Stone Town, Zanzibar: Spices, Sand & Sails - January 2016

The islands sit about 30 miles off the coast of mainland Tanzania and are easy to reach by a short flight or a two-hour ferry from the country's largest city of Dar es Salaam. We chose the ferry route, and upon docking on the island of Unguja were greeted by hoards of locals grabbing at our luggage and touting taxis, hotels and tours.

Welcome to Zanzibar! Amid the confusion we jumped into a cab and quickly befriended the driver. During our five-minute drive to the hotel, he schooled us on the islands' offerings and volunteered to arrange our excursions for the next several days in which we happily agreed. 

 

The DoubleTree Hilton in Stone Town served as our oasis on the crowded, hot island, where the highlights from our visit included:

• SOS Children's Villages. Upon researching Tanzania, we learned that it was one of the poorest countries in the world and there was a severe shortage of books. An alarming number of the population is illiterate, and the average annual income is around $250 U.S. With that in mind, before departing the U.S., we loaded a duffel bag with 50 pounds of books and school supplies and upon arrival on the island, sought out a local orphanage. You can read more about our heart-warming experience at the orphanage in the post "Fifty Pounds of Books & Pencils."

• Spice Plantation. The following day we ventured from the coast inland and visited one of the island's many spice plantations. Although, heavily monitored by the Tanzanian government, the plantation we visited was owned by a local village. For more about our day at the plantation, read "Skipping through a Spice Plantation."
• Slave Cave. Also while inland on Unguja, we visited the Mangapwani Coral Cave. Historians suggest that the cave was used to hide slaves after the slave trade was officially abolished in 1873. A flight of stone steps took us from the nondescript entrance down to the vast gravel-bottomed cave floor where we navigated water holes and boulders as our flashlight revealed the colony of bats hanging above us.
• Fisherman's Beach. A pebble's throw from the slave cave is a beautiful white sand beach. Mangapwani's sands and waters are littered with long boats and dhows housed for storage or repair. A dhow is a traditional Arabic sailing vessel and is also one of the most iconic sights from the islands of Zanzibar.
• Stone Town City Tour. With the temperatures beginning to drop, the evening provided the perfect time for a strolling tour through the cobblestone streets of Stone Town. Stone Town is the historic area of Zanzibar City well-known for its unique 19th century architecture. The town itself is a UNESCO World Heritage Site showcasing the unique mix of Arab, Persian, Indian and European influences. The tour took us through an old fort and open-air fish market, by Freddie Mercury's childhood home, past shops selling sparkling tanzanite jewelry and stopped at a old slave market and chambers well-preserved in the center of town.
• Tortoise Conservatory. A thirty-minute ride on a long boat transferred us from Stone Town to Prison Island to the northwest. Prison Island, also known as Changuu, once housed rebellious slaves in the 1860's and later served as a site to quarantine yellow fever patients. While you can still walk the prison grounds, now the island is best known for its tortoise conservatory. Aldabra Giant Tortoises, now an endangered species, find refuge there and slowly graze; some tortoises weigh up to 200 pounds and are more than 100 years old.
• Snorkeling. Scuba diving and snorkeling is a poplar pastime off the beaches of Unguja and Zanzibar's other small islands. We were able to spot bottlenose dolphins as well as clown, angel and stone fish in the Indian Ocean's warm, coral-filled waters. The islands also boast areas where you can swim with the white tip reef sharks and blue spotted rays.
• Sunset Sail. To cap off our relaxing visit to the beautiful islands of the Zanzibar Archipelago, we jumped aboard a long boat and set off for a sunset sail. Zanzibar is a not-to-miss treasure brimming with history, beauty and culture.
  
  

Stone Town, Zanzibar: Fifty Pounds of Books & Pencils - January 2016

Upon researching our upcoming holiday destination, my husband and I learned that Tanzania, Zanzibar included, was one of the poorest countries in the world with an average annual income around $250 U.S. Suffering from a severe shortage of books, an alarming number of the population is illiterate. 

With that in mind, before departing the U.S., we loaded a duffel bag with 50 pounds of books and school supplies and upon arrival on the island, sought out to find a local orphanage to make a donation. With help from our hotel, we were directed to SOS Children's Villages outside of Stone Town.

According to the SOS Children's Villages website, the global non-governmental organization's mission is to build families for children in need, help the children to shape their futures and share in the development of their communities. Active in 132 countries and territories, SOS provides shelter, medical services, meals and education to children without parents or families. In Tanzania, the HIV/AIDS pandemic has caused countless children to become orphans in need.

After locating the orphanage and going through tight security, we were escorted into a small building where we met two women: Ms. Asha Salim, facility program director, and Ms. Evelyne Wilson Baniti, kindergarten teacher. With the women welcoming us with warm smiles, we emptied our large, green duffel bag on the table and explained who we were and why we were there.

After the brief introductions, Asha began to tell us about the SOS Children's Villages in Zanzibar and the services it provided. We learned that the organization provides three different types of services for the local community: short-term support such as money for schooling and medical services along with warm meals for those in need; medium-term support which involves mentoring parents; and long-term support by creating a safe living environment, education and social networks for children.

Beginning operations in 1991, the SOS complex we visited provided housing, meals and medical services to more than 1,000 children. It also contained facilities to educate children from kindergarten through secondary school.

Asha and Evelyne invited us to tour the village where we admired brightly painted murals and impeccably clean classrooms. Unfortunately, the school was not in session during our visit due to the New Year's holiday, but we were able to see several students and teachers throughout the village. After we walked through the school and past the playgrounds, the women took us by the community garden. Asha plucked leaves off the trees and made us guess the spice.

After an hour roaming the village grounds, we hugged goodbye, and Asha and Evelyne provided us a parting gift of Tanzanian tea and an envelop of cloves. It was a heart-warming experience to peak deeper inside the Tanzanian culture and be able to contribute to a community in need.

Stone Town, Zanzibar: Skipping through a Spice Plantation - January 2016

Just outside bustling and congested Stone Town is an island filled with fruit and spice trees as far as the eye can see. During our visit to Zanzibar we spent a day exploring a spice plantation owned by a small local community.

We were escorted to a village about an hour away from Zanzibar City. Upon arrival we were greeted by two young African boys: one would be our tour guide educating us about the plants, and the other would be responsible for providing us samples of the fruits and spices we learned about along the way.

Being from the southern United States, our vision of a plantation was a vast property covered with orderly crops typically with a large house in the center. On Zanzibar the concept of a plantation is very different; the plantation we toured appeared more like a protected and well-cared for parcel of land in which trees, vines and grasses grow freely and abundantly in harmony with each other.

As we walked the dust-covered trails used to survey the grounds, the smell of sweet fruits and savory spices seduced our senses. One of the boys made a basket from banana leaves and provided it to me so that I could collect the fruits, seeds and bark we studied throughout the tour.

Walking through the plantation with thick canopies of leaves hanging over our heads, we were shown a flowering peppercorn vine and learned there are four kinds of pepper spice: black, white, green and red; the color of the pepper spice depends on when the peppercorn was harvested and how it was dried.

We touched trees baring fruit, bark, leaves and seeds from which the locals harvest and produce spices like vanilla, nutmeg, turmeric, ginger, cocoa and cardamom. The lemongrass bushes were my favorite emitting a citrusy aroma that naturally repels mosquitoes. As we wandered the tropical forest, we were introduced to the queen of spices, the cinnamon tree. The cinnamon tree is highly regarded as every part of the tree produces an edible product from its root to its bark to its leaves.

We learned about the islands' clove industry which has been a significant export for the islands for the last 150 years. While the clove buds are maintained and harvested by the local villages, the Tanzanian government has strict laws that govern the crop and result in the farmers seeing less than half of the profit yielded on an open market. Despite the challenges, cloves still retain their title as king of all spices and bud abundantly on trees throughout the Zanzibar archipelago.

Along the way, we also encountered trees and vines bearing watermelon, star fruit, bread fruit, mango and banana. The plantation workers were eager to share the fruits and would climb to the top to pick the freshest variety for us to sample. 

At the end of the two-hour tour, we were gifted with head pieces and jewelry crafted from banana leaves, and also had the opportunity to sample several of the fruits from the plantation and buy spices to take home. Lotions, oils and soaps were also on site for purchase made from the local plants and crafted by the villagers.

Dar es Salaam, Tanzania: Conned by Ticket Peddlers at Daybreak - January 2016

Guest Blogger: James Strange

Landing in Dar es Salaam at 3:00 a.m. was a somewhat unnerving beginning to our eight-day African adventure. Unlike many airports around the world, leaving of the baggage claim area places you right onto the street in front of the airport. As soon as we stepped outside we were greeted by the hot, damp African mosquito infested heat.  After stopping for a moment to get our bearings, the onslaught of white-shirted taxi drivers began, "Jambo! Taxi! Where do want to go?"

Knowing that the ferry to Zanzibar did not leave Dar until 7:00 a.m., I brushed off the overzealous greeters and headed for the information desk. The sleepy-eyed young African man sitting in the booth slowly slid open the window and with a wearied gaze said "yes?" I asked how far it was to the ferry and he replied, “Twenty minutes by taxi or forty minutes by bus, but please do not go to the ferry now because the station is not open for three more hours and it is not safe to wait on the streets."  

So there we were, sitting on a bench in front of the airport, sweating and swatting mosquitoes. After traveling for eleven hours, an additional three hours in these conditions seemed unbearable. Just as all hope evaporated from our bodies, we noticed a light turn on in the fast food diner across the street. We reluctantly walked over and pulled on the door. To our surprise, it opened and the rush of cool air hit me in the face. Granted it was probably still 80 degrees inside the diner, but we gladly took refuge in an open booth. There were still a handful of mosquitoes inside but we happily enjoyed our chicken sandwiches, fries and warm cola. 

There was a small group of us there inside that little diner waiting for the Ferry.  A German couple, two young blond girls from Denmark and a trio of European backpackers who talked loudly about their recent travels.  

As dawn approached we all began to gather our luggage and prepare to leave. Not having a ferry ticket yet, we felt we should get there as soon as the doors opened. The German couple asked the girls from Denmark if they wanted to share a cab and were first out the door.  

As soon as we exited the diner, a short, middle-aged African man in a bleached white button-down shirt shouted, "Jambo! Taxi?" Fortunately I had done my homework at the information booth and asked about taxi fares. A ride from the airport to the ferry for non-residents was $35 U.S. It wasn't until later that I learned of the "skin tax," a surcharge added to taxis, ferry tickets and really just about anything to non-resident visitors. 

Traffic wasn't bad and the sun was just beginning to shine some light on my first glance of Africa south of the equator. We drove for about 20 minutes before stopping in front of a string of small tin roof shacks. We looked at each other with wide eyes of puzzlement. The following conversation ensued:"Where's the ferry?"  "You must get ticket here."  "No, where is the ferry?" "Just over there, not far, get ticket here."  

"JAMBO! JAMBO!" The sidewalk was instantly full with young African men grabbing at our luggage and walking toward a 10' x 10' room with four chairs and a desk. "WAIT! STOP!" I yelled.

"It's okay, my friend. Jambo. Please come inside," a man assured me.

"No, we will wait here. We have friends that are coming."  How quickly I had associated the small group of refugees from the chicken hut as 'our friends.'  My hope was once they all arrived we would discuss our plan forward together. Strength in numbers.  

So we stood there in the pre-dawn moments surrounded by people insisting we go inside and that it wasn't safe to stand along the roadside. They explained that we needed to buy our ticket now and that the ferries were overbooked because of the New Year's holiday. As our cab driver drove away I began to question what the hell just happened.

 

Reluctantly, we went inside. We were quickly informed that there we no more seats available in economy class.  If we wanted to be on the 7:00 a.m. ferry, we needed to pay $50 U.S. each. Kim had researched the ferry ticket prices before we had left home: VIP tickets were $35/person. Frustrated and running out of time, I agreed.

"Okay, here is $100, give us the tickets." The 20-something year old behind the desk quickly wrote me a receipt and asked for our passports. He called out to a boy on the street and gave him our money and passports. We both shouted in unison, "NO! He is not leaving with our passports." 

“He must get your tickets now! No time! Ferry is leaving soon."  
"No," I said. "I will go with him."  
"Okay, no problem. Please just fill out this form," and with me distracted, the boy with our money and passports slipped out the door.  

 

Furious, I became indignant. "What is going on here? What kind of operation is this? Where are our friends?" The young man was very cool. "Please be calm. Your tickets will be here soon." You are from America, yes? Obama country," he said with a big smile.

 

As Kim sat guarding our luggage, I stepped outside and with arms crossed, glared down the street waiting for a glimpse of the young boy who had our money and passports. The sun was now breaking over the horizon and for the first time I was getting a look at the area where the seemingly kind taxi driver had brought us. 

 

There was a string of similar 10' x 10' shacks about two city blocks long. The street was packed with African people of all ages now. I knew that I dramatically stood out as an angry white man pacing in front of this row of what I had come to believe as con men. Suddenly, in the corner of one of these shacks two doors down from ours I saw the frightened faces of the two Danish girls. "Are you two okay?" I asked.  

"We don't know? We have been here for 30 minutes. They have taken our money and our passports." I reassured them that we were in a similar situation not far away and that we wouldn't leave without them.  

 

Before I could ask the whereabouts of the German couple, the husband stormed out of yet another shack and headed into "our" tin shack. Out of curiosity, I quickly followed. "They won't take my money. Will you take my money? I only have Tanzanian shillings or Euros," he yelled in broken in English. The young man behind the desk reluctantly explained that they only took U.S. dollars. I thought to myself: wow, this is going to get interesting. 

 

At that moment I felt a tug on my arm. It was the young boy that had taken our money and passports. "Hurry, come with me! There are no more tickets for the 7:00 a.m. or 9:30 a.m. ferries. There is a man who will sell you two tickets if you come now," he explained. I grabbed my money and our passports and said "how far?"  

"Just up the street at the ferry station. You must hurry! The ferry is leaving soon!"  

 

I looked at Kim, and with marked hesitation, asked her to stay with our luggage and wait. At this point I wasn't sure what would be safest but at least she was inside the shack with a very angry German who I was confident would protect her. Down the street the young boy and I ran. To my surprise, the ferry terminal was only about three blocks away. I had no idea what I was about to encounter; extortion was the best outcome at this point. Being mugged and robbed was certainly not out of the question.  

 

We stepped inside the terminal and were met with signs that read "residents only" at every window. Confused, I was instructed to get in a line. The line was so long and the ferry was leaving in 10 minutes. "Where is your guy?" I asked. Reacting to my bewilderment, he replied just to wait.

 

I felt like my head was going to explode. I couldn't believe this was happening. How gullible I must have appeared stepping out of that diner. Just then, the two Danish girls walked in. "Did you get tickets?" I asked. "No, they said they were sold out and gave us our money and passports back and told us to come here."  I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. How could we wait there in this unbearable African heat for 2-4 hours in hopes to catch a later ferry?

 

As the line slowly inched forward, I saw out of the corner of my eye the angry German man. The young man behind the desk had brought him to the ferry and pointed him in the direction of a short line that was not marked. I watched as he spoke to an official sort of officer. Then to my amazement, he pulled out his wallet and within moments was leaving with two tickets. I quickly stepped out of line and made my way to this window. The two blond girls followed behind. "I'm not sure if this is going to work, but at this point we will miss the ferry anyway."  

 

I got to the window and began to explain my frustration. "I don't know what kind of operation is being run around here but my wife and I have been held up in a little shack down the road being promised a ticket on the 7:00 a.m. ferry. Can you sell me a ticket?," I asked.

"Passports please. That will be $40," he responded.  

 

Just like that I got our tickets and rushed back to the little shack. I knew the Germans had left and Kim was alone. I stepped inside the shack and glared at the young man behind the desk and said thanks for nothing. "I am so sorry, sir. Please let me help you with your bags to the ferry."  

"Are you kidding me? NO!"  I responded.
"Please sir. The ferry is leaving soon. Let us help you." And with that, two young boys grabbed our bags and off we all ran.  

 

As soon as we got to the passenger terminal we could see the security line backed up past the gate. Surely they will hold the ferry I thought as we approached the cue. The young boys leading the way talked to the officer at the gate and suddenly we were walking past the long line and escorted to the front. We quickly passed through the check point and just like that the boys were gone. We walked up the plank and onto the ferry. With VIP tickets, we were escorted to a large air conditioned room on the upper deck with leather seats. We settled into two chairs near the front and were quickly served water and warm mango juice. 

Moments later the ferry pulled out of port. We made it! It was an unbelievable experience but at least we were finally on our way to Zanzibar. The large television hanging on the wall in front of us suddenly switched on and an episode of "The Adventures of Tom and Jerry" began to play. As Kim settled in, I couldn’t help but exhale a big sigh of relief that our unexpected African diversion was over.