The MV Mandeleo plys its way onto the Indian Ocean, across the sparkling, deep blue Zanzibar Channel. A blast from the ship's horn warns an errant dhow to change course. The decks bake under a tropical sun ...
Enough. The real story. The Mandeleo, which I believe probably fits the description 'tramp steamer', has a ship's plate 'Tsuenishi Shipping Co., Japan, 1980 - which surprised me, I would have guessed 1950 at least. A very tired old ship. More flexible honesty: it leaves 11:30, takes two and a half hours. We watch while it loaded all manner of produce until 2:00 and then 'sailed' for a little over 4 hours. Deb and I spent sometime on deck, up at the bow, until the inevitable. You just cannot be left alone. "Ha-lo mizduh. Whyb youb trabel dis berry? Ees bery slowb." But that was the point. Yes it was slow, yes the sea was glorious, and yes dhow sailed all around.
Locals pay a third of what mzungu pay. It's all open and clearly stated on noticeboards. Let's just call it 'skin tax'. But I was surprised, once again, when we arrived at the port of Stone Town and we had to pass through an immigration process, passport stamped and all. Zanzibar has its own government. In fact the whole Tanzania Union of Tanganyika and Zanzibar is still a bit strained here. But the major thing, the immigration process didn't include any charges. That's remarkable. Oh yeah. The large sign at immigration pronounced: 'No public displays of affection allowed'. Suits me.
Also, on arrival at port, woke up to an attempted scam that had the look of robbery written all over it. Luckily, we survive yet again. But you just can't drop your guard.
First up, I thought I might have been visiting my first place which included two Zs in the name. Silly boy. Of course, I was brought up in Brizzie, and I've been to Tazzie. And I've been to the odd Pizzeria.
While working northward we've now travelled east coast Africa, to the west and back to the east: Indian-Atlantic-Indian Oceans. Basically though our zigzag path is a northern corridor on the eastern side of the continent. And it's one big continent. Did you know that the total area combined of China, USA, India, Europe, Argentina and, oh alright then - let's chuck in New Zealand, is 30,244,721 sq kms. Africa's area is 30,342,551 sq kms. Fact.
I have this sneaky suspicion that a local Moslem was a naughty boy the night we arrived. No sooner did the 5:00am call to prayer commence next morning when their god decided to pay the offender back by dumping a deluge when the faithful were making their way to the mosque. By the time we got up later and had breakfast, a wonderful sun shone.
The world is going mad. I'm already getting over the fact one of my earlier books read on this trip was about westerners stressing over their prestige and levels of wealth. A real nonsense here. But over breakfast, a TV played SKY news from London. The major stories included a fuss over a Nepali, 92 years of age, who won a VC saving Brit soldiers against the Japs, being allowed a visa to enter the UK for some medical treatment - this is a country where it rains hot and cold benefits; and believe this one - the Poms bleating that it's Germans who always get the best recliners on the beaches in southern Europe!!; morning traffic blocks on the M5; and don't worry about your car being stolen or house broken into, 33 police have been assigned to watch Big Brother for racist and sexist infringements.
Anyway. Back to Zanzibar.
It's the birthplace of Freddie Mercury, well Farookh Bulsara actually. He didn't stay long before his family moved to India. He wasn't quite 18 when he landed in England. But funnily enough in this mainly conservative Moslem place they still capitalise on the Queen of camp. There's a bar and restaurant featuring him. A neat place to have a sundowner and watch lads play soccer and do gymnastics on the beach. Zanzibar is on the tourist trail. There's plenty of upmarket hotels and the rest of the trappings.
Zanzibar really is a collision of cultures. It really does feel like we've stepped off Africa. I'll do it again and compare. Stone Town feels like we've landed in a merge of Havana, Cuba and Fez, Morocco. How's that? But there's a sort of Malecon along the beachfront and buildings have the worn, crumbling look. And we are staying in the inner/old town which is a maze of metre and a half wide streets with hole in the wall shops and mosques. And the lush tropical growth, especially after the morning downpours, is also reminiscent of South East Asia.There is still plenty of bantu people, but also arabs, and a good number of Indians. The food is grouse.Stown Town is a great place for wandering. The smell of spices surround you. And there are sobering reminders of the slave trade days.
At stalls in the night food market you can get kebabs of marlin, tuna, snapper, barracuda, shark, red and white lobster, crab, calamari, octopus, shrimp, prawn and chicken. Whilst the temptation was there to sample one of each, I did hold back. Mind you it's as cheap as chips. No, not chips, but you could also have japati, roti, or falafel and wash it down with spice tea.
While we ate we were, of course, joined by yet another wanting to practice his interesting version of English. But he did confirm something I have always suspected. When he ascertained Deb came from New Zealand he explained he found her accent hard to understand. "You sound like you talk like a computer." (!!!) You gotta laugh.
Sunsets in Stone Town are over water and the distant African mainland. They take on a beautiful effect similiar to those glorious South Island views experienced from Raumati South.
I completed Thabo Mbeki's Africa: define yourself, which is basically a collection of some of his speeches. I was left with an underlying impression that he is an optimist, which is a good thing. However, there's a few underlying points to think about: He has a dangerous head in the sand attitude to AIDS; He correctly states poverty is a major issue, but he bangs on using cliched old ANC propoganda rather than proposed solutions; He is outrightly evasive on the Zimbabwe issue; And, he is a politician after all, I think harbours an ego and aspirations to being a grander- scale African statesman (not the first post-independance leader either) - and that just might be partly because he has a bit of a thorn in his side coming out from under the shadow of Nelson Mendela.
In Stone Town there is just the most wonderful bookstore: the Gallery Bookshop. Its Africa section is simply fantastic, and the rest is just quality reading. Reminiscent of Wellington's Unity Books. I have now stacked up on three 'big reads'. I have commenced Martin Meredith's The State of Africa: a history of fifty years of independence (Jonathan Ball), bought in Swakopmund, Namibia. And to follow, Aidan Hartley's The Zanzibar Chest (Harper Perennial), found in Lusaka - recommended when in Tsumeb, by Eric and Sandykaye who have done a 4x4 trip down the West Coast of Africa (www.border-crossings.com), and now from Zanzibar Africa: A biography of the Continent, by John Reader. That will be enough reading for a while - I can stop buying.
We traveled the 40-50km to the northern tip of the Zanzibar island to stay on Kendwa Beach. Greeted by a tropical downpour, that continued off and on for two days - at the beach!!! Not part of the plan. We wondered where we were - could be anywhere: Bali, Thailand, or even Pacific Islands. White sand beaches, beautiful sea, palm trees, lush growth. Beach sellers peddled T-shirts, massage, henna feet or hands prints, snorkel trips. We are now on the tourist trail: Nairobi to Dar and Zanzibar. Perfect for the three week holiday taking in Ngorogoro Crater, Serengeti, and Kilimanjaro. There's droves of groups of Spanish, Dutch and Italians. Tourists and back-packers. Good luck to them, I say. It must be great having so many travel options without having to travel half way round the world. Oh, and there's a fair share of wholesomely nice US college kids performing their Christian duties.
It's back to Dar Es Salaam, this time on the fast ferry - a catamaran, which left and stayed on schedule. We had planned our continued trek through Tanzania, but a changed is required. I've gone and broken a tooth. Nairobi will be the best bet. When we were at Cape of Good Hope, South Africa, we met a nice German woman, Julia, who is a lecturer at The Kenyatta Uni. We've e-mailed her and she has recommended a dentist. We'll come back to Tanz. No problems, hakuma matata, its the benefit of travel with time on your side.
'It's not the things you do in life that you should regret, but the things you don't.' Anon.
Max
aka Mad
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