Lamu-On an island off the north-east coast of Kenya, just 40KM from the Somalia border and a pirate filled sea, I vacationed with my new safari-partner (advertised for right here on this blog), Scott M.
Lamu is the heart of Swahili culture and I had a chance to really hone my Swahili while there. Scott is fluent, so he made contact immediately. It is also his nature to ask questions, very personal questions, about leases and livelihoods, culture and language, and how the economy is going. While I tried to smile and interpret the gist of the conversation through hand signals, Scott made friends, lots of them. Yes, I am quite friendly and outgoing, but even I get tired. As the weekend went on we collected many new friends so by the final night dining at Bush Gardens on a seafood platter of lobster, shrimp, and fish, no less than 6 of our friends stopped by to chat. They were all very considerate of our time, spending only 5 minutes a piece, but by number 6 and what with the cat meowing for scraps at our feet, it kinda starts to ruin your appetite.
Most of those guys were “beach boys” or “captains” of sailboats, called dhows. We met at least 3 guys named Captain Ali, including the man who captained our dhow trip. For just over $10 a piece we joined up with a sweet and funny young duo from the University of Minnesota and cruised around Lamu and Manda islands. We came aground on Manda where we spend the day playing in the surf, walking on the deserted beach, and eating yellow snapper and biriani cooked over an open fire. We also “fished” unsuccessfully on a reef with angel fish and then snorkeled over it later.
The previous day we had hiked from Lamu town to Shela beach. We wanted to be there early and make it back for lunch. By the time we got up, ate breakfast and walked for an hour it was 11:30am. We had the beach virtually to ourselves. At one point there was no one as far as the eye could see. It was so hot we played in the water for most of the day.
We went back for an afternoon of shopping through Lamu’s narrow winding streets filled with open sewers and donkey shit. There are no cars on the island, so donkeys do all the work. In the sweltering heat this old town really heats up. You can imagine the smell, but the architecture is beautiful, and oh the doors! We passed half a dozen workshops where young men carved ornate doors by hand. We decided that by the time we have a house we will be able to afford to ship one home.
My most unfavourite part of Lamu, and unfortunately, Kenya in general, are the lies. Lies rolled off the tongues of Lamu’s residents easier than flattery at a strip club. No matter the question, no matter the true answer, they seemed to be committed to telling us what they thought we wanted to hear. I have a similar problem in many of my refugee interviews. One Somali woman with 9 dependant children said to me yesterday, “Yes, the truth, whatever truth you want.”
We met this one guy, Slim the jeweler. He was lovely. He invited us for Arabic coffee flavoured with cinnamon and another “special” ingredient he refused to provide. He talked of all the people who have come into his shop and all the elders in the town. Then he showed us all their pictures. I took a picture with him after playing the Olympian card and getting a sweet discount. His store was filled with pictures: Jimmy Carter, Oprah, and the Queen. He wore an Obama pin on his shirt.
There was also the Olympic Restaurant. Our waiter had a Canadian pin, so we told him we were Canadian. He was so delighted, he skipped to the back to tell the owner who then came out and told us his entire family lived in Vancouver. I again played the Olympic card (I couldn’t help myself it was the Olympic Restaurant!), and our dinner was cooked with extra special care. Scott took our picture and we have promised to send it along with a Canadian flag that they want to hang up inside.
The only thing that was really crummy about our stay was the hostel, the Casaurina Guest House. While Lonely Planet said its roof deck was a social paradise, it was closed, and there wasn’t even any soap in the dirty bathroom. In case you didn’t notice, I’m not what you call a real hardcore backpacker. I like clean. We did have an ocean view, so we woke up to sunrises each day.
Despite some of my complaints the trip was amazing. Having a safari partner like Scott was everything I could ask for and Lamu was the perfect destination.
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