Nungwi is one of those unfortunate villages that happens to be squashed between two beach resorts (oddly enough, these resorts seem to cater to mainly Italian tourists. As is often the case, the village has remained poor and largely segregated from the beach areas - very few locals are hired to work in the hotels and they make their living from traditional trades.
We were lucky enough to get a tour of the village from one of the locals – he was our guide to Nungwi's
turtle aquarium even showed us his own home and family (his wife was busy applying henna to her hands and feet for decoration).
The villagers were a friendly and happy bunch, though they were obviously quite poor; there are no tarred roads, just muddy tracks, and the houses are small, simple affairs made of coral bricks or breeze blocks with corrugated iron roofs. Plenty of chickens shuffle around in the garbage behind the houses and there are lots of flies.
They have electricity but not running water – water comes through standpipes in the street, but the supply is erratic. When the water is on, women carrying multiple buckets line up to get as much as they can. It’s amazing they look so good – all the women (this is a Muslim village) wear bright, vivid dresses and headscarves from puberty, and only the (very cute) younger kids run around in basic gear.
The village keeps busy: Nungwi is known for its shipbuilders, who hammer and carve wood around the clock making dhows (traditional fishing boats). They cost 6 million shillings (US$5000) and take 40 days to build!
Fishermen sell their catch at the fish market, often just a simple gathering under a tree where piles of sardines, trumpet fish and dorado are auctioned off to the highest bidders.
The only other stalls we saw sold greenish oranges (very sweet!), cassava and roast corn on the cob, as well as small amounts of tamarind, wild garlic and ginger.
It used to be famous for game meat, but these days hunting is banned in Kenya, and the only exotic items were farmed ostrich and crocodile meat. The group seemed to like the ribs and chicken livers best! 
Instead, we stayed on the western slopes at the super-deluxe Mount Kenya Safari Club, a posh colonial pile that was associated with Hollywood stars in the 1950s and 1960s – William Holden was long-time president of the club.
On the way to the park, we stopped at Thomson Falls near Nyahururu, a famous training hub for Kenya's champion long-distance runners. Samuel Wanjirŭ, the first Kenyan to win the marathon at the Olympics, calls Nyahururu home. Along the way, we saw a few atheletes training along the road.
The Aberdare National Park is home to 250 types of bird and 44 different mammals, from elephants to striped mice, but lions are no longer among them – they were relocated after concerns they were killing too many animals, especially the rare Bongo antelope. 
Nothing lives or grows in the water here, but the national park is most famous for two creatures: flamingos and the rhinos that graze in the marshy land nearby. 
They are nomadic (though in practice tend to move the village every three years or so), practice polygamy (each wife is bought with 10 cows), wear traditional clothing and are very poor (materially).
The Masai have become so good at killing lions, it is said that if a lion sees anyone dressed in Masai clothes, it just runs away!
Nungwi is one of those unfortunate villages that happens to be squashed between two beach resorts (oddly enough, these resorts seem to cater to mainly Italian tourists. As is often the case, the village has remained poor and largely segregated from the beach areas - very few locals are hired to work in the hotels and they make their living from traditional trades.
They have electricity but not running water – water comes through standpipes in the street, but the supply is erratic. When the water is on, women carrying multiple buckets line up to get as much as they can. It’s amazing they look so good – all the women (this is a Muslim village) wear bright, vivid dresses and headscarves from puberty, and only the (very cute) younger kids run around in basic gear. 
On our way to the beautiful east coast of Zanzibar, our driver had to stop at least five times at police checkpoints. Sometimes the police, dressed in pristine white uniforms, would just saunter out of the bushes and wave the car over; other times they had metal barrels barring the route. These are supposedly to check car insurance, road worthiness etc, but all that actually happens, after a few sentences are exchanged, is that the police get a couple thousand shillings 'fee' to let the car pass. Our driver seemed to be pretty resigned to it and just laughed: "This is Africa my friend!"
