Zanzibar

So I was in Zanzibar twice. I first went direct right after leaving Uganda. I flew there. (That’s when I saw the smoking volcano, which we incidentally so smoking again when we were at Ngorongoro.) I had decided to go there because I’d heard great things about it and Mark said I’d definitely have to go or he’d disown me, or something to that effect. The thing was I hadn’t read the revised itinerary all the way to the end after the changed it and took Kenya out of the tour. So I didn’t know we’d be going to Zanzibar with the tour. But that’s ok. It was better to go there twice and have more time there. Even as it is there is more that I could have experienced there. The first time I stayed in a little hotel full of character right in Stone Town. I had been craving alone time or so I thought, since weeks, no maybe a couple of months but it turned out that I ended up being lonely there in Zanzibar on my own. I walked around Stone Town through the little streets and shops that are often all the same, arts and crafts. But one store keeper tries harder than the other to get you to come to their shop. Sometimes it can be quite annoying. It was very, very hot. I thought I was going to melt. My feet felt like they were on fire, my clothes were soaked. I kept looking for ways to cool down. I sat at a café on the beach in the shade and had cold drinks. I frequently went back to the hotel to shower down or lie down under the fan for awhile. I didn’t go out in the dark because I didn’t feel comfortable as white woman alone to be walking around in the dark. That meant I was sitting in my hotel room at 7pm. In Africa the sun rises at 7 at sets at 7, every day, all year, very predictable. There are guides who hang around the streets trying to get you to take a tour with them or give you a ride in their taxi. Some of them are legit, others apparently not. I had got a ring when I was in Turkey and I put that one on my left hand just to help out my stories of my imaginary husband. It was fun making up all sorts of stories and the ring came in quite handy. One guy, who had actually followed me around for a bit, asked me if I was lying when I told him that my husband wasn’t feeling well and lying down at the hotel and I was going back there shortly. “Lying? No see my wedding ring.” I replied and he immediately left me alone. In general, once I figured out how to relate to the people it was easy to get along.

Most beautiful in Zanzibar I found the women. It is a Muslim society. And many of the women are fully covered, face included. But they were different than other Muslim women I’ve seen in my travels so far. They had style. Their dresses were all black but had beautiful embroidery or beadery around the arms or neck or down the back. There was a bit of shape to the dresses and I thought they looked quite sexy in the way they walked and comported themselves. I saw two women having a conversation, chatting and laughing away. They parted, going their separate ways when one remembered something to add, she called the other woman back who turned around, she quicly flipped up her face covering and conveyed her little message. They both laughed and continued upon their ways. It was a neat little interaction to watch. The women add to the exotic nature of the island.


The second time in Zanzibar we went over by ferry. Just Musila and I. Wachira and the big white truck went on to the next camp ground and waited till we got back. The ferry ride over was beautiful. It was crammed full of people but I had a nice spot on the back deck in the sun and spray. By the time we got to Zanzibar I had a nice salty layer covering my body. There was a coffin on the boat too. I noticed it on the way in. It was one of those raw wood, Dracula-shaped coffins with “The human remains of Prety….” written on it in crayon. The lid wasn’t fastened properly and when I saw them unloading it, the lid was bouncing up and down. It was a little creepy.

We stayed at a luxiourious hotel just north of Stone Town right at the beach. It was a bit of a shock to be in the lap of luxury after having camped for almost 2 weeks. The first evening, since we’d got there late, Musila and I just ate something at the overpriced bar. The second evening, the other group had arrived and we all went out to dinner in Stone Town. We all drove in together on a dalla dalla. Then Victor and Musila left us and went their own way. Apparently outside guides get into trouble with the police regularly. Guiding is supposed to be left to locals. We tried to come up with some stories about them being our boyfriends. But in the end it was just easier to go off and do our own thing. On my full day there I joined a spice tour. It was nice to do something with other people. It was interesting that the others on the tour were all people who were working in Africa and were just on a little holiday in Zanzibar. The sexy, dark Swedish guy is working in the Sudan with the UN getting rid of land mines, the two American girls were working in Rwanda on I don’t remember what. The French couple is working on an island off Madagascar. It’s a French department and they’re teaching there. They were neat. I was speaking French to them as they were struggling with their English and so it ended up whenever they didn’t understand anything on the tour they’d turn to me for a translation. That was cool.

The spice tour was neat. It was a little farm growing the different spices of the island for tourist spice tours; vanilla, ginger, cinnamon, pepper, cumin, curry, cardamom, nutmeg, cloves…and different fruits too; pineapple, pamplemousse, the lipstick plant was interesting. There was a group of boys who ran along beside us and made different things out of banana and palm leaves, adorning us with jewellery and baskets to carry our leaves and spice roots in. Of course, they wanted donations after to help them with school fees. And there were spices to buy too.
We had a delicious local spicy meal for lunch before going to a beach and spending an hour there with the sands and waves of the Indian Ocean. On the way back we stopped at a slave cave where the sultan had hidden 200+ slaves after the slave trade became illegal. The young man giving the tour was a very good storyteller telling us also about the magic python snake in the tunnel that is the god of the cave and how people of the village come there on Dec 31 to bring offerings to the python god to bring them luck for the new year. We finished with a stop to drink coconut juice and eat its meat directly out of the coconuts.




The next day I spent lounging at the beach and having good conversation with Victor and Musila. Victor, the guide from the other tour, is quite gregarious and we had some fairly animated conversation about the differences of our two worlds. And how tourists come and expect things to be like in their world and get upset if they’re not. The ferry trip back to Dar started out great. I watched other ferries unloading their passengers and their wares while waiting for our ferry to depart. I sat out on the back deck again.
The first hour was beautiful, then the sea began to get choppier and choppier. I was starting to get soaked and my stomach was beginning to feel it. I went below to where Musila was sitting and soon found myself feeling terrible. I think the local fast food lunch we had was also not doing so well in my digestive system and I ended up having it come out both ends. Fortunately not at the same time. There were many others who were feeling unwell, people were lying around on the floor, and it was a good thing someone came around with bags. We got to the campsite at a beach in Dar late. The showers at that campsite were the best. Good water pressure, cool temperature, it was a little salty, but it felt sooo good. By the next morning my stomach was back to its usual self.