Dawn on the East Coast

It was a family understanding when we were young in East Africa that we would gather just before dawn to have a cup of tea and watch the sun rise, so when Gill and I started visiting the Tanzania coast a decade ago I made a point of getting up early and wandering out onto the sands to watch from the beach as the sun lifted itself out of the Indian Ocean.

It's a glorious time of day. Overnight, the beach has been swept clean by the tide. Hardly a ripple disturbs the surface of the sea. The air, cool and clear and still, holds all the promise and hopes of a new day, and the opportunities that come with it.

As the sun rises the great landmass of Africa begins to warm, heating the air above it. As the air rises it draws a wind from the sea and, with it, come the ngalawas, the small traditional fishing boats which have been out all night beyond the reef.

Those dawns, in the 1950s and 60s or in the 2010s, remain as exceptionally vivid memories.

We have to decide whether we should return to that coast one more time before we are too old to travel; we have to decide whether going there is a higher priority than, perhaps, visiting somewhere which is new to both of us; and we have commitments to the part of the family that lives far away to the west. One thing I have to decide is whether my memories, vivid as they are, aided by pictures, are sufficient to keep me through my remaining days.