A few days in paradise


  Last Saturday night found us sitting on cushions, having dinner by candlelight and enjoying the mild fresh air on the rooftop of a lovely small hotel on Lamu Island, off the north coast of Kenya. Sweet-smelling light brown reed mats lined the floor and stars filled the sky, our old friend Orion lying on his back in a position we’re not accustomed to from our northern hemisphere travels.


Red snapper for sale!



Lamu is not only gorgeous – palm-dotted sand dunes, long white beaches, brilliant red sunsets, and no vehicles anywhere – but culturally fascinating. First settled hundreds of years ago by Arab traders who worked the Indian Ocean coast, creating the Swahili language and ethnic community in the process, today it is jumbled mix of Arab and African traditions, where men in flowing white robes and women with only their eyes visible through slits in their black burka-style garments mingle comfortably with Kenyans from Nairobi, mzungu tourists from Germany and France, and sometimes, the likes of Princess Caroline of Monaco and others of the super-rich who discovered this place long ago and jet in and out.

It is an island populated almost entirely along the coastline, its waters filled with boats of every description, especially traditional, beautifully decorated open sailboats known as dhaos that head out into the ocean to bring back tuna and other deep-sea fish, or carry visitors like us on sunset cruises in the channels separating the various islands of this archipelago.

 

The two villages of Lamu are mazes of narrow streets and alleys lined with shops and glimpses through ornate wood-carved doors into homes with large interior courtyards open to the sky. Travel between the villages is via a swarming fleet of boats, independently operated and with names like Beyonce, or I’ll Be Back, or Hapo Chacha. At night, Theresa and I fell asleep to the sounds of the boat engines and the captains yelling back and forth to each other outside the open windows of our waterfront guest house; in the morning we watched from our balcony as people bought the fresh catch of the day straight from the fisherman.

 There is much more to say, not all of it glowing (the trip home was a nightmare, though already receding in memory), but it will have to wait. Lamu was a welcome escape, the blazing sun creating a languid atmosphere and the noise, pollution and traffic of Kampala blessedly absent. (Although the droppings from the ubiquitous donkeys provided their own special aromas and walking hazards.) Watch for a link to the Picasa album soon!