Today I woke up bright and early and went on a spice tour, a
six hour adventure through the spice plantations further inland. There were maybe ten of us, including two
American girls who just graduated undergrad from Princeton and were both
working with aid organizations in Africa.
Jess is doing something with water and engineering (though she’s a
biologist) in Burkina Faso and Wen-Li is working with HIV Prevention Strategies
in Capetown, South Africa. They decided
to meet up in Zanzi for Christmas, and they were wonderful travel companions.
We spent two hours wandering through a private spice
plantation (as opposed to a government-run farm, which is used more for
research than commerce and generally grows only one or two crops instead of a full
gamut). All within one farm we
discovered cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg (my favorite), cardamom, hot peppers, green
chili peppers, pineapples, mangoes, bananas, bread fruit , and a range of trees
from teak to mahogany. It was
amazing! They picked things as we went
and had us smell and taste everything straight from the tree. The pineapples were the most delicious fruits
I’d ever had!
The whole while there was a ragtag group of boys, all around
8-14 years old, following our tour, cutting up samples to taste and weaving
things out of fallen palm branches. They
made bracelets, frog necklaces (see pictures on Picasa), little purses that
looked like pineapples, beanie hats, and ties for the men. At first they were a bit annoying since they
were constantly underfoot and shoving things into our hands without telling us
what it was first. But the guide said
something in Swahili, and they starting telling us things before giving them
and gave us a little more space. Of
course they asked for nothing at the time but made sure to get us each alone
toward the end and plea for a little “help for school”. We all tipped them a dollar or two.
Before leaving the spice plantation they had samples to buy,
and when Jess mentioned the prices were the same as in the market I decided I
might as well pick up some cinnamon and cloves and a concoction called “coffee
masala”, which is supposedly a mixture of coffee, cinnamon, nutmeg, and
ginger. We’ll see if it’s any good when
I get home.
Then they bundled us back into the vans and took us to a
little hut in a nearby village where we ate a lunch of spiced rice, coconut
sauce, and stewed spinach while sitting on colorful mats on the floor. It was delicious! At this point we were planned to go to an old
slave cave and then on to the beach, but it started raining. And while they promised it would be a “quick
rain” it just kept pouring. We drove to
the slave cave hoping it would lighten, but there was no break in the downpour
and while none of us were too keen on getting soaked, we thought it a shame to
miss the cave when it was so close. So
we stashed anything valuable in a corner of the van and made a run for it. It was totally worth it.
The cave was this natural cavern that is completely
invisible from even 100 feet away and then all of a sudden you look down and
there is a gigantic hole in the ground.
They recently built cement stairs for the tourists (though in the rain
they were quite slippery) and we descended maybe 30 steps into the cave. They used to keep 50-100 slaves at a time,
often up to four weeks in this cave while the trader (himself the son of a
slave) found buyers. Apparently the cave
has a trail that goes out to the beach, about 14 km or so, and they would sneak
them in from a boat that flew a French flag to avoid detection. While slave trading was made illegal in the
late 1870s in Zanzibar, it still continued through these underground channels
until this trader died in 1907.
Now completely soaked we opted to return to the hotel since
the rainstorm was holding strong and the sky still quite dark with clouds. As we ascended from the cave we took our
time: we were already wet, we had nowhere to go, and as Jess said, when was the
last time we jumped in puddles as an adult?
Back at the hotel we said our goodbyes, though I may run
into Jess and Wen-Li tomorrow on a snorkeling trip. I packed my things and headed to the other
side of Stone Town where I checked into the Flamingo Guest House, a lodge definitely
more Spartan than the Zenji Hotel. I
have a private room for $10 a night, but most interestingly, no towel. And for the first time in my travel history I
did not pack one either (no room in my bag!).
So we’ll see if I can be creative after my shower in the morning… =)
Until next time, my friends!
