Stone Town feels like a completely different world from what I was used to on mainland Tanzania. Where the mainland is all bare minimum, one storey buildings made of cement or mud with a roof of metal or palm leaf; Stone Town is this romantic coast town with narrow roads winding through Arabian style buildings with intricately carved wooden doors and balconies that make you feel like you walked onto the set of Casa Blanca. That being said, as can be expected such beauty attracts a large crowd of tourists. Stone Town is filled with air conditioned buildings, western-style washrooms, fancy restaurants, souvenir shops, and the prices that follow.
I actually spent far longer in Stone Town than I ever anticipated staying because I really didn't enjoy the city. Granted, it was beautiful, but there was something really cold about it. I think having so many tourists has somehow tainted the locals and created this really extreme separation between tourists and locals. To begin with, you are physically separated from the local areas by the elabortely winding streets that resemble the pattern of elephant skin and which contain no street names. Even with a map it is nearly impossible to keep track of where you are and once you lose your spot, there are no street signs to enable you to find it again. No one seems to know the names of streets and if anyone offers to help you, you can be sure they are a tour guide and are hoping to make some money out of it. While trying to find Luk Man (amazing local restaurant) one guy followed me to the restaurant despite the fact that I was ignoring him and then stood beside me while I ate asking me if I was going to give him money. There is this really unfortunate environment there where everytime someone helps you with anything, you are trying to figure out how they are making money at it. This even happens in Moshi, but anytime you are looking for something someone will offer to take you there and then they will overcharge you because they know your Good Samaritan will ask for a commission. One time, I came out of the post office with my backpack on and someone who I assumed was a cab driver came and asked me if I needed a cab. He escorted me the three feet around the corner that I would have gone anyways and took me to the first cab waiting there. When I arrived at my destination, the cab driver said that he had told him that i would give him (my cab driver) money to give to him after. I think that guilt trip normally works on Westerners.
I spent my birthday with some UK girls I made on the ferry from Dar. We went snorkeling at prison island, had a picnic on the beautiful and deserted beach, walked around with giant turtles in the turtle sanctuary, floated on our backs in the calm salty water, and then had dinner at a beach side restaurant where we smoked a hookah and were serenaded by two of the waiters that have a reggae band.
Our visit to the slave market was probably the most interesting part of Stone Town. The market area was turned into a church when the British shut it down, but the bunkers where they kept them are still there. It was eerie being down there and knowing how many people must have died in there. It is this big cement chamber and the place where they were is about waist height and right through the middle is a canal where there used to be water. The only access to fresh air was these three tiny slits of windows. The church itsef is a monument to the atrocities and part of the original whipping post still remains in front of the altar. After surviving three days in the bunkers, the slaves would be brought out and whipped in front of potential buyers to prove their strength. Those who didn't pass the test were killed or put back into the stuffy, disease filled bunkers. Strong slaves were sold for a hefty price. At the back of the church where a baptismal sink now stands is where the children that were too young to be of any use were slaughtered. Its hard to believe it is possible that such a place actually existed.
We spent one night in Kendwa for the full moon party, which was this amazing beach party right beside the ocean. Two of the girls fell asleep and someone came and stole everything. One girl even had her shoes stolen and had to walk home barefoot. I am constantly shocked at the extent of what people will steal in Tanzania.
We spent one day shopping in the stalls and met this Masaii man who offerred my parents 25 cows to marry me. I think I got a better price for my marriage proposal at the hot springs, but it was flattering none the less. When I laughed, he asked me how many cows it took to marry a Mzungu (white person). When I responded that he just had to get one to love him, he stared at me in complete shock: "YOU MEAN ITS FREE?! WOW I'M GONNA DO THAT". Any white girls looking to marry a Masaii man the 25 cows offer still stands.
We spent 3 days relaxing in Nungwi, which is a beautiful beach town. Our hotel was right on the beach so we basically did nothing but sit on the beach and read or swim in the waves. Just before we left I got sick (the details of which I won't disclose on the internet, but it wasn't fun). Being in this sketchy little local hospital and feeling as bad as I did wasn't exactly my ideal situation to be practicing my Swahili, but I was very glad I knew it.
No comments:
Post a Comment