New Year in Lamu

I’ve written such a lot recently that it feels like I should give you a break but I have to say a few words about spending New Year in Lamu.

It used to be a hippy hotspot back in the day, like Goa in India. Now it’s hailed by all the guidebooks as a must see part of Kenya’s coast. “Lamu” the holiday destination is actually 3 islands Lamu, Manda and Pate. Most people only get as far as Lamu, the nearest to the mainland and perhaps most people are a little disappointed to find, instead of the promised paradise island, something like a smaller, dirtier version of Venice. There are amazingly empty beaches but you have to get a dhow out to the more distant islands to see them.

If you had to pinpoint the exact spot where Africa meets Asia I’d say this was it, the culture being genuine Swahili (the rest of Kenya just speak Swahili) is obviously infused with Arabic culture and the fact that it’s a Muslim island enhances its Middle Eastern look. The sandy hills on the beach at Manda made me feel like I could be in Dubai.

To reach the ferry we took a five hour bumpy bus ride north, mostly on dirt roads with some stops to let villagers push their wares through the windows at us. Rachel was very amused at my slight altercation with a woman who seemed insistent on selling me a live chicken and tried to persuade me to buy it by pushing its bottom in my face. Beware if you go the Mangoes sprinkled with Masala. The heat and thirst might persuade you they’re worth a try but unless you like hot peppery fruit don’t buy one. Mine had to go out of the window, why spoil a perfectly good fruit?! (In my opinion)

After a few days in Lamu though, I began to understand its subtler charms. On the surface it’s a little grey and there’s a lot of donkey dung. The streets are too small for cars so donkeys are used everywhere for haulage (there are so many that some people from Cornwall started a donkey sanctuary there to look after them. The British still get everywhere…) It was strange to see a donkey with a traditional pannier across its back filled with Coca Cola bottles (they get everywhere too). This in part illustrates the appeal of the place: it’s a total mix of tourist eateries and touts eager for your business and locals carrying out their daily business by donkey between their old Swahili houses. There are virtually no vehicles but several internet cafes and yet somehow these things sit side by side comfortably without looking crass. Despite the number of western tourists, after a few days you really feel like you’ve left the rest of the planet behind. Add to that the compact size of the place, at least the area where the hotels are based and it doesn’t take long for people to recognise you in the street - those that want your business and those that have already had it and are just happy to stop and chat – and you feel even more sucked in to this alternative world. Rachel certainly made friends fast with her ability to converse a little in Swahili and we got used to people shouting her name as we walked along.

We were only there for a few days so didn’t try to fit too much in. I was still exhausted from Christmas and still not eating much. On the second day of our trip I went the entire day without feeling hungry and I knew something must be wrong (although it did save me some money!) It turned out to be a stomach problem which began to right itself while we were away. The low point of my Lamu holiday has to be some best forgotten toilet experiences. Rachel couldn’t believe my bad luck, I always seemed to come across them first. I’ve learnt that the most expensive café does not automatically equal the cleanest toilet.

The day before New Years Eve we booked our dhow trip across to Manda with Captain Ali and his second in command, Sunflower. (Don’t be fooled by the girly name, Sunflower was no pansy). The trip confirmed what I’ve suspected for a while – I get seasick. It’s ironic with all the sailing I’ve done in my life but then most of that has been inland, and when I look back at each of the few times I’ve been in a boat on the ocean I’ve felt unwell. I’m rubbish at being ill and generally feel very sorry for myself but the others we’d gone with were very polite and didn’t complain when they were fishing over one side of the boat while I was being sick over the other. Captain Ali was also kind (his dad taught him to sail as a child and he was frequently sick). He let me lie down in the boat on his kikoy. I was nearly asleep when Rachel shouted me awake, I had just enough strength to sit up and see the dolphins that were swimming next to us.

I felt better later and when Sunflower and Ali cooked the fish we’d caught on the beach it was like the best meal I’d ever had. Then we lay in the shade on the quiet and thankfully still undeveloped beach at Manda. Later when we docked back in Lamu we found ourselves invited into Ali’s parents’ house which was right on the sea front for a cup of chai.

New Years Eve started at 3pm when we sat on the roof of our guest house and toasted in the Australian New Year for Rachel. She’d insisted on getting us a bottle of Amarula (like an African version of Baileys) despite the fact that it meant a slightly covert search on this Muslim island where no alcohol is sold in the normal shops. We were told there was “someone” who could get it for you and Rachel asked if this was against my “morals”. I wasn’t too uncomfortable until it transpired the only place to buy it was at the ‘Police Canteen’. There’s not enough space now and I’m not sure I understand enough after 2 months to explain quite how the police stand in Kenyan society. Suffice to say that despite coming across what seemed like a perfectly legitimate shop I wasn’t sure we’d done the right thing. In the end Rachel wouldn’t be separated from her Amarula and offered to pay for most of it. We also came across Captain Ali’s dad in the shop who demanded 50 shillings from us as a ‘Christmas present’ to buy a bottle of gin.

We danced the Kenyan New Year in at an open air party on Shella beach. It’s a half hours walk along the coast from Lamu town where a lot of the more expensive hotels are based. We ordered soft drinks at one of these hotels then walked further along the beach to where the music was coming from and the mixture of locals and wazungus was a little more balanced. The DJ didn’t seem too bothered about when midnight actually struck but a group of American students alerted us with their cheering. Then they let fireworks off in Lamu and we walked to the top of the sand dunes to watch them. After a random and fruitless trip across the bay in another dhow (they sail at night there!) and a drink at Petleys with some friends we’d made along the way I found I was still awake at 3am and Rachel and I celebrated the British New Year by listing our resolutions for 2009. Definitely a New Years Eve to remember…

The other interesting thing about being in Lamu was getting to know Rachel better and I’d like to say so much more here but it feels wrong without her consent. I hope the last few entries have given you a feel for the kind of person she is. I also hope she’ll turn up again at some point. She did say she’d try to come back to Mwamba. We went our separate ways on New Years Day, me back to Watamu on the bumpy bus (this one was so full I had a girl sleeping against my legs most of the way). Rachel stayed in Lamu to watch the annual dhow races and left the next day. I think she’s somewhere in Tanzania now and maybe I’ll join her in a couple of weeks.

The photos show:
Rachel sailing
Toasting Australian New Year
Ali & Sunflower