Goodbye Lamu. I’ll miss you.
I left Lamu today and, after a short and easy flight via Kenya Airways, am now back in Nairobi. I was a little sad to leave the island—after one week, I was beginning to feel pretty settled in. Each day was about the same:
10AM:
Wake up to the happy yells of children playing in the courtyard of the madrassa next door. It’s the second time I wake up each morning—the first being during the mosque’s pre-dawn call for prayer, which at that hour sounds a lot less beautiful than its afternoon and evening counterparts.
10AM-12PM:
“Shower” by sprinkling ice cold water on those parts of my body that can withstand the frigid temperatures. (My sensitive back had not been washed properly for the entire week, but since I couldn’t see [or smell] it, it seemed ok.) Dress in bathing suit and modest clothing for my walk to the beach. The road will be lined with friendly men and women that have come accustomed to seeing me walk past—lots and lots of “Jambos” and “Habaris” (How are you?) ensue.
12PM-5PM:
Doze at beach. Watch waves. Contemplate existence. Avoid buying overpriced cold samosas or trinkets from sellers who, with the absence of tourists during low season, see me as their only potential customer and come to ask me if I’m hungry and/or need jewelry at least once an hour.
5PM-7PM:
Drink a cup of sweet, milky chai with friends at a waterfront café, and then read the national newspaper that finally arrives on the island in the evenings. Watch lots of donkeys – Lamu’s preferred method of transport— amble past.
7PM-9PM:
Relax on balcony at the guesthouse beside the rooftop’s resident turtles. Go to blog at a nearby internet café. Swat at mosquitoes that always seem to appear at dusk and find patches of my skin that lack DEET protection.
9PM-11PM:
Feast on grilled seafood with friends.
11PM-1AM:
Go to the local “disco” where the bouncer is a Masaai warrior, complete with traditional cloth wraps and walking stick, and young girls “embarrassed” by dancing dirty with their boyfriends hide their faces in scarves. Play pool against a beach boy named “Aloe Vera.”
1AM:
Crash into carved, wooden Swahili bed draped in mosquito netting, exhausted by a hard day of relaxation.
***
Leaving Lamu by air was also a treat. For the first time, I “drove” by boat to the airport, which is located on another island opposite Lamu. Then, I learned that “airport” actually meant four open-sided, thatched roof huts—1 for a “security” room that lacked a metal detector, 2 for the two airlines that depart from the island (Lamu is a pretty happening place during high season), and 1 for the “waiting room”—and a cement block building selling bottles of soda and biscuits that had the words “duty-free shop” hand-painted in shaky letters on one of its walls. Brightly colored posters highlighting Kenya Airways’ destinations hung from roughly carved wooden poles. I hoped that some donkeys would show up and begin wandering along the lone runway, but I guess that they posed a security risk.
The internet cafe’s closing now. More later!
Tags: Airport, Kenya, Lamu, RTW 07/08
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