Photo: dhow half wind, Ukerewe Island model (low bow).

The trip started a bit chaotic. I had hired a dhow through a middle man I did not know, hence did not trust. I was taking three wazungu. Sunday morning the harbour site is busy, this is a Muslem country. In Kiswahili, a Muslim language, Sunday is called Jumapili, the second day and to them it is like Monday to Christians. At the agreed commercial jetty, we met to my reassurance my middleman. The dhow he had agreed with, however was moored far, and the crew did not seem eager to take the job. Another dhow, moored right at the jetty and completely unloaded, showed more interest, so our middleman shifted the deal to them. He asked me for money to buy food. I did not understand him at first, because we had agreed to sail to some village and take food there. Once I got the point I gave him the money. My wazungu company got hesitant about the food. I told them they would probably have better food than what a village restaurant would supply. I did not really convince them but they had brought some food with them anyway and were ready to be satisfied with that. While my middleman was gone for food a crowd of little thugs and what have you, not used to seeing whites in the harbour site, was tightening around us, alert for chances, trying us out. Some offered us a better deal, another claimed our middleman was unreliable and surely would have taken off with the money I gave him for food. I had better negotiate with the crew myself, he could help us. Of course, this was an unpleasant and real possibility, but after an uncomfortably crowded twenty minutes out middleman returned with cow meat and maize powder.
This guy told me you surely would not return, I told our middleman, Haruna.
Haruna evaded the issue. My little plotter acted as though he knew about nothing. The crowd of thugs was pushing. Something had to be done. My flat hand went for my plotter's ear, after which I looked him deep in the eyes and raised my finger. The crowd cheered. Space opened to the dhow and we could enter. Now,  the dhow was full of people. Since some had already asked to join us (the food probably was the attraction), and since I was not prepared to have a trip on a 13 meter dhow with a crowd of 20, I started to ask the crew how many they were. They were clear: 4. Plus Haruna 5. That was OK for me. The remaining shady types were leaving the dhow.
I turned around, noticed my three wazungu had not boarded the dhow and just saw them leave the jetty. Clearly, the events had been to much for them, my slap on thug's ears might have passed the limit. I knew one of their cell phone numbers but decided simply to accept the financial consequences.
Where are they going? Haruna asked.
Don't worry, I pay.

Off. At Beaufort 3-4 a 13 meter dhow makes 10 km per hour in all directions. Unexpectedly, is sails keel 50% in the wind, with quite a drift, something like 10% , hence: course 60%. Some math tells you it can make an in-the-wind speed of 5 km/hrs, which amounts to a foot march speed, not bad at all, at least not if you expect, as I did, to be unable to beat to windward at all.
Time to think of lunch. The burner is a car wheel on its side, filled with fire wood  This is how you light it half wind Beaufort 3-4.