A dhow by any other name
I have a weakness for dhows and try to hitch a ride on one whenever I’m in East Africa. Travelling by dhow is addictive. There’s a primitive pleasure in the marriage of wood and canvas with wind and water, the creak of mangrove timbers and coir rope, the cry of commands in Swahili. It’s a very pure kind of sailing.
Propelled by the monsoon winds, dhows from Arabia and India used to bring
