Home » Kenya » Kenya's Coast - Escaping sex for an island

Kenya's coastline stretches from no-go Somalia in the north, past luxury beach resorts, to Tanzania's Zanzibar archipelago in the south. It is a relatively short coast at only 500km, but nearly every traveller to Kenya makes it here at some point, and who am I to break from the norm? Well, I usually am the first to do just that actually, but for once, I'll have a traditional 'normal' week. There's still lots to experience and one can find rich Swahili culture, scary young prostitutes, and, of course, beautiful equatorial beaches. This past week, I stumbled upon all three, or rather, at least one of them stumbled upon me. It's not that riveting a story, but it allows me the opportunity to use the word 'sex' in the title, something I ashamedly have wanted to do for a while, just to simply see what it does to my readership level. An experiment, if you will.

Kenya's Coast - Escaping sex for an island

Simon Wadsworth
2006-09-04 12:27:40

Displayed times (last time: )

boat with no safety equipment, or a speedboat run by a teenage speedfreak, so I chose the former, trusting the local's decision - to Lamu Island, arguably the highligh of any coastal trip to Kenya (a World Heritage Site), and certainly was for me.

Lamu is an ancient Swahili island town with a muslim majority and has the impression that life has stayed pretty much the same for the past 100 years, besides the guesthouses and TVs showing the World Cup. Just one vehicle lives here, and runs along the coast for the police, as the streets are only as wide as my outstretched arms. Donkeys prevail and can be heard clobbing down the lanes or insanely braying at the top of their lungs. Children play marbles or are seen reading the Qu'ran, others go fishing on walls with bits of string, woodcarving echoes through the streets, dozens of men sit idly doing nothing all day, women covered in full purdah wander the lanes chatting with only their eyes on show, while the men wear white khanzu robes and kofia caps. Palms move to the wind in the distance near a primary school and beach, and the football chants on TV seep out of mud houses.

It's no surprise that I therefore decided to stay here a few days, mostly just walking and taking in the above ancient Swahili atmosphere, stopping occassionally to eat a banana, and sitting on the odd beach. I did try and organise a day fishing and BBQ trip on a dhow boat by contacting a tout, but he must be the first tout in history of backpacker travel that was unable to help.

Instead, I therefore went exploring to the north for a day, over to a quaint quiet village called Shela, like my Aunty, only without the 'i'. Nearby is also a long, beautifully sandy, deserted beach, backed my large dunes, with only an ugly 'castle' breaking up the view, built as a holiday home by a rich, obnoxoius Italien (so I'm told). Coming back proved slightly trickier as the cheeky tide had
since blocked my path, causing me to get lost finding an alternate route...while time ticked away to the beginning of England's match. Hmm... Fortunately I made it and ended up wedged on a sofa between two young, dreadlocked Kenyans, cheering England on to their obvious (in my opinion) conclusion.

I wish I could of stayed for longer, as this was truly a wondrous place, even if you forget the beaches, but there's lots more yet to explore in these last few weeks, that I had to say goodbye and head back to Mombasa, where, frankly 2 days was more than enough to see everything worth seeing. I would have liked to have visited Fort Jesus, but the entry price has quadrupled in 3 years, so that it's now more than my daily budget was for India! Instead, I bought a guide book and strolled through the Old Town for a couple of hours, dodging some 'interesting' characters, and learning some interesting history. And that's about it - there really is nothing else to do in Mombasa when travelling alone; my boredom saviour has been the football, and a 5-vehicle crash I watched this morning from my window (see photo).

No insurance details swapped, everyone just drove off with new dents added to the other dents, and the policemen didn't even give any of them a warning. No wonder everyone drives crazy over here.

Now I head back to Nairobi to see Afsan, of Mt Kinabalu fame, before slowly travelling cross-country to Lake Victoria. It may be a couple of weeks til my next blog, but I promise you there'll be a few more stories to tell! Enjoy the photos, there's plenty of 'em.

Byebye... :D