like today's.”
And to Malindi, thank you for teaching me that luxury isn't marble countertops. It's the security of a guard who knows your child's name. It's the reliability of a generator humming through blackouts. It's the legacy of a 125-year lease, waiting for new stories.
Karibu always,
Franco Esposito