4:52pm Wednesday 13th October 2004
By James Brockett
When we arrived in Zanzibar, our guide started his talk by asking us what we already knew about the island. After an embarrassed pause, one of number said that she'd heard it was a good place for scuba diving, while another offered that Freddie Mercury was born here. Apart from that, its significance was lost on us. We had so much to learn.
Located 25 miles off the Tanzanian coast, Zanzibar is reached by a two-hour ferry crossing from Dar Es Salaam. The boat was the height of luxury, with air-conditioning and an aeroplane-style interior, but the effect was slightly ruined by the stomach-churning sea conditions. One passenger after another dashed to the doors looking green, and when one unfortunate left the door open, an untimely wave promptly soaked the front row.
All this was forgotten when we arrived at Stone Town, the biggest settlement on Zanzibar island. With its narrow streets, palm trees and bustling markets, Stone Town is full of character and friendly locals who say "Jambo" (hello in Swahili) as they walk past. We spent our first afternoon sipping cocktails on the balcony of Africa House, a post-colonial hotel with a glorious sea view, and smoking the "shish", a candlestick full of flavoured tobacco which you suck at through a pipe. Then it was down to the night market, an atmospheric moonlit bazaar with every kind of sea creature on offer, many still bearing legs and tentacles. I settled for a barracuda kebab.
First colonised by Persians in the 10th century, Zanzibar is a heady mix of African and Arab influences, and down the ages became a magnet for merchants in the spice, ivory and slave trades. Stone Town's fort was built by the Portugese, who enjoyed a brief rule over the island before being usurped by the British. Missionary David Livingstone played a key role in the suppression of the slave trade in the 1880s, and some Christian influences remain, although the population is 97% Muslim. Zanzibar merged with Tanganyika to form modern Tanzania in 1964.
Before hitting the beach, our group drove out to visit a spice farm in the centre of the island. Spices have always been central to the island's wealth, and our guide is only too happy to slice segments of them for us to taste - peppercorn, vanilla, cumin, tumeric, ginger, nutmeg, and finally, chilli. My tastebuds were so entertained that I popped the chilli in my mouth without thinking, and was soon gasping for water. Luckily, fruit was also plentiful on the farm, and our man cut up a coconut for us to drink the juice.
One more short drive and we were in paradise, in the form of the village of Jambiani on the island's east coast. We slept in small beach huts on the edge of the sand, which seemed to go on for ever, alongside the turquoise sea. The fishermen went out for a few hours each day with their nets, but even they fell in with the lazy spirit of the place; the hardest working people in the village were a pair of local women who went up and down the huts offering massages. It took three or four hours for us all to get our meals at the nearby fish restaurant, but nobody really minded: it was run by a smiley family of Zanzibaris who looked like they had never seen so many customers in one go. We wondered if the father was sneaking out to catch the fish while his wife delayed us with the starters.
But after spending two days in such beautiful surroundings, time didn't seem to matter.
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