Anything is possible in ZANZIBAR

January 26^th marked Aussie Day. Our celebrations started at Volunteer House at 3:30pm after smothering ourselves (and the maids!) in Australian flag tats. Drinking some heavy punch from a bucket, we watched the sunset amidst chants of Aussie Aussie Aussie! I emblazoned kangaroos on many arms and the glow sticks were brought out for good measure. I’ve decided that Aus Day abroad tops any celebrations back home – flaunting vegemite, our accent and the use of the word bogan amongst the Canadians, Colombians, Americans and Europeans was super.

ZANZIBAR.

When I booked accommodation in Zanzibar, I was repeatedly assured “No worries, anything is possible in Zanzibar!”

Despite intensely disliking the turbulent flight, our group of 10 arrived safely in Stonetown around lunchtime a little worse for wear after Aus Day celebrations. Pam, Sune and Sophie headed immediately to the beach whilst Anika, Han, Pip and I spent the afternoon exploring the delightful sights of the costal city.

The View from Beit El-Ajaib

Zanzibar harbours a combination of Arab, Indian and Ancient Persian cultures creating an exotic social melting pot. The architecture itself is a thing of beauty, the skyline an eclectic mix of curved mosques and stone apartment blocks. Under the trusted guidance of Lonely Planet, we walked along the coast until we stumbled upon the 18^th century Beit El-Ajaib (the House of Wonders) which is now the National History Museum. Whilst I enjoyed admiring the traditional clothing, ancient sailing boats, and historic furnishings from 16^th century sultans, the real highlight was the magnificent costal views from the balcony. 
We also self toured the 17^th century Old Fort which over the years has transformed from a battle fortress against the Portuguese to a prison to most recently Film Festival headquarters. Hannah and Pip then headed home for a sneaky nap whilst Anika and I befriended a local guide to take us around – sleep when you’re dead right?

Thank goodness for his guidance, because we would’ve surely become lost in the maze of narrow cobblestone streets that reminded me of Sienna or Venice. First stop was the ancient Persian Bathhouses used by Arabs as a casual, naked social gathering within dark concrete enclosed cells. We ventured through the local market – crowded and smelly - to uncover the spices of Zanzibar. The hub of spice trade between the 12^th and 15^th centuries, we excitedly sifted through bags of cloves, ginger, cinnamon, teas, curry powders and the oh so delicious vanilla beans. After stopping briefly to peer around an old medicine store from which women could purchase herbal remedies to “make their husbands love them again,” (an advertisement for domestic violence if I ever heard one), we came to the Old Slave Market. I was so deeply touched.

Under the rule of the Portuguese, slave trade boomed in Zanzibar from the 16^th C through 19^th C. Imprisoned in underground concrete cells housing up to 70slaves at a time, Africans were almost starved as a test of their physical strength – those who survived were deemed useful. Africans of different tribes and dialects were chained together by their necks ensuring no plans of escape could be devised between slaves. Children under 5 were slaughtered.

An Anglican priest who helped bring about the end the slave trade built an Anglican Church upon the slave chambers, the alter marking the place of the whipping post on which slaves were beaten before sale. The alter of red marble reflects the blood of the slaves, and entombs the priests body. Before his death, he translated the bible into Swahili, busy man. A crucifix of wood hangs on the wall crafted from the tree under which Dr David Livingstone’s heart is buried in Africa. Tourists were swarming the church, but it warms my heart to know that every Sunday locals continue to use the church as a place of worship.

Seafood Markets

The atmosphere is considerably more relaxing than Arusha – photos were accepted and even encouraged by locals and for the first time in a month I felt safe enough to venture outside our home after dark. After watching silhouetted locals play soccer as the sunset over our gelati bowls, Hannah and Pip joined us again for dinner in the Forodhani Gardens right on the water. Each evening after 6pm, local fisherman set up tables overflowing with fresh catches from the day. In front of our eyes our fish, calamari and octopus (steered clear of the shark) were grilled and served up in minutes. I ensured I left plenty of room for the famous Zanzibar pizza – my stomach was not disappointed. Apart from watching a cat be run over a metre from us while walking home, I’d class the day a success.

Refreshed after a nice long sleep, we headed 2 hours North to Kendwa beach to reunite with the other girls. Minor indiscretion with the bill where we paid double accidentally - I love how the owner neglected to point out the error, however smiled as he handed over the extra cash when I returned for it 10 minutes later. Our day improved with an upgrade to an air-conditioned room – thanks to Han for the sacrifice of sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

I spent the following 3 days in my togs without shoes and sporting a glowing sunburn. How I savoured the opportunity to be able to choose my own meals! The selection of pizzas, pastas, sushi and seafood was more than satisfactory. Over Happy Hour and dinner, we befriended an old Massai man “Kilimanjaro” who sang(/hummed) and danced(/jumped) for us repeatedly to the confusion of fellow tourists.

The real fun was the Saturday night beach party hosted by neighbouring resort Kendwa Rocks. Pam and I were the first on the dancefloor, and I proceeded to dance the night away with an amazing Michael Jackson (early years!) dancer and model named Fee. Apart from the constant pestering and grinding from the locals, it was some of the best fun I’ve had here.

Our snorkeling adventure the next day was tainted by sea sickness not only from the 30minute rocking dingy ride to the island but the choppy waves exacerbated by high tide. Having never properly snorkeled before, I loved the desserted serenity, colourful portrait of coral, sea urchins, schools of fish and the odd sea snake. We begged to speed back to avoid the incessant bobbing, and we actually flew over the waves heading back to shore – it’s a hard call between the boat ride and plane trip here for most unpleasant experience of the trip.

Beachfront henna and hairdressing defined our afternoon – I have so much more respect for the intricate hairstyles local women wear after feeling the pain on my own scalp. We finished off the day with a sunset cruise on an old wooden sailboat. The cabin crew were clearly high, and the seedy German tourists sharing the boat egged on the dirty Swahili songs. The most magical part of the day was jumping off the boat’s roof into the crystal clear arms of the ocean.

Finally, on our last morning, I was bobbing lazily in the ocean when a crowd of women and children clutching buckets came storming into the water towards me. Local fisherman bring back nets of free tiny fish for locals, and the sight was spectacular. I can only describe it as a myriad of colourful kangas blowing in the wind amongst cheerful shouting – everyone scrabbling to load their buckets for the day. Such a beautiful way to end our time here in Zanzibar – No worries, anything’s possible. J