After so many days of walking and sleeping in tents we planned to head from Tanzania to the eastern Kenyan island of Lamu. We were seriously stinky when we returned to the hotel in West Marangu at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro. We were really excited to finally shower, and we each had to shampoo and soap ourselves 2 or 3 times to rid our bodies of the stink. It was so satisfying! We arrived at Kilimanjaro International Airport still high from the climb and completely clear of mind. We smiled every time we talked about the summit day. Our first stop was Nairobi where we had a brief overnight layover. We had read and heard so many sad things about Nairobi, mainly about muggings and car-jacking. Though most often these things are a bit exaggerated we were worried about arriving late in the evening. We had booked a hostel called Africa Unleashed in a quieter part of town. So we hopped in an airport taxi and I confidently gave our driver Jose the street name for the hostel. So he headed out to the road I indicated and we proceeded to start looking (Jose and I looked while Nima remained passed out in the back seat). After a few failed passes we started to ask around. Every time Jose stopped to ask for the place he forgot the name a little and he would pause: “Africa Un…….Unreached”. “Unleashed” we said. But to no avail.
Despite asking about 4 gas stations and 20 security guards and Jose constantly reassuring us "don't worry, we'll find it" we had no luck. He was right after all - it was Africa Unreached. We decided to look for another place and ended up in a comfortable room at the YMCA. Of course, by now it was 10:30 pm and we were hungry with no chance of finding food so Jose took us to one of the only open joints around- Galitos, a grilled chicken place that served up food so greasy that the bags were dripping oil before we got home. The taste was nothing to write home about. But we were reassured when we read on their bags that they “searched the world for only the finest ingredients”. We slept well anyways and had the end of our visit in Nairobi topped off by Jose’s kind face greeting us in the morning. He came back to make sure we'd get a ride to the airport even though it was a couple of hours past the end of his graveyard shift.We arrived at the airport only to learn that our flight to Lamu was cancelled. But Kenya Airways mad a plan; they would fly us part way and we would take a bus for the last 4 hours so we could catch a ferry to the island. There were a lot of disgruntled passengers. I was a little disappointed as I was really looking forward to utter relaxation.
But we weren’t in a rush so we figured the bus ride would be a good time to read and chat. It was a bumpy road, okay a downright terrible road making it difficult to read. But the green landscape was pretty and we even passed a few giraffes. The ironic thing was that we had considered taking a bus from Tanzania to Lamu but were turned off when we read about the "AK-47-wielding bandits" that frequent this part of the road. These events are so frequent that armed soldiers board the bus for the second half of the ride to hopefully ward off any attacks. We had forgotten about this until two hours into our trip when we stopped nonchalantly by the side of the road and two men in green fatigues stepped onto the bus. If we hadn’t known, it might have seemed that the bus driver was being nice and just giving these soldiers a ride. But when they took their positions and remained prominently displayed at the front of the bus we had no doubt that these were our armed guards. Thankfully it turned out to be an uneventful journey and we arrived at the ferry point to Lamu.Lamu island is a small treasure in the Indian Ocean. It is most famous for the fact that its culture and landscape are preserved as they have been for hundreds of years.
On the trade routes from India and the Middle East (especially Oman) this region of East Africa became home to a group of people born of the mingling of those cultures with native East African tribes. They consider themselves the original Swahili people, both because the language was born of the fusion of Arabic and African languages and because they are “people of the coast” - the true meaning of the word “swahili”. Much of the island is Muslim and the older town- Lamu Town- is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It still maintains its narrow alleys, whitewashed homes, and colorful markets. The island is also known for its lack of motorized vehicles. Actually there are two cars on the island. One is for the district commissioner and the other is an ambulance serving the donkeys on the island. Donkeys are the main mode of transport for goods and for work done around the island, basically for everything that cannot be reached by boat. Most of the island remains uninhabited and is covered with sand dunes and wild tropical fruit trees. The other main settlement on the island is Shela Village, a quieter space and the idyllic location we called home for 5 nights. We stayed at a small guesthouse called Banana House run by a couple- Banana is from Lamu and Monika is from The Netherlands.
She came to Lamu over ten years ago, fell in love with the island and Banana, and moved there. They have two beautiful young boys who speak Dutch, English, and Swahili. The staff welcomed us with fresh passion fruit juice and a floral welcome sign. The house is gorgeous. The veranda is home to a lovely breakfast nook and a bed swing that became one of our favorite spots while we were there. It overlooks a courtyard filled with flowers, coconut trees, and a towering beautiful Indian Almond tree. At a short distance we could see the ocean where the golden sun rose every morning and the almost-full moon rose every night. We transitioned quickly to the slow pace of the island.Our floor mate was a Media and Technology Professor from NYC named Myrtle. She is also currently working on her first novel. She told us the amazing true story behind her book. I should probably keep the details a little vague since she is just finishing it up. But loosely it is based on a group of blacks from the American South who lived as free people during the time of slavery. They were often mistresses of or married to Europeans- usually French- which resulted in many mixed-race children.
These children lived a life between races and were often deliberately misled about their origins, partly for their own protection. She tells the story of one of these families. We spent a lot of hours of talking over breakfasts and sometimes dinners about politics, culture, and traveling. In our conversation about culture we talked about our own childhoods. Interestingly her life, growing up in the south as an African-American, was so much closer to our own experiences than we would have expected. Many times we finished each others sentences or exclaimed amazement at the similarities. Our days were spent relaxing on the veranda, exploring Lamu Town, sipping drinks on the porch of the Pepponi hotel, and sailing the waters in dhows. On our first full day on the island we left after breakfast and took the hour long walk to Lamu Town. Moving along the water we saw the nearby mangroves on the adjacent island of Manda, all manner of moored boats rising and falling with the waves, and many men going about their daily work. We explored the narrow winding alleys stopping for a coconut sold from a sack mounted on a donkey’s back.
The heat was high, though not oppressive. We stopped at a waterside café for some fresh lime soda and shakes. David, the juice master, sat at our table and taught us to play Bao. Bao actually means wood in Swahili and really just describes the board. There are about a half a dozen games that can be played on it. He taught us one that day and one later during our stay. As the afternoon was winding down we wandered deeper into town. Women, some in hejab, sat on their front porches chatting with their neighbors, men played caroms under a bamboo awning, and children ran around the streets playing with marbles and sticks. We got a bit lost so we decided to head back to the waterfront and follow the beach back to Shela. Not being people of the coast ourselves we did not realize that the tide had come in at full force since it was just about the full moon. We made it part way before the darkness descended. Soon we were shuffling sideways with our back against a compound wall trying to edge our way back home. At some point we reached an impasse and just stood their. Luckily Achmed, a friend of Banana’s, found us stranded and led us through the dunes to the safety of the house. We had our first dhow ride the next day at sunset. The dhow is an old Arab sailing vessel that has been used for centuries. Most of the ones we saw had a single sail though larger ones can have more.
Our captain and his ship mate took us out along the mangrove swamps and in the channel nearby. We learned about the history of the Shela people. They had lived on Manda Island for centuries but due to war with another neighboring island and the salinization of their water they were forced to move. The people of Lamu Town allowed them to move to their island. In exchange the people of Shela gave them half of Manda Island, which is now used by both communities as farm land. Though much of the lifestyle of the village has been maintained, tourism has increased substantially over the last few years. Most of the villagers were happy about that, especially as the fish levels had started to decline because of large scale fishing occurring nearby. But one thing that people bemoaned is the loss of their land to foreigners. Europeans have rapidly started buying up property. Though the villagers were getting a substantial sum of money in their eyes, the overall value of the land is much much higher, doubling or tripling every year. If the villagers had been able to keep the land they would be doing very well. 
On another visit to Lamu Town we went to the local museum. More of an ethnographic collection, it traces the Swahili people and the people of eastern Kenya. We saw the history of the dhow, models of wedding ceremonies (traditionally men would leave their homes and live with the woman’s family though this has started to change), and kitchen implements like simple coconut graters that are still in use today. Lamu, like Zanzibar, is known for its wood carving. Artists carve beautiful intricate doors and weathered doors still dot the entries to home throughout the town. At the museum we learned about different styles of carving and one of the beloved wood workers who grew up and lived his life in Lamu Town. On our last three nights we began each evening at the Peponi Hotel. This small hotel in Shela Village had been closed for low season and opened two nights after we arrived. Its patio hung just at the edge of the water so we could sit and watch the moon start its ascent at the horizon. Every night I enjoyed red wine while Nima sipped scotch. Relaxing after relaxing days. In the evenings after dinner we would settle in back at Banana House on the veranda. Most nights we were visited by Saadi, a young local who arranges all of the trips for the guests. He would sit with us and tell us about his life. He loves Lamu and, like every one else we met, has no desire to leave.
He loves the water and is an avid windsurfer, though at the time he was waylaid by a foot infection that he was casually treating with an antibiotic that he heard was effective. He lives a carefree life and considers himself a bit of a freelancer. His first real travel outside of Kenya happened recently when he accompanied a French man on his sailboat as they sailed down the eastern coast of Africa. He loved the trip but hated his return. Upon arriving in Nairobi he was endlessly questioned. Looking at this half-Black half-Arab looking man, they kept arguing that he was not Kenyan and had a fake passport. Poignantly, Saadi told us "People from Lamu are not felt to be true Kenyans. We're people without a country."Seafood is the staple on Lamu. We had it at almost every meal, from fish soups to shrimp and crab. One day we decided to go on another dhow trip and fish for ourselves. Our captain was Abdullah Bob- a man in his fifties who loves the sea and has has taught many younger people to fish and sail. He took us across the water to a quiet spot near Manda Island to throw out our lines. We did not have fancy fishing lines, just some wire tied to a block of wood.
The wind was high and the water slightly choppy so our first location yielded us very little for our planned barbeque on the beach. We moved to another spot and had more luck. Abdullah, our other ship mate, and Nima caught fish- Nima caught the biggest one of the bunch, a decent sized white snapper. We landed on Manda island where we started up a fire, cut up some vegetables, and sat down to a delectable meal of grilled fish, salad, and mangos. It was hard to say goodnight on our final day, as our months-long journey was coming to an end. Lamu was a beautiful end. I can't wait to go back.
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