Abbreviated flirtation with Serious Glass: part 1 Zanzibar

So, last night I came to terms with the fact that my camera which I received only since my last blog entry, is away. Despite this intrusion of reality, I had one month of oh-so-nice photographic release (after release, after *shudder* release :) in the weeks leading out of the dry season. I was struck by how strangely untactile and faux the infinitely configurable controls on the digital SLR are compared to manual SLRs I’d learned on, at least at first. Then there was the issue of whether to bring it out and about at the risk of damaging my community immersion. By last week I was finally out taking some shots that I’d been meaning to since I arrived.

Crash Landing? The Penultimate Photo: a mysterious bird.

If I can figure out how to make one, below the fold you will find my month of shooting in Tanzania.

Island of Nguja/Zanzibar

As soon as I got off the pleasant slow boat in Zanzibar (after a muddy, stomach sick morning in Dar fighting for a ticket) I started wandering and found myself in an alleyway with some 11 year olds playing Karram/Karab–something like that. It was a shuffleboardy/pool game with a square board. They were thrilled to show me how to play, especially when they realized I was prepared to follow Kiswahili. I spent about an hour with them having a good time. When I set my bags aside they told me to keep them near me lest a thief pass. When I got really into my ineptitude they told me “not to get hot”. All in Kiswahili. It was great.

I noted the young kid who was the best, revered king of the game in the group of kids had a weak left eye, nice. Anyway during this time the other island PCVs and I were out of cell contact. As I was leaving the game I got many requests for “sikuku yangu” for the Islamic celebration but didn’t yet know what to make of it. I have major regrets that I never did get back to give them “their sikuku” or “their holiday” gifts. Great kids, great introduction to Zanzibar: I had heard it was a mildly distant to white touristy looking people. The new impression of open arms prevailed throughout the visit. The Islamic culture which eschews drinking and most major crimes was really something to admire. These are in some ways rampant on the mainland but nearly unheard of on the islands.

October 2:

Tourist goods in Stone Town, Zanzibar, TZ. We slept one night in a painters’ loft above a tourist shop after amazing sea food and first day of celebration for Eid Al Fitr, sort of the Islamic Christmas. The children say “Sikuku yangu” happily and are given 5c, 10, 20c coins, enough to buy baked snack buns or a handful of candy.

Stuck Inside: Sometimes it is hard riding the line of tourist as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Stone Town’s beautiful narrow alleyways are begging to be photographed. Not wanting to be seen as completely mtalii with my friend and Zanzibar native PCV, I opted not to venture out that day.

My host Dylan animated in our geeky Sci/Math/Tech teacher discussions. Three good Kiswahili vocabs and scrawled Arabic script tagged on his door.

Waiting for his new school to be opened to students.

On my way off of Zanzibar island the first problems appeared. The camera froze up and wouldn’t take any shots: “ERR”. I travelled home devastated. My intrepid “Peace Corps Special” phone was picked out of my zipper pocket during a melancholy DalaDala minibus ride I took through our capital the next day. My original bus ticket to my district also turned out to be fake. At home even my computer was crashed. Not a good week.

Brain Fruit. When I got home I took out a bundle of 10 delicious new fruits I’d found on the islands, fired up my blender and made juice for the first time in the months since the rains and accompanying fruit bounty had petered out. These cranial fruits are aptly named. There is a white rubbery immuno-fluid when you pierce the firm “skull” with a knife, sticky tendrils as you separate the bits, and distinct lobes. If you just eat it the fruit is a bit awful–imagine a “sweet tart” fruit without any sugar. It almost burns your tongue with super-citrus. Thankfully with a bit of sugar and a good dose of water even this fierce African fruit can be tamed. It appears to be native to Madagascar (Please watch for it Nicole!) and the Comoros Isles.

For sake of followup for previous articles, on Zbar I tasted a few other fruits: Matofah red tart appley-plum things and the large “pomello” (English, I’ve forgotten the Kiswahili) grapefruit precursor. My friend Dylan and I also vainly attempted to eat a giant Cocoa fruit which we’d purchased for 40c at the giant spice market. Chocolate is magic. How do they get it out of such a weird fruit? more than the sum of its parts

The day after I returned to my house my camera started working again after no particular coaxing. I rejoiced and resumed photographic activities with earnest, stark signs of the dry season everywhere in my district. Continued…