Falling off a donkey -a life of adventure.
If you ask me when exactly I knew I loved travelling, or when I discovered a certain restlessness of spirit that has to date taken me on one adventure after another, I would in a heartbeat point you in the direction of my Dad and the first time he took my sisters and I to Nairobi National Park.
I must have been ten, maybe younger, but the excitement I felt at peeking into this wild world, of seeing lions and rhinos and hippos has stayed with me to date. I can still remember the wooden boards of the safari walk under my feet as we walked around, the sound of a new thing, a new place, a new experience. This is the sound that has followed me around, leading me to rivers and lakes and oceans and beaches, on buses and trains and planes and trams. This, I would tell you, was the birth of a life of adventures.
Not all of them have been entirely planned for, some have been entirely spontaneous and even unwelcome. There’s that one time my grandmother’s cow chased me down a hill and pummeled me with its horns while my sister screamed for help telling everyone who cared to listen that I had been killed by the belligerent creature. It instilled in me a certain fear of animals, so what possesses me to willingly climb on a donkey when I go to Lamu is something I cannot explain.
I arrive in Lamu , the land of old buildings, narrow streets and donkeys for transport
It is sweltering hot when I get off the plane- the heat greats me as soon as my feet touch the ground and welcomes me with open arms. Within minutes of leaving the airport, a simple building whose white walls are interrupted by beautiful arches, I am met by dark clouds as I walk down the length of a jetty standing in water that seems to stretch on for miles. As soon as I settle into the boat, the rain comes down softly, falling on me and falling into the expansive ocean. I let it drench me as we make our way onto the island — it is an appropriate beginning to a week of adventures.
Lamu, if you ask me, is a constellation of old charming buildings nestled so close to each other so that streets are nothing but alleys wide enough for a few people and of course,donkeys. It is white walls and brown walls and cobbled pathways dividing houses and hotels and shops and restaurants and mosques in effortless charm. It is beautiful beaches and undulating sand dunes that leave you in a reverie.
I ride a donkey, fall off twice and get back on
Lamu is bewitching. One day you are a tourist ducking to avoid donkeys, the most commonly used means of transport and before you know it, you are walking around barefoot and riding one of the very donkeys you were avoiding around the village.
It is already dark when my friend brings the donkey a shy-looking animal that I find standing next to the grey wall outside our door. It doesn’t look up, neither of the donkeys I have seen here do. They waddle up and down the narrow streets, backs laden with bags of sand and heads bent as if ashamed of being seen in such a state. There is no time to change my mind as I am hoisted onto the donkey, a stubborn creature that is not the least happy to be disturbed at this time of the night. During our journey, it makes this clear when it throws me to the ground- twice. I dust myself up and get back on- the moon and stars in the sky grinning wickedly at my shenanigans.
So here’s my advice- the next time you are thinking of taking a vacation to Lamu, don’t be shy. Give the donkey a chance, it’s cheaper and safer than the bodas we take here in the city. :D
Here’s to adventure!
