In My Element

In Kenya my cell phone is not an object I check very often. I only use it when I need to get in touch with people, and rarely do people call or message me. If they do, I’m usually expecting it. I should probably start checking the cell phone more often because this morning there was a message from the night before on it, telling me that Miriam would pick me up over an hour earlier. It just so happened that I got up at the time she was here and waiting, except I didn’t realize this until almost an hour later when I received a phone call to my room. Oops. I rushed to get ready, literally throwing my hair up and grabbing any essentials for the day. I apologized, but I still feel bad. I wait around a lot for people in Africa, just because of the whole “African time”. I hate when people have to wait for me, however.

We set out, a little later than anticipated by Miriam, our first stop being the ferry crossing. The ferry connects the island of Mombasa to South Coast. There has not been a bridge built across so literally the only way to cross the strip of water is by the ferry. This means that everyone is jammed on one ferry. From cars and trucks to people, the ferry was packed. Watching the ferry unload before our eyes was remarkable, too. A flood of people come off of the ferry at once. The new port frequently used for transporting cargo, was visible on our ride. Miriam encouraged me to take pictures, and I got out my camera snapping away. While waiting to exit, she even encouraged me to snap some shots standing off to the side, letting other people pass us. Little did I know, these pictures would cause quite the fuss. While exiting with the mob of people, I felt someone tap my shoulder. Sometimes this happens in the streets, as people want to greet me with a, “Mzungu, how are you?” Therefore, whenever someone taps my shoulder I don’t usually turn my head. This same hand then reached across me and tapped Miriam. She turned, and I probably should have as well, because the hand belonged to a security officer. He asked us to come with him. We agreed. I don’t know what was said between the two of them because most was spoken in Kiswahili. I did notice a sign when walking saying photography was not allowed. Throughout my stay in Kenya, I have been very conscious of taking pictures when appropriate. I always ask before using my camera. Even Miriam must not have known this rule, as she was the one encouraging me to take pictures. I began to get a little worried my camera would be taken away or, worse yet, I would spend my day in a Kenyan police station. With some negotiation, however, Miriam asked me for 200 shillings and we paid the man off. I realized I was just contributing to the corrupt policies in the country, which bothered me. There was not anything else I could really do. The officer never requested I delete the photos or anything of that sort, making me further believe the policy is there just so officers can catch people and make money. Needless to say, this was a frightening start to my morning. Below you will find the 200 shilling pictures.

The drive to the Southern Coast to go snorkeling lasted over two hours. The scenery was not very exciting and with the large amount of sleep I receive here, I wasn’t very tired. Soon we arrived in Shimoni and were swamped by the locals, trying to sell us a day on their boat. The way business works here never fails to feel a little fishy (no pun intended) to me. A group comes up and tells you about the awesome adventure they have in store for you, saying their price is the best and so on. After this happens the person negotiates a fair price. Usually the salesperson will say, “I’ll give you a discount.” (Also known as, I will give you a fair price.) Miriam negotiated our price down and we shook hands with the salesman—deal made. Before we loaded the boat, I inquired about seeing the snorkeling gear they would provide us with. I was quite concerned the gear would be some stolen stuff off of a beach with scratched and foggy lenses. The gear ended up looking good so I told him all was okay. The man looked shocked I knew English. I don’t talk when Miriam is negotiating prices because I’m not good at that stuff so people sometimes think I don’t speak English.

From there we walked out to the pier and descended the stairs onto our boat for the day. The boat looked old and rickety. I kept thinking it would fill up with water any minute, but surprisingly, it didn’t. We cruised across the Indian Ocean to our first diving site. I think I have forgotten how great the ocean is and why I love it so much. With the wet ocean breeze on my face and the sweet salty smell, I reconnected. Within no time we were at our desired location. Miriam didn’t want to snorkel so it ended up just being me and the guide. I dove in and instantaneously felt at home, finally in my element.

We swam around many reefs, most of which looked healthy and vibrant. The colors of fish and the types are so hard to describe. In a small crevice below my guide pointed to an eel, bright purple in the sunlight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an eel so big before. In other places, there were many parrotfish, some were huge, at least a foot long. We also ran across a bull fish, not beautiful but big. In other spots we saw puffer fish. In one area I swam through a full school of smaller fish, all of which had a blue/green tint and glittered. The guide would sometimes pick up animals off the sea floor. I held a living sea cucumber and conch shell. There were also clams littering the bottom. To show me their “magic” the guide would dive down and quickly touch them. Instantaneously they would snap. For the first time I saw hundreds of sea urchins, all with their spines sticking straight up, ready to puncture any foot that dare set down on the floor. There is something about the ocean, maybe the animals or just the cool water, I just love! After a while of swimming around, we stopped and called for the boat to come and pick us up. Once I got back into the boat, another guide asked if I wanted to see more. I did and dove back in at another location. The second swim wasn’t as nearly long or interesting. Many of the corals we looked at were far below the surface and hard to see.

Upon returning to the boat and drying off in the sun, Miriam and I boarded a smaller boat to the island where we would have lunch. Part of the deal with the price coming down was agreeing to have lunch on the island, boosting their tourism income. We climbed through the intertidal area and sat down at a beachside table. I was going to wash my hands in the bathroom until I was informed they didn’t have running water in there. If there wasn’t running water in the bathroom, I could only imagine how they were preparing the dishes for me. I settled with rinsing my hands in a bowl with water and flowers. The flowers were clearly picked from nearby trees. The place was trying way too hard, as many of the flowers were dead. Regardless of how clean I or the food I ate was, it tasted magnificent. Miriam and I ate fresh crab recently caught that morning, along with a freshly caught fish (bones and all). They also served coconut rice, cassava, chapatti, seaweed, and a tomato coconut sauce. Cassava is a white legume with a very starchy texture. It seems to be common in Kenya, but this was my first time having it. The chapatti was probably the best I have tasted since being in Kenya. Chapatti is similar to a tortilla. I don’t think it is something I would like in the States, but since being in Kenya I have grown accustomed to its taste. The coconut sauce and seaweed were very sweet and delicious. I had a hard time finishing my plate; everything was so good! For desert they served fresh bananas, coconut, and oranges. I was stuffed and impressed.

The guide took us around the small island. He explained about their water shortages and how they harnessed any rain they could into a large collecting tank. They irony of islands being surrounded by water and having water shortages always amazes me. We went to a local Coral Garden and Mangrove Board Walk run by some local women. The place was called Wasini Women Group Board Walk and their story is fascinating. This is a project funded by the United States and other organizations to not just build a board walk to attract tourists and empower the women living there, but to preserve the beauty and importance of the natural habitat. The coral garden was a completely new experience to me. The water levels in the area had declined hundreds of years ago leaving an area of corals exposed. The corals were mesmerizing in their own way. The arrangement and scattering seemed perfect and pristine. Walking through I didn’t know what the woman guide was saying, but I got the gist that this project was helping to sustain her family. In another area of the boardwalk, a mangrove forest surrounded us. There are nine different species of mangroves on the Kenyan coast. At one point my camera ran out of battery and I had to change it. While doing so, I dropped the battery cap. Immediately after it slipped out of my hands, I knew it was headed straight for the gap in the wooden planks. The cap fell straight down, landing in a puddle from the last high tide. I told Miriam, seeing if anything could be done. One of the young boys playing around us, immediately climbed down a pole, jumped through the corals and retrieved the cap. I gave him a high five and much thanks.

After our board walk and stroll around the island, we walked out to our boat and headed back to the pier we started at in the morning. After a long day of exploring, the long journey back felt nice.