Page 47 - Demo

TourismISSUE 36 APRIL 2025 47She demanded payment for missing burnt cakes. I quickly reached into my pocket and pulled out a dollar to avoid embarrassment. But the nagging woman held tightly to my neck and threatened to drown me in the sea. A muzungu (white man) standing behind me cooled the situation by graciously handing her ten dollars. The woman smiled and went back to bake more mkate wa sinia. The afternoon was more lively than midday when the cripple would walk in the shining moon. The day concluded with the rumbling sounds of ngoma za siya (Swahili drumbeats) and the melodious sound of mzumari (Swahili flute). The visitors were loitering along the beaches of Lamu Island. They painted the island in a colourful landscape and people walking in pairs. Some were taking selfies against the sailing dhows. The sailing dhows gave a reflection of the sunset shadows of couples cuddling each other in the sea. The foreigners were half-naked on their hotels%u2019 rooftops, reclining on their beds. The sound of broken glass and laughter pierced the noisy evening. A cloud of puffing smoke escaped from the windows of the hotels. Some visitor stretched their legs on the adjusted bed, listening to soft, melodious music. They shook their head gently to the drumbeats while shaking their bellies. Other visitors joined the men in white kanzu performing ngoma za barazani (Swahili music). The evening was made bright by sparkling lights from hotels, restaurants, and county government public lights. It brightens the vichochoros to keep off the hovering thieves and rappers. The families and friends gathered at one point, feasting on the delicious Swahili dishes. An elderly person in a kanzu sat in one corner, engaging in an endless conversation. A mother in hijab holds their daughter%u2019s hands tightly in fear of foreign predators. Women and daughters of Lamu island were hawking at children with special attention. The naughty children were impatiently running after men riding on the donkey. Some children were running after dhows, and others were following the drummers. Many horrified stories were reported of missing children without a trace. Small girls were left nursing their pregnancy, and husbands shed tears for losing their wives. That night ended with a mother wailing vociferously, My Son! My son!. His only son was helpless on a speeding boat heading to the northern part of Mogadishu. Lamu Island festival, Source: Wanyama OgutuNgoma za barazani (Swahili Dances), Source: Wanyama Ogutu