Our snorkel cruise thwarted by high waves, K, B and I opted to lie under a thatched shade hut on the beach, none of us overly disappointed. Brian rallied and attempted windsurfing with marginal success – just enough to claim having wind surfed on Zanzibar. Samuel and Paulo joined Kristin and me and our conversation from yesterday continued. Kristin, being fluent in Swahili, was much better able to converse clearly, though we agreed that we had done pretty well yesterday thanks to Samuel’s English. It turns out he speaks four languages – Swahili, English, Italian, and the native language of their Masaai village. All this from a 22-year-old with hardly any formal education. We learn that he and Paulo are half-brothers, their father having two wives. Samuel laughs when I ask if they are married. No wives yet! During our conversation, Paulo’s cell phone rings. It is so incongruous to see a person dressed spectacularly in traditional Masaai robes pull a cell phone out of somewhere and go off to converse. Brian returns from his sail and joins us. Samuel asks if we remember the song from yesterday. We sing the song for the video camera and play the clip back, laughing. We exchange addresses and phone numbers. What are the odds of seeing them again?
The rest of the day was much the same. Lunch in a shady, semi-outdoor restaurant, relaxing walks on the beach. Bill and Will return from their dive. They have seen sharks and barracuda on the reef. They share yet another connection to each other. At times, I think they are each other’s incarnation.
Dinner that night was lobster for Bill and me. Various fish or chicken dishes for the rest of the group. What luxury! Lucouss succulent chunks pulled out of the shell. Caught fresh hours ago, not flown across the country. Will has been doing extremely well finding plenty to eat though tonight he enjoys a big plate of fries. Home is everywhere.
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