Buzzing Around The World With Fellette & Doug

Zanzibar, the Spice Island...

Again, the day started with uncertainty and concerns for personal safety. It is almost like ''The Ship" does not want us to go ashore. On the door handle this morning was a letter from the ship advising of the security risks associated with taking a tender to town. Of course we have the ever threatening Mosquito, the dock for the tenders that is not in good condition, Tanzania is a Muslim country and this is their Holy Day, suggest that we travel in groups of four or more, and avoid political discussions. Other than that, have a great day in Zanzibar.

Of course all the foregoing is true, but we are supposed to be experienced, travellers. I am not sure if these extra warnings we get are an American phenomena or not. I do not recall such emphatic warnings on P & O ships. I also do not recall reading any of these warnings in the brochures that we had before booking.

A security officer was to go ashore and determine if it is safe for us to go ashore. I envisioned a sort of Commando Raid of old age pensioners if the reconnaissance team radios back that all is good. Maybe two green flares followed by a red, then off we go,,,,,

After sitting in the lounge clutching our boarding ticket for one and a half hours we get the word.... The Raid is On! Fix bayonets and let's go. I actually heard one man say, and I am not making this up, "I would feel better with an AK-47," God help us, and God Save America.

Eventually we got off the ship late morning, our undeterred group has now swollen to eight. In the lounge while waiting to hit the beaches we were approached by two charming women, the eldest 86, who asked if they could join our shore party.

Unfortunately this group of eight only had three men. A cardiologist, a city planner and a struggling Tai Chi student, all retired, and with a combined age of about 200. The doctor, a fellow Canadian, said that with Tai Chi we couldn't defend anything. I suppose we were flattered to have somebody think that we are still able to offer some sort of protection.

Within six or seven minutes of landing we were in the capable hands of our new trusted friend Mr. Pago, [that is Swahili for no teeth!]. He is a Swahili Muslim. [We didn't have much choice folks.] After a brief huddle we decided to walk through the streets of Zanzibar. This may not have been as sophisticated as a decision as much as the fact that soon we were wandering the streets of Zanzibar! Our comfort level at first was quite uncertain as Mr.Pago turned us down an alley, the type of which we hope our grandchildren will never walk down. But the column stretched out a bit as we began to feel comfortable there. On the one or two times that I lost sight of the group as I was doing my photo thing, a tinge of apprehension hit me. It was broad daylight, but the ''streets" are about 10 feet wide, there are no cars on them and no street is longer than 200 feet before it splits or bends. Sometimes there are throngs of people, sometimes you are all but alone. It would be very easy to get lost

I only know about six words of Swahili, all of which I used on passers-by. Starting with Jambo, [hello], that usually loosens them up, most times that gets a smile and a response. It was great fun. One little nine year old looked at me and said, all on his own, "Hi there", I stopped and chatted with him, he had a smile from ear to ear. He speaks, English, Swahili and Arabic. Again, the population is about 95% Muslim.

We wandered through their shops area, a shop is about 10 feet wide and 12-15 feet deep. Some absolutely beautiful dresses and outfits for the women. We couldn't help but wonder who wears them?

Virtually all the women were dressed in traditional Arabic dress, all black. The extreme was a complete head to toe covering with a sheer material where their eyes are. Varying down to the school girls that had a white shawl, with a dark top and skirt. Possibly the women wear these colourful dresses within their homes or in groups of women? Sorry I could not comfortably take photos. The colourful African dresses from the last two ports were absent. The men and boys dressed like men and boys in Vancouver or any other city in North America, except, more than 1/2 had the Muslim cap on.

The heat and humidity eventually dictated that our 86 year old Commando go back to the ship, along with her younger friend. Our guide took care of that in a wink. By this time we were at The Market, which means it is a zoo, like Macy's a week before Christmas, but taking place in the alleys behind second rate hotels in 92 degree heat and no breeze with high humidity. This is not a criticism, the place was safe and as clean as it could be, and we were never intimidated or had any bad looks thrown our way. It is just the way it is at a market in Zanzibar.

Our thirst and ratty appearance told us that it was Miller Time, Tusker beer for the men, and coke and Fanta for the women. $1.

This break took place at a corner square that in retrospect was probably the most interesting placethat we have ever had a drink at. We sat on a cement ledge and watched the parade of people go by, any one of whom could be on the front cover of a National Geographic magazine.

Mr Pago also took us to the oldest Mosque in Zanzibar, a Hindu Temple, the old slave pit, the Cathederal, and a housing complex for the poorer class people, financed by the Aga Khan about 100 years ago,

also showing our trusted guide. We also saw other notable sites and generally did not a bad days work in this fascinating town. There was ample opportunity to give away candies to the kids but today we didn't have that many. The one shot of that little girls face is of Gail firmly telling the girl to share her granola bar with her little brother.

I don't think so! The sign is painted on the side of an elementary school. There is progress in the world.

Next, we had a request from Gail for the Bazaar. She had heard of some great shopping place from the port lecturer. Our guide led us off to an area that, although it had merchandise, did not have the "stuff" that Gail was looking for. Jim and I really like the markets where there are dismembered goats and fish, etc. being chopped up and all the strange fruits and vegetables that is there for the locals. The girls are good at tolerating our fascination with this but it is only fair to do some other type of looking as well. Unfortunately this was not a tourist market.

Nevertheless I took the opportunity to search for some boxer undershorts for myself, inasmuch as a couple of mine have gone missing on the ship. One stall had a very big selection of men's jockey shorts and I enquired if they had boxers, no. Next thing I know I am being escorted down the crowded narrow street to "a friend" who has some, but I thank him and shake him off. About 100 feet down I get a tug from somebody who has a pair of pink women's briefs draped on his body for my approval! How did they get that information to him?

Time to get back to the ship and some food. Twenty minutes later we are at the Port gates, still with our trusted guide. We stop at the Old Dhow Harbour, where they still load and unload those big awkward sailing ships by hand. The harbour is a teeming mass of sweating black labourers. It looks, sounds and smells like something out of the 18th century.

Can you see the water in front of the boat?

Back to the ship, with a brief stroll through the stalls now set up by the tender point, the end of a great day that started with so much uncertainty. We had dinner at Jim and Gail's table later and met there amiable table mates from Colorado, Harry and Nan. The end of a great day.

It is very difficult to get photos of the locals without causing stress, therefore I regret that you have to look at pasty North Americans, sorry folks.

That was our day in Zanzibar, not long enough.

posted by Doug and Fellette @ 7:55 PM