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A very quick post from Zanzibar, site of a well-deserved 5-day R&R break. Really, one should only post photos from Zanzibar, but that will have to wait until I get back. Wordwise, I’ll just say it’s really spectacularly beautiful here and nice to have a little pampering, and to the extent parts of it are a little bit touristy — there’s a kind of Islamic Jimmy Buffet vibe going on — I say without shame…. Great. After six weeks here, I’m ready for touristy. Beats other adjectives, for example “dusty” and “ant-ridden.”
No big themes from me today — I’m sitting in a beachside cabana after all. I’ll only recount a couple of memorable items from the journey and leave it to others to find a message.
The Kilimanjaro Airport, waiting to depart for Dar Es Sallam, for a morning of errands for Maria and me at two government offices and then the ferry to Zanzibar. A large television in the waiting area displays what appears to be a kind of Christian rock video, with women dancing in unison to the rhythm and melody of the up-tempo somewhat schmaltzy pop-sounding hym, but wearing ankle-length skirts. This footage is interplayed with what appears to be a 1970s era film with an exceptionally graphic depiction of Christ’s final march to the cross, beaten by soldiers and bystanders all along the way. A slightly jarring juxtoposition for 7 a.m.
The flight is delayed about 15 minutes. After we board the captain apologizes and explains that the plane had been surrounded by a swarm of bees.
Four hours in Dar are ample. My errand is to the Ministry of Information office downtown to try to secure the final paperwork for a media permit. The office resembles a kind of tropical version of what one would imagine a 1970s era East German government office to look like, with old furniture about, old air conditioners whirring ineffectually and surly bureacrats leafing through piles and piles of papers and folders.. I walk in the front door and straight into what appears to be some kind of press conference with a man talking at a desk surrounded by reporters and a two seriously blinged out handlers — topic unknown. I keep walking to the back and find my way to the right office. After explaining I’ve been trying to get this done for nine months and have flown from Moshi to finalize the permit I’m told I still don’t have everything I need… but probably don’t need it anyway. I formally throw in the towel on the process.
The ferry is chaotic and we don’t get a seat so have to stand on the back side, next to the door to the men’s room. About halfway between Dar and Zanzibar a crewman opens the door and sees the pipe to the sink is shooting out water. He puts a bucket underneath to collect the water. About 30 minutes later an elderly man opens the door, presumably to use the bathroom, and notices the bucket of full water under the sink. He commences using the bucket to, essentially, bathe himself. I step awkwardly to the side until we disembark on Zanzibar.
Within a few hours I am sitting beside a pool with a cocktail and my Amazon Kindle in hand, very glad to be here and, after downloading a new novel that I suddenly wanted to read thinking, you know, I don’t begrudge Jeff Bezos a single cent he earned from making this thing work. We spent two nights near Stone Town. In a few minutes we depart for an isolated 7-room hotel on the far side of the island, where I hope to avoid the only annoyance of the current locale — the flood of Northern European tourists fleeing their Seasonal Affective Disorders and insisting on having soccer and horrible dance music blasting at the beach bar.
In other words, checking out till later this week and the return to Moshi. Pictures to follow.
