Detour to Kilema - part two

This little village of Kilema is crazy...and I think it might be a microcosm for the entire country of Tanzania. In the last week, I've met a man who hasn't left his porch in three years, witnessed a witch hunt aimed at village children, and have had trouble finding a banana to eat -- even though this house is surrounded by banana trees. Nothing is easy here.

Mama Flora introduced me to a man who hasn't been able to leave his home in three years because the tires on his wheelchair are deflated. This is a perfect example of a solvable problem that no one solves. (Mind boggling!)  (Had Babu Bob known about this problem, he would have fixed it in a heartbeat....but Mama didn't tell him for some reason.) One trip to bike stores in Moshi and the problem is almost fixed...now just need to find someone to repair the tires (supposedly the carpenter at the church knows how to do this...we will see). Unfortunately, everyone is so consumed with current village drama that I'm afraid there will be a delay getting this done...but the man hasn't used his wheelchair in three years...I guess he can wait a few more days, right?

The 14 year old boy on the right has been this man's aide since the age of 7
 when his parents died of AIDS. He helps this man with everything.

Warren's camera was stolen from his room last week. A witch hunt ensued, in which some village children were put on trial by many local adults (including the village chairman) as their way of investigating. Hours of finger pointing and crying and yelling and pushing led to..........nothing. So instead of going about it in a different way, the village leaders got the police involved and took the teens to jail down in Himo, so the truth could be beaten out of them. I won't get into all the details, but the way the case of the missing camera has been handled would be laughable if it wasn't so sad. You are definitely guilty until proven innocent here. The camera drama is now going on its fifth day and still....no camera. Talk about a distraction! I need to get Babu Bob back on track first thing tomorrow morning...I have a plan.


banana tree from my bedroom window
(bananas everywhere, except the dining table)

Just about my favorite kid in Africa...
Emanuel is 14, orphaned, & possibly the sweetest teenage boy I've ever met.







Mama Flora with Frank and his friend
(see last week's entry for his story)

Obedio, 14 yr old orphan born HIV+...
a regular around here

Thoughts: I appreciate things now that I never knew were important to me, like fitted sheets and pens. I've also learned to never buy Snickers bars in East Africa (g-r-o-s-s). Refrigerators are great, but not necessary. And when you leave your window open, bugs WILL enter...and they will stay all night...and usually the next day too.



My typical afternoon snack



Our 16 yr old cook, Jackie, isn't able to
 attend school so she works for Babu instead.
I'm worried that she gets too attached to the
volunteers who come and go. 



Babu Bob in his newly organized office (never mind the desk mess)...Wall decorations by yours truly.

  


Rhode Island cousins, Becky & Alyssa, with Steven...one of the best kids EVER. The mark on the top of his head is his teacher's way of letting his parents know he can't return until his head is shaved (like a note home).



This picture was taken in front of the fancy neighborhood bar and ironically, 
 by the young boy who stole the camera (under the order of an older kid, supposedly).





Detour to Kilema - part one

Plans changed and I've ended up at Orphans of Kilimajaro, a place I've actually had on my radar for many months and was then reminded of when I ran into Babu Bob at the ATM in Moshi.. I recognized him from his website and there was something about him that I couldn't quite shake. Weeks went by and I still kept thinking about the twinkle in that man's eyes and his thick old-school Texan accent. When these few weeks opened up I decided to send him an email to see if I could come to his "Garden of Eden" in the foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro, so here I am. The village of Kilema is very rural, very poor, and very beautiful. It's located a little over an hour from Moshi and about 10 miles up the mountain from Marangu. There aren't any stores or restaurants, just bars that serve warm beer and homemade brew (which I won't touch, don't worry). Banana trees line all the dirt roads, as do many young children carrying machetes and unemployed men on their way to or from the bar. Everyone is super friendly and eager to speak the few English words they may know ("Good afternoon, Missus"). And although most people seem somewhat content, there is actually a lot of despair here...everyone seems to have a story that breaks my heart.

Babu Bob is here to help the people of these villages, which have a ridiculously high HIV rate and an even higher unemployment rate. Many children are orphaned because their parents have died of AIDS and the families in the area are trying to survive on just about nothing. Babu Bob is here to help give them hope and opportunities by providing them with food, educational assistance and medical care.

I've only been here less than a week, but have already met some incredible children in this tiny, middle-of-nowhere village:

• Benny is about twelve years old and is incredibly shy, probably due to the cantelope-sized growth on the side of his head. He wouldn't speak to me at first, but then warmed up after I let him write in my notebook. He doesn't attend school because children tease him, so no one has ever noticed his dyslexia until I looked at the words he copied down from a poster. Everything was written perfectly, but backward. We played hopscotch together and drew with the colored chalk my mom sent (thanks!).  Babu Bob has coordinated medical care for him and Benny is scheduled for surgery early next month.
• I visited 17 year old Frank in the hospital, his home for the last six years. He's a paraplegic due to a digging accident he had when he was just eleven years old while trying to make money for his family. His parents have passed away and his siblings live out of town, so Babu coordinates all of Frank's medical care and visits him on a regular basis. His bed sores are overwhelming and the hospital, although very clean, doesn't provide much attention. He has nothing except a little cassette player/radio which he uses all day long to play gospel music. I want to find things for him to pass the time, but what he really needs is a tutor who speaks Swahili and someone to do physical therapy with him. If only. (UPDATE: Frank passed away on August 16, 2011. Part of me feels relieved to know he's no longer suffering. His bedsores had gotten to an unimaginable point and his colostomy complications became much more severe. But I can't shake my sadness about his suffering. Here is Babu's emotional description of Frank's death, but only view it if you want handle reality at its worst. http://www.orphansofkilimanjaro.org/)
• And then there's Obedio, a 14 year old boy whose been staying with us the last few nights because he sprained his ankle and couldn't walk home (there aren't cars around here). He lives with his grandmother because both of his parents have died of AIDS. Obedio was born HIV+ and Babu Bob helps him get his anti-viral medication and also provides him and his grandmother with food.

But I'm not in Kilema because of these children....I'm here because of Babu Bob. He's given up everything to help some of the world's neediest people. He's led a fascinating life, which includes three adopted children of his own, a successful career in engineering, and a post-retirement Peace Corps position. For the last 17 years Babu has dedicated himself to the people of Tanzania, but has faced many obstacles that would send most people back home in a heartbeat. Aside from the difficulties he's encountered with the corrupt Tanzanian government, he's also had some terrible health issues over the last few years, including (but not limited to!) congestive heart failure, a colostomy, and a few minor strokes. It's amazing he's still here, trying with all his energy to make a difference in this tiny village of Kilema.

I came here with the purpose of teaching, but immediately realized my time and energy would be better spent helping Babu get organized. We're creating a working budget, getting his nonprofit status finalized in the U.S. and strategically reorganizing Orphans of Kilmanjaro so that it reflects his real vision and mission. Then I'll work on funding once I leave Africa (that week-long grant writing workshop is finally going to pay off!). I showed up just as he was slipping into a hole of hopelessness, so my goal is to provide him with the direction he needs to then give help to the people in Kilema. Stay tuned!

Nairobi, Nakuru, Naivasha

Nairobi
The shuttle bus from Moshi to Nairobi spent about 85% of the nine hour journey off-roading because the long "highway" was under construction. About 10% was spent stopped or broken down. Only 5% was on a paved road...but 99% of that 5% reminded me of a car racing video game where you weave in and out of traffic, hoping not to die. It was an interesting way to enter the city known as "Nairobbery."

We found a backpackers' hostel full of budget travelers from all over the world...most of whom spend their evenings around the fire, reading their Lonely Planet Africa books, drinking Tusker, and one-upping each other on travel stories. It makes for good people watching, especially while I sit by the fire, read my guidebook and drink a Tusker...

Grad Night 1993
(we still look the same, right????)

One of the greatest parts of this city is that my high school buddy lives here. Since graduation, she has worked her way around the world and is currently in Kenya doing nutrition education in slums and rural areas. She is amazing. And she hasn't changed at all. I swear she still looks 18 to me. We spent the day with Christine and her boyfriend, a 23 year old hip hop artist named Octo, as well as his one-and-half year old daughter, Tracy.

Octo, the oldest of four children, was orphaned at the age of 15 and left to raise himself in Kibera, the largest slum in Africa and one of the biggest in the world. It houses about one million people who don't have much access to basic human needs, like clean water. Octo, who also runs a youth center in Kibera, provided us with a tour of his old neighborhood. (Tours of Kibera are starting to become popular with Nairobi tourists, but not many guides can take you deep inside...most stay along the perimeter.) There aren't many roads in Kibera, just walking paths that take you past countless mud shacks, mounds of trash, catatonic dogs, piles of charcoal for sale, streams of sewage, goats, and gangs of unsupervised toddlers. I felt the way Lesley Stahl often looks while on assignment...completely out of place. I didn't want to come across as a wealthy, white voyeur touring one of the poorest neighborhoods in the world...but that's exactly what I was.  I have never before felt so privilliged.

After walking for at least an hour through the slum's maze, we finally arrived at our destination: Octo's rented shack, where his 12 year old brother currently lives (ALONE). His brother was still at school so we hung out in his room without him, completely in awe of his living quarters. The 8x8 room was dark with the only light coming from the doorway and a few openings in the tin roof. He has fearless rats as roommates and strangers as neighbors. There is a little charcoal stove in the corner, which he uses to cook all his breakfasts and dinners (he gets lunch at school). Newspaper pages from the fashion and entertainment sections decorate some of the wall space, but it's mostly just mud. Just outside his front door is a pile of trash and stream of raw sewage. The nearby outhouse, used by countless people, had recently fallen apart. When it rains heavily  this raw sewage finds its way inside his front door. I can't stop thinking about this 12 year old boy who I haven't even met! Christine and Octo are hoping he gets accepted into a boarding school at the beginning of the new year, along with his 15 year old sister (a whole other story!) who is also in need of a new living arrangement.

Octo's recent feature in a Nairobi newspaper

Starting our tour of Kibera with Octo...still in the peripheral "safe zone". 

The mud room on the right is where Octo's brother lives...and where Octo lived until recently. During the rainy season, that little stream of sewage rises through into his shack.

Tracy, Princess of well behaved children

 Nakuru

The two hour matatu ride from Nairobi to Nakura made my shuttle bus from Moshi seem luxurious. I was crammed into the 14th seat in the back corner of this soon-to-be-illegal mode of transportation and every little bump made my head hit the roof. N and I headed into Lake Nakuru National Park, just on the outskirts of this crowded town, for the next 24 hours. The afternoon safari was amazing, despite having a teenager who couldn't drive a manual car as a guide. We had close up encounters with endangered rhino, giraffes, cape buffalo, antelope of all kinds, thousands of flamingos, white pelicans, cranes, and even a leopard! We didn't see any tree climbing lions, but heard a pair mating during the night just ouside our camp's fence. Our morning safari was equally relaxing and beautiful, and by the afternoon we were loving Nakuru. After lunch we decided to find a place to stay the night so we could explore the town a bit more, but we wanted to leave the area after learning that all Nakuru hotels (even those recommended by the guidebook) are havens for prostitutes and their patrons. During that walk through town, I realized Nakuru has a sinister energy to it that completely contrasts with the feeling at the neighboring lake. Nakuru kind of reminded me of an old frontier town from the 1800's...lots of desperate people crammed together and trying to make money in any way possible, whether it be from stealing, swindling, prostituting, begging, or selling random cuts of meat. After a frustrating encounter with a con-artist at the bus station, we were happily on our way to Naivasha.

lots of white and black rhinos in this park

the male (left) went to start some trouble with the three ladies

I'm now a birder! (this is a weaver)

baboon eating a mango along the lookout point

beautiful water buck

one of the only places where
Rothschild giraffes still roam free

the lake is known for its flocks of flamingos

view from lookout point (Baboon Cliffs)

Naivasha
The matatu dropped us off down the hill from Top Camp and we hiked up, hoping we'd like what we'd find. The view was amazing and our little cabin was surrounded by huge flowering cacti, birds, roaming cattle, chickens, and insects galore. This could be entymologist's lab, especially in the outhouse at night. N & I found a local restaurant with yummy comfort food for about $1 per meal, a resort camp across the road with $3 coffee (what a contrast!), and many small butcheries (usually connected to a bar or a hotel). Our bike ride in Hell's Gate was hellish....I'm still recovering. I actually found myself missing the city of Nairobi...so we headed back for another night at our hippie hostel, kissed some giraffes, and went out for the best Ethiopian food of my life.

Hell's Gate National Park (while I was still enjoying the ride)

AMAZING Ethiopian food in Nairobi

 

Stella, people person extraordinaire and night receptionist at Milimani Backpacker's Hostel.

19,340 feet above Africa

Some people rely on months of training to make it to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Some people rely on fierce determination. I had neither...but I somehow made it!

Here are some excerpts from my journal to give you an idea of what it was like.

Day One
I think I pulled a muscle in my thigh. I have a blister on my heel...and I have a hangnail. Why did I sign up for this trip?? I am so out of shape. I was the last person to get to camp...the seven mile hike was really hard for me...especially the last stretch. The altitude gain was 4000 feet and now we're at 9950 feet (only about 10,000 more to go!).

I am blown away by how many porters are on the mountain (10 just for our group of four climbers) and how much they carry on their backs and heads. We have one porter for our toilet tent. His name is KCMC and he carries the portable toilet and its tent all over this mountain. Others carry our bags, tents, food and some trek miles each day to fetch us water. They are amazing.

The forest we hiked through today was so beautiful...very enchanted with lots of ferns, vines and lichens. We saw black & white colobus monkeys in the treetops and turacos close by. Tomorrow's hike is much shorter, but incredibly steep. Rest and recovery. :)

I wish I brought nailclippers.

Porters lining up at Machame Gate 
to get their bags weighed.

Day Two    I spent most of the night worrying about having to leave early or be evacuated. The "what ifs" invaded my brain. I was feeling incredibly discouraged last night and worried that leaving might be my only option. If I had so much trouble on the first day, how am I possibly going to make it through this trip? But when I got out of my sleeping bag this morning, my leg felt a little better so I decided to trek on...This time Dean joined me in "Team Pole Pole" (the slow group). Today's hike was even more beautiful than yesterday's. We climbed through a cloud layer and the view was amazing. We were surrounded by the coolest looking plants and trees and flowers...it felt like we were in a Dr. Seuss storybook setting.  Made it to Shira Cave Camp by about 2:30. Not bad!

Day 2 hike...looking down over first camp

Great way to start the day!
 Jeff brought us coffee & tea every morning!

Brenda, Robby, Natcho & Dean in our dining room

Brenda has nailclippers!

Day Three
I made it through another day! The first part of the day was a gradual ascent to 14,900 feet, where we stopped for lunch and caught the beginning of some snowdrops. Despite the cold weather, some porters wore very little...like cotton Tshirts, shorts, and even flip flops! I learned that our porters get paid about $5 a day. This is good money for them, which is why they are here, but it's a very dangerous and difficult job. It's not uncommon for porters to die while on the mountain (usually from altitude sickness) and their job takes a very demanding toll on their bodies. I am constantly in awe of them.

We got moving soon after lunch and headed through what reminded me of the Anza-Borrego in the springtime. Beautiful plants that looked like they belonged in the desert. This is also where I had my first close-up view of the summit glaciers. We got down to Barranco Camp (hike high, sleep low) by about 3:30, just after it started to rain. I changed clothes, snuggled into my sleeping bag and waited for afternoon tea.

I'm adapting very well to high altitude...my oxygen saturation reading tonight was 92 while everyone else was in the 80's (not that this is a competition). Great view of Moshi's lights from our camp. So glad I'm here and not there. :)

Day Four
Stepped outside during the middle of the night and was awestruck by the beautiful view. The clouds had cleared to reveal the summit of Mt. Kilimanjaro, highlighted by the almost full moon. The stars were shining brightly and the constellation Orion was above me.

I heard the Barranco Wall would be one of the most difficult parts of the trip because it's so steep and you need to use your hands to climb it...but I loved it! It wasn't nearly as hard as I expected and the view along the way was spectacular. We made it to Karanga Camp in time for lunch...then Scrabble with the British neighbors...and then a great nap.

On top of the Barranco Wall. Being a mountaineer!

Dinner tonight: White rice with ginger beef; potato soup with cilantro and random spices; fritters; veggie sauce. Then we celebrated Natcho's birthday with song, chocolate, and Coca-Cola.

My body is getting tired and my muscles are sore (first time I've used them in awhile!). Tomorrow we hike up to Barafu Camp and then start our ascent to the summit around midnight so we arrive at sunrise. Sounds exhausting!

Day Five
Barafu Camp is really cold and disorganized...and reminds me more of a refugee camp than a high point for mountain climbers. It's snowing and I'm worried it won't stop in time for our ascent. The plan is to head out at 1:00am, reach Stella Point at about 6am, and then hike the 45 minutes to the peak (photo op with sign). It's a full moon tonight, but that means nothing if it's cloudy and snowing. Also, the whole point of getting to the top (for me) is to see sunrise from the top of Africa...but that won't happen if this weather continues. I'm being really negative, I know. I'm grouchy, I know. I need to try to catch a few hours of sleep before we head out.

Day Six
Today was possibly the hardest day of my life. After very little sleep, some tea and snacks, we left camp at 1:00am to start our ascent. I was in a horrible mood and I apologize to anyone on the trail with me because I know I was emitting negative energy. Sorry! I didn't want to go...It was still misting...and it was cold and dark...and I just wanted to stay in my warm sleeping bag. I thought about that sleeping bag the whole way up! There were a few times I wanted to go back to camp, but it just wasn't an option. I wasn't feeling well throughout most of the ascent and wanted to take little breaks, which occassionally turned into "I want to give up" breaks. I didn't have the motivation that so many others on that trail had...and I was cranky. I threw up during one of my breaks (just as my new British friends were passing by), but then felt well enough to continue...slowly. Very slowy. Each step felt like I was moving a ton of bricks and it is a miracle that I made it to the top.

Full moon over crater rim

Stella Point was breathtaking (literally). It had an amazing view from all sides...full moon on one side, rising sun on the other, sunken crater, cloud line...it was incredible. I stayed there long enough to welcome Dean (and Andrew), which was one of the greatest moments of the trip. We met up with the others on our way to Uhuru Peak, had tea and a snack while gazing at glaciers, and then continued on to our photoshoot at the summit's sign (which is apparently a must).

Dean's final steps to Stella Point!

With my "guide" at Stella Point...
Natcho was very patient with me!

All sunrises are spectacular...this one was a miracle.

Tea time at the top of Africa

The way down was anti-climatic and slippery and long...but we got back just in time to rest before having to descent again. After a quick nap in the refugee camp, we continued down to Millenium Camp, where we had a great view of the summit and stared at it in amazement. It already seems like so long ago that I was there!

Start of the long descent down.

My legs are killing me and my knee hurts and I'm worried about tomorrow's descent.

Day Seven
For the average Mt. Kili climber, it takes about four hours to go down the 12 miles on the Mweka Trail. I am not average. It took me much longer...and then some. I felt physically disabled. I used my hiking poles as canes and could barely bend my left knee. Both of my big toes were swollen and sore. Every step down was incredibly painful (even though I took one of Robbie's magic pain relievers). The rest of the group was ahead and I knew they were waiting for me. I was so frustrated wth my body! I finally made it down to the dirt road, with Natcho as my companion, and had about one more mile to go when I heard the car. Nechi came to rescue me! My original worry of being evacuated actually came true...but it happened when I was off the trail and had only a mile left to go. I LOVED not having to walk that last mile and was so relieved to be "rescued."

Using my canes to hobble down the mountain

The vehicle that rescued me from my last mile!

Final Thoughts:
I have no desire to climb another major summit.
Porters are supermen.
Our planet is magical.
Sometimes I complain too much.

Whatever is Excellent

My baby for about 30 minutes

Whatever is Excellent bus


Off to the Swahili Coast...



All the buses here seem to have a random message displayed on their front windshield. My bus from Moshi to Tanga said "Whatever is Excellent," which I thought was really strange...but then it kept popping into my head during my time along the Swahili Coast. I kept thinking, "Yes! Whatever IS Excellent!" Regardless of what happens, it can be excellent depending on how I see it.  All sense of personal space was lost during that five hour bus ride...and I even had a baby placed on my lap (without my permission) for the last leg down south to Peponi Beach. But it was cheap and efficient and made for great people watching!

The Tanzanian coastline is breathtaking. There are monkeys in palm trees along the beach...the ocean is warm...there is a great breeze in the air at all times. It's pretty much heaven on Earth. But this didn't keep me from having my first African day of irrational crankiness...I woke up on the wrong side of the tent after a terrible night's sleep and remembering that my clean clothes were left outside during a midnight downpour. It was just one of those days, despite being in the most perfect paradise imaginable. But then I remembered that whatever is excellent...and I snapped out of it. :)

"Pepi" the dhow, took us to a little sand island for snorkelling.
It was gorgeous!!!

We camped for a few nights at Peponi Beach Resort, which has amazing food and super cold beer. Campsites are only $4 per person and steps from the Indian Ocean. It's something you'd see in Budget Travel magazine. We took a dhow out to a tiny island and snorkeled in its reef...and I pretended like I was a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. I couldn't resist the offer of a raft, so I also found myself floating in the Indian Ocean, although I was kind of worried the wind would carry me to Mombassa.





Off to Pemba Island...

Arriving on Pemba Island after five hours in steerage

Lots of fish on the streets of Pemba Island

We then hopped on a ferry (cargo ship, as it turned out) to Pemba Island, known for its clove production, voodoo practices, and endemic "flying foxes." It's one of the most beautiful places I'd never want to visit again. I loved it at first, but my admiration soon turned to impatience. It was too slow for me. And I didn't like having to cover up my entire body in hot & humid weather (Pemba is 95% Muslim and very conservative). I didn't realize I'd have to walk through a village on our way to a beach, so I wasn't covered up properly. My shoulders were exposed and my knees occassionally peeked out under my sarong. I have never received so many dirty looks from other women. It was an uncomfortable feeling to know the way I looked made me unwelcome (or so I perceived).

My new beverage of choice: sugarcane juice!

A handful of the many unsupervised children roaming the roads of Pemba Island.

Example of how children here MAKE their own toys out of TRASH. 
This was a kite. And he loved it.
Orion, are you reading this?? :)

Our overcrowded dala dala ride to north Pemba

The north coast of Pemba is known for its diving and almost all of the island's tourists congregate in this area, rarely leaving their hotels except to dive in the surrounding waters. We headed up there so Natcho could dive, but instead of staying at a fancy resort we camped next door at Verani. Managed by three 16 year old boys who made a delicious dinner of freshly caught fish, Verani is on a beautiful stretch of beach, but has a few problems. No running water or working toilets...and my biggest issue: no hot sauce for my breakfast eggs! And did I mention it's run by three teenage boys????


Mkoani - after our sail back to town from Kwata Island

One of many chicken ferry passengers
on the way to Stonetown.








We spent an extra day on Pemba because our ferry from Mkoani to Unguja (Zanzibar) stood us up. This worked out in our benefit, though...we ended up sailing to a small, remote island and spent the afternoon snorkelling again. 
 

Sunset from dinner at Verani


Men in one line; women & children in the other, but for no understandable reason.
Everyone sat together on the ferry...with the chickens.

Off to Unguja...

I fell in love with Stonetown from the moment we landed. It's mysterious and beautiful and delapidated and full of diversity. We discovered some great places to eat, including the Fordohani Gardens night market, which has countless street vendors who all claim to have the best food (most of which I wouldn't touch, nevermind taste)...meat and fish skewers, Zanzibari pizza filled with random minced bits and mayo, baby shark, octopi, shrimp, lobster, and probably some endangered species. It was gross, but also made for an exciting culinary experience.  Once again, most of this place seemed to be run by teenage boys. Curious.

 

fancy Zanzibari door in Stonetown



Top of House of Wonders, 
overlooking Fordohani Gardens

.








 





Stonetown kids

Off to Jambiani...

Our first lodging in Jambiani, Kimte, took minimalism to a whole new level.
 Bug spray was about the only decoration in the room.



We drove to the southern east coast of the island, which I had heard was the least touristy of all the areas on Unguja (Zanzibar). Jambiani has a vibe of Tulum, a tide like San Felipe and water like the Carribean. We stayed our first night at Kimte, a little place on the beach run by a group of Rasta guys who spend their days relaxing in an irie sort of way instead of fixing up their "resort." It has great food and a bar right on the sand. I was content there, but then we took a walk...and I saw the place next door. Coral Rock Hotel had an infinity pool, fancy rooms, a beautiful restaurant, other guests (!) and free use of their sporting equipment...and the price difference wasn't very much. We moved over for our last night of island living and basked in the sun, swam in the ocean, drank a pina colada by the pool, and went for a sunrise kayak paddle. It was perfect and I want to return ASAP! :)

View from Coral Rock Hotel (with Kimte behind me in the distance)
 

Sunrise at Jambiani Beach

 

This dog followed us out into the ocean.



Jambiani villager as tide was going out