So, here goes….Part I: Zanzibar Island
On December 22, Liz and I boarded a 7am Scandinavia bus to make our all-time favorite trip from Dodoma to Dar es Salaam. Though the ride was hot and crowded (per usual), we made it to Dar and went straight to the ferry station to buy tickets for the trip to Zanzibar. Merely an hour or so after arriving in the busy city and forking over a little extra money for First Class tickets, we found ourselves relaxing in reclining chairs in the air-conditioned interior of the ferry, watching The Fugitive on screens above our heads. Obviously, we quickly decided that First Class was worth the extra money! After nearly three hours of cruising past sailboats, deserted islands, and sandbars surrounded by aqua-blue water, we came upon the historic port of Zanzibar Island: Stone Town. We took in what we could of the decrepit yet beautiful town in the fading light of the evening, and we went to bed that night exhausted but excited for the exploring we had ahead of us the following day.
After a nice breakfast on the rooftop of our hotel, Liz and I set out to take in Stone Town. I, of course, constantly had my camera in hand, and Liz quickly revised her saying that I usually have her stop every 5 steps for a photo op to every 3 steps! The town is essentially a photographer’s paradise, as unique architecture, beautiful carved wooden doors, and the amazing location on the coast make for great photos. The town is predominantly Muslim, and much of the architecture echoes this statistic, though hints of Creole, Italian, and Greek architecture show up periodically as well. Mosque minarets can be seen rising from
the skyline all over town, their monosyllabic calls to prayer permeating the air throughout the day. Shoes of all colors and sizes scatter the steps as people everywhere abandon their tasks and enter the mosques to pray, a duty they will complete four other times throughout the day. Oblivious to this devout practice are the tourists from all over the world who crowd the streets, their only concern being what store they will go to next. Liz and I were quite amazed to see the number of Wazungu we encountered in Stone Town, and I have never before heard so many different languages spoken in one place. Although we hadn’t realized Zanzibar was such a tourist destination, we quickly grew acclimated to the oddity of blending in and we too meandered from shop to shop, overwhelmed by all there was to see and do. After shopping to our hearts’ delight – and amazed by the fact that we’d found several stores that accepted credit cards – we set out with map in hand in search of the Anglican Cathedral.The Anglican Cathedral was built in 1877 over a former slave market site, and the altar of the church marks the location of a tree where slaves were beaten to determine their strength. The Cathedral also contains several references to Dr. David Livingstone, a Scottish missionary and explorer whom strongly advocated for the end of the slave trade on Zanzibar and in Eastern Africa. A crucifix made from the t
ree in Zambia that marks Dr. Livingstone’s burial site stands in the church. The Cathedral’s adjoining hostel, St. Monica’s, was built over several holding cells where up to 70 slaves were kept before being auctioned, and Liz and I were able to go into these dark and cramped spaces. Though a monument consisting of stone statues of bound slaves in a pit commemorates the slaves, the entirety of the large building is in itself a monument to the slave trade and those who worked to bring it to an end. It was interesting to hear about the history of the place and all that happened there.Later that afternoon, Maaike, Lianne, Leane, Josiah, Jo, and Gwendlyn all arrived in Stone Town after their safari in Mikumi. The eight of us went to dinner together at a great restaurant called Livingstone’s with candlelit tables right in the sand, after which we walked to explore a typical Zanzibarian dinner locale. The entirety of a street was filled on both sides with tables covered in fresh seafood. Squid, fish, shrimp, octopus, and a variety of kebabs lay in piles on checkered tablecloths. The men behind each table were eager to offer you food as you passed, which they would then place on their grill and cook for you, complete with a side of chips (fries) or a variety of breads. Thankfully, we were all able to pass on the “delicacies” since we had just come from dinner, but it really was a remarkable sight! Though Leane said she has tested the fare before, I think I’d be a bit skeptical to try seafood that had been sitting out in the open air and sticky heat of the island!
The following day, Leane and her group continued on to the beach on the East side of the island, while Liz, Maaike, Liaane, and I stayed in Stone Town. The four of us decided to take a trip out to Changuu Island, also known a
s Prison Island. The island was originally used by Arab slave merchants to detain slaves, but it was later purchased by the British, who built what was meant to be a prison in 1890. Though the building was never used as a prison, it was used as a quarantine station for visitors entering Eastern Africa. The beautiful island also houses a community of giant tortoises, the first of which were presented as a gift to Zanzibar by Seychelles in the late 1800s. Excited by the sights in store, the four of us boarded a small dhow for the short trip to the island, the water surrounding us growing clearer and bluer the closer we got. After arriving and carefully making our way from the boat to the beach – Liz was not so lucky and ended up falling into the water, which she then had to wring out of her clothes once reaching dry land – we first explored the prison, which has apparently been restored to its original condition. The sunny yellow building doesn’t appear to be a prison aside from a few bars here and there, and the cerulean blue accents and terra cotta tiles on t
he roof certainly make it the prettiest prison I’ve ever seen! When I had taken my fill of photos, we crossed the small island to visit the tortoise sanctuary, not quite sure what to expect. After paying our entrance fee and being given a handful of leafy greens, we entered a wooded area which had paths winding through. The tortoises, which were gargantuan in size, meandered around and across the paths, approaching anyone they thought might give them food. Some of the larger ones stood several feet of the ground, and we all came to the conclusion that they were a bit scary! After making our way through the sanctuary and exhausting our supply of tortoise food, we made our way back to the beach to relax before heading back to Stone Town.The rest of the afternoon was spent showing Maaike and Lianne all the great shopping locales that Liz and I had found the previous day, and later the four of us enjoyed a celebratory Christmas Eve dinner on the sand. We shared the feeling that it really didn’t feel like Christmas for us this year, and we compared stories of how our families would be spending the holidays back home. Though not quite the Christmas Eve any of us were accustomed to, we ate and drank and had a good time, sharing in the company of new friends and new experiences.
On Christmas morning we found ourselves back at the Anglican Cathedral where we attended an English service in the chapel. The chapel was crowded, the sermon a bit rocky, and the carols sung off tune with no accompanying instruments, but it was nevertheless nice to retain one of my holiday traditions by attending a service. After returning to the hotel and climbing into our taxi, we departed Stone Town and headed for Bwejuu Beach on the south easte
rn part of the island. On the way we stopped at Jozani Forest, home to the rare Red Colobus monkeys. Our guide took us into the forest where we were immediately aware of monkeys in the trees above us, and more appeared everywhere we looked. Aside from a close call with a baboon in Dodoma a few months ago, I had never before been this close to monkeys, and they were often perched less than a foot away. It was amazing to watch their behavior and mannerisms and see how closely their actions resembled humans. We watched as two monkeys carried on their typical grooming and also as a mother sat cuddling her tiny baby, who looked down at us inquisitively with his large, dark eyes. Though we were reluctant to leave the monkeys behind, I decided that there could be worse ways to spend Christmas day than visiting a forest full of monkeys, and we hadn’t even reached the beach yet!After the long and hot journey, we finally arrived at Twisted Palm Bungalows, our beachfront home for the next four days. We were greeted by Laura, an Italian woman who manages the hotel with her husband. She and several porters helped us pull our luggage up a steep incline of rocky stone steps and led us to our bright green bungalow on top of a hill. The bungalow was a stand-alone structure com
plete with a front porch and straw thatched roof which had been divided down the middle to create two rooms. Maaike and I took one while Liz and Lianne settled into the other. Before long we found ourselves on the beach, lounging on the slightly uncomfortable wooden and rope beach beds. Though we were a bit disappointed by the cloudy conditions, we were nevertheless excited to have reached our destination.The next few days continued in much the same manner. We’d meander down to the beachfront restaurant in time to catch the tail end of breakfast before parking ourselves on the beach for the remainder of the day. Though it has rarely rained for the nearly 6 months I’ve been in Africa, the rain decided that our week at the beach was a good time to come, and thus each day was interrupted by clouds and periodic rain storms.
Tired of sitting on the cloudy beach, Maaike, Lianne, and I signed ourselves up for a “Safari Blue”. The next morning we departed from the hotel in a van, our company being a young couple working in Namibia who was also staying at our hotel. After driving nearly all the way back across the island to Stone Town, we finally arrived two hours later at our beachfront destination. A clustering of large sailboats sat docked in the water about 100 yards away, and porters were busy carrying large coolers and supplies to the boats. Groups of tourists stood on the rocky beach, and we were a bit disappointed to find that our boat wouldn’t be traveling solo. The leaders of the safari gave brief introductions – in multiple languages – before splitting us into groups and leading us out through the water to the boats.
A group of about 16 of us piled into one boat, and we set off under menacing skies with the rest of the fleet. Our destination was an island where we would go snorkeling, but on the way we also did a bit of dolphin watching. When all the boats reached the island, we dropped anchor and headed to the shore, where we quickly went to collect our snorkeling equipment. We spent the next hour or so paddling through the water, amazed at all was living under the shallow water. Schools of thousands of tiny iridescent fish swam right around us, as others weaved their way conspicuously through the abundance of coral on the ocean floor. After sustaining a bit of sunburn and seeing all there was to see, we headed back to shore where our group leaders cracked open fresh coconuts for us to enjoy. As the clouds continued their descent, we were shuffled back to the boats to outrun the impending storm.
We soon reached our destination on a nearby island and once again made the long walk from the boats to the shore where rows of long picnic tables were set up. Each boat had their own row of tables, and the guides distributed beer and soft drinks before lining everyone up for lunch. Each person wa
s given two plates, and as we moved down the line an assortment of fresh-cooked seafood, rice, and bread was heaped onto our plates. Though we didn’t think we could eat another bite after the huge meal, the guides then brought out a variety of tropical fruit for us to sample. Mango, papaya, pineapple, starfruit, breadfruit, and many others were passed down the table, followed by coffee and liqueur. We sat chatting for a while with our new Namibian friends, and soon discovered that their vacation was due to some unfortunate circumstances. A mere three months earlier their 18 month-old son died when he got tangled in a fence and was strangled. His nanny had left him and gone inside, and the tragedy occurred in her absence. The couple’s friends had all pitched in to send them on their trip. Maaike, Lianne, and I were all shocked to hear of their story, especially since it was such a recent occurrence, and we offered our sincere sympathies to them both. I can’t imagine having such a terrible thing happen, but I was glad to see they were making an attempt to enjoy themselves.Eager to work off a bit of the bulge that had settled in our full stomachs, the three of us followed a small group to investigate a 700-year-old Baobab tree. The tree had fallen over at one point and continued to grow, creating an odd arrangement of branches and trunk. We enjoyed climbing on the tree and taking photos before heading back to the beach. By this time a game of beach volleyball was in full-swing, and Maaike and I were quick to join in. The two teams were representative of numerous countries, and despite the fact that the ball rarely made more than two passes over the net before falling to the ground, we all had a great time. Our game was interrupted as we were told it was time to once again board the boats, and we reluctantly said goodbye to our new friends. Our next destination was a mangrove lagoon, where a circle of rocks topped by mangrove trees enclosed a clear pool of water. We took the opportunity to dive out of the boats for a quick swim before the boat captain hoisted the sail and led us back to shore. We arrived back at our hotel a few hours later, exhausted but reeling from all the exciting things we had seen and done that day.
During our stay at Twisted Palms we became quite well-acquainted will the hotel staff, including the Maasai warriors who worked as guards. Maasai are tribesmen who typically live in the northern part of Tanzania. Our hotel, however, employed several Maasai warriors who had come to Zanzibar to earn money during the high season. Through surrounded by Western tourists, these guys attained the traditional garb of their tribe which consists of a shuka (a colorful piece of cloth), cow hide sandals, and often a leather belt. They also wear large beaded cuffs around their necks, arms, and legs, and carry wooden clubs and knifes. Though we at first were a bit intimidated by these guards, our concern turned to slight amusement when we noticed them wearing Western-style sunglasses and playing a game of soccer on the beach.
One night, the cook and servers at the restaurant invited us to go to a local club with them. Though we momentarily wondered whether our decision was a smart one, Maaike and I departed about 11pm with about four of the guys to make the dark walk to the club. We were relieved when we finally arrived, and were not surprised to find that we were the
only Wazungu in the entire place. We stuck close by our friends’ sides, worried that we would be left behind, and watched as heated games of pool commenced before us. The outdoor venue was small and crowded, with a small bar behind a metal grate, a dance floor where people danced to the mixed tunes of African music, Bob Marley, and Western rap, and an area for the pool table. Though Maaike and I were able to avoid the dance floor, we were amused when Josiah, one of the guards at our hotel showed up. He stood out starkly in his Maasai garb, and he was always visible as his wooden club rose and fell in the crowd in beat with the music. A few hours later we left and made the walk back to our hotel, happy that we had gone “outside the box” and witnessed the night life of Zanzibar. A couple nights later Maaike and I received another invitation to join in the fun when Josiah and another Maasai named Luca were going to a club at a nearby beach. We accepted and made the 30 minute taxi ride to a beachfront hotel, where an outdoor bar and dance floor were set up. We quickly realized, however, that Luca and Josiah had developed slight crushes on us, and after a couple hours of thwarting attempts to dance with us and finally convincing them that we needed to go home, we made the awkward drive back to Bwejuu. Though Maaike and I tried to climb in the back of the taxi together, Luca insisted that he sit next to her. I glanced back once or twice to see Maaike squeezed as close as she could get to the window, as Luca sat leaving barely any room between them. I – thankfully! – had the shier of the two, who kept a safe distance on the opposite side of the bench. After Josiah spotted a ring on my left hand and asked (seemingly shocked) if I was married, I decided to tell him I was engaged, which seemed to thwart any further advances. I could hear Maaike in the backseat regaling Luca with stories of her boyfriend back in Holland, which apparently had little effect. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we arrived back at our hotel. Maaike and I sat laughing so hard on our front porch that our stomachs were sore the next day, and we quickly revised calling the Maasai our “Rafikis” (friends) to the more appropriate term, “Rafreakies”. Needless to say, Liz and Lianne were quite amused by our story, and we made every attempt to avoid them as much as possible until leaving a few days later.
Zanzibar was quite the destination spot for Dodoma’s missionary community, and a large group of us was clustered on beaches no more than an hour apart. On one night during our stay, fourteen of us met at a central beach locale for a post-Christmas dinner. Callum and Laura, Scott and Nikki, Brandon, Leane, Josiah and many others composed our group, and it was great to meet and catch up with many of our friends that we hadn’t seen since leaving Dodoma. Upon seeing the photos of the evening, Miriam (who is living back in New Zealand and just announced her engagement!) remarked that the friends we have made here are ones we will remember forever. I think she is definitely right, and I am trying to cherish the time I have left with them. Maaike and Lianne, for instance, return to Holland in two weeks. Though I know they can’t wait to get home, it will be sad to see them go. I have hopes, however, that I will be able to make a stop in Holland on my way back to the States in April to visit them.
After a few relaxing days of lounging on the beach and sharing lots of laughs, we reluctantly packed our things and headed back to Stone Town. Liz, Maaike, Lianne, and I said our goodbyes and parted ways. While Maaike and Liaane were heading up to the northern coast for a few more days on the beach, Liz and I were heading back to Dar es Salaam to meet my parents at the airport that night. Though I was sad to be leaving the beautiful island, I couldn’t wait for my parents to arrive, and it was hard to believe that after five long months I would finally see them again.
To Be Continued…….
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