The sea in Mombasa is playful at this time of the year. The waves are gentle and ride on top of one another like playful kittens. When the waves break, they make the sound like the one a huge banana plant makes on hitting the ground – complete with the coordinated ruffle of the leaves slapping away the dust. And then the water will spill onto the sandy beach and retreat immediately with the sound of a fizzled drink pouring onto a formica table. The suddenness with which the water creeps up to your ankles will make you instinctively retreat higher aground. And in an instant, you footsteps on the sand are wiped out of existence. And time and again the impressions of your footsteps are cleaned from the golden sands and vanish, like the burden of sin each time it is confessed.