Zanzibar, Sweet Zanzibar

Where to begin?

Upon learning that classes weren’t to begin last week as reported, I decided to leave Dar es Salaam on Wednesday with fellow travelers Katarina, Janet, and Salah. We caught an economical ferry to Zanzibar at noon, thanks to the successful price-haggling of Katarina and Janet the day before. The boat was a two-tiered slow ferry, the bottom half of which was occupied by residents, while tourists (paying a higher price), filled the upper, air-conditioned portion. Since Wednesday was ‘the Eid’ (the end of Ramadan), the audio-visual system blasted readings of the Koran throughout the entire trip. Upon arrival, we were required to present our passports and landing cards before gaining access to the island.

We eventually found our way to the Haven Guest House with the help of ‘Steve,’ a local who waits at the port for people just-like-us to look like they’re having trouble finding their guesthouse. After checking in and drinking a Coke dated 2006, I grabbed some street food and walked around Stone Town, the name for the portion of Zanzibar characterized by winding streets, carved wooden doors, the scent of spices, and my own inability to successfully navigate anywhere. And I do mean anywhere. At one point, we were literally around the corner from our guesthouse, and I was like, “I have never ever been here before.”

Wednesday night, we headed down to the fish market, where the Eid celebrations were in full swing. Stalls lined the walls offering food of all types; my favorites were as follows: First, I loved the long tables full of fish skewers—tuna, snapper, barracuda, lobster, crab. You got to pick out what you wanted, and they’d grill it up right there. Next to these were small stands where men shoved stalks of sugar cane through gears, crushing the juice from them, before adding fresh ginger and lime. Finally, there was Zanzibari Pizza, pockets of vegetables, eggs, and meat sealed inside dough and fried on a flat-top grill. It was probably one of the most festive places I’ve ever been, and really similar to the Christmas markets of Germany.

Thursday was spent walking around Zanzibar looking at buildings and fields and people—not our watches. We took a daladala to a highly-recommended beach called Matoni Marine. As a beach: awful. As an experience, very interesting. It was really expensive and pretty tacky. I would rank it right below T.G.I. Friday’s. But it came so highly recommended. So, basically, when we asked for a beach—even specifying that we preferred somewhere cheap and local—everyone directed us to Matoni Marine. This means one of two things to me: 1) people assumed that, as white people, we were so rich that it would still be cheap for us, or 2) that, despite our protests, we could have no real interest in going to a local beach. In any case, we walked back to the city center, stopping to try some spiky fruit a man was selling by the side of the road. That night, we visited the fish market again and loved every minute of it.

Afterwards, some locals invited us to attend the community Eid al-Fitr celebration. It was a sprawling complex of tents and food stands; I can tell you that it looked remarkably similar to the North Dakota State Fair. Fewer electric lights, yes; more veils, indeed; no Midway, true. Still, I was so surprised! People welcomed us warmly; one man about my age came up to me and told me that he wanted Americans to know that Muslims were good people. (I said I’d pass it on.) We sat on the grass drinking sugar cane juice and talking to some locals about life in Zanzibar, Ramadan, and the celebrations. They told us that during Ramadan, families save their money so that they can spend it on the Eid celebrations. Apparently, a family with 3 female children, for example, would be expected to have at least 12 dresses made (one for each evening of the 4-day Eid celebration). Obviously, that can be quite a strain on a family living in one of the world’s poorest countries.

One Friday, we took an early daladala to the southern tip of the East Coast, stopping in a village called Jambiani. We checked into our hotel and started exploring, first in town and later along the beach. Immediately upon our arrival, about 20 children from the village came to our bungalow wanting to play; anytime we went down to the beach, they ran up to play with our hair. The kids who could read were particularly fascinated with my ‘Teach Yourself Swahili’ book, and they sat on the beach reading dialogues and vocabulary lists until the tide came in. The beach was pretty shallow, so when the tide went out, it really went out. Then, women went out to harvest seaweed and the men started to sell the fish and octopus they'd caught on the reef. At one point, a man approached us on the beach and asked if we’d like to eat local food; after bargaining for a price, he agreed to take us to his house the next day. Easily, it was the most interesting part of the trip. We followed him about 50 meters from the beach into his concrete-walled home and sat on the floor while he served pilau (spicy rice), mchicha (cooked spinach), and a vegetable/octopus dish—all cooked by his sister. It was a delicious meal and an unforgettable experience.

The rest of the weekend was relatively uneventful, except for the unfortunate illness of Katarina, who came down with malaria at the tail end of the trip. We left Jambiani yesterday around 11 and arrived in Stone Town with plenty of time to spare to make our ferry at 3.30. It was called the ‘Speed Express,’ a painfully ironic name for a boat that took almost twice as long as it was supposed to and that made everyone on board violently seasick (except for me, hooray!). After arriving in Dar, we grabbed a daladala back to Mwenge (which, in another charming turn of events, took an alternative route that tripled the time it took to get home). But, here we are, back in Dar es Salaam! No real class today, unless you count the class that met to schedule another class during which we’ll all decide on the time when that class will usually meet.
My time here continues to astound me with how continuously and consistently educational it is.

More soon!