It took over an hour to walk across the island to Pati Town, where we were met by the mayor, a rotund man in his late thirties who had a shiny watch flopping about on a metallic band four sizes too big for this wrist.
"Give me whatever you feel is fair when the tour is over," the mayor said, then walked us around the town for an hour pointing out relatively little. ("These are banana fields.""This is where some archaeologists were digging." "This is a stone wall.")
To our astonishment, there was, indeed, a rainbow in the night sky—a perfect arch of white light with faint colors illuminated by a full moon
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The town, he explained, was supposed to get electricity the following week, and everyone was busy getting ready for this "very exciting event." However, I can't say I witnessed any activity during this tour—no one running around with lightbulbs or toaster ovens—you would describe as preparation for electricity.
We stopped at the "traditional" doctor's house so Captain Kelly could get some real medicine. After taking cursory look at Captain Kelly's dhow elbow, the doctor, a bald, robust man in his late 60s, prescribed some green leaves and told Captain Kelly to mash them up and put the paste onto his elbow immediately.
Back at the boat, Captain Kelly put the medicine on his arm and announced 10 minutes later that it worked. He steered us off to the island of Manda Toto, keeping away from the mainland where, Captain Kelly said, Somali rebels would be happy to rob us, shoot us, or whatever it is Somali rebels do these days.
On the way, an odd thing happened. An adult hippo popped out of the water about 20 yards off the port side of the dhow and started following us. I had no idea there were saltwater hippos. I noticed that no one used the "toilet" for a while after this sighting.
On Manada Toto, there were about 10 young fishermen camping in thatched huts, and they let us share their shelter in exchange for some of Mohammed's hash. The Israelis, Signe, and I headed off to bed while the fishermen and Mohammed made their own cannabis cloud.
At around 11pm, Mohammed told us to get up and check out the rainbow. We were well acquainted with Mohammed's hallucinations by now, and brushed off his invitation. He kept pleading with us until we finally capitulated. To our astonishment, there was, indeed, a rainbow in the night sky—a perfect arch of white light with faint colors illuminated by a full moon.
This was the image I held onto as we headed back to Lamu the following day, since the trip was a bit of a drag. Literally. I had acquired, I later learned, bacterial dysentery and hookworm. Or, as this condition is known locally, dhow bowel.
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