After a short trip on a puddle jumper plane just big enough to hold our group, we landed in a small, dinky airport somewhere outside of Stone Town (only one room with the waiting area outside under a tree). I could tell almost immediately that it was a huge transition from the coddling environment of White Sands in Dar es Salaam. For lunch we went to the Walking Show for mutton biryani (supposedly the best in Tanzania, eaten with only the right hand, of course). The hotel is simple, to put it easily. The four guys are in one cement-wall room with a couple of bare bulbs sticking out of the wall, but I don’t mind. By Africa standards I think it’s actually pretty nice. We even have our own bathroom with a shower and flushing toilet.
But we don’t spend that much time in the hotel. Once we arrived we really hit the ground running. Our days have been filled with a guest lecture by Dr. Narriman, excursions to the wild open-air market, haggling with shop owners, a 6 hour tour of a Zanzibari spice plantation where we watched Mr. Butterfly dance and sing his way up a coconut tree, and plenty of rich Swahili food. From what I’ve been able to see of Stone Town so far, I love it. It is almost exactly what I expected an African city to be like. The hustle and bustle – read somewhat organized chaos – of a perfectly functional town. The only difference is what we define as fully functioning.
As I sit in the on the shaded rooftop terrace of our hotel listening to distant flute and drum music drifting through the air (which has now been replaced by the melodic call to prayer of the mujahidin), I wonder how an old Arab trading center as magnificent and prosperous as Stone Town has evolved into what we see today. The streets – when there are streets – are dirty and full of trash. The old Portuguese colonial buildings are run down and broken, and nothing above the second story seems to be occupied, unless by a hotel. The farmers on the spice farm aren’t allowed to export the crop Zanzibar is most famous for: cloves. Instead they have to sell to government markets for dismal prices. By American or European standards it would be in shambles. But the town is still amazing and bustling with life. Shops are open and running on every corner, the open-air market is packed shoulder to shoulder with people, and fishermen come in and out of port with a constant stream of sea life. Everyone greets the people they meet on the streets earnestly and warmly, even complete strangers. Politically, Zanzibar is incredibly engaged, with the CUF and CCM parties battling over the somewhat forced annexation of Zanzibar by the mainland and Zanzibari politicians earning ministerial positions in the national government. The island itself is beautiful and the people are happy.
At first it seemed to me like the shaky skeleton of a European-style town. But as I spent more time there I realized that it was just Africa. Their way of life is so incredibly different than ours that these big, flashy colonial buildings became more of a nuisance than a necessity. The islanders have learned to function with just what they need, and a European town is full of excess for them. It’s not that Stone Town is failing or broken, it’s merely been adapted to fit the unique Zanzibar way of life – a simpler, happier life that makes everyone feel at home.
Memoirs of a Yankee 