Getting to the mysterious Islands of Lake Nyanza
What I remember most about waiting at Luanda K’Otieno pier was the absence of fish.
It was late afternoon, and the eateries that usually bustled with the aroma of fried tilapia and Nile perch and the laughter of travellers had run out of their prized catch. I could not get over the irony of running out of fish while your cafés compete for real estate with your delicacy. That is why, to this day, my most profound memory of the pier was the hunger I endured for a short while before heading to the nearby shops to forage for snacks. The sun began dipping low, casting a golden glow over the restless waters of Lake Nyanza.
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We had chosen the ferry over the water bus because we had a large Vehicle. Pretty soon the vessel came, and we joined other cars, lorries, vans and livestock in the crossing over to Mbita. It was already dark, so we spent that night at a hotel, intending to begin the second leg of the journey the following day.
On the second day, after breakfast, we headed to a market in Mbita, situated at the lakefront. We found a dozen boats already there. A couple of them already fully loaded with merchandise and people, or so we thought.
The boat owner beckoned us to board the board, others did, but I remember a few of us declining, saying that there wasn’t room.
I was convinced we wouldn’t fit.
The vessel was already groaning under the weight of iron sheets, sacks of grain, and the occasional chicken house— “od’ gweno”. The boat conductor, unfazed, simply waved us aboard. “Step over,” he said, pointing to the narrow spaces between cargo and other passengers.
We squeezed in, taking seats on opposite sides for balance. More people joined, each finding their spot, arranging themselves and their belongings with the practiced ease of seasoned lake travellers. The boat rocked gently, but the crew’s confidence was contagious. Thus began the journey to Takawiri Island. We set off, the engine chugging as it cut through the water.
This journey was punctuated by several stops at various boat “stages”—small, informal docks scattered along the islands on the Homa Bay side of the lake. There were no signs, no fanfare. If you didn’t know which island we were now stopping at, you simply asked a fellow passenger or the conductor. The sense of community was palpable; everyone looked out for each other.
When we finally arrived at Takawiri Island, I was surprised to find that there was an entrance fee. It seemed odd to me then, charging to set foot on an island.
But the beauty of the place quickly dispelled any irritation. Takawiri is one of the most picturesque islands I’ve ever visited: pristine, tranquil, and untouched by the rush of modern life. The turquoise waters lapped gently at the white sandy shores, and the air was filled with the scent of wildflowers and the distant calls of birds. It was worth every shilling.
Our return journey was a different experience altogether. Evening had fallen, and the waters of Lake Nyanza had grown restless. The boat rocked more violently, and with each wave, my mother and I gasped, gripping the sides for dear life. Some even laughed at our panic, reassuring us that this was just the normal evening tide. Others scared us even more with stories of how bigger waves have caused many people to perish in the water. The other passengers, however, remained unfazed. The different moods on the boat matched the many rhythms of the lake—its moods, its dangers, and its enduring beauty.
As expected, we docked safely and made our way back to the Mbita Ferry, a sturdier vessel that carried us back to Luanda K’Otieno Pier. From there, we resumed our journey on solid ground.
Another memorable water transport experience took us to Camp Tom, a hidden gem on Maboko Island. The journey began on rough, dusty roads, the landscape stark and rugged. The contrast was striking when we finally arrived at the resort—a luxurious oasis of chalets gradually emerging, the closer we got. The drive was short and calm, but the anticipation made the wait for our boat feel endless.
Every journey on Lake Victoria is a unique experience, a chance to connect with the water, little-known islands, and the people. Sometimes it’s the thrill of riding the evening tide while watching the sun set over the horizon. I prefer having a destination.