Page 54 - Msingi Afrika Magazine Issue 34

Art & Culture
university). He quickly served me with wali
wa keki, viazi karai, mitai labania together
with kahawa tamu.
I sat at the edge of the sea placing my toes
on the waters. Mzee Bakari joined me with
kahawa tungu and a full plate of mahamuri.
He reminded me of my research educator:
Dr. Antony Ngondo, a generous man,
kindhearted, friendly, and full of knowledge
of Swahili culture. Mzee Bakari spoke fluent
Swahili like Dr. Ngondo mixing Arabic and
English. He told me stories of the Lamu
Archipelago wars between Sultan Oman and
Portuguese in Lamu.
He also expressed frustration with Wabara
(foreign people from the coast of Kenya),
Italians, and Chinese for interfering and
belittling Swahili culture. At lunchtime,
Mzee Bakari took me to the famous Mama
Rukia Swahili Dishes a hundred meters
away from the breakfast café. She had three
beautiful daughters serving delicious pilau,
biriyani, mandi, samaki wa kupata, mbaazi
wa nazi, kamba wa nazi, achari wa birimbi
samaki kamba, maharagwe wa nazi and
chapatti ya mswahili (Swahili cuisine). The
lovely girls had draped themselves with
flowery lesos’ and kangas’ written, DAWA
YA MUME MPE CHAKULA. They had
pierced their noses and ears with sparkly
rings from Swahilis of Pate Island. The place
was full of men and many never left Mama
Rukia’s Dishes without a return.
I reached out to Sir. Uhuru Aswad a follow-
up on his photography exhibition of Lamu’s
old town, racing donkeys, drumming, and
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various sports activities on social media.
Our phone conversation made me think
that Uhuru was a distant relative of retired
Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta. I admired
his good command of English. The day I met
him, l was standing at the entrance of the
Lamu Forte Museum under mkuyuni tree.
It is a famously Swahili gathering centre of
Lamu Island. He said over the phone that
he couldn’t see me at mkuyuni. I turned
backward and saw a fair senior man standing
before me. He wore a yellow Michael Jordan
sports vest, a pair of blue polyester shorts,
and Maasai sandals. He had a red cap written
TUPAK that hid his dreadlocks. His eyes
were covered with translucent sunglasses.
When he pronounced “WANYAX ARTS!”
(my artistic name), l spotted some missing
and broken stained teeth. He had a long
tongue too like the lizard with red spots.
When he removed the cap to scratch his
scalp, gosh! Uhuru was a bald man. His few
white hairs were rolled into long dreadlocks.
I got scared but pretended to be strong. He
immediately embraced me warmly and threw
a few welcoming words in English. Everyone
relaxing at mkuyuni greeted, “Satan!”,
“As-salaam alaykum” (Satan is his popular
nickname in Lamu island) and responded
with a gracious smile. He introduced me as
a renowned scholar from the university. I
affirmed his sincere introduction with a thank
you to him in Swahili.
It is said that a child on the back of an
African woman doesn’t know the journey