We set off for a small fishing village a few hours away on the island of Pati (pronounced:"processed liver") that Captain Kelly claimed had never been visited by foreigners before. We beached next to a fishing dhow on a palm-lined shore, and the villagers rushed out to greet us. This "village" was comprised of just two families, although they had about 20 children between them. I don't believe I received a warmer welcome in all my travels. There's no TV here, no Coca-Cola, nothing but a few plastic buckets, which they used as drums. We sang and danced around a bonfire all evening.

As it turned out, we were the first tourists to visit . . . since a dhow full of Italians had visited them the month before, the lone English-speaker on the island revealed. Unlike my previous experiences in eastern Africa, these families didn't expect a single shilling from us. They let us sleep under their partially-thatched roof (and get ravaged by mosquitoes) for free!

As much as I enjoyed my visit, and as much as they seemed to, I couldn't help but feel torn upon departure. We didn't leave them any T-shirts or chewing gum, but this innocent exposure had somehow, in some small way, tarnished their isolated existence. It may take another 20, 50, or maybe 200 such visits before the effects (lack of interest in meeting foreigners and more interest in getting money from them) can be spotted, but this seems to be how the process begins.

As we headed around Pati Island on our third day, Captain Kelly still hadn't said more than a few words. However, when the topic of his love life came up, the prose poured from his lips. It turned out he had a long distance liaison going with an American woman in Oregon, and he was seriously contemplating a move to the States. I asked how he'd get by once he arrived. We were all surprised to learn that Captain Kelly is anxious to drive a taxi—surprised because there's only one car on the entire island of Lamu. From dhow captain to taxi captain, I said. He liked the sound of that.

Captain Kelly didn't want to stick around to see Lamu become a major tourist destination, and the elbow of his steering arm was acting up on him. Signe, a doctor, diagnosed it as tennis elbow, gave him some anti-inflammatory tablets, and told him to try steering with his other arm for a while. But Captain Kelly took the pills and advice only out of courtesy; he wanted us to stop at Pati Town so he could get some proper medicine.

Move on to Dignitaries in Pati Town

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