Spice Tour - Last Entry

On my third day in Zanzibar I went on a spice tour. This time I did go through the front desk to arrange it. It was only 15 American for a mornings worth of tour and a free lunch. Not sure if this was a good deal or not, but I didn’t feel like going out to arrange a tour myself.

I took the tour with a couple of American tourists. Bob, a dentist from New Hampshire, and Ted, his son who was serving with the Peace Corps elsewhere in Africa. We had a good time.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. We rode a cab with our guide to one of the local spice farms and he led us on a walking tour through the plantation. He was very knowledgeable and his English was very good. He explained that the island of Zanzibar did not have all of the spices and fruit growing on it until the Europeans came. They brought all sorts of plants and seeds with them from their colonies elsewhere and made the island like an experimental farm.

As we walked through the farm, the guide would stop, cut, dig or pull up something and then hand it to us to guess what it might be.

Too bad my camera was dead. The plantation was quite scenic. I asked Bob to email me some of his pictures. He said he would. Hopefully he doesn’t lose my email address. I will add his pictures to the blog when I get them. In the meantime I see if I can find a few pictures from other tourists that give a bit of an idea about the spice tours. All of the pictures show things that we saw with our guide. When I looked through the images on the net I discovered that there is quite a range in the tours and the kind of things you see.

A cup full of spice

Cardomen

Smell that?

Our guide showed us a great variety of fruits and spices. He crushed leaves or grass stalks so we could smell them. He also dug up roots, picked fruit or had some of his teen protégés shinny up trees to fetch fruit for us to eat. Some of the most impressive were nutmeg (see pictures) and cacao. With Cacao the white milky substance around the bean tastes a bit like yoghurt and kids will suck off the beans and then throw them away. He also told us of the many uses of certain spices, how they can be used as painkillers, balms for scrapes and wounds, insect repellent, stomach settlers, and aphrodisiacs. It was all very interesting, but I have a memory like a sieve… so I have little to share.

A citrus with a really thick rind!

Cacao

Star Fruit

Nutmeg

Vanilla

Here’s some information from a website:

Since ancient times, a flourishing sea-going trade has existed between the nations surrounding the Indian Ocean. Goods from Indonesia, Malaysia and India have been arriving on the coast of East Africa for centuries, borne on wooden dhows sailing the monsoon winds that blow across this region. It is certain that spices from Asia arrived in Zanzibar this way long before the dawn of the European spice merchants.

Early in the sixteenth century Portuguese traders established a base on Zanzibar as part of their plan to control East Africa. They imported various plants, including spices, from their colonies in South America and India. Land was cleared for plantations, but the Portuguese never really developed their presence on Zanzibar beyond a military one.

It was left to the Omani Arabs, who ruled Zanzibar from the early eighteenth century, to develop Zanzibar economically as a spice-producing entity. Sultan Seyyid Said, the first Omani sultan to govern Zanzibar, quickly realised the potential of his new dominion, with its hot climate and regular rainfall, as a location for spice farming.

He encouraged in particular the planting of clove trees on his own plantations, and issued a decree to other landowners that for each coconut tree on their farms, two clove trees must be planted. Soon Zanzibar had become a major producer of spices. With the demise of the slave trade in the late nineteenth century, spices became Zanzibar's main source of income.

When the era of the Sultans ended and the long arm of the British Empire reached Zanzibar, the islands new colonial 'protectors' encouraged the farming of spices and other useful plants, bringing in European scientists to found experimental agricultural stations and government farms such as those at Kizimbani and Kindichi. Today these areas still contain spice plantations controlled by the modern, independent Tanzanian government.

But spices in Zanzibar today are by no means simply the preserve of governments keen to produce cash-rich export products or a useful tourist attraction. For the ordinary people of Zanzibar, spices and useful plants are a vital part of everyday life and a rich element in the island's strong and vibrant culture.

The spices grown in village kitchen gardens give their flavour to the distinctive cuisine of Zanzibar, provide innumerable cures for everyday ailments, and yield the dyes and cosmetic products needed to celebrate weddings and festivals.

From the dark-red stain of henna on a bride's hands, to the coconut-palm roof of a newly-constructed house, or the sweet aroma of cloves drying in the sun, spices and useful plants are woven into the fabric of life and culture of these fascinating islands. Touch, taste and smell the spices that grow here, and you'll be on your way to understanding the true nature of Zanzibar. (http://www.eastafrica.co.za/Zanzibar_Regional_Information-travel/tanzania-travel-article-spices-in-zanzibar.html)

What I thought I might see...

What I did see.

After the spice tour I did a bit more shopping for gifts for family a friends. Then I went back to the hotel and packed.

The next few days would be spent waiting. The ferry ride to Dar es Salaam was significantly rougher than my earlier ride. Quite a few people had to use the sickness bags. I was quite queasy too. But, I chose not to go up to the front outdoor deck, I didn't want to lug all my stuff out there and I didn't trust leaving it behind. That might have been my mistake. The air conditioning along with the rocking and rolling and the sounds of others using their bags probably didn’t help. Fresh air would have helped.

So long, Zanzibar.

I arrived back at the hotel, retrieved my luggage, had supper and got in a good night’s sleep. At this point I am listening to the Oilers game against the Ducks (It started at 5:30 in the morning here.) I’ve been keeping up with the playoffs as much as I could through NHL.com and a few other websites and I’ve listened to Oiler and Bruin games on radio station websites.  

I leave for Edmonton (via Amsterdam and Calgary) tonight at 11. So, unless something really significant happens this afternoon or on my way home, this will be my last blog entry. Hope to see most of you back in Edmonton where I hear it is snowing again. Yikes. Gonna be a big shock from the 27 degree weather I have experienced here. 

Prison Island and Bargaining

The next morning I had breakfast in the hotel restaurant (a pretty good meal!) and went off toward the beach. I immediately ran into a fellow trying to sell me a trip to Prison Island to see the giant turtles. “How much?” I asked? I was ready to bargain. Immediately another fellow came roaring up and told me not to buy a trip from the first fellow. “He is just a businessman! I am the captain of my boat, I will give you the best price!”  After some very heated words I went with the captain who promised me a trip for 30,000 shillings (15 dollars American). The captain’s name was Ali, but he said that many people call him “Bush Baby”. We had a short conversation but his English was not very well developed and my Swahili is next to nothing. His boat was the “Hakuna Matata”, like the song in the Lion King. I think that’s one of the reasons I took his boat. I said that it means “no worries”, he looked at me puzzled and said, “No, it means: no problems!”

The ride to Prison Island took about 20 minutes and it was great to be out in a little boat again. However, when we got close to the beach he indicated it was time for me to step out. I looked and thought it might be just over my knees, but it wasn’t. It was up to my hips and the camera and all my money got soaked. I should have taken both my wallet and the camera out of my shorts before disembarking so I could hold them above my head.

Just before the camera got wet.

When I had a chance to check it, I found out the camera would no longer work. So I toured the island taking mental pictures and hoped that the camera would dry out as I walked. No such luck. I tried drying it in the sun, blowing it, taking out the battery and memory card. Nothing worked. So for this blog I am using pictures that I found on the internet from other tourists that have looked at the same things I saw.

Prison Island from the air.

I tried to dry out the camera at the hotel (it certainly looked dry) but with little success. I brought it to the kitchen and they left it in their rice bin overnight, but still no success. So my pictures for the blog stopped there, just before Prison Island. Anything else I “borrowed” from the internet (tourist websites have lots of pictures people share) or had sent to me by people with phones and email addresses (spice tour).

Here’s a description of Prison Island from a couple of websites:

Earning its name as a former prison for slaves and a quarantine station for Zanzibar and the mainland, nowadays the island gives you the chance to escape for some peace and quiet.

The island was once used by an Arab slave trader to contain the more troublesome slaves he had brought from the African mainland to prevent their escape before shipping them to the Arabian purchasers, or for auctioning in Zanzibar slave trade market. The slaves were dumped on the island.

In 1893, Lloyd Mathews built the prison. The prison idea was to send violent criminals from the Tanganyika mainland to the Prison Island. The Prison Island ended up being used as a quarantine center, instead of a prison, for yellow fever epidemics that once raged through the region. Prison Island remained in the ownership of the government which converted the newer quarantine buildings into a guest house.

The island lies just off the Old Stone Town, it is also a home to giant land tortoises that were imported from Seychelles in the late 19th century. Now it is more commonly known as a home of Zanzibar’s Giant Aldabran Tortoise colony, some of which are over a hundred years old! This endangered species came to Zanzibar as a gift from the government of the Seychelles.

Once on the island, you have the opportunity to feed and pet the tortoises, if you have time you may also like to take a stroll through the forested interior where you will see a wide variety of birds, colorful peacocks, bats, and beautiful butterflies. Keep your eyes peeled too for the shy and elusive Duikers – an unusual tiny antelope species. (http://www.zanzibarquest.com/tours/prison-island-tour-zanzibar.html, http://www.ecoculture-zanzibar.org/day-tours/prison-island-boat-trip)

Some people go to the island and spend a whole day there, snorkeling, sunbathing and feeding the huge tortoises. Most spend a couple of hours. I arranged to spend an hour and a half and Ali said no problem. I thought he would head back to Stone Town to get more customers but I think he just waited off the shore of the island. The tortoises were impressive! Some live to be 100 years old. I was there during mating season and at least three couples were… coupling. There was a lot of groaning and chuffing. Some of the kids found it a bit puzzling and asked their parents why the big one kept climbing on top of the smaller one; I was interested in hearing how the moms and dads steered around it. They did no better than I used to when we’d visit the Calgary Zoo with the kids.

The old prison really wasn’t much to see. And a big chunk of the island is blocked off from the day tourists. I think there is a resort on that side. An hour and a half was more than I needed. Even if Cynthia were with me (She reads every word on every sign.) I don’t think we would have spent more than two hours. But the beach is beautiful.

Shopping in Stone Town

Ali brought me back to Stone Town and then I spent the rest of the day snooping again and haggling with the storekeepers. I learned very quickly that you never pay the first price they give you, nor do you give in to their sob stories. You joke, you start walking out, and you pay somewhere between 1/3 to ½ of what they ask. My favorite stores were the ones where they let you look around polepole (slowly, slowly). There I chatted with the shopkeepers about the slower season, how the products are made and the various artists who made beautiful paintings in Zanzibar. One of the shopkeepers shared that the shops were warned about being too aggressive – that it was putting off the tourists. He said that these people might be able to get someone to buy something once and then that person never returns. Those other shopkeeper have to understand that when high season comes (June and July) there will be more than enough business for everyone.

I shared that this experience had happened to me a couple of times. The shopkeeper would practically take you by the elbow into their small shop and then show you some of their more expensive items and really push them at you. If you said it was too expensive they will say “I make it cheaper, how much will you pay for two?” And the total wasn’t cheaper. These people were desperate to make a sale and often I was their first customer at 2 in the afternoon. 

I bought from the friendly shopkeeper who let me look very polepole (pr. poely poely).

Arriving in Zanzibar

April 23; it was time for my trip to Zanzibar.  I was going to take the 12:30 ferry and would arrive in Stone Town close to 2:30. 

After breakfasting in the Harbourview restaurant, I returned to my hotel room and started one of the novels I had picked up when shopping with Jeanne the day before: Treeland by Mkama Mwinjarubi. It would be a quick read.  The book was written for a competition for literature written in English by Tanzanians that could be used in schools for juvenile/teen readers. It told the story of a young tribal princess from an unspecified era (before modern technologies) who comes up against traditional views on gender and leadership. The book has potential for some of our programs at NorQuest… like in YIT (Youth in Transition).

Leaving the Docks

At 11:20 I took my bags to the reception, checked my suitcase in with the staff, and set off for the ferry terminal. At 11:35 I was there. When I got to the building I asked a fellow wearing a yellow vest (obviously a porter of some sort) if this was the waiting area. “No” he said, “you need to go around the side of the building. I will show you.” Then he tried to take my back pack so he could carry it for me. I told him that I could find it myself and thanks for the help. No go. Instead, he proceeded to walk with me and steer me. When I arrived at the gate (Indeed, out the front door and just to the right… 20 seconds away.) he asked for his tip. If I had a small bill or two (1000 or 2000 Tsh is a small bill!)  might have given him something, but I didn’t have anything small on me at that time and, besides, I wasn’t about to tip someone who I was actually trying to shake free from. I told him this. He wasn’t very pleased. He told me I could pay him in bigger bills. He would take $10 or even $20 American. I just pushed on and went through the cues to the waiting area. Later on, on the other side of processing, he found me again and sat across from me, grim faced and demanding a tip. I stood my ground… I really didn’t have any small bills. It was a bit uncomfortable. Thankfully there were lots of people around and he couldn’t get too aggressive. Yuck. I hate that kind of stuff.

Inside the economy section

The ferry was pretty packed in the economy section. It was difficult for everyone to get a seat. Once we pulled away from the dock and got underway, I moved to the outside section at the front of the ferry (They wouldn’t let us sit there before this.) It was good to get away from the crying babies and sweaty passengers. Outside was great. The sun was shining and the water was a brilliant blue. I continued reading my book and snapped a few pictures.

Outside - Fresh Air!

Zanzibar from the Ferry

When I arrived in Zanzibar I had to hand in my customs papers. Zanzibar is part of Tanzania but has its own government; not sure I totally understand but I can fill out forms. Then I headed for the hotel, The Mizingani. I had already looked it up on Google maps and I was pretty certain I could find it easily. It was only two blocks away down the seafront road. Unfortunately the road was closed for repairs and I had to go the “back way”, through some of the narrow alleyways that characterize Stone Town. Nevertheless I found it pretty easily. But I had to go through a gauntlet of taxi drivers, vendors, tour guides and “entrepreneurs” to get there. How many ways can you say “No thanks, I got this.”?

An alleyway in Stone Town

At the Mizingani I asked the front staff how you politely say “no thanks” in Swahili. They said that you could say: “hapana assante”. If the person persists you might say “nenda zako” (Get lost or go away.) or usinisumbue (Leave me alone.). They told me that mzungos (white people) are seen as rich and an easy way to make money. And now, especially in the low season, some of the entrepreneurs can be quite aggressive. Just be firm.  And for my stay, when I said “Hapana Assante” most of the vendors and taxi drivers were quite nice and they wish you a good day. Especially if you take the time to stop and talk to them with a smile. Only once did I have to say “get lost” and even that didn’t work (more about that later).

The Mizingani is an interesting old hotel. It has a lot of charm. Unfortunately the street in front of it is being repaired and repaved along with the sidewalks and planters. So there is a big wall of metal between the waterfront and the first floor of the hotel. And there is a constant racket of paving machines and power tools. I guess that’s why it was so cheap!  It hasn’t really bothered me though. My room looks out the back and I have been off wandering most of the daytime.

Inside the Mizingani

My room

The view from my balcony

 Like the other hotels I have stayed in this trip, the hotel is close to empty. Guests are like celebrities. Maryam, one of the waitresses, told me that they currently have 7 guests in a hotel that can accommodate 80 – 90. She also warned me about getting “played” by the locals. From the second I got off the ferry people were harassing me to go on spice tours and boat rides to Prison Island. And, it was no different at the hotel. One of the young “trainees” said he could line me up with a ride to Prison Island for only $35!  Maryam said I should pay no more than 30,000 shillings or $15.  Just cut out the middle men and go straight to the stores, booking sites or taxis yourself. Don’t trust the guys that come up to you in the street or even the hotel help who “have a friend”. It was exactly as I thought.

When I checked in, I immediately asked for a free map to Stone Town. They have to give you one; it is part of the tourism strategy for the island. The hotel staff suggested it might be better to hire a guide. Everyone here is a guide, for a fee.  I said I would be happy with just a map and I set out to explore. I went all over stone town with that map. I saw the beaches, the markets, the old slave market, the gardens, and I did it at my own pace.  When locals saw me wandering alone they would ask if I needed a guide. “Hapana Assante; I have a map! But thank you, you are most helpful!” I would reply. Although there were a couple of people who asked where I got the map from. Perhaps the locals don’t like the free map strategy.

Free Map!

A view from Shangani Park

The infamous wall... should be gone by June. (internet picture not mine)

It all went swimmingly well until I encountered another very aggressive seller close to the fish market who kept following me and pestering me for several blocks. He followed me around like a bad odor. He only had a couple of spice boats to sell and he wanted to sell them to me “so he could go home to his three children, who needed to eat!” Quite the drama king! He pestered, and pestered, and pestered. Finally I paid him five thousand Tsh for both (He started at 30,000), just to get rid of him and when I got back to the hotel I gave the boats to a couple of my favorite staff. I wasn’t going to pack along those ugly and large boats with a little bit of spice in them.

The Slave Market 

That night I took a swim in the hotel pool and watched the sunset from the restaurant balcony.  Stone Town was quite pretty. But what shall I do tomorrow?

The pool from my balcony... dare to jump?

The view at dinner from the Mizingani restaurant

Back in Dar

When we arrived in Dar es Salaam it was getting pretty close to dark. The cab ride to our hotel took an hour and a half, mostly because of construction work. They let lines of traffic go at certain intervals and we had to wait a long time. Once the road is repaired/expanded it should take less than 30 minutes. On the way to the hotel a bug found its way onto my neck in the dark of the mini-van. The bug was about the size of a large grasshopper... just a little prettier and greener. We laughed and I said that I would find a way to put it into Jeanne's luggage.

At the hotel Jeanne and I joked about getting the "best" rooms. It was just a joke, the project only pays for basic rooms in safe hotels (which are still pretty nice) but the night manager said "Why not?"  I guess that, during the rainy season the hotel is pretty empty so he gave us each full executive suites for the night with large balconies overlooking the harbor. No extra charge. Wow. I felt like a King - for one night!  Actually two, because he let me stay in the room for another night after Jeanne left for Montreal and I got ready to go to Zanzibar.

Nice Room

View from the balcony

We got to the the rooms and were immediately swallowed up in them. I went to explore the balcony and the spacious bathroom with the Jacuzzi tub. Then I heard a knock at the door. It was Jeanne with the green bug; it was on top of her luggage. She took a picture. The bellhop said the bugs are quite common and people often eat them. And I don't think it was the same bug from the van. Jeanne found four more in her suite. I guess the last guest left the patio door open.

We settled in and went for a late supper in the restaurant on the 9th floor. The have an open air balcony that faces the harbor. It was great.

The next day we went to explore Dar es Salaam and perhaps buy a ticket for my upcoming ferry ride, Only half a block from the office (Which you can see right from my balcony.) we were stopped by a man who suddenly took us "under his wing" making sure we wouldn't get hit by effing trucks and taking us to the "ferry ticket office for foreigners".  He escorted us to a rinky-dink travel agency down the block that was going to sell us the 35 dollar ticket for 40 (special taxes on foreigners). He was obviously an "entrepreneur who scooped up more than a few unwitting tourists this way. We told him he was scamming us but good try. We would not be buying a ticket that day.

The real ferry office is at the far left of this shot.

Then he offered his services as a guide to the city. He was very persistent. We had to be firm and almost rude to get rid of him. And that's the thing in Dar and in Zanzibar. There are many "businessmen" who are looking to make a quick buck from the tourists. And, if you are white, you are likely a tourist.

Checking out a local restaurant.

Jeanne and I wandered around Dar and were caught in two separate downpours. The people here don't really dress against these. They just wait them out under convenient awnings. Tanzanians are good at waiting. We tried to wait the second downpour out in front of a local Woolworths. When it lasted over a half hour we gave up and grabbed a three wheeled taxi, which is like a cross between a motorcycle and a rickshaw. A "bujaj". It was fun. Then, when we got back to the hotel, Charles was there. He had come to Dar to see about some machinery that was going to be sent from Canada. He was also friends with he hotel manager. Small world.

A curious menu choice!

Ready to go!



After Charles left Jeanne and I did a bit more exploring and, after a hurried dinner, she caught the shuttle to the airport and I finished packing my backpack for the Zanzibar trip. I was going to leave most of my luggage in Dar at the hotel, spend three nights in Zanzibar and then return to the Harbourview for one last night before returning to Canada.