The dhow’s bow slices through the glassy green surface sending ripples with blue crests into the mangal or mangrove biome – the evergreen forests that surround us. The mangroves’ tangled roots break the waves and quiet the water as it laps about them. It is completely still. Our young companion has disappeared with her kayak into a steamy channel.

Mangroves are a highly evolved species, their roots have pneumatophore protrusions that rise upwards to exchange air and breath life into the foliage above us. We set off a flock of shoreline birds as we pass. The sky is darkening. Could the elders have prayed too hard? The heat is dissipated by a roar as Mungo the Giriama god of rain, lets it pelt us. Whilst most of the occupants of the boat attempt to cover up from the breeze that accompanies us as soon as we leave the wind sheltered forest, some lift their faces towards the full sail, enjoying the tempest.

In the remarkable conditions of these tropical creeks – low oxygenated, brackish water, flooded twice a day by tides; mangroves, find their roots. They catch sediments from sea water, cleaning the water that flows back into the coral reefs. Fish breed under the mangroves before swimming out to the coral reefs. Their flowers and fruit feed honeybees and monkeys, provide nesting for frogs and roosting for birds and bats. Leaf fall finds its way to the bottom, where crabs wait to feed on it directly. As fungi and bacteria break down the debris, prawns and smaller crustaceans feed on decomposed litter and they in turn, provide food for larger fish, who are eaten by birds and people. The remaining organic matter is taken up by the mangrove root system and here under each tree, 80% of mangrove litter is recycled.

Lamu county houses nine species and 70% of the mangrove forests in East Africa.

The boatman who is related to every other boatman on the island, tells us when the sea is this rough, the fishermen have to go further and further out to sea, to find the fish. Giriama fishermen are very brave, they venture into storms typical of this season, in small boats to fish where no Swahili will go for the money they are being paid. He adds that the price of fish is very low, as it’s mostly sold locally, where the unemployment rate is high. There is no cold storage available to keep the catch for markets further away.

Someone involved with an oil exploration project on Pate island told me earlier how a coal plant, that was to be built some twenty kilometres from Lamu town, would have brought desperately needed jobs to the county. It was also supposed to provide a reliable source of energy for the standard gauge railway, part of a system of railroads, highways, pipelines, fibre-optic cables, water infrastructure and international airports in what was to become the Lamu Port - South Sudan - Ethiopia - Transport corridor project. Its aim - the large scale transformation of local fishing folk to unskilled labourers who would power the anticipated industrial revolution.

But, T shirts that read “Coal ni Sumu” – Coal is toxic made sure it didn’t go ahead. 75% of the residents did not want the project. Not only would it have failed to provide long term jobs for locals as it would have been run by a Chinese company and their staff, there is no such thing as clean coal. An independent South African company had advised the population of its limitations. And four US senators began a campaign to stop its funding.

Greenpeace explained that other countries, including China, were shutting down coal plants in favour of renewable energy sources like solar and wind – a pledge that Kenya made in its constitution – indicating its willingness to help climate change by reducing carbon emissions. The community was split. Some residents went on to say, they had been ill informed about its licensing, the health risks it posed and that those who had spoken up against the project, had lost their jobs.

Coal ash contains contaminants like mercury, cadmium and arsenic. Poisonous gases, acid rain and chemical ash will find their way into the oceans. Cooling the plant would have needed water from the sea, returning warmer water back. Raising the temperature of the sea would kill off the mangrove forests and everything that relies on it along the East African coast from Somalia to Madagascar.

Development threatens Lamu’s way of life - the very thing that got it on UNESCO’s list of heritage sites, its source of inspiration for travellers, writers and artists. There was understandable panic, opinions were divided and there was fear of change. Having survived the terrorists, pirates, warring factions, droughts, floods and travel bans, this could have been the final nail in the coffin for Lamu.

So the government withdrew the project and have been at the forefront of campaigning for greener energies in East Africa.

The line of wet sailed sunset cruisers is still out when we jump or fall into the shallow waters of the beach. The kayak, abandoned at some safe location. Here people look after each other and their things. On another beach like this, in the Lamu archipelago, turtles have been hatching. They, along with other sea creatures will seek shelter from predators in the root systems of the mangroves.

We walk soaked and wrapped in clinging kikoys through Shela village, past verandahs where people refuse to stop enjoying their sundowners and up towards the dune passing a couple of donkeys laden with panniers of aggregate and through an arch against which lean mangrove poles for building. Mangrove wood is also pest free and excellent for dhows and housing.

The rain stops. The stars glitter, house illuminations from Manda island across the strait, reflect on the waves. Chatter floats from coral ragged houses with their Swahili sensibility. Women and children stroll by anchored boats, long robes, flowing in the wind. The vendor on the beach, his basket full of samosas, is busy. And a young man saunters by on bare feet, showing off his catch. “Caught a shark” he says happily.

We stayed at 360 Lamu, the house on top of the hill, where the breeze is constant and the views span the dunes, across Manda bay, the length of the creek and over Shela village.