The Spice of Life

« Return to Zanzibar

Step aside New Orleans. Real vampires live in Stone Town. Dark, narrow alleys lie beneath antique architecture, sculpted exteriors and ornamented 10foot wooden doors. Freddy Mercury was born in Stone Town, and if you remember his teeth, my vampire theory is vindicated. The Zanzibar Cultural Foundation is doing its best to preserve the breathing museum of Stone Town, but poverty creeps like an invading jungle. I bumped into a writer I had met in Johannesburg, who compared writing in Zanzibar akin to the golden days of Tangiers, where anything goes, including your wallet. The island’s volatile political situation, thrown in with a Muslim-Christian population definitely creates edge, although any potential violence can be easily dismissed with “hakuna matata”. I did however meet a girl from Sweden who was groped walking the streets one night, and wasn’t buying the hanuka matata whatsoever.

I caught a bus up north to Nungwe, where a crystal clear sea gently nudges a talcum-powder beach. Amenities are scarce so camping was essential, but it is here where the word paradise is always on the lips. Cuisine is limited to coconut rice and whatever fish happens to get caught that day. Tuna! Tropical Parrotfish! I met some US environmental students gravely concerned at the rate the island’s coral and natural resources were being destroyed. Still, Nungwe ranks as one the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever been to.

Catching a Bob Marley blaring rasta taxi East to Jambiani reminded me of Jamaica. In fact, it was Jamaica, just in Africa. I found a clean, cheap beach hostel, only to find the beaches covered in seaweed, a crop harvested and sold to the Philippines. White sands, palm trees, and thick, pungent seaweed. Further down the coast lies Pungwe, where old Mafia-owned resorts once lay empty after being bust as laundering scams. With increased tourism, the resorts have once again been revitalized. South lies the region of Kezimkaze. The locals flock in the tourists with the promise of swimming with the dolphins, and dolphins I saw, fleeing with terror as boats of tourists corner them wherever possible. Respect for the environment takes a back seat in a different car when it comes to milking tourist dollars. I found this region distasteful, and as much as I like distaste, I packed my bags five minutes after seeing an old man take a number two directly on the beach in front of the hostel. No, give me Stone Town or give me Hep A.

Arriving back in Stone Town, I quickly reacquainted myself with its Old World charm. Ignoring the guidebooks, I found cheap, excellent accommodation, exotic street food and great hangouts just off the tourist track. Newbies on the island tend to follow the same path, so a gang had quickly assembled amongst the maze of mosques, small kiosks and grandiose doors. In Stone Town, you learn fast that it’s not about the quickest way of getting from A to B, but the way you won’t get lost. Day excursions included a Spice Tour (tasting fruit that could be from other planets), a visit to the Sultan’s bordello, Vepsa rentals and an authentic island meal in the home of some locals. Not as cheap as you might expect, but far from Western prices (watch out for the “hakuna matata, sorry no change” trick.)

Zanzibar is not an easy place to visit. It’s far from anywhere, somewhat volatile, and anyone looking for a tropical island could easily visit the 5-star hotels on the Comoros, Seychelles or Mauritius. Yet these island paradises cater to the tourist, a Disneyland experience. Zanzibar, on the other hand, will appeal to the exotic masochist, those searching for an authentic experience of island life, and the indescribable appeal of Africa. Like most third world countries, it plays the bonus card that somehow makes the adventure all worthwhile.

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