Beaches in Tanzania are busy places. More foten than not, there are fishermen with their wooden boats bringing in their catch or preparing to set sail.
It is common to see men sitting on an old car tyre or piece of driftwood mending their nets and laying them out to dry.
Old and broken fishing boats, a derelict reminder of happier days, often lie abandoned and unloved, their old and cracked ribs a victim of salt water and the relentless sun.
On the beaches you will also find boat builders, those who fix up boats which look to me like a hopeless case, more holes than wood. Solomon is one such man. He made me a small wooden dhow as a replica of those he fashions with his rudimentary woodworking tool.
In Kilwa at the far end of the beach, where the sea meets rock, were small groups of men sitting under trees, talking and watching other axe-wielding craftsmen making new ribs for a large fishing boat. They had sourced some thick bent branches which they were fashioning into new ribs.
I went to have a closer look and on the ladder leading to the hull was the owner of the boat, silently watching the work. All around was the sound of axes hitting wood and nails being hammered into the ribs.
I cannot imagine a more beautiful workplace. Of course I have a romantic view of what it’s like working with your hands making boats on a warm sunny beach, I am also aware that in reality it must be far from this.