Back to Never Never Land

Lamu welcomed me back like children do to the icecream truck. The sun shone bright and the waves rocked our little boat lovingly. I stared out towards the strange little island as we approached with feelings I still cannot pair with words. My companion this time around was far different from the group of 20 last time. I became a little nastalgic as we carted our luggage up the steps of the Sunsail, our humble home for the next three nights.
The next morning- after a rather muggy, stuffy, uncomfortable sleep- we woke early and headed to the main land where we would spend much of the day villiage hopping. Now when I say villiage I mean those remote, thatched roofed, naked children, hungry looking, national geographic villiages that one always pictures when someone says the word "Africa." I had really started thinking that they were just some silly made up thing after living in the glam of Nairobi for so long. But there we were, piled 17 high in a small pick up traveling down a dirt road in- what felt like and could have been- 40 degrees. My long, culturally appropriate dress stuck to my thighs, drenched in sweat, and I sat nervously in the seat behind our body guard, watching the barrel of his gun point menacingly at my head as it bounced and bumped along with the potholes in the road. Hopefully not loaded.
To be continued...