Zanzibar City - When you arrive in Zanzibar, the first thing you’ll hear is the captain telling you to set your watches an hour forward. In truth, you should set them 40 years back.
There is a new airport under construction which will probably make arriving at this island paradise as seamless as flying into a medium-sized South African town, which is a pity. Until then, prepare to step straight into a scene from a Graham Greene book. The ceiling fans circle lazily stirring the heat, there’s mass confusion from the flight as passengers wait for their bags to be brought and placed on a trestle table.
Once you get your luggage, you queue again to scan it through a modern-looking scanner, before stepping into the bright sunshine and being driven to your hotel or resort of choice.
You can drive yourself of course, if you have nerves of steel; because in Zanzibar the rules of the road are an abstract concept as buses blithely overtake three abreast up a blind rise, as oncoming scooters deftly aim for the verges.
Zanzibar is an African island in every sense of the word; poverty, humour and hope around every corner. A two-millennia-old settlement; it’s a melting pot of Arabia, Persia and India, with a dollop of Portuguese thrown in for good measure, of which perhaps Stone Town, the Unesco-protected old quarter of Zanzibar City, is the best example. Lying just off the coast of what is today Tanzania, Zanzibar was written about by the famous Egyptian Greek geographer Ptolemy in about 150AD, settled by Africans in the 4th century and introduced to Islam by the 7th as Arabs and Persians fled strife and famine in what is today the Middle East. The Portuguese took over East Africa for a brief 200 years; they couldn’t control the area, but managed to make everything except Zanzibar Catholic.The Portuguese were replaced by Omani Arabs, with Said bin Sultan moving his capital south to Zanzibar in 1832. The West was quick to sign treaties with this critically important crossroads to Africa, India and Arabia. The US was the first to open a consulate in 1837, followed by Britain, France and the rest of Europe. Britain won the race, turning Zanzibar into a protectorate in 1890 before giving it its independence in December 1963. A month later the African population rose up and slew thousands of Arabs and Indians, expelling much of what remained and declaring a people’s republic. In April 1964, Zanzibar joined the mainland Tanganyika in the United Republic of Tanzania.
That potted little history lesson is critical to understanding the fascinating, almost Dickensian, nature of Stone Town – the island’s capital. It’s most famous popular son might be the late Freddie Mercury of Queen fame (born Farrokh Bulsara), but it was also home to Tibboo Tib, perhaps the most infamous (and richest) slaver in East Africa. It’s a juxtaposition that makes total sense in Stone Town’s winding alleys.
At night, away from the night market at the Forodhani gardens where you can order all manner of food – some caught only an hour before in the harbour to be braised and roasted over open fires – the endless rabbit warren, where the only light seems to come from one of the 66 mosques that dot the town, and some of the dark narrow corridors can seem a little eerie. Some of it is downright sinister – Tibboo Tip’s old mansion sits on “Suicide Alley, cheek by jowl with the Africa House hotel, which began life in the 1880s as the quintessential English gentleman’s club”.
Walking at night, with only the call of the muezzin to guide you, you come face to face with Stone Town’s other claim to fame; the massive carved teak doors, inlaid with verses from the Qur’an, carvings of fish and lotus flowers symbolising fertility and wealth and the ubiquitous brass studs imported from India when attacks by marauding elephants were still a real risk. Directly proportionate to the owners’ concept of themselves, some of these doors are incredibly large and ornate – and replicas are much sought after by discerning tourists. By day, Stone City is an aural adventure. The Indian Ocean sparkles to one side as the shops down Kenyatta Road open for business, selling all manner of curios and tourist bric-a-brac. The reverie, though, will be continually broken by supplicants wheedling to be your guide or wanting to sell you carvings or T-shirts far cheaper than the shops themselves.
They’re a pain, but not a problem. You can hire one to ward off the rest as well as to ensure you don’t get lost in the bewildering nest of alleys and culs de sac, or you can nip into one of the many hotels.
The Hotel Tambo (KiSwahili for Elephant) is an absolute charm. Standing next door to the brand-new Park Hyatt Zanzibar, the Hotel Tambo was built in 1895 and renovated a century later. It’s like the fabled Hotel Marigold, only several thousand kilometres west, complete with original and art deco light fittings and worn-down old couches that might once have provide ample space for Victorian ladies in their petticoats and bustles, but today have backpackers sprawled on them.
Hakuna matata (no worries) is the perennial refrain you’ll hear and in truth, why on earth should you?
This is Zanzibar; kick back and leave the Joburg aggro behind. You’ve got a week in paradise.
Getting there
Low-cost airline Mango flies directly to Zanzibar from Joburg’s OR Tambo International Airport every Tuesday and Saturday morning and returns in the afternoon.
Trips to the island are from Tuesday to Saturday, Saturday to Tuesday or, best of all, Saturday to Saturday.
Kevin Ritchie, Saturday Star