The sun was dipping low over Kendwa Beach, painting the sky in shades of mango and lavender as I kicked off my sandals and let the powdery sand slip between my toes. “Jambo jambo!” a fisherman called out, his voice carried on the warm breeze as he hauled his dhow onto the shore, its wooden hull creaking like a song. I’d arrived in Zanzibar for the kind of peace you can only find where the Indian Ocean whispers secrets to the coast. Kendwa, they said, was the place—and they weren’t wrong.
I settled into a weathered wooden chair at the beachside bar of my favorite hotel on the island, a gem tucked right against Kendwa’s shore with its thatched roofs and laid-back charm. The bartender, grinning like an old friend, slid a piña colada across the counter—icy, sweet, and topped with a chunk of pineapple that caught the last glint of daylight. I took my first sip just as the sun kissed the horizon, setting the water ablaze in hues of fire and gold.
The breeze swept in, cool and salty, teasing my hair as the steady crash of the waves rolled through the air, a sound so alive it felt like the ocean was breathing with me. I closed my eyes, letting it all sink in—the drink, the sunset, the moment. This was Kendwa at its finest, served up right outside my little slice of paradise, where every evening felt like a gift.
And there, with the world fading into twilight, I paused. The pina colada chilled my hand, the ocean’s song filled my ears, and a quiet thankfulness rose inside me. Thank you God for this little moment- nothing grand, just pure, simple beauty that felt like a secret shared between me and the universe. Kendwa had given me more than a sunset; it had given me a memory to hold onto forever.
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