zanzibah

at blogging. And other things, but mostly blogging. I will choose to blame this on the general insanity of Ramadan and the fact that I’ve been working on some personal freelance projects that I can’t crosspost yet. Will let you know. Did get a short story published on vergemagazine.com. Here ya go. http://www.vergemagazine.com/articles/readers-storyboard/zanzibar-street-food.html

*in the interests of populating this blog, I am cross-posting this article for Mambo. Original post available here: http://www.mambomagazine.com/blog/20-jun/beyond-the-bui-bui*

Conjure up an image of Zanzibar in your mind. Maybe you picture white sand beaches, chaotic markets, lush shamba, or the smell of strong coffee brewing in Jaws Corner.

Whatever you picture, one constant throughout is the well-dressed Islamic woman. Mysterious, much-maligned and oft-misunderstood – the headscarf and bui-bui-clad woman is ubiquitous in Zanzibar.

The bui-bui, also known as an abaya, is a long black garment worn in public by Muslim women. Particularly popular since the 80s, it preserves modesty and (I’m told) is great for fat days. Seeing groups of women walk down the street in headscarfs or veils and bui-buis is a common sight… wait, did I just see a flash of jegging?

As a new arrival in Zanzibar, I had to acknowledge that my own stereotypes were superficial and naïve. I quickly noticed that, in intimate company, the bui-bui were shed to reveal stylish, fashionable clothing. But, I wondered, where do they get these clothes?

My own search for clothes in Stone Town had been largely futile. I had packed absolutely inappropriately for my new life here. Coming from the crushing cold of January in northern Canada, my hiking gear was too hot and my beach wear too revealing, and I somehow forgot to pack trousers.

I started building my new wardrobe by searching the tourist stores on Gizenga and Hurumzi streets. Shop after shop, I found the same workplace-inappropriate sundresses, TinTin t-shirts, and enough diaper pants to clothe MC Hammer for life.

I was almost resigned to making a “mzungu” t-shirt and hammer pants my new signature look when a co-worker suggested I explore behind the daladala stop. It was there I discovered the veritable sartorial wonderland known as the Darajani market. The narrow streets full of clothing stands feel like a flea market on LSD.

Park your expectations of yards of black and matching diras at the door - beyond the stands are a series of shops packed to bursting with every kind of clothing imaginable. A dedicated shopper can find everything from a fully rhinestoned Christmas gown to gold lame ruched capris worthy of Lady Gaga herself.

After your eyes adjust to the amount of bling present, some slightly more sober (read: wearable) pieces can be found. Black leggings, t-shirt dresses, even the coveted cardigan can be found back here – nary a diaper pant or ironic t-shirt in sight. Helpful shopkeepers (with excellent English) are happy to direct you to another shop if theirs doesn’t have what you’re looking for – a welcome change from the more cutthroat tourist spots.

Much fun was had poring over the racks and stacks of clothing. My finds of the day were a blue shirtdress, perfect for work or play, and the crucial black leggings that allow me to cycle freely in my skirts. Spraypainted polyester Louis Vuitton jeggings, a denim floor-length gown and a series of bedazzled and snakeskin turtlenecks didn’t make the cut – this time.

Since then, I’ve discovered other shops in Stone Town proper with nice, wearable clothes (try between Hurumzi and the market). Now that I know where to shop, I find myself talking to my local shogas about their clothes choices more, and it’s helping me to understand them better.

When I first arrived I found it difficult to get to know the women here, to move beyond the standard greetings into an actual friendship. Part of that was my own shyness and preconceptions gleaned from global media. Now that I am getting beyond the bui-bui, as it were, I’m discovering that, just like a chaotic market with hidden treasures untold, there’s always more than meets the eye.

So, I went to Rwanda for a week and it was awesome. Still uploading/sorting through photos but will add a bunch later. Unfortunately no embarrassing Rachel-esque moments happened on this trip (I know!) so I have no good stories really. Only that I did a hike with an Ironman triathlete which, I’m sure you can imagine, was mildly embarrassing. But, he only asked if I was ok twice (I was just red because of my Irish ancestry, GOD), and he didn’t have to carry me, so I’m counting it as an overall success. 

Otherwise Rwanda is a beautiful, clean, welcoming place with an excellent roads. It’s unfair to compare it to Tanzania as they are completely different countries, but I couldn’t help but appreciate the relative lack of hassle and well-thought-out tourism infrastructure. And awesome wildlife, especially (obviously) the gorillas which were a big highlight of my time on the continent so far. I was happy to return to Zanzibar though, which I am quickly starting to think of as home. 

Nothing else much to add, but am writing more for Mambo soon so will be cross-posting later this week. 

A local doctor, after showing me the X-ray I forced him to take of my friend who’s jaw (we later found out) was broken in two places and skull fractured.

I’ve started writing a few pieces for Mambo Magazine, an online Zanzibar lifestyle magazine. I’ll crosspost links whenever I get published. In other news, I spilled coffee on my computer and there was one devastating casualty - my one key/exclamation mark key.  My writing may seem a lot less enthusiastic from now on, but I assure you I’m as perky as ever.

One of the pics from an epic bike ride south with some friends. We stopped for a break and rode pretty much directly into an awesome soccer game. Was fun to be a spectator for a while and got some nice action shots of the kids. 

In other news, I’m doing a bit of magazine writing for an online Zanzibar lifestyle magazine, which is fun. First post is available here: http://www.mambomagazine.com/nutshell-guides/activities/two-wheels-and-open-heart

And more to come!

I was warned several times about clubbing in Zanzibar as the most disgusting, depraved, dirty, soul-sucking activity you can partake in - so much so that I made sure I was wearing close-toed shoes to go to Bawani, Stone Town’s only real club. Imagine my surprise when I entered and was immediately reminded of the Raven. Quote of the night was: “Wait, so it’s really that unusual for you to be dancing on broken beer bottles at a club?” Southerners. 

I really suck at keeping this updated. Pole sana. 

Notes from life include:

• It is now the rainy season, which is quite wet. The streets don’t have a drainage system so you often just have to take off your shoes and go for it. 
• I finally got my resident permit! Yay! Things will be cheaper plus I will no longer be here illegally. Score!
• I am going to Rwanda to visit a friend in the first week in June. After much internal debate over the extremely high cost of the permit, I decided to splurge and go see the silverback gorillas in the wild. I am SUPER excited and actually as the price is going up soon and I got a resident discount, it couldn’t be cheaper. 
• In my first real success at work, I successfully nominated my organization for a Green Africa Award! We are now in the running for a nicely sized cash prize, so go me. 
• I suspect my anemia is back, so I ate a real legit steak last night because iron, and also because yum. 
• I now know a guy who knows a guy who works at the Canadian High Commission, so I am officially part of a maple syrup and Keith’s smuggling ring. 
• I just got six mosquito bites while writing this. 

Kwaherini!

Oops, so I kind of forgot that I’m supposed to have a blog. I don’t have a ton of time to write, so instead I will leave photo documentation of the past few weeks as proof that I’m alive, well and still having a great time. Included above are an amazing bike trip to Mangapwani beach up the west coast of Zbar, a trip to the Usambara mountains near Tanga, a hilarious homemade sushi (Zushi?) night, and a terrifying open mic performance. 

Usiku njema!