I got back from Uganda on Friday evening. My first order of business, besides a shower, was laundry. My clothes required the triple B cycle (boil, bleach and burn). Fortunately, it was not raining so everything dried by morning.
Apparently there had been riots and a short term curfew imposed in Mombasa while I was away. Over by the time I returned. Worse news, Morris, the school bus driver for Kencada school, his house burned down. His wife and four kids made it out in time but they lost everything. We went to see them on Saturday morning. They are staying at Kencada during the Christmas break. As horrible as their situation is, it happened at a convenient time with the school mostly empty. Anke is raising money for him so he can rebuild.
While we were at the school, a kitten that had been hanging around showed up. He let me pick him and he even purred while I was holding him. Anke had already noticed him and decided he would be the new household cat. We shoved him in a box and basically kidnapped him. Mona said he was the only survivor of a litter of six. He is so friendly, he must have been raised with people but they obviously kicked him out at some point. He is about 3 months old. He is covered in scars. On his head, legs, back. Mona thinks he was attacked by a dog. They are all healed but there is either a big clump of scar tissue or an infection on his back. Anke will take him to the vet while Alina and I are in Lamu.
We named him Kelele, which means noisy in Swahili. He loves people so much, he just starts talking to them as soon as he sees anyone. And he just wants to be in a lap, anyone’s lap.
He peed in my backpack, it was still on the floor from my Uganda trip but fortunately, mostly emptied. But Freddie made him a litter box which he figured out quickly. He is very hungry.
(next day, Alina suggested we go for a swim and that’s seemed like a better idea than writing in my blog while hanging out in Lamu, paradise on earth.)
Once we got the cat settled, we had been invited to a fancy lunch at the neighbours. It was a ‘Black Lunch’. We all had to wear black clothes. Since no one wears black here, it was an interesting selection of outfits. All of the food was black or at least sort of black. The cook was a Spanish guy named Fernando. He made an Octopus appartizer, a squid salad with the ink to colour it black and a prawn pasta dish that was delicious but they used blue food dye to darken it so it looked awful.
The guests were very interesting. A selection of nationalities, Scottish, Spanish, American, Canadian, British and one Kenyan. They are all young professionals living in Mombasa, all but one (the Canadian) were working – architects, engineers, IT, NGO work, teacher. The Canadian guy whose name I don’t remember had made a bunch of money as an engineer in the oil patch and had been living on his profits in Mombasa for the last two years.
We left early, Anke and I had to get to the bank machine before Alina and I headed to Lamu the next morning. Just as well, while I am sure they all have a fascinating story to tell, I was a bit uncomfortable with this crowd. I talked to the Americans and the Kenyan woman. The rest of them were quite the clique. I can’t really describe it except that they were living an upper class lifestyle here. Considering I barely talked to them, I am painting with a very wide brush. Maybe they were just letting their hair down at a party (likely) but I was glad to go.
Alina and I were booked to fly out of Malindi on Sunday at 3ish. Malindi is a two hour drive up the coast. It is a small vacation town full of expat Italians. It was a lovely drive up the coast, although we never saw the water. We passed through Kalifi which I had heard was nice. I’m sure if I was a resort person, it would be but the town itself was pretty much the same as all other East Africa highway towns I have seen, maybe a bit more money in the area.
Mona, the head teacher from Kencada came for the drive. We drove around Malindi for a bit. We stopped for lunch at the Karen Blixon restaurant (the woman from ‘Out of Africa’). We had pizza and pasta, (when in an Italian outpost, do as the Italian expats do, I say). Then we walked out to the pier (I mention because I have photos) and then Alina and I were at the airport.
The flight to Lamu is only 25 or so minutes. We were here in no time. We checked ourb ags because the plane was just a little Dash 8 so no room for cabin luggage. When we arrived, we waited for the bags to be unloaded and watched the airport cats work the room. Then, bags in hand, we exited the airport (walked 10 feet to the other side) and there was Cosmo.
We were delivered to our hotel, the Stop Over, right on the water. We overlook the beach where the locals dock (without actual docks) their boats. So we have an interesting, active view of the comings and goings as well as maintenance. Unfortunately, we are tucked in a bit from the water so we get almost no breeze. Our first night was so hot. At some point in the night, I got up to get a wet cloth to drape across my torso to lower my body temperature. It was very uncomfortable.
View from our balcony
The day before we arrived, Cosmo was arrested with a big group for being out past curfew. He was waiting for a group of Spaniards (who I later learned were building an orphanage) out at the floating restaurant. The Spaniards were arrested too and they all spent the night in jail. That was Saturday.
We were staying in Shella. Pictures of Shella (sometimes spelled Shela).
At some point in the afternoon after we arrived we also took a walk along the beach.
For dinner on our first night, Cosmo brought us Samosas. Anke and Alina had been telling me how good they were so I was pretty stoked. They were right. These samosas are particularly delicious. Full of meat and spices. Each bite is a new flavour wave. First the meat, then the cinnamon and cardamom, then the chili and finally the pepper. I’m sure there is more in there that I can’t distinguish but that add to the wonder. I wish I could bring a thousand home with me.
It is a 30-40 minute walk to Lamu along the beach. Cosmo was going to escort us to Lamu town on Monday morning but he got called to court. Alina wanted to wait for him to take us but I figured we could manage. And we did. Except it was the hottest day ever on Monday. Alina looked at the weather online and it was 40 degrees. We left for Lamu at 9am and it was already blazing.
Lamu town is like a mini, hipper Zanizibar. Due to many countries listing Lamu as a ‘area to avoid’ there are barely any tourists here. We wandered through the narrow, twisty streets, trying not to get in the way of the donkeys who are about as wide as the streets. After the cheap prices of Uganda, I find it expensive here. The ‘tourists’ who are here are wealthy Europeans, who return each year, many of whom own holiday houses. And total different sort than the Zanzibar tourists who arrive on package tours.
But, high prices or not, they have some neat crafts here. I finally broke down and bought a bag made from a Kakoi. I could only hold out for so long, I'm only human! It is great. And there is a silversmith who makes jewelry from broken china found on old shipwrecks. I have never seen anything similar so I bought a bunch for myself and as gifts. A few other little things. I also bought myself a blouse of the flimsiest cotton. It looked so cool, I had to have it.
Here a million photos of Lamu town and our walk to and from.
We had lunch at a local (non-tourist) restaurant. I don’t know what we had but it was a spicy beef concoction on rice. We had planned to take a boat back to Shella but Cosmo was still in court so we just walked back. It was still so hot.
By the time we got back to the hotel, I was soaked through. I did a quick wash of myself and my clothes. Then we had a leisurely couple of hours on the deck while we cooled down and my clothes dried.
That evening, we went to Peponi’s, the fancy restaurant in Shella. And, Alina and I ended up on a weird double date AGAIN, but not creepy like the last one in Zanzibar.
Peponi’s has been around for 50 or so years. It was started by a couple (European of some sort). Their son took over and he just recently died. As it turned out, his memorial is this weekend so there are people arriving from all over the world to attend what sounds like will be the greatest party ever. We were quasi-invited but we will be gone by then.
I was a tiny bit apprehensive to go there. If there was a going to be any sort of terrorist act, I'm sure it would be at this tourist mecca. But, one must live life, so we went. And good thing too, it was awesome.
We started our evening on the bar deck. There were a couple of guys (middle aged, white) at the next table. We talked to them a bit and heard part of the story about the memorial. The widow also stopped by and we heard more. Tom was one of the men and he took our picture with my camera. We later learded his is a professional photographer/videographer so I can’t wait to see the pictures (although, what I have seen, I don’t think he will be wining a Pulitzer for these shots.
I had a Dawa to drink. Tom recommended a ‘Old Pal’ which is a Preponi’s specialty, vodka, bitters and soda. Just as we were finishing our drinks, Tom ordered us a couple of Old Pals. They were good. But he had left before we could thank him. So, we went to the restaurant side and had dinner. It was incredible. We started with sushi, followed by pasta and then a lime tart for dessert. We shared all courses.
As were were finishing up our tart, Alina was about to call Cosmo to come and walk us back to our hotel, it as dark by this point, but I said wait a few minutes so we don’t have to rush through dessert. The words were barely out of my mouth when Tom reappears. We invited him to join us. He bought another round of Old Pals. And then another and another. At some point, his friend Ian joined us. We were getting pretty hammered. We had a great old time. Tom is married and lives in Washington DC. He works for Associated Press Germany as a cameraman. He was in Lamu for the memorial. Ian is retired I think, or has some sort of boat business? He bought property in Lamu 40 years ago for 9000 pounds. Tom says it is worth 4 million now. I don’t know if he was exaggerating but it may be true judging by some of the beach houses here.
I don’t know how many drinks later, the restaurant closed and we were moved back to the bar patio. We were joined by the daughter of the dead proprietor. And her dog Gumbo who had been hanging around all night. He would come up to our table and drop a tiny stick at the edge of the table occasionally. I have a picture.
Then the bar closed and last round was called. I declined (for myself and Alina), it was late and we already three sheets to the wind. As it turned out, it was well past 11 and well past curfew and we were well past sober. The daughter/owner had one of the men who worked there escort us home. We figured out how to use the second fan so the night was not nearly so hot, but the hangover the next day was just as unpleasant as the heat.
We woke up the next morning when the hotel staff knocked on our door at 8am. Before we left for dinner, we had foolishly ordered breakfast for 8. Nothing to be done about it but get up and eat. Then we went back to bed. At some point, Alina went for a walk with Cosmo but I stayed at the hotel and read on the patio. In fact, I didn’t leave the hotel until the afternoon.
We had also told Cosmo we would like a henna. A henna lady arrived at noon. I had one hand done, Alina had her foot done.
I will now go on a tangent about cultural appropriation. Hennas are for weddings. Except for tourists who get them willy-nilly. Is this cultural appropriation? Is it any different than me wearing a Native feather headdress? If not, why not? Wearing headdresses is very culturally inappropriate these days in the US (and I assume Canada). Should I be vilified online for my henna as others have been for wearing a headdress? All interesting questions. But have cultures not shared/stolen fashion from each other for millennia? I know that west coast natives wear headdresses for dances sometimes but they are not tradiational for west coast bands. Is that not cultural appropriation. Is it ok because they are more closely related to central Canada tribes? Can I wear lederhosen because I am of European decent but not henna because it is from the India and the Middle East? Thus ends my rant and questions. Discuss amongst yourselves. By the way, I don’t mean that we should also start wearing Native headdresses. I think any group has the right to be offended by the actions of another group and ask that that action be ceased, I just wonder about the bigger ‘academic’ questions. (update: I had two people ask me if I just got married and I felt a bit foolish saying no, I am just a tourist with a henna.)
Quick break for breakfast. Breakfast at the Stop Over leaves something to be desired.
I am running out of time. We are being picked up in about 30 minutes for the boat to the airport for out flight back to Mombasa.
After the henna, Alina and I went for a walk down the beach and had a lovely swim. The water here is much nicer than Bomburi Beach in Mombasa. Less flotsam and much cooler. I walked back alone while Alina lay in the sun for a bit. I walked in my bare feet. When I arrived in Mombasa, my feet were really bad. But they are so much better now, ever since Uganda. It’s an Animism miracle!
Cosmo ordered us samosas for dinner. He had to go pick up a friend from the floating restaurant so we went to his mother’s house to pick them up. I met his mother, his sister and his niece, who fell asleep on the floor. Lovely ladies all.
We had our samosas early because I had requested a bird tour of the mangroves around Lamu and the other islands nearby. I, of course, wanted to go in the morning but the tide was too low. So we went in the evening. We had a power boat to take us and the captain assured us the evening was much better. Well, clearly the captain is no birder. As is understandable, he mixed up bird watching with looking at birds. Understandable but still annoying.
He took up to a place with lots of birds. Yes, lots of birds, but all the same species - which I already had. But it was really beautiful. As the sun set, thousands of beeeaters arrived and alit on a little floating island of plants. Then we headed back while the sun set. Lovely.
Early to bed and early to rise this morning. I had an hour at sunrise to sit on the deck and watch the tide go out. When the tide is high, it cuts off the beach to Lamu town. The boats that are normally on the sand are afloat. I watched a cat jump off a boat and have to swim to shore. I don’t know if this is his normal morning practice or if he got caught on the boat as the tide came in.
We are packing up now. I haven’t had internet in Lamu so I will be way behind. I am sure I will still be updating when I get back to Canada. But I am up to date again for writing my posts. Pictures are the bugaboo.
Apparently there had been riots and a short term curfew imposed in Mombasa while I was away. Over by the time I returned. Worse news, Morris, the school bus driver for Kencada school, his house burned down. His wife and four kids made it out in time but they lost everything. We went to see them on Saturday morning. They are staying at Kencada during the Christmas break. As horrible as their situation is, it happened at a convenient time with the school mostly empty. Anke is raising money for him so he can rebuild.
While we were at the school, a kitten that had been hanging around showed up. He let me pick him and he even purred while I was holding him. Anke had already noticed him and decided he would be the new household cat. We shoved him in a box and basically kidnapped him. Mona said he was the only survivor of a litter of six. He is so friendly, he must have been raised with people but they obviously kicked him out at some point. He is about 3 months old. He is covered in scars. On his head, legs, back. Mona thinks he was attacked by a dog. They are all healed but there is either a big clump of scar tissue or an infection on his back. Anke will take him to the vet while Alina and I are in Lamu.
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| His nose got cleaner eventually |
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| PICK ME UP! |
We named him Kelele, which means noisy in Swahili. He loves people so much, he just starts talking to them as soon as he sees anyone. And he just wants to be in a lap, anyone’s lap.
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| Anke's lap |
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| Alina's lap |
He peed in my backpack, it was still on the floor from my Uganda trip but fortunately, mostly emptied. But Freddie made him a litter box which he figured out quickly. He is very hungry.
(next day, Alina suggested we go for a swim and that’s seemed like a better idea than writing in my blog while hanging out in Lamu, paradise on earth.)
Once we got the cat settled, we had been invited to a fancy lunch at the neighbours. It was a ‘Black Lunch’. We all had to wear black clothes. Since no one wears black here, it was an interesting selection of outfits. All of the food was black or at least sort of black. The cook was a Spanish guy named Fernando. He made an Octopus appartizer, a squid salad with the ink to colour it black and a prawn pasta dish that was delicious but they used blue food dye to darken it so it looked awful.
The guests were very interesting. A selection of nationalities, Scottish, Spanish, American, Canadian, British and one Kenyan. They are all young professionals living in Mombasa, all but one (the Canadian) were working – architects, engineers, IT, NGO work, teacher. The Canadian guy whose name I don’t remember had made a bunch of money as an engineer in the oil patch and had been living on his profits in Mombasa for the last two years.
We left early, Anke and I had to get to the bank machine before Alina and I headed to Lamu the next morning. Just as well, while I am sure they all have a fascinating story to tell, I was a bit uncomfortable with this crowd. I talked to the Americans and the Kenyan woman. The rest of them were quite the clique. I can’t really describe it except that they were living an upper class lifestyle here. Considering I barely talked to them, I am painting with a very wide brush. Maybe they were just letting their hair down at a party (likely) but I was glad to go.
Alina and I were booked to fly out of Malindi on Sunday at 3ish. Malindi is a two hour drive up the coast. It is a small vacation town full of expat Italians. It was a lovely drive up the coast, although we never saw the water. We passed through Kalifi which I had heard was nice. I’m sure if I was a resort person, it would be but the town itself was pretty much the same as all other East Africa highway towns I have seen, maybe a bit more money in the area.
Mona, the head teacher from Kencada came for the drive. We drove around Malindi for a bit. We stopped for lunch at the Karen Blixon restaurant (the woman from ‘Out of Africa’). We had pizza and pasta, (when in an Italian outpost, do as the Italian expats do, I say). Then we walked out to the pier (I mention because I have photos) and then Alina and I were at the airport.
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| Below the pier |
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| View from the pier |
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| Alina, Mona and Anke |
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| Malindi Airport, view from the waiting room |
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| Our little Dash-8 |
Cosmo. How to explain Cosmo? He is a guy that Anke and Alina met on their first trip to Lamu. He is the guy you call when you need anything. A boat ride, food, information, an escort on walks, recommendations for dinner or shopping. I call him a paid friend.
Lamu, as you may know, is a bit of a ‘extremist’ hotspot. There was some trouble here with the Somali terrorists a while back. The Government of Canada has a special note to not go her (but not an actual travel restriction).
Lamu is an island and has no cars, only boats and donkeys for transportation. It is really beautiful with a long sandy beach. There are at least two small towns on Lamu Island, Lamu Town and Shella. Due to the troubles, Lamu is under curfew. But it is really hard to pin down the rules. From what I can understand, boats have to be docked by 6:30 pm. Everyone has to be indoors by 9pm. But that is more for Lamu town. I think it is true for Shella too but it less enforced.
Anyway, The airport is on a different island, Manda. We had to walk from the airport to the pier, about 10 minutes. Then we got on a boat and headed to Lamu Island.
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| Manda/Lamu airpot |
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| The walk to the dock |
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| Our ride |
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| The front of the boat, heading toward Lamu |
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| Lamu |
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| Cosmo taking a call |
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| Shella as we came in |
We were delivered to our hotel, the Stop Over, right on the water. We overlook the beach where the locals dock (without actual docks) their boats. So we have an interesting, active view of the comings and goings as well as maintenance. Unfortunately, we are tucked in a bit from the water so we get almost no breeze. Our first night was so hot. At some point in the night, I got up to get a wet cloth to drape across my torso to lower my body temperature. It was very uncomfortable.
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| The Stop Over. Our room is the back window one the second floor. |
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| Our room |
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| Our view from the balcony door |
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| Our Balcony. That is a mosque next door. It often had children singing inside. Very nice. |
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| The view from the 'hallway'. |
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| Sit and have a beer. |
View from our balcony
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We were staying in Shella. Pictures of Shella (sometimes spelled Shela).
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| Parking, always available |
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| Narrow, twisty streets |
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| Alina, leading the way |
At some point in the afternoon after we arrived we also took a walk along the beach.
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| There are dunes all along the beach. I wish we had time to explore them. |
For dinner on our first night, Cosmo brought us Samosas. Anke and Alina had been telling me how good they were so I was pretty stoked. They were right. These samosas are particularly delicious. Full of meat and spices. Each bite is a new flavour wave. First the meat, then the cinnamon and cardamom, then the chili and finally the pepper. I’m sure there is more in there that I can’t distinguish but that add to the wonder. I wish I could bring a thousand home with me.
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| Alina and Cosmo |
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| Dinner - perfection |
It is a 30-40 minute walk to Lamu along the beach. Cosmo was going to escort us to Lamu town on Monday morning but he got called to court. Alina wanted to wait for him to take us but I figured we could manage. And we did. Except it was the hottest day ever on Monday. Alina looked at the weather online and it was 40 degrees. We left for Lamu at 9am and it was already blazing.
Lamu town is like a mini, hipper Zanizibar. Due to many countries listing Lamu as a ‘area to avoid’ there are barely any tourists here. We wandered through the narrow, twisty streets, trying not to get in the way of the donkeys who are about as wide as the streets. After the cheap prices of Uganda, I find it expensive here. The ‘tourists’ who are here are wealthy Europeans, who return each year, many of whom own holiday houses. And total different sort than the Zanzibar tourists who arrive on package tours.
But, high prices or not, they have some neat crafts here. I finally broke down and bought a bag made from a Kakoi. I could only hold out for so long, I'm only human! It is great. And there is a silversmith who makes jewelry from broken china found on old shipwrecks. I have never seen anything similar so I bought a bunch for myself and as gifts. A few other little things. I also bought myself a blouse of the flimsiest cotton. It looked so cool, I had to have it.
Here a million photos of Lamu town and our walk to and from.
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| The walk starts on the beach and then about a quarter of the way, there is a walkway. |
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| If the tide is high, the beach is cut off and you can't get to the walkway. |
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| Bags! I couldn't resist any more. |
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| What appeared to be the main square |
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| Claustrophobic streets |
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| Could I be any redder! This was the silversmith who makes the shipwrecked china jewelry. He asked, so I printed him a copy of this photo, so if you go there, you may see me. |
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| The wall of a local artist's gift shop. Amazingly, I did not buy one. |
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| Same shop. Alina waiting for me to stop dithering. |
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| The cat in the other photo. Way high up. |
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| Like Zanzibar, there were lots of cats. This one was way high up. |
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| A kitten, who can resist a kitten photo. Not me. |
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| Take my picture, take my picture. |
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| I bought honey and sugar in this spice shop. |
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| Road blocked (note the poo since I am now obsessed with animal excrement) |
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| This was one frisky baby donkey. He was jumping all over the place, I was lucky to get him still for a minute |
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| Walking back. |
We had lunch at a local (non-tourist) restaurant. I don’t know what we had but it was a spicy beef concoction on rice. We had planned to take a boat back to Shella but Cosmo was still in court so we just walked back. It was still so hot.
By the time we got back to the hotel, I was soaked through. I did a quick wash of myself and my clothes. Then we had a leisurely couple of hours on the deck while we cooled down and my clothes dried.
That evening, we went to Peponi’s, the fancy restaurant in Shella. And, Alina and I ended up on a weird double date AGAIN, but not creepy like the last one in Zanzibar.
Peponi’s has been around for 50 or so years. It was started by a couple (European of some sort). Their son took over and he just recently died. As it turned out, his memorial is this weekend so there are people arriving from all over the world to attend what sounds like will be the greatest party ever. We were quasi-invited but we will be gone by then.
I was a tiny bit apprehensive to go there. If there was a going to be any sort of terrorist act, I'm sure it would be at this tourist mecca. But, one must live life, so we went. And good thing too, it was awesome.
We started our evening on the bar deck. There were a couple of guys (middle aged, white) at the next table. We talked to them a bit and heard part of the story about the memorial. The widow also stopped by and we heard more. Tom was one of the men and he took our picture with my camera. We later learded his is a professional photographer/videographer so I can’t wait to see the pictures (although, what I have seen, I don’t think he will be wining a Pulitzer for these shots.
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| On the deck with our drinks. That is my new cotton shirt |
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| That is my new shipwreck ring. |
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| Glamour shot (of Alina). |
I had a Dawa to drink. Tom recommended a ‘Old Pal’ which is a Preponi’s specialty, vodka, bitters and soda. Just as we were finishing our drinks, Tom ordered us a couple of Old Pals. They were good. But he had left before we could thank him. So, we went to the restaurant side and had dinner. It was incredible. We started with sushi, followed by pasta and then a lime tart for dessert. We shared all courses.
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| The Old Pal |
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| Tom |
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| We had a couple of other visitos to our table. This is Gumbo. He was holding a tiny stick |
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| Unnamed cat. Hello. |
As were were finishing up our tart, Alina was about to call Cosmo to come and walk us back to our hotel, it as dark by this point, but I said wait a few minutes so we don’t have to rush through dessert. The words were barely out of my mouth when Tom reappears. We invited him to join us. He bought another round of Old Pals. And then another and another. At some point, his friend Ian joined us. We were getting pretty hammered. We had a great old time. Tom is married and lives in Washington DC. He works for Associated Press Germany as a cameraman. He was in Lamu for the memorial. Ian is retired I think, or has some sort of boat business? He bought property in Lamu 40 years ago for 9000 pounds. Tom says it is worth 4 million now. I don’t know if he was exaggerating but it may be true judging by some of the beach houses here.
I don’t know how many drinks later, the restaurant closed and we were moved back to the bar patio. We were joined by the daughter of the dead proprietor. And her dog Gumbo who had been hanging around all night. He would come up to our table and drop a tiny stick at the edge of the table occasionally. I have a picture.
Then the bar closed and last round was called. I declined (for myself and Alina), it was late and we already three sheets to the wind. As it turned out, it was well past 11 and well past curfew and we were well past sober. The daughter/owner had one of the men who worked there escort us home. We figured out how to use the second fan so the night was not nearly so hot, but the hangover the next day was just as unpleasant as the heat.
We woke up the next morning when the hotel staff knocked on our door at 8am. Before we left for dinner, we had foolishly ordered breakfast for 8. Nothing to be done about it but get up and eat. Then we went back to bed. At some point, Alina went for a walk with Cosmo but I stayed at the hotel and read on the patio. In fact, I didn’t leave the hotel until the afternoon.
We had also told Cosmo we would like a henna. A henna lady arrived at noon. I had one hand done, Alina had her foot done.
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| Our henna lady prepping the henna She was tiny, shorter than me. |
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| I look exactly like I felt, hung over. |
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| Drawing Alina's foot design |
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| Finished |
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| My hand, with red added |
I will now go on a tangent about cultural appropriation. Hennas are for weddings. Except for tourists who get them willy-nilly. Is this cultural appropriation? Is it any different than me wearing a Native feather headdress? If not, why not? Wearing headdresses is very culturally inappropriate these days in the US (and I assume Canada). Should I be vilified online for my henna as others have been for wearing a headdress? All interesting questions. But have cultures not shared/stolen fashion from each other for millennia? I know that west coast natives wear headdresses for dances sometimes but they are not tradiational for west coast bands. Is that not cultural appropriation. Is it ok because they are more closely related to central Canada tribes? Can I wear lederhosen because I am of European decent but not henna because it is from the India and the Middle East? Thus ends my rant and questions. Discuss amongst yourselves. By the way, I don’t mean that we should also start wearing Native headdresses. I think any group has the right to be offended by the actions of another group and ask that that action be ceased, I just wonder about the bigger ‘academic’ questions. (update: I had two people ask me if I just got married and I felt a bit foolish saying no, I am just a tourist with a henna.)
Quick break for breakfast. Breakfast at the Stop Over leaves something to be desired.
I am running out of time. We are being picked up in about 30 minutes for the boat to the airport for out flight back to Mombasa.
After the henna, Alina and I went for a walk down the beach and had a lovely swim. The water here is much nicer than Bomburi Beach in Mombasa. Less flotsam and much cooler. I walked back alone while Alina lay in the sun for a bit. I walked in my bare feet. When I arrived in Mombasa, my feet were really bad. But they are so much better now, ever since Uganda. It’s an Animism miracle!
Cosmo ordered us samosas for dinner. He had to go pick up a friend from the floating restaurant so we went to his mother’s house to pick them up. I met his mother, his sister and his niece, who fell asleep on the floor. Lovely ladies all.
We had our samosas early because I had requested a bird tour of the mangroves around Lamu and the other islands nearby. I, of course, wanted to go in the morning but the tide was too low. So we went in the evening. We had a power boat to take us and the captain assured us the evening was much better. Well, clearly the captain is no birder. As is understandable, he mixed up bird watching with looking at birds. Understandable but still annoying.
He took up to a place with lots of birds. Yes, lots of birds, but all the same species - which I already had. But it was really beautiful. As the sun set, thousands of beeeaters arrived and alit on a little floating island of plants. Then we headed back while the sun set. Lovely.
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| Then more |
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| First one, it doesn't even look real it is so beautifully coloured |
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| Then lots |
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| Yikes. |
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| The sun set as we sped back to Lamu |
Early to bed and early to rise this morning. I had an hour at sunrise to sit on the deck and watch the tide go out. When the tide is high, it cuts off the beach to Lamu town. The boats that are normally on the sand are afloat. I watched a cat jump off a boat and have to swim to shore. I don’t know if this is his normal morning practice or if he got caught on the boat as the tide came in.
We are packing up now. I haven’t had internet in Lamu so I will be way behind. I am sure I will still be updating when I get back to Canada. But I am up to date again for writing my posts. Pictures are the bugaboo.
