Zanzibar

Pleasuring In Zanzibar

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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We spent evenings on the deck of the Mercury Bar watching the sun set over the Indian Ocean full of fishing boats and beautiful lean bodies swimming in the water. The Mercury Bar is named after Freddie Mercury, the lead singer of Queen before he died, was born just up the street. We read in a local English language newspaper that his Bohemian Rhapsody was recently voted the number one all-time most popular song in the UK. Incidentelly, the bar menu has a drink called the Monica Lewinsky-Blue Curacao, triple sec, gin and sprite. Subscript: “Find out what a bubbly body can do in a blue dressing!”

Next morning on the 14th it’s back on the ferry (hi-speed hydrofoil this time) to the truck waiting for us in Dar es Salaam where we camped at the Mikadi Beach Resort in Dar again. We fight off the Malaria “mosies” (mosquitos) in the tent with a towel before falling asleep in a heap.

Zanzibari Feasting

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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Zanzibar’s native cuisine brazenly drenches seafood in local aromatic spices. At night, locals gather at Forodhani Gardens, a strip of park on the waterfront right outside the House of Wonders. Before sunset, cooks begin setting up grills and tables along the water and laying out skewers of raw seafood. You can stroll along the stalls and pick different delicacies that are then grilled in front of you by lamplight, and wash it all down with mugs of fresh sugarcane juice.

On the upper deck of the Africa House, converted from a gentleman’s club during the era of British colonial rule and rich in atmosphere, we feasted on grilled pork, calimari, mashed sweet potatoes, cabbage salad, chapatis and fresh mixed fruit smoothies served by a very gracious waiter while we watched the sun go down over the Indian Ocean. We sampled Samaki/Kuku wa kapaka, fish and chicken in coconut curry with it’s sweet, warm and spicy flavor which is common all over East Africa. Biriani is meat or chicken with a deep fried onion-based sauce served on a bed of rice.

Another night we ate at a Chinese restaurant-first Chinese since we left home; we are desperate for vegetables! I ordered crab-three huge claws whose shells were at least 1/8 inch thick. As we were leaving the restaurant, I asked the young Chinese cashier where he was from. I am Zanzibari, he said proudly, as he threw his squared shoulders back! Oh, you were born here? I am third generation he said! Are you from Hong Kong? Yes…where should we go in China…oh, stay on the east coast where they have everything new…and go to the Island of Macaw…just like Las Vegas…it’s where I went to college! What was your mother thinking, I said laughing! He said he only liked places in China that were new and modern-hated buildings and statues and old walls-means nothing to him. His dad, he said, always liked to visit those places that were boring to him. Yes, he was Zanzibari!

Beach Boys In Zanzibar

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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Beach Boy Answer to Poverty
Beach Boys are a pain in the arse. They don’t want to work because they can get more money wearing flip-flops. smoking hash and hustling tourists, the smart young woman behind the reception desk of the hotel says. They aren’t selling anything-just want to hook you up with a taxi, hotel, or a tour and then they get a commission. Or the most frustrating thing-they come up to you with a “Good morning, how are you?” If they get eye contact and an answer they know they have have you. (You don’t want to be the stone-faced unkind westerner.) Then they introduce themselves to you and ask your name. Then they ask you where you come from. They will want to know where in the US you live. They will give you advice, give you directions, explain the history of the area and tell you how to keep yourself safe and all of this distracts you from what you are doing and keeps your attention on them.

It is also a misuse of the African custom of exchange by which a person, after giving you something (in this instance information) expects something back (in this instance money). So we have figured two answers to this problem. One goes like this: Bob hired a motor scooter from George who seemed to be pretty straight. So on the last day in Stonetown we paid him 3000 shillings, or about $3 to take us around to the optical shop, barber shops and to drive us to the ferry at noon. Not one tout bothered us as long as we were with George and George was very happy. So from now on I think we will try to find a guy we are comfortable with and just pay him to go around with us. The second answer is to be blind and mute-don’t give them eye contact and don’t answer them-which is hard for me because my nature is to connect with others.

Zanzibar’s History

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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After Independence from Britain in 1963, Dr. Julius Nyerere was Tanzania’s beloved president for nearly 30 years until his death in 1999. The cornerstone of his policies were based on the Ujamaa Village, a collective agricultural venture run along traditional African lines. He sought to ensure that those in political power did not develop into an exploitative class.

In the 1800’s, Zanzibar, however, was ruled by the Arab country of Oman and was important to the Arabs as a slaving center. In fact, you can visit the Old Slave Market in what is now Darajani Market. Unfortunately, after independence was won from Britain, and even though the Afro-Shirazi party won a majority in the elections the government somehow was formed by an Arab minority which infuriated the Africans. Outraged, they organized an armed revolt and abolished Arab rule. The president of Zanzibar now is Benjamin Mkapa.

You can visit Dr. Livingstone’s Exhibition Room where Livingstone stayed in 1866 during the preparation of his last journey into Africa where he led an expedition to suppress slavery by means of “civilizing influences” and to discover the source of the Nile. But he was not heard from for several years so in 1870 he was met on Lake Tanganyika in the present day Democratic Republic of Congo by a rescue party led by Henry Morton Stanley who greeted him with the famous remark, “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” Stanley and Livingstone explored the area north of Lake Tanganyika together. He died in 1873. His servant dried his body and carried it and his papers on an 11 month journey to Zanzibar-a trip of 1000 miles. The people buried his heart in Africa as he had requested, but his body was returned to England and is buried in Westminster Abbey.

Stone Town Zanzibar

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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May 11-15 2002 City of Stone Town Island of Zanzibar
The tropical island of Zanzibar has a more cosmopolitan and warm and open ambiance than other African countries we have been in-more like the islands off Thailand. Zanzibar is an island partner in the United Republic of Tanzania. It is made up of Pemba and the Unguja Islands, also known as the Spice Islands, along with about 50 small islands. The official languages are Swahili and English and the population including the Island of Pemba is just under 100,000. The religions are Muslim, Hindu, Christian and Traditional Beliefs. Per Capita yearly income is U.S. $190.

Stone Town, the capital, is often the first stop for travelers. After getting off the three-hour ferry from Dar es Salaam, Bob and I chose the Baghani House Hotel, with a nice quiet room with a real air conditioner and full breakfast owned by a friendly local family. That evening we were so tired we missed a big party at the African House Bar and Restaurant commemorating the death of Bob Marley who is revered in Tanzania for his peacemaking role between Tanzania and other African countries (and other) efforts. The next day the other truck riders went on a Spice Tour and continued to the northern beaches to work on their tans and do some fishing while Bob and I stayed in exotic Stone Town to cool our heels and rest after enduring the noise and charcoal cooking smoke of Dar.

The tropical island of Zanzibar has a more cosmopolitan and warm and open ambiance than other African towns we have been in-more like the islands off Thailand. The official languages are Swahili and English and the population including the Island of Pemba is just under 100,000. Zanzibar is an island
partner in the United Republic of Tanzania. It is made up of Pemba and the Unguja Islands, also known as the Spice Islands, along with about 50 small islands. The religions are Muslim, Hindu, Christian and Traditional Beliefs. Per Capita yearly income is U.S. $190.

Stone Town retains the atmospheric trappings of urban life in Muslim cities but hews to a much looser interpretation of Islam than many places in the Middle East. So while calls to prayer regularly resound through the streets, bars and restaurants serve alcohol with little restraint. Leaving the hotel we instantly found ourselves swept into the decaying opulence of the city. From the narrow passageways we ducked into the inner courtyards of old manors, pastel paint peeling from the walls.

What lends Stone Town its charm are the remnants of empire, all piled atop one another and inflected by the native Swahili culture. The Persians were among the first foreigners to settle here alongside the indigenous people. The island was colonized by the Portuguese starting in 1503, and brought under the control of Oman in 1698. The sultan of Oman eventually moved the seat of his kingdom to Zanzibar, which resulted in an artistic renaissance in Stone Town, with Arabic influence becoming much more overt in the designs of manors and palaces. In the late 19th century, the British Empire annexed the island, only to have it gain independence decades later, before coming under the rule of the government of mainland Tanzania.

The shadow of the Arabian peninsula, just across the Indian Ocean, falls everywhere in Stone Town. We made our way through the twisting streets, marveling at the thick wooden double doors with their arabesque carved lintels and large brass studs. One narrow alleyway led to another, with branches veering off in all directions and plenty of dead ends. There were groups of men in white robes and skullcaps playing pool in small cafes, and cramped shops selling everything from spices to television sets to long rolls of multihued cloth. It had the same feel as Cairo – the urban design of Zanzibar is the same as the one imprinted all over the Islamic world.

Dalla-Dallas In Zanzibar

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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Transportation
Outlying areas can be reached by taking little numbered pick-ups called dalla-dallas across from the Darajani Market that charge about 30 cents and like the matatus (multicolored buses) are filled literally to the brim with people as they careen crazily along narrow one lane roads. I wondered if this is where the Merry
Pranksters got the idea for Ken Kesey�s bus in the �60�s.

Nairobi to Cape Town Overland

Posted on by Laughingnomad

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May 5, 2002
We left for the 4000 mile seven week trip in a Mercedes Benz truck overland from Nairobi to Capetown. As Bob suspected there would be, there are 17 kids all under the age of 30 on this truck-very cheeky Aussies and Kiwis and half a dozen ball-busting Britains. Overland trucks are the cheapest way to travel Africa so the trucks are always full of kids-guess we will be content with being the token elders.

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The master of African roads is the truck driver-cars cannot manage the ruts and potholes. The truck can go almost anywhere with its powerful engine and wide tires. James understands the power under his control. We are dumbfounded by his ability to wedge the truck into the smallest path, narrowest driveway, around the sharpest corner! Drivers are extraverted and have tremendous confidence-an almost regal bearing. I read this on my blog to James and he whooped and hollered and jumped up and down…Yes! Yes! That’s me! That’s me! First instruction from Rod: it’s a TRUCK and not a bus! Every time someone calls it a bus we are supposed to buy Rod a drink-I’m the biggest offender. I just laugh.

We are all divided into four groups that rotate daily-cooks helper, dish washing, security and “dog’s-body.” Security has to stay with the truck when are parked in the towns. Dogs-bodies are the go-fers. They fill up the water jugs at the camps and set up the folding seats. They set up the folding table for food preparation and put up George’s tent. (George is the Kenyan cook.) They also periodically sweep out all the dust and mud out from under the seats and the aisle of the truck. Dish washers make up three tubs of water-one soapy, one with disinfectant and one rinse. They set up two plastic pans for hand washing-one with soap and one with disinfectant for rinse. They dry the dishes by swinging them in the air.

George makes a fire on the ground with the charcoal he has purchased along the road and sets a big grate over the top.

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The charcoals much softer than ours…coals are red and coffee-water hot in just a couple minutes. Cooks helpers peel veges and generally do whatever George wants them to do while they try and keep out of his way. George has pretty fixed and definite ideas about how he wants things to go.

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For breakfast we have had eggs all different ways, French Toast, pancakes, dry cereal made with reconstituted dried milk, toast, wieners, bacon, canned spaghetti, beans. Lunch is grated carrots, sliced tomatoes, grated cheese, green or red peppers, sliced meat and bread for sandwiches. I ask Claire if this is always going to be lunch and she says yes, but to shut up and don’t complain because it’s the only fresh veges we get! So I don’t say a word! George usually puts out the leftovers from the night before too. Pineapple or bananas or dessert.

Dinner usually is served with creamed soup first and then African stew with mashed potatoes or rice, steak and baked potatoes, chicken and rice with good spices, spaghetti with interesting sauces…and many more good things like that. We sit on little camp stools to eat. A couple times George has fixed the African staple, maize, for us-a kind of fine white corn meal. You dip your fingers into it and form a little ball with which you then dip into a spicy meat stew and eat. When it is dark and getting colder and we want to sit awhile around the campfire we put a few coals on the ground underneath each folding canvas seat…works nicely.

The truck has padlocked compartments all the way around with doors that fold down. George has the keys on a shoelace that he wears around his neck. I get tired trying 14 keys to find the one that unlocks the compartment where our baggage is so I paint the key with someone’s nail polish. George just laughs.

The truck periodically pulls over for “toilet stops.” We scatter…boys on one side of the truck and girls on the other. On one stop I was one of the last to get off and after walking down a small bank I looked to the left and saw 6-7 shiny white butts all in a row. I yelled to the girls that I wished I had my camera-you can imagine the hullabaloo! Our hands get sprayed with disinfectant before we get back on the truck.

There are two heavy plastic drops on each side in place of windows that are rolled up during the day so we get lots of fresh air and can see out. It also gives us accessibility to people standing around the truck when we are parked at border crossings and supply stops for those who choose to stay on the truck. If everyone gets out we put the drops down because local kids are known to jump up and grab things off the seats. If we are in a camp the drops come down to keep the monkeys and baboons out of the truck.

The other riders on the truck ranging from early twenties to early thirties are bright and sassy. Besides Bob and I there are two other couples, Damian and Melissa from Melbourne Australia and Tim and Belinda from New Zealand-the rest are single-Heather and Fiona are sisters from New Zealand, Nikki from New Zealand but had been working as a nanny in London, Michelle, Claire, Sarah and Lorelle traveling together from England. Adrian is from Australia with a Canadian passport who lives and works in London and Pete is a New Zealander. In Victoria we will pick up Michael from Johannesburg South Africa and lose everyone else except Nikki, Fiona, Heather, Sarah, Michelle, Adrian and us. Heather, who was working as a nanny in London had a friend who knew Mick Jagger”s nanny (hope this is right, Heather!)

Most are already well-traveled-the four girls from England spent a year traveling together after “uni” (university) and Michelle and Nikki have done overland trips before-Nikki amazingly did a 6 month overland trip in the year 2000 on the old “hippie trail” from England to Kathmandu via Iran, Pakistan and the Karakoram highway. Both Michelle and Nikki are gunning for a job in the overland business and will remain in Africa at the end of the trip.

It’s fun listening to the British, Aussie and Kiwi accents but they insist Bob and I are the ones with the accent! I am starved for conversation and want to discuss the linguistic, cultural and political differences among the English speakers but I sense they don’t like it…that maybe they assume I am being critical of them…the arrogant American…little do they know how critical I am of my own popular culture and the foreign policies of my government.

There is a library (big box of tattered paperbacks) ranging from slut novels to the Autobiography of Nelson Mandela on the truck for long travel days. There is a cassette deck with speakers at the front and the back. The smokers have to sit in the back-always Michelle in her funky little hat under which you can barely see her sparkly eyes and Rod the tour leader. At the very front of the truck there are two steps up to a section of four seats on each side where the Brits usually sit facing each other so they can chatter. The rest of the seats face forward. There is a cooler for drinks.

We have lucked out with a really nice group that is very compatible and everyone enjoys each other. Tim from New Zealand says he couldn’t imagine his mom doing an overland trip-makes me feel good. Rod has confiscated the Michael Jackson tape but the rest of the music blaring all day on the truck stereo is ungodly as you might imagine. We would prefer to remain steeped in images of Africa…the sounds of the local dialects in soft voices…he sound of children’s laughter…the look of the bright wide smiles…the sounds of the daily village activity and of the animals in the parks, the sight of the incredible red clay soil reflected in the morning and evening light, the mind blowing brightness of the stars at night…the breathtaking red sun while it is setting down on the Zambezi…we have left home partly in an effort to get away from the abrasiveness of western popular culture…but James says the other riders are young-this is their time to enjoy…

Bob and I don’t sit together…24 hours a day since February is more than enough togetherness. The truck is not full and many of us get two seats to ourselves. In July and August we are told the truck will be filled to capacity-36 people! I can’t even imagine it! It is good to be traveling now.