Kendu Bay/Ramadan

Toto has gone back to Nairobi so I'm on my own. Traveling alone is a different kind of experience. More ebb and flow of time. In a small village between Mbita and Homa Bay, I played checkers for a bottle of coke. (see photo) I lost, costing me 50 shillings. At Homa Bay, I stayed at the New Jersey Hotel again, this time making sure my room wasn't next to the men's urinal (that was one sleepless night!)There was even electricity this time around.

Remember that Homa Bay is the place where the hyacinth is so overgrown, that there is no access to Lake Victoria there, causing fishermen to figure out another way to make a living. The locals told me an amazing story. A launch with 30 passengers was on its way to one of the islands when clumps of this green weed blew in and surrounded the boat, preventing it from moving. They stayed in that boat for one week, trapped by green growth. It wasn't until a helicopter from Kisumu came that they were airlifted out of there. When a heavy rain came, the hyacinth broke up and the boat was able to move out.

I rode to Kendu Bay where I learned a bit about local Luo culture waited. Irritated at a group of villagers who refused to leave me read in the shade in peace, I simply packed up and moved down the road. After a good rest, I was approached by three men who wondered if I needed rescuing. They invited me to the local micro-brewery where a group of women were distilling Busaa from corn and millet. Five of us enjoyed the mildly alcoholic drink (also called pombe in Kiswahili) and discussed various issues as we sat in the house owner's living room. After I paid (of course) the 80 shillings (about 90 cents), the small group escorted me to a small hotel in the Old Town of Kendu Bay. It was located in a Muslim area and being the first day of Ramadan, the residents were jubilant. About 10:00 in the evening, I walked outside to the sound of children shouting and singing as they made their way home from the mosque. The next morning, the same kids raced through the streets at 5 a.m. shouting SALAT, SALAT. Time to pray.

In Kendu Bay I met one of the most interesting, hospitable, and memorable people. He hugged me the minute he saw me, very unusual for a Kenyan. Three times, in fact, like an Ethiopian greeting. He introduced himself as Najob. His father was from Yemen but Najib grew up in the Luo tribal area of Kendu Bay.  He had two wives. The first wife was from Yemen. He never told me what happened to her. His second wife was a Luo woman, a Christian at that. He expressed his love for her, even as she sat in the room. "I love this woman. Isn't she beautiful?" I had  never heard an African man be so public with his emotions. She sat on the sofa, smiling innocently like a new bride.

Najib told me he had 14 kids (or was that grand kids??) The oldest ones were quite Arab looking while the children with his Luo wife were more African in their features and color. While we sat in Najib's living room, banging sounds filled the air. Soft sounds, like metal spoons on plastic. The was Nywawa, a Luo custom that happens once a year. It is believed that the spirits of dead ancestors come back to disturb the living. So in order to chase them off, the residents find anything in the house that makes noise and take to the streets. In Kendu Bay, the spirits were chased to Lake Victoria and sent on their way until the next year when they would surely return.