Another blissfully unproductive day in paradise. Over coffee this morning, I could just barely make out the approaching figure of Olomonyak heading down the beach. He brought the jewelry his mother had made for me. Crafted flawlessly. I was leaving to go back to Stonetown and he needed to go buy his mother some more beads in town so we jumped on a dalla-dalla together. The ride was a perfect example of the “What’s wrong with this picture” illustration. Fourteen conservative Muslims, a Masai warrior, and a native American (loosely defined). It was obvious we were being stared at the whole journey but most of them did a fine job of averting their eyes before we caught them gawking. We arrived in the late afternoon and walked into the heart of the old district. Eventually, we went our separate ways; I booked an airline ticket to the mainland Tanzania city of Arusha, Olomonyak disappearing into the tangle of the bazaar.
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