I was a barefoot child. I would shun my shoes in favour of the lithe pleasure of unshod freedom. Much to my mother's despair, I would shed my shoes and socks to run in fields, climb trees and clamber over over rocks never once thinking about burdensome things like safety! Then one day, my mother told me about 'jiggers' or the chigoe flea (I don't recommend looking these things up). I never went barefoot inland again.
The things that we stop talking about have a cunning way of escaping our minds. So for years my memories of barefoot adventures slipped from me. Then, one evening in Zanzibar, we took advantage of the low tide and walked a way impassable during high tide.