Nomad Zanzibar 2019

We are standing outside the Old Fort when Taib, with
suspicious enthusiasm, launches into a colourful story about
an Arab princess called Salme. Suspicious, because how
someone can be so chipper in this heat is beyond me; I can
already feel a migraine start to throb within the crevices of
my brain thanks to the sun mercilessly hammering at it. As
he drones on, pausing ever so slightly to adjust his kofia, I
momentarily halt my frantic self-fanning antics as I am gently
transported to a Stone Town of 1866, when this fort upon whose walls I now
lean would have been used as a garrison and prison. Merchants, I imagine,
would have been haggling about the price of a kilo of cloves, a teenage
slave hopelessly marching behind his brother towards an uncertain tomorrow,
an adventurer setting foot on ‘zinj-bar’ soil for the first time fresh off the boat
from a faraway land, and for Princess Salme, utterly scared of the whispers
in the palace and her brother the Sultan’s reaction to finding out that she was
pregnant by their German neighbour.
Shortly after, she flees this homeland having been rejected by her people
for her choice in a lover. Once in Hamburg, her name is no longer Salme but
Emily Ruete, and while she gets baptised as a christian, she secretly dreads
going to church and adamantly refuses to eat pork. Through this woman’s
story, 19th century Stone Town fascinates me because of how different the
society and culture are from present day. I wonder what life would have
been like for me, an African woman. Despite being born into vast wealth, the
youngest of a Sultan’s thirty children, Salme still has to secretly teach herself
how to write because this skill is not taught to women. Imagine, then, the
policing of friends, fashion, marriage, entertainment, work and the works.
I am drawn out of my reverie by a cat - these lanky felines that slink proudly
along the verandahs, and when you come face to face, it is you that has to
move out of the way. This being my second visit to Stone Town, hiring Taib
to take us on a walking tour was a smart idea. My first visit, I’m afraid, was
wasted, because I mostly wandered around the streets overwhelmed by the
beauty with no real insight into the rich history.
Much like Lamu Old Town, the pathways are narrow and maze-like, lined
with curio shops and art dealers, and after a couple of turns, start to blend into
one another in their similarity. Brightly coloured scooters whizz past. Women
swathed in colourful kangas or beautiful buibuis gracefully sashay along with
handwoven baskets in hand. Gentlemen perched on barazas play a complex
board game of bao, the winner clapping animatedly and talking smack to his
opponent, and I am so intrigued I that I buy a set. Distinguishing between the
beautiful intricately carved Arab and Indian doors, some pastel and others
with shiny golden brass studs, becomes a fun pastime. If a place ever so
deserved to be called charming, it would be this town. I fall in love with its
very essence, African, Arab, Indian, Persian and European influences distinct
in everything from the people to the mosques, churches, bazaars, architecture
and food. Stone Town is picture perfect, the heat notwithstanding.
THE STONE TOWN LOW DOWN
FOR COFFEE: JAW’S CORNER
We were actually lost when we first wandered onto this street where four of
the town’s winding alleys intersect, but we stayed for the people watching. It
is hard to miss, distinguished by a large painting-on-the-wall of the poster of
that classic 1975 Steven Spielberg movie. Here, a mzee brews strong, black,
Arabic-style coffee in steel kettles balanced precariously over a small charcoal
stove. The beverage is cheap and flows almost as freely as the gossip, and
there is a high chance you will be roped into a debate about anything from
football to the weather. Should you wish to call your online lover living
somewhere in Sweden or Thailand, there is a long pole with an old phone and
a cheeky sign announcing “free international calls”.
40 DISCOVER EXPLORE EXPERIENCE