Aaaaah Lamu...

Lamu is an old island Arabic trading town dating back to the 2nd century A.D. Only 37 miles from the Somali border, it is hardly an idyllic oasis.  With a hair more than 20,000 people, over 6,000 donkeys and 2 vehicles, it does have its charms if you can look past the gazillion flies and mounds of donkey poop.  You can walk from one end to the other casually in under 45 minutes.

You fly into the newly renovated Manda Airstrip and then take a short 10 minute boat to Lamu.

                         On arrival your hotel arranges for a boat to whisk you over to the island.

We were visiting at low season which was good because it was not crowded or exceedingly hot.  Bad because most of the restaurants were closed and tourists meager.  Sooooo, we got hit up by every boatman trying to make a few shillings in a slow period.

We stayed at Lamu House, situated right on the water with a splendid balcony to view all the happenings day and night.  The is a renovation of two former houses by a spanish architect who captured the Swahili nuances perfectly, especially the windows that snatch the breeze from the ocean to ventilate each room.

               This is a bedroom window, of which there were six on one wall, each with a unique view.

                  Even the breezeways provided gentle air flow while blocking the heat of the sun.

Most Swahili style homes are two or three stories with courtyards in the center having a pool or water feature. In the old days this water was stored to be used for cooking, washing  or bathing.  Our pool area was surrounded by a dining area for perfect al fresco dining and star gazing.

Even here, the architect made sure you could capture the view and breeze by positioning windows with interesting views along the sheltered wall.

The rooms were spacious, traditionally decorated and had awesome bathrooms.  We had a double shower so powerful it actually blew off the head.  Though I think it may have been a bit loose anyway.  Solar panels on the roof provided constant hot water on demand.  Every room had a view of interest and the balcony was our favorite perch in the late evening or early morning.

            And the sights were quite tranquil.  Boys walking home from school in late afternoon.

                                School girls pooling their change to buy a sweet treat on the way home. Some of the best I have ever tasted from street vendors: buttery shortbread cookies and drippy molten peanut brittle.

                                   A fish monger heading home after selling her catch for the day.

              Donkeys hard at work hauling sand for the new jetty or to make cement for a new home.

You could probably see the whole place in a couple of days--if you could find your way among the maze of alleys that meander from coast to sand dunes.  Forget about signage. You eventually have to ask for help to find your way back and of course pay for the assistance too.

                              A typical alleyway with dukas on both sides of the sandy walkway.

This shop sells the wooden serving plates hanging on the wall.  The moon and star are emblematic of Lamu.  He collected broken plates and dishes and melded them into the doorway concrete.

Though many shops, restaurants and hotels were closed for May/June, there were enough open for us to find interesting beadwork necklaces, leather handbags and beaded wallhangings.

In this shop, everything was for sale, even the chairs and tables made by local craftsmen. We spent an eon here just looking at all the talented workmanship.

             You could buy this beaded wall hanging or have them design one to your color palette.

                          Even the art on the walls had a price.  This is a bit tortured for my taste.

Since I live in the mountains and exist on beef and goat, I was famished for fresh seafood.  Even in low season, the options are endless.  Fish still swim and jump on a hook, right?  We tried a few lower end spots and had tasty barracuda, a new one for me.  Then found a more upscale spot in the heart of the coastline with amazing fresh tuna on the salad nicoise.

                But gimme some shellfish!!! This was the biggest scampi I know I have ever seen. And the lobster I know still had a pulse as it lay prone on the plate.  I didn't bother with the taters though Dutchess said they were yummy with fresh parsley sprinkled on top.

One of the real charms of Lamu is a sail on a dhow.  We negotiated for a day trip over to Manda.  These boats are all crafted by the owners.  And I mean crafted not in a good way.  Our crew was bailing water before we even pushed off!  Every available, usable piece of wood, nail, cloth, tin can or bucket is put to use on these vessels.  They must spend hours each day just patching things so it will still sail.

So the crew carries us aboard as it is low tide.  With our new Aussie friend Mark, we head out in the early morn to catch the wind around Lamu, view Shela on the other end of the island, and stop for a freshly prepared catch and swim off Manda Island before heading home in the afternoon.

A view of Lamu from our dhow.  The water looks bluer than it really is, but it's a warm day, nice breeze and the water is the perfect temp for a swim.

Every dhow seems to have the Captain's mantra somewhere.  Love this one. I definitely need a mind beast for a weapon, right?

The crew set about grilling our fresh perch, steamed rice, stewed veggies and tomato salad.  We also had a whopping fruit plate of mangoes, oranges, and bananas under a palm hut while they cleaned up afterward.

Looks like a storm is coming, so we packed up and prepared to swim back out to the dhow and sail home.

Sailing into the setting sun with the wind at our back, the crew started singing a few local tunes to entertain us on the wind.  And of course maybe earn a tip as well.

Back ashore we left the storm on the other side of the isle but the rainbow welcomed us home with the incoming tide to moor the boats in place for the evening.

I will remember walking below the fortress that was the main protectorate centuries ago and wondering what the view must be like from up in that tiny window.

And imagining the noise as hawkers sold their fruits and vegetable in the market square long ago.  Now mainly deserted save for a few mamas selling fruit juice freshly mashed on the spot.

I will remember watching the dhows hoist their homemade sails to catch the wind for a tranquil sail.  So quietly it happens that you don't even hear the snap of sail as it catches the breeze.

I already miss it.  So we're headed back in November for their cultural festival around our thanksgiving time.  We've already heard about the dhow races, donkey races and even goat races.  Not looking forward to all the flies and dodging piles of poop on dark, sandy paths with my flashlight in tow.  But no beach is perfect, right?

Who Poisoned Sukari?

I didn't need that cute little white paw smacking me in the face to wake up this day.  I popped my own eyes open early with excitement for my trip to the Kenyan coast and isle of Lamu.  Had been wanting to go since day one here but it had been off limits until just a week prior.  My friend Dutch and I made hasty plans and were to meet up there the next day.

I opened the front door to my postage stamp yard that had been a construction zone for a week now. All the abodes had become leaky sieves with the seasonal rain so the roof was being replaced.  Since the sand pile was in my front yard, it was also the dumping zone for every kind of implement needed to do the job, including the ladder that was constantly poised over my bedroom window for roof access. When I peeked out, Mama Rhoda's son Alfred was on the ladder and I said habari.  He didn't speak but scampered on up to the roof as I let Sukari out for her constitution.  About ten minutes later I was coming out of the choo and Alfred was standing there waiting for me with a strange sheepish look on his face. He then said he "heard someone had put poison out for the dogs and I might want to watch Sukari." (This is their means of animal population control) I asked him why he didn't tell me this when I first saw him and got no response. Sukari came running up at that moment and I quickly took her inside and closed the door.

Within five minutes I noticed that she was not able to walk.  Then she laid down on the rug and started seizing--legs straight out and rigid and her eyes darting everywhere trying to focus.  I knew.  I had heard that milk counteracts the poison so quickly poured a dish but she didn't have the strength to lap it up.  I opened her mouth and moistened my fingers with the milk and dribbled it inside.  Then she would shake and seize again. 

I know I went into shock at that moment.  The dark black eyes were showing their whites with abject terror.  She didn't know what was happening to herself and I didn't know what else to do.  I'm lying on the floor with her, stroking her head, speaking softly, just thinking I will stay here with her until she takes her last breath however long it takes. I was frozen.

 My phone rings and it's my boss wishing me a good safari and I start wailing that Sukari is dying.  He says he is out of town and will send my coworker Monicah.  She calls immediately and says she will come in a taxi to take us to the Vet.  15 minutes later she walks in my front door.  She is horrified at the sight of the two of us on the floor nose to nose. (At that moment I had forgotten she had been through this before when her dog had been poisoned.)  I wrapped Sukari in a towel because she was drooling and peeing herself, we locked the door and ran through the compound.  Everyone was outside--workers, Mamas, babies, children all getting going with their day.  I heard Mama Rhoda ask what had happened and Monicah saying Sukari had been poisoned.

We rushed in the taxi with me in the back seat holding Sukari while her eyes are pleading with me for some knowledge to solve this problem.  All I can do is catch my breath between sobs and wipe the snot from my face while trying to comfort her.

We arrived at the Vet office, which is part of the local government offices in town, and Monicah's husband is standing there with the Vet in tow.  Dr. Kipsan has a gentle nature, nice smile but very brusque with dogs.  After all, he usually treats cows and sheep.  He motions me to put Sukari down on the desk (no exam tables here), he thumps her stomach whereby she seizes again, and manages to say between my sobs that "it will be okay."  The look on his face said something different though.  He quickly told one of his assistants (a tall guy in a suit who walked with a cane) to go to the market for two fresh eggs.  I'm thinking I can run faster but don't want to leave Sukari.  A few minutes later the guy returns. Kipsan cracks the eggs into a bowl in the sink, scrambles them with his hand and pours them into a mega syringe.  I remember thinking "these are the ones they use to do animal semen injections, I hope it's clean."  He tries to open Sukari's mouth but it is clamped tight so he squirts it into her jaw area.  Probably 60% actually went down her throat and the rest oozed from her mouth each time she seized.

By now there is quite a crowd gathered to watch the muzungu wailing over a dog wrapped in a towel laying on the admin desk.  I'm sure the word spread when the guy went for the eggs.  Monicah and her husband Joshua are close by with fear all over their faces but trying to console me anyway.  Sukari is still lying on the desk with occasional seizures but otherwise not moving.

Now Kipsan is telling the assistant to go to the chemist (pharmacy) for something I dont understand.  I have a recollection from my Maralal days that charcoal also neutralizes the poison so I think that may be the order.  A few minutes later he's back.  The eggy syringe is rinsed out in a styrofoam cooler of water by the desk and then this charcoal substance is poured from a plastic bottle into the syringe.  It looked like the charcoal had been beaten with a hammer as it had big chunks in it.  He pries open Sukari's mouth and squirts the yucky stuff down her throat. At least the chunks stayed in the syringe. Then he gives her an injection that he says is an antitoxin.  He lifts her from the desk and carries her into a storage room and says she needs to be in a dark space for a couple of hours.  I peek in to see her cowering in a corner, lying on the floor with only the whites of her eyes showing.  He tells me to come back in two hours that she needs to rest.

I push through the gathered crowd motioning to the taxi driver (yes, he was watching the show) to come and he drove me back home.  I cleaned up the pee pee spots, took out the garbage, closed my windows, grabbed my suitcase and headed back to Sukari.  I had managed to quit my weeping and was anxious and stoic when I returned. 

Kipsan was in his office waiting for me and we began to chat about the incident.  He said it was his office that does the poisoning but had not ordered it.  To do so requires two week advance notice with posters and public announcements.  I told him I lived at the police compound so he called the Commander to see what they knew.  They called back saying they had heard an individual had complained dogs were killing his goats and chickens and had put out poison.  But he said that was only rumor.

By now the two hours are up so we go in to check on my little girl.  She is still lying on the floor in the corner but when she sees me her tail manages a floppy wag and she tries to stand. Only to flop back down again.  Kipsan says "thats good", picks her up and brings her back to the desk.  His assistant had procured a package of milk while I was gone and the trusty syringe was in action again.  She managed to relish the milk and swallowed more than she drooled out.  Then it was back to the storage room for another hour of darkness.  Kipsan said the poison acts on the brain, makes them very confused, so being in a dark, quiet spot allows them to be less stressed.

I sat in his office and read while he made phone calls.  At the end of the hour, he went to the storage room, opened the door, came back to his office and said "if she walks out, she will be okay."  Having to sit there and wait those 15 minutes (yes I looked at my watch!!!!) I was certain my blood pressure was near boiling and I could feel my pulse racing.  Then I see a smile come to Kipsan's face and there's my little girl standing at his office door.  Unsteady, but standing.  I rush to hug her as her little tail gives a feeble wag before she plops on the floor at my feet.   Doctors orders are lots of milk, quiet space and she should be fine in about a week.

I call Monicah who arrives with her husband in a taxi to take Sukari to their home for my time away.  Her tail wags for them too and I know even though I will worry endlessly, she will be in very capable hands.

I get daily texts saying she is recovering well but is very distrusting and fearful of noises and people.

When I return she is very happy to see me but cowering.  It is a holiday weekend and I'm curious to see the vibe on my compound since we rushed out of there.  Well, it's creepy.  No one is saying much, barely a habari and when Sukari sees Alfred she starts growling and barking and running as far away from him as she can pull me. 

Since that day she is now on a long rope leash that allows her to sit in the yard and look around but not long enough to take her from my eyesight. Her days of running loose are over and I don't think she minds terribly.  She is still fearful of noise but does sit quietly and watch the compound activity.  Except when Alfred is around.  Then she barks, growls and runs inside to hide.

So you tell me.  Who poisoned Sukari?  I think she is trying to tell me she knows.  And I believe her.