To Lamu

I have always been one to pick the most remote spot on the map of any country and decide I want to go there! In Brazil I wanted to go to Oiapoque (though never made it), in Trinidad I chose to go to Toco, Cedros and Moruga, in Uganda I went to Kissoro, in Kenya I chose to go to Lamu.
Lamu is Kenya’s oldest inhabited tows, and is supposed to have changed little over the centuries. Access is exclusively by boat from the mainland, though there is an airstrip on a neighbouring island. There is reportedly one car on the island belonging to the District Commissioner. The streets are narrow and winding. People walk or use donkeys. Sounds like my kind of challenge.
I first heard of Lamu three years ago while in Tanzania, during its annual Swahili festival. I find Swahili culture fascinating and saw a very good documentary on the festival on Tanzanian TV. Last year while in Kenya again I had considered going to Lamu but chose to go to Ghana instead (and yes, I went to the most remote spot there too). This year I passed through Kenya to go to a conference in Zambia and decided it was now or never.
I had to weigh several options. Kenya must be the most exciting place to visit in Africa; there is so much to do. Masai Mara park? Karen Blixen museum? Mount Meru hike? A trip across the border to Ngorongoro or Serengeti? Cultural villages? The beaches around Mombasa? I said no to all, and chose to go to the remote village of Lamu.
So now I write from this remote island near to Somalia. I survived the trip!
My safari began almost by chance. Though I had the idea of coming here all along, I really had some business to do in Nairobi, and wasn’t sure how long that would take, so my plans had to be very flexible. My supplier, Richard, and I had a very good meeting on Wednesday and he asked what I was doing on Thursday, if I wanted to go to the town where the work was done, Kisii. Of course! Those of you who know me, know that I need no second offer. So we made plans to meet the following day. I informed my hostess that I’d be traveling and packed my bags. My plan was to go to Kisii, then on my return visit Mombasa, another Kenyan city that I’d never visited before, then come back to Nairobi to collect my things.
In the middle of the night I get a text message from Richard. ‘Can’t take you to Kisii tomorrow, maybe you should go directly to Mombasa and then we’ll go when you come back.’ So in the morning I was on the bus to Mombasa, all the while wondering ‘what am I going to do in Mombasa?’
The ride was LONG. About 8 – 9 hours. The landscape was beautiful as it always is in this region, if not a little monotonous. The dryness, thorn bushes and baobab trees can only keep us interested for so long! However there were some colubus monkeys along the roadway just before the city of Voi to provide some interest.
The heavens opened about an hour before we arrived in Mombasa. I steupsed as I remembered looking twice at the umbrella then actually taking it out of my bag! So I arrived in Mombasa, which on an ordinary day is probably a pleasant city, to pouring rain, and in some places knee high flood waters. I was not pleased. To make matters worse I ended up with a phenomenal taxi bill (almost the cost of my bus ticket!) because the taxi had to take me to the bus station, and then two hotels. The first because I decided I did not want to stay in Mombasa and was trying to get on the next bus, and two hotels because the first was full.
I ended up staying at Berachah, a clean but simple place with a restaurant inside. Very important on a rainy night.
The following morning my expensive taxi came back for me and drove me about two blocks to the bus stand! At night I couldn’t work out the distance! I was lucky enough to get the last ticket. We boarded on time, but somehow no one could get the bus started! We left an hour late.
Being Ramadhan and given that we are along the East African coast, Islam is everywhere. So when I was just about to turn on my IPod, the loud speakers began to blare what could only have been the sermon for the day in Swahili and Arabic. This continued for about 3 hours! Then they switched from the evangelizing gentleman to a woman, giving her sermon, also in Swahili, among the few words I picked out were something about ‘sketi transparenti’ (transparent skirts), I’m glad I couldn’t understand it because I suddenly became conscious of the fact I was one of only two women in the bus with an uncovered head, and I was the only one in short sleeves.
Ramadhan probably was not such a good time to go to Lamu!
My expensive driver promised me the trip was five hours. I don’t know if his Swahili time is different to everyone else’s but it took eight hours. An interesting trip through a vast and empty landscape. The highlights of this trip were seeing hippos bathing in a pond, baboons running across the roadway, prehistoric palm trees that looked like they came out of The Flintstones, exotic ladies selling milk at Garsen junction wearing only khangas and beads and silver jewellery and finally realizing that the two army men we picked weren’t just hitching a ride, they actually were our armed escort to protect us from Somali bandits!
When the bus finally stopped I looked around and was disappointed, where were the beautiful coconut trees like what one saw along the coast in Tanzania (or in Cedros!)? We were surrounded by mangroves it looked like we were going to Caroni. The ferry to take us to the island also reminded me of Caroni, and my trips to the Amazon and the Pantanal in Brazil. Anyway as we drew nearer to land, things seemed to look up, and now as I write this almost four hours after landing, I think I’ll stay an extra night!
What has convinced me? It’s a simple place with nice people (though the ubiquitous beach bums can be annoying), good food, reasonable prices, wonderful architecture and there seems to be a beach with coconut trees nearby – hope the weather changes. I may spend my time writing, taking photographs (I lost my photographs of Zanzibar) or on the beach. Then I’ll go back to Nairobi collect my things, ship them off and go back home.
Would I come back to Lamu? Who knows, it’s a long grueling journey – even for a knockabout traveler like me, but of course I like the challenge and maybe next time I might want to go even further.