Lamu

E filled you in on the to and from Lamu, so here’s the actual visit. We pulled up to the dock right after sunset on Saturday, and were immediately greeted by a mob of young men offering to help carry our bags. They weren’t going to directly rob us, but thanks to our guidebook, we knew that if we let them carry our bags to the hotel, our bill would be increased by 50%, as the hotels pay the bagboy/hustlers some ridiculous sum for their services. Our hotel, Kipepeo (butterfly, in Swahili), sent an employee with a sign to meet us, who we thankfully found very quickly, and then walked a quarter mile to the guesthouse. We were greeted by a charming German woman and her Kenyan husband, who showed us to our rooms. The rooms were small, but charming, with big windows overlooking the ocean. A and I’s room was on the top floor with a large breezy roof deck. Thank you, Rough Guide to Kenya. We settled in, unpacked a little, showered off our dust-covered bodies from the bus ride, and headed out to dinner.


We haven’t done much walking around after dark, as many areas in Kenya (and Cleveland, for that matter), aren’t safe. Lamu, for some reason, is perfectly safe after dark. Sleep was unfortunately somewhat fleeting that first night. Mosquitoes found a chink in our bed net armor, and terrorized us throughout the night. It’s a catch-22 here: Without open windows, the air is stifling, but with the screenless windows open, the mosquitoes come. My poor sweet wife welts up immediately after being bitten, so she especially was not a happy camper. We did sneak some sleep here and there, but were awakened for good by the salat (call to prayer) at 4 am. This was followed shortly after by an earlybird rooster that decided that 4 am was sunrise, and literally crowed non-stop the rest of the morning. Several donkeys soon joined in for an early morning surround-sound experience. We did enjoy a nice sunrise from the balcony of the hotel, and once we found an awake A and I, we headed out into town for breakfast.

Sunrise from our balcony:



Lamu is on the north coast of Kenya, less than 50 miles from the Somali border. The town has been continually inhabited for over 800 years, and like much of the coast, it has the attractive blend of Arabic, Indian, and African influence. One claim to fame is that there are no cars on the island, save one: An ambulance. For donkeys. These things aren’t just pets, they really work them. Those are coral bricks he’s carrying. (shout out to E for the excellent photography).



Walking and riding donkeys are the only ways to get around the town, and the “roads” reflect this. The town is a labyrinth of alleys lined by three and four-story buildings of Arabic styling. Though I’ve never been, apparently it is reminiscent of Venice. It’s a unique experience to be walking through a narrow alley, and then ducking out of the way after hearing the frantic “clip-clop” of running donkey with a boy on its back. Lamu is actually a UNESCO World Heritage Site, as it’s the oldest Swahili town to retain its original city plan. In general, this retention of history is charming, but it has a downside, as the open gutters flowing through the back alleys are also original.



We walked to our intended breakfast spot, a nicer restaurant that is renowned for their excellent western breakfast with coffee, and at the threshold of the restaurant, a pleasant man walked in before us and led us to an empty table in the back of the restaurant. “Karibuni sana”, “you’re all welcome”, he said. Soon after, another man came over with menus and asked if we were with the man who led us to the table. No, we weren’t. “He is not a good man”, the waiter said plainly. This is something that we’ve begun to notice more and more. Hustlers just hang out around popular wazungu sights, and when they see that you’re about to enter, they “lead” you in, and unless you tell the proprietor that that person is not your guide, there will be a hidden surcharge that goes to your “guide’s” commission. Sneaky.

Anyways, surcharge successfully avoided. Breakfast was delicious, and with that fuel, we headed back out and saw the excellent Lamu museum, the Lamu fort, and walked by the Donkey Sanctuary, which was unfortunately closed on Sundays. We then walked a few blocks from Harambee St (the main street), and found the largest mosque in town. A and I decided to head in to check it out, but unfortunately, the ladies had to remain outside due to Islamic cultural practices in Lamu. We took off our sandals and headed in, noting the few men around praying, as there was recently a huzzan. We sat down and were just looking around, when two young men came over and sat down near us. They smiled and asked our names, and we did our best Swahili introductions. They asked if we were Muslim or if we knew Arabic, and we said no on both accounts. There was a bit of a language barrier, as they obviously spoke little English, but we managed to ask if it was OK that we were there, and they responded with a friendly “karibu”. The man with the best English asked if we were Catholic, and I responded, “no, but we’re Christian”. “Do you not like Muslims?”, he queried. A little nervous, I told him that we did like Muslims, and we respect many things about their religion. The conversation stalled a little at this point, and we took the opportunity to head back out to join the rest of the party.

A and I talked about the interaction, and we both agreed that it was kind of uncomfortable, probably more by fault of us than them. We were both self-conscious about being disrespectful to another religion, but when you add on top of that the historical tensions between Islam and Christianity, especially since 9/11, I was definitely nervous. I think that they were honestly just trying to make conversation, or “shoot the shit”, as A put it.

We spent the rest of the day slowly wandering the narrow streets of Lamu, ducking in and out of shops, sampling the street food, and just enjoying a rather unstructured stroll. Though I wasn’t aware before our visit, Lamu is actually renowned for their woodworking, especially the doors. Below is a “Zanzibar door”, but the Lamu doors are similar. We found a small woodworking shop where the guy specialized in furniture and crafts made from salvaged dhow wood. This was appealing both because it didn’t require the hacking down of old-growth forests, and because E is a sailor. While we both loved a coffee table made with the transom of dhow, we agreed that it’s 150 lbs would make for ridiculous shipping costs, so we settled on a medium-sized picture frame of salvaged wood, which is still very cool.

We had a great and inexpensive dinner of snapper, giant local crab, lobster, and coconut rice, and then headed up to the roof deck for a few drinks. We managed to get a fan inside of our bed net to literally blow the mosquitoes off of it, and it actually worked! The next morning we were still up at 4 am with the salat, roosters, and the hee-haw of donkeys, but got better sleep.

Our final task was getting a ferry back to the bus on the mainland. The public ferry assured us that the 7:30 ferry would be back to the mainland by 8, and we’d have plenty of time to get on our bus that was supposed to board at 7:30. We found this to be fuzzy math, so we ended up taking a speedboat taxi which was only a few shillings more. When we arrived at the mainland 2 hours before our bus actually left, we realized that the fuzzy math was actually just Kenyan-reality math.

E already apprised you of the return home. All in all, it was a lot of travel for a short visit, but the full day was actually about enough to experience the atmosphere and sights of Lamu.