Lamu pole pole

When you wake up from a really amazing dream, there's always that feeling of sadness that creeps into your bed, slowly stealing away your happiness as you realize the dream is over and done. You might call it a good dream hangover. I am currently experiencing one, and I've only been back in Nairobi a matter of hours. Sigh.

Lamu was everything I had dared to hope and so much more. It certainly lives up to its reputation as a tropical paradise, tourists' heaven, and retirement destination. White sand beaches, emerald green water, mangrove forests and palm trees, coconut milk sold fresh on the street (straight out of the coconuts themselves), and glorious sunsets. And the town! I'll see if I can describe it, at least a little. There are hardly appropriate words.

Sailing from the airport on Manda Island to Lamu, I could have sworn I was on the Mediterranean approaching some coastal village in Greece. There are old buildings with Arabic architecture and chipping white paint, traditional wooden dhows all along the sea front, streets far too narrow for cars to pass through, donkeys carrying bricks and grain and mangoes and passengers, shops with traditional Muslim clothing and bright African fabric, calls to prayer echoing from the mosque, and samosas, plantain, and cassava root frying in the streets. I saw one tractor, one ambulance, and a parked taxi while I was there, but no cars – donkeys take care of the rest of the transportation and add an interesting odor to the usual smells of fish and saltwater. There are two bars and two dance clubs on the entire island, and the single movie theater is really only used to broadcast football (soccer) games. The vast majority of shops close at noon on Fridays for Friday prayer. Life is simple and pole pole (slow), and that is what is glorious about it.

The mixture of cultures in Lamu is unlike anywhere in the world I've ever heard or read about. I see three distinct sub-cultures. The first is the tourist culture. The economy of Lamu is entirely dependent on tourism (you can only imagine how the violence has affected the lives of villagers), and many of the major attractions are catered to tourists. A mzungu cannot walk through the streets of town without being greeted by nearly everyone and offered donkey rides, fishing trips, and dhow rides to the famous resort at Shella Beach. Even the children in Lamu greet you with, “Jambo,” which is a greeting used almost exclusively by tourists (Kenyans don't actually say it), because they're so used to European strangers entering their town. The second subculture is traditional Islamic culture – the traditional dress, the mosques, the lack of alcohol on the island, and the need to hide your shoulders and knees while in town. The third, which I feel is generally pushed beneath the surface in travel books, is Rastafarian beach culture. Young people have midnight bonfires on the beach, smoke lots of marijuana, sing reggae to rhythm beat out on recycled plastic jugs, and worship Bob Marley. I haven't the slightest idea how those three cultures can coexist so harmoniously in such a small town.

Anyway, we spent two nights on Lamu Island, explored the town (a half hour walk down the only street in the village takes you from one end to the other), shopped (single-handedly reviving the Lamu economy, I feel), and feasted on fresh Swahili-style seafood and passion/lime juice. We also had a chance to meet and befriend the lost tribe of Kenya, the beach boys. They're what you might call “sweet young things” who do odd jobs around Lamu and, to be quite blunt, seduce older European women who visit as tourists. Sex tourism absolutely thrives in Lamu. But the boys (named Incognito, Captain Smile, Sunflower, Fishbrains, Starboy, and other ridiculous nicknames) threw a midnight bonfire for us and taught us the Lamu version of “Take Me Home, Country Road.” An entirely bizarre lifestyle.

We then spent two nights on Manda Island at a small eco-lodge. The place was an absolute dream. I played on the beach, swam several times a day, walked down to see the tidal pools at low tide, and sailed at every possible opportunity. I might even be slightly less pale when the pink on my shoulders fades. Our dhow escorts, who knew the students last semester, were the champion sailing crew in Lamu and four of the most attractive boys I've met in my entire life. Needless to say, we had a great time, and they gave me a Swahili name (Amina). The skipper invited me to stay with him when I come back to Lamu. At least I know that if this IR thing doesn't work out, I can marry a gorgeous sailor and live out my days on a dhow in Lamu. Can't say I'd mind too much... hahaha.

We also visited the Takwa ruins on Manda, which are the remains of a Swahili village that was abandoned a few centuries back. It's built entirely of coral rag, and the area is covered with acacia and baobab trees. Completely beautiful. You have to get there by dhow and navigate several kms of mangrove swamp, then escape before low tide beaches the dhow. I have literally hundreds of pictures. Get ready for those.

The islands are naturally intoxicating – you get swept up in the beauty and the romance of it all and have no need for anything else in the world. The weather was perfect. I was able to walk on the beach for hours every night, late into the morning. There is absolutely nothing like it. Wading in the Indian Ocean under the stars and full moon, the breeze whipping my hair and skirt, reggae music from the beach party carried on the wind, local dogs trotting along behind me... I could easily have floated away on the breeze. On the plane ride home, I finally started remembering all that I had to worry about... yet here I am, still dreaming about Lamu when I should be studying for midterms. Such is life.

As I haven't properly slept for four days (thanks to the damn moonlit beaches), I should wrap this up. Back to school now. There's a terrible week ahead, but safariing at Maasai Mara at the end. Again, sorry for not being in touch, but I'll work on catching up with the emails and talk to you all as soon as I find the time.