We’d only gone and had a massive party. Then I was rudely awaken at 0830. So, after the
expected extra curricular events the night before I was faced with the choice: either you get up
now and walk for 45 minutes in the baking heat to seek sustenance, or you are to be left alone all
day to wallow in the fear and despair of your gargantuan hangover, two equally unappealing
options.
Sensibly, I chose the death march. As we sat in the bar of the Pepponi hotel – Pepponi being the
Swahili for paradise, and this place is a pretty close approximation to it – in an attempt to alleviate
the obvious I’m ill advisedly putting away a Fernet Branca which is a drink that chefs of a certain
bent seem to love. This was an attempt to like it, as I consider not liking things to be incredibly
childish. Alas it still tastes like some kind of herbal paint stripper: not quite there yet. Two bloody
Mary’s later, I’m feeling positively festive again. Having missed breakfast and survived the death
march, I find I have quite the appetite. I ask to order their philly cheese steak, I’m promptly
shouted at by the manager who tells me that I can’t possibly eat in the bar and that i have to eat
in the restaurant and if i don’t have a reservation it will most certainly be very difficult. I offer to eat
wherever and however she would like me to. I tell her I’m happy to be quick and will eat standing
up and do the dishes whence finished. This does little to appease her mood but does get me a
seat and a menu.
With mains electricity only arriving last year and cars banned in favour of the positively biblical
donkey as the main mode of transport, the island of Lamu – a UNESCO world heritage – feels
trapped in another time – and world. It has the best example Swahili architecture: the town’s
layout dates back more than 500 years. It has something so resonant of the old world about it and
more than anywhere else I’ve been, it really feels like you’re in the film the English Patient (and by
that I don’t mean covered in burns and suffering from amnesia).
The following morning i arrive back at Pepponi hotel late for the 7am start, mornings were never
my strong point. No time to grab a coffee, the rest are already aboard the dhow scoffing some
tasty looking fried goods. We had to motor the boat up the creek to Kiwayu as the north easterly
wind known as the Kas Kazi was coming head on. The reason being that not having a keel, this
Mozambique style dhow doesn’t do very well with sailing into the wind.
It was another hot day of course, the days here are rarely anything but. Motoring into the
headwind the stiff breeze provided some respite from the thirty degree heat, the large sloping sail
providing ample shade for us whilst we cast some lines over the side. Being a perpetually unlucky
fisherman I wasn’t hopeful as I gently tugged the line but it wasn’t long until I’d hooked a panga
fish, a long silvery thing named after the Swahili word for a machete. Too thin for eating, it was
thrown in the hold to be used for bait. My hopes for a tasty lunch were dashed but luckily the boat
captain had already been to the market to pick up a big white snapper. Deftly, he sat on the edge
of the boat, plunged his thumb through its eye to hold on to it and made light work of scaling the
beast with an old bent fork. As he scaled and gutted the fish I helped the captain, Kibbeh, whose
eyelids were heavy with the effects of several mid morning “Bob Marley cigarettes”, make a
Swahili spice rub and marinade. Being a curious type I enquired as to the name of this particular
preparation “Eet ees called sauce” he said in his thick Kenyan accent. Ah, why of course. Fresh
ginger, garlic, salt, oil, onion, coriander, lime, chilli and carrot were all mashed up in a pestle and
mortar and slathered over the fish which had been cut into chunks. Whilst all this was happening,
Mohammed, another crew member, had pulled out an old beer keg from one of the lockers that
had been cut and repurposed as a barbecue, and got the charcoal going. When the coals were
white hot, the marinated fish was put in a sandwich rack and allowed to sizzle away as the dhow
gently made its way up the coast. Precariously shredding a cabbage on the boat’s gently lilting
gunwale to a rudimentary coleslaw and once the fish was cooked we rolled out some chapatis
and cooked them over the coals too. As we chugged along under power, bits of fish were drizzled
with more “sauce” topped with coleslaw, swaddled in chapatti and sent mouthwards until the
plate had been pretty much licked clean and the last of the sauce had been slurped.
After a few more failed fishing attempts, Kiwayu was coming into view. We were told that in
addition to the good snorkelling in the lee of the land there also rock oysters to be found. I packed
my leatherman and a lime into my trunks and made for shore with fins and a snorkel mask on.
We were confronted with hundreds of little oyster-esque barnacles growing on the the rocks by the
waterline, using the multi tool as a basher we bashed these little beauties free from the rocks.
Smashing them open, squeezing a little lime onto them and banishing the ever present thoughts of
future “gastric issues” to the backs of our minds we slurped them down. After a half a dozen or so
each we got back into the water. Amazing corals and a plethora of fish kept us occupied until we
were called back to the boat to go and strike camp.
Kiwayu is a small island in Lamu county, near the border of Somalia, the not unrealistic threat of
pirates has kept it largely unvisited by tourists. On landing and meeting some of the locals we were
warmly welcomed and ushered into a crumbling down beach shack that had once been the
summer residence of an intrepid Frenchman in the 1990s. Judging by the state of the place, it had
been a good few years since he’d visited. Decades old mattresses and bedding were produced
from a dusty old cupboard and we were made to feel at home by the iskari or night watchman who
was friends of the boat captain. After a largely forgettable dinner on board of some kind of pasta
and sauce we went back to our cots and fell into the kind of deep slumber that can only be
achieved after a long day at sea under a blazing sun.
Waking early we were treated to some freshly fried mandazi – a deep fried triangular piece of
dough resembling the infamous New Orleans beignets – washed down with some strong Nescafé
brewed with milk and lots of sugar. The boat boys were already at it with their particular cigarettes.
After a day’s travel by motor we were set to make the return leg via sail, a much more tranquil and
civilised way to make way that would take us at the perfect speed for fishing. Several lines cast
and within minutes, Mohammed had a panga fish on the line. Minutes later the captain had a little
snapper, and Jack was on too, a barracuda this time. We reeled them all in and they went into the
hold. We dropped lines again and there was some big man talk of getting further out to bag
ourselves a tuna, which was attempted but sadly to no avail.
On the way to the uninhabited island know as Manda Toto we caught several more snapper and
now had enough for quite a substantial barbecue. After gathering firewood we built a large bonfire
and cooked the fish on it, set against a kaleidoscopic sunset. It was delicious. In the half light we
prepared our sleeping quarters for the night, cushions from the boat and a 20x20ft tarpaulin, folded
in half. We got in, all lined up like sardines in a tin and looked at the stars: more and more seemed
to appear the longer we stared, though this may or may not have had something to do with the
large bob Marley cigarette that we had just shared. We drifted off to sleep, giggling and rustling
under our giant blue tarpaulin.
Captain Kibbeh’s sauce
Ingredients:
A 1 inch piece of Ginger
4 cloves of Garlic
Chilli
Half a Carrot, chopped
Pinch of Salt
1 small finely chopped Onion
Small bunch of chopped Coriander
3 Limes juiced
Olive oil
Pepper to taste
Method:
To be true to the recipe, do it on a boat, don’t wash any of the veg and use a rusty knife. To be
safe, don’t follow this first part of advice.
Add the first 5 items to a pestle and mortar (or food processor) and pound into a paste. The salt
will help provide some grip in the pestle and mortar. Add the onion, lime juice and coriander, add
a little oil to loosen the sauce, add more salt and some pepper to taste- you want it to pack a little
punch so don’t hold back too much! Pour some over freshly caught fish as a marinade before
cooking on a BBQ or in the oven. Reserve some to drizzle on afterwards.
An edited version was originally published in Root + Bone magazine
