From Swahili to English to Portuguese

Dar es Salaam is definitely the most uncomfortably hot place that I’ve been to since Ghana. Not quite as hot, mind you, and the use of air conditioning here seems to be more widespread, but it’s definitely hotter than it should be, and I really wonder how many people like it this hot.

I took the ferry over from Zanzibar early this morning so that I could buy my airline ticket for northern Mozambique, where I’m going this afternoon. So I’ve got a few hours to explore the city and get my head ready to go from Swahili to English to Portuguese. I’m very lucky because the two women in the Mac store, Samira and Edy, are holding my suitcase for me, sent me over to a decent fast food place, and then are going to steer me to the inexpensive bus that will take me to the airport. And I’m not even buying the power source cord from them since it’s twice the price that it is in the States and the current makeshift version seems to be working OK. Famous last words, I know, I know.

I forgot to kiss the sand in Zanzibar before boarding the ferry, so I just blew kisses into the mist, because I’ll definitely be back. It was really one of my favorite places on earth, and there’s so much more to see. I’m glad that my initial love for the place held strong, and perhaps even deepened, and I could really see myself even living there one day.

If you’ve not been to Zanzibar, it’s hard to describe how fascinating the labyrinth-like alleys are. Very few of the Stonetown “roads” are open to cars—fact is they just wouldn’t fit—but they snake around the town, full of activity, and are delightful to explore. None seem to come to a dead end, and while I rarely knew where I was going, I knew that I’d always come out at the beach or the port or the market road, and from there I could get to anywhere that I was going. And besides the alleys filled with touts and tourist shops—and these are relatively few in the larger scheme of things—you won’t find nicer people, willing to help you find your way, or talk to you about politics, religion, or Zanzibar.

In one of my encounters, I came across a taxi driver who had three of the real Obama campaign stickers on his car. I asked him about them and he told me that we were standing at the official headquarters of “Zanzibar for Obama 08”, and that the campaign had sent over hundreds of stickers. Soon we were joined by Muhammed Alay, the campaign manager—also a taxi driver—who shared with me how “the campaign” had filled petitions with 300,000 signatures—in an archipelago that has only 1 million people—and published them in the paper in their support of Obama for President…of the World. “Not for president of the United States but for president…of the world”, said Alay, and he did so in a way that sounded just a bit like Zanzibar’s most famous native son, Freddie Mercury, in his Queen rendition of “We are the Champions”.

For those of you who have not been out of the country since the election, and it might be especially so here in East Africa, the love for Obama is unmistakable, and the love for me, by extension, is just slightly less. I got to play some beach soccer yesterday with a group of about 30 young people, and the guy that I was guarding was nicknamed “Obama”. When I asked him how he got that name, he said that it was because he was the best goal scorer and “could not be beat”, and somehow it was more of a compliment than calling him “Ronaldo”, “Gerrard” or “Messi”, and this was on the soccer field.

And that’s another reason why I love Zanzibar. It’s a political place, and folks are comfortable talking about international issues, and about the important place that Zanzibar holds in the confluence of Arab, Swahili, and Indian cultures. While 95% of Zanzibar is Moslem, it’s a very diverse group, and I’d be surprised to find more than a few radicals throughout the islands. Family is very important, as is cultural identity, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a better place to raise children. People look out for one another, it’s very safe (Morgan left his camera at a shop and came back a half hour later and it was there with the shopkeeper), and the beach, water, and alleyways offer infinite opportunities for good, clean fun. It’s one of those magical places—both intensely beautiful and intensely interesting—that for me will rank right up there with Valparaiso, Chile, Bhuj in western India, Kurdish Iraq, and maybe, possibly Ponce, Puerto Rico.

Sure Zanzibar has a fair number of tourists—and if it didn’t I’d likely have never made it here—but it seems to have a perfect balance. It has services and the infrastructure for visitors, but it also has a vibrant economy that seems to have nothing to do with tourism. I want to research the role that tourism plays in the economy, but on first blush, it seems that Zanzibar has struck the perfect balance. And that’s appropriate that such a perfect place has struck the perfect balance. Perfect, in fact.