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Do not tell me anymore of mythical mermaids lurking
In the fine gradient of the sea, eyes heavy with a snaring desire,
A monalisa smile framed on their faces or of

Sexy mermen and smiling salacious simpletons
To stereotype the smile mystery of the swahili of diani;
Their courtesy charms me like their taarab in the moonlight;

Their light-skinned women with lessos wrapped around
Their hips, flowery with petals like butterflies, carrying messages
Emblazoned in rich swahili proverbs and poetry, or in pitch-black buibui,

Silvery silk hijabs on their heads, the all encircled face radiant like sunlight,
Their disarming ubiquitous smile, proud seeming and confident
With their polite dialect even felt in the soft tread of their feet...

Swahili women do not just smile to strangers, they greet them too:
''Here we neither buy nor sell salamu, we give it for free!'' one elderly
Woman in msambweni tells me one day when I pass by, stone-faced,

A typical bara man demeanor with courtesy only reserved
For the familiar face. I feel the surge of culture shock creeping
Into my conscience, a creepy confusion like in a stormy sea;

A reflection of a sojourners new baptism. I bowed my crest-fallen face and said,
''Shikamoo mama'' she answers ''marahaba mwanangu.''  I was amused and
Warmed up by the sustained, sweet matrix  of her mouth.

Their henna art is spell-binding too. Breath-taking. A love of femininity,
Seem they have all the time in the world to spruce up, to be women:
Smart, sexy, sassy, their feline grace unlocking the manacles of man;

They know their place in this man world, an aura of a social panache,
A tapestry touch of a culture that soothes the soul, a kind of social philosophy-
A humble humanity born of the light of love with life

Like fish in their natural element.Their laughter lacerate the sea,
Make marks on the beach sands, build dreams in the fine gradient
Of the waves, hearts entrenched in the soul of the sea.
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