We were high above the Kenyan Coast making our descent towards Lamu Island, the cradle of Swahili culture. As our tiny jet-propelled plane touched down onto the airstrip at Manda (the island to the near east of Lamu), a funny thing happened. Our landing was aborted and we were immediately launched back into the sky. Some cows had seen our impending arrival as an opportune time to meander across the runway. We circled over the archipelago as our pilot conservatively estimated the amount of time it takes for a herd of cows to cross a road, and then we descended once more. The airport at Lamu was made up of an airstrip, a thatched roof suspended by bamboo poles (air traffic control, check-in, ticketing, security, waiting lounge), and a wheelbarrow (baggage claim).
We took a ferry across a small channel to Lamu Town and was greeted by plenty of touts offering a myriad of services ranging from dhow rides to donkey hires (as there are no cars on the island). "Sir, I have donkey. Madam, do you like to fish? Where are you from? I find you nice hotel." After a lunch of grilled snapper and kingfish, coconut rice, and fresh squeezed mango, papaya, and passion fruit juices, we started our exploration of town. We passed through narrow, crooked lanes lined with two- to three-story stone buildings in varying degrees of dilapidation; slipped by mosques and imposing carved wood doors; dodged donkeys