Thursday Evening, August 26, 2004
 
I have just returned from a brief stroll along the waterfront of Lamu.(Michael W. Smith once recorded a song called "Lamu," and really the only lyrics I recall are "off the coast of Africa." When we get home I'll have to listen to that song!) I'm back now on the seaside veranda of our Lamu Palace Hotel, where earlier Janice and I enjoyed a fine seafood dinner in the open-air restaurant. Douglas, of Nairobi, was our friendly and attentive waiter.
 
It's balmy, breezy, warm, slightly humid but overall very pleasant to sit here beside the waters of Lamu Harbor, waters of the Indian Ocean.Two donkeys just strolled by, apparently unattended. That's twice as many donkeys as there are cars on this entire island. No kidding.
 
Lamu promotes itself as a distinctly warm, friendly, welcoming ("Karibu!") town of 15,000 or so, many of whom are apparently devout but comparatively non-militaristic Muslims. (I have since learned that approximately 95% of the town's population is Muslim.) My impression is that it is essentially a Third-World fishing village with a veneer of tourism spread thinly over the top. That makes things interesting!
 
After our Kenya Air arrival on Manda Island just over there maybe a mile across the harbor, followed by our brief boat trip over to Lamu Island, Janice and I checked in to our simple but elegant room. We then - along with a Japanese family from near Tokyo of, I think, six - went on an extensive walking tour of the corridors, winding alleys, and not a few shops of the town. A cat just pranced by, one of hundreds, maybe thousands, on the island. Kenny G is wafting smoothly over the hotel's sound system.
 
Well, anyway, back to the relatively constant stench of human and non-human refuse that even the ocean breezes cannot vanquish. On our walking tour we saw an awful lot of trash, trash, trash and donkey dung aplenty. (I think the cleanly Japanese were at least a little disconcerted now and then.) The sewer system appears to be a series of hewn stone rivulets running alongside of the dirty, dusty paths. Welcome to the Third World Arabesque African milieu of poverty meeting beauty meeting dirtiness meeting warm community meeting religious and cultural diversity. Eye-openingly amazing.
 
Highlight of our walk through Lamu's mazes: a pre-wedding celebration that involved a group of five or six men beating on drums in energetic rhythm while a number of young men would pair off, two at a time, for some kind of stick ("sword")-fighting exercise that seemed to be a demonstration of male aggressiveness and fighting abilities. (Two Muslim women walked by just now, and just for the record it's a quarter 'till 11. They say you can walk anywhere in Lamu, any time night or day, and never have to worry about being in any sort of danger.) The drumming and intense physicality of the stick-dancing was just wonderful. Wow. What a moment. How do you beat something like that? I can only say that I am thoroughly delighted to have a reliable digital camera that can shoot some video. Wow. How much fun!
 
Kenny G's still providing the mellow musical ambience; maybe I'll go say hello to that donkey before retiring for the evening. But oh my goodness: just now seven black-garbed African Muslim women - just one of them, I think, with face fully covered - walked past. The ocean breeze actually carried a lovely perfume from one (or perhaps more) of them. As they passed, one looked my way and I offered a warm and brief half-smile: hospitable without being inappropriate or offensive, I hope.
 
We definitely met a lot of people today who were friendly to us -"Jambo!" (Hello!) "Karibu!" (Welcome!) "How ah you?" "Asanti" (Thankyou) and so on. But I do not think that all are equally delighted by tourists walking their city's paths. They are not animals on an African safari.
 
Our self-proclaimed No. 1 guide for Lamu, Ziwa, has helped me to arrange a meeting with the imam of the College of Muslim Studies here. I am so excited! Perhaps I could hear some Qur'an recitation, or even better (or as well) talk to one of the teachers, in English, about the Qur'an. Wouldn't that be simply grand?
 
We are in Africa - in a funky little Muslim fishing village of East Africa, on the Indian Ocean for goodness' sakes! Time to read another theology exam in Lamu.
 
I think the donkey has moved on. La la salama. (Sleep peacefully.)
 
ML