Shaggy

I just went to a Shaggy concert organized by ZIFF.
Yes, SHAGGY. Of all the random things I've seen in Zanzibar, this is one I'll never forget.
But of course there's a 6 hour wait before he arrives and then the power goes out as he's walking on stage. They eventually got a couple generators; one of which died halfway through the show - they eventually made do with half the instruments and just passed the mics around. Zanzibar is seriously 'local.' As a performer, he's actually pretty bad. Kuumba could have done a much better job with the dancing. Shaggy didn't even sing much - he had 3 others rotate in for him until he held a world premiere of his latest song - "Sugarcane." It definitely has nothing to do with the sugarcane juice you get here in Forodhani, and everything to do with his ego. It's so bad I won't even paste a link. We left the show at around 3am, but he apparently continued with his 2 hour encore until 4:30am. (I don't know how these Zanzibaris do it, but the clubs here open at 1am and close at 5.)
All in all, not a bad end to a film festival. And it only cost me 10 bucks.

Go watch 'The Creators'

I think I'm loozing my Kanadien akcent. I'm not too worried though. Earlier, I was worried about losing the French that I've picked up in the past year. And then the universe sent a guy from the Comoros to talk to me. And then a lost couple from France.
Then recently, I was missing art - those tourist trap murals do not cut it. Once again, not something I expected to miss in this part of the world. (Re: missing music - I watched a South African film at ZIFF called 'The Creators' about musicians in the Cape Flats, making sense of what is essentially a post-apartheid cultural and intellectual wasteland. One of the musicians made a good point: "Music is squashed here. The Americans, they send weapons but no instruments!") I wondered where I could find art supplies in Zanzibar. Then, the universe sent along an opportunity to help with an Early Learning Childhood group's painting project for a week. I'll take what I get.

Also, I'm really glad I put random music from everyone I meet on my iPod. It's given me a chance to 'discover some new bands' without a record store or decent internet connection in sight.

The point? I'm sure I'll bump into some Canadian or American soon enough. The universe usually works itself out.

Edit: I haven't bumped into any Canadians or Americans yet, but I have bumped my head in so many places - twice on a daladala's roof, three times while leaving shops... Zanzibar was not built for big people. The doors may be beautiful, but I find myself turning sideways and ducking every time I walk through one of them.

A Little Rant

I said I wouldn't complain about the bugs, but here goes. Last night I got back late from ziff and fell asleep in my clothes. It seems there were a few mosquitoes stuck in my jeans because today was... painful to say the least. I have so many bites in places I can't see and places I would never dream of using bug spray. To be honest, I don't even own bug spray or a mosquito net.

Two more have moved into my house. Actually, they were always around here during the day I just thought they left at night. Lizards. Two geckos live in my wardrobe. I don't actually have the key to it - apparently Bw. Sallum's sister keeps some stuff safe in there. But the geckos have found a way in through the back. For those that are unfamiliar, these little guys are neon green, and have super sticky feet - not that I've touched one, but they run all over the ceilings all the time, hiding indoors from the harsh sun outside. Generally though, they leave at night. (To eat?) My guys, not so much. 

(I learned not to tell my mama about a gecko or she'll kill it. I also learned that if you kill a gecko, its tail lives on...)

On a different note, that wasn't a Turtles chocolate in my shoe. (There is no chocolate here!? There are beans but no chocolate bars.) The gooey crunch was the same, but of course, it was actually a roach. Today's lesson: don't leave anything crawl-in-able on the floor. 

And these ants! I don't know how they do it, but everytime I see them they are in single file line zigzagging around my entire room. And everytime I see them, I lysol their path but within a few hours they return to the exact same path. I've even tried leaving obstacles like chairs or little blobs of intensely strong citrus hand sanitizer. The little buggers just dodge them and continue.

Paka (Cats): They're everywhere in town. They usually sleep during the day and then fight (or mate! :O) at night. They like to eat my shoes.

Majogoo (Roosters): I see them everywhere in town. There were two in the house yesterday. Today I ate chicken curry. And it was delicious :D

Also, I had to dodge a donkey on my way to school this morning. Someone left it to eat grass on the side of the street and I guess I looked tasty too because it tried to follow me.

ZIFF!

Zanzibar is a festival town. Every few weeks there's some big reason to celebrate. It's fairly sleepy otherwise, so when there is actually some form of entertainment, it's a pretty big deal. This week, the Zanzibar International Film Festival, ZIFF, is on. The self-proclaimed Film Festival of Africa, it features mostly East African and South African films, with a few Arab and one (?) European submission.

Someone gave me VIP tickets, but I can sit next to a British diplomat sweating profusely in a wool suit anyday - I just have to walk into the Serena Hotel and pay $4 for a coffee that costs 3.5 cents on the street; but sitting with Zanzibaris is a rare experience. (Feeling like a Zanzibari is even rarer.) You might know by now that I've been following Zanzibari politics and the separatist movement. (it's kind of like being at home in Quebec) So bahati nzuri, and I find myself watching a separatist movie with separatists. With TIFF, I imagine red carpets, glamour and the celebrities that follow. But Zanzibar, as my Baba frequently tells me, is very 'local.' The amphitheatre in the Old Fort;

gets turned into a cinema for the duration of the festival. (There used to be a cinema, but it burnt down so they make do with the fort and rooms in the ceremonial palace, not a bad venue at all.) All the locals sit together (for free I might add) on those huge stone benches. And as I sat there with them, I'll admit I was initially a little unsure. Ok, to be honest, I was shitting my pants. That was one rowdy group of entertainment-starved Zanzibaris. But as the film went on, it started to feel like one big family. Actually, it felt like high-school again. Every time a familiar sight came up, everyone cheered to see their tiny island up there on the big screen in front of all these foreigners. Whether it was Jaws' Corner or the mzee that dries out cloves on the street, they we roared in laughter, high-fived and even danced together as our little Zanzibar shone in the spotlight. And I realized that when so many people live in a place like this - fairly small, completely walkable, and devoid of public space; everyone is connected by the same few things. Everyone gets married in the same place, everyone buys halua from the same guy, everyone watches the sunset at the same dock.

Afterwards, I even got to meet the MP for Stone Town, a true separatist (and a brown guy which is unusual), and the former culture minister whose portfolio would have included ZIFF. (And he's secretly running for the presidency next election - hopefully no Zanzibaris read this. Although, I soon found out how corrupt he is... maybe it's not such a bad thing if someone ruins his campaign.)

Point being, it was so much fun that it turned me into a true Zanzibari - when the internet was down for a few minutes the next day, I took it as an excuse to leave work early and go watch a few incredible South African films. My Afrikaans is getting quite good too.

(Side note: I found out that you can get a tiny studio apartment, utilities included - water/power/cable tv/cleaning lady (!) in stone town for only $125/month.)

Less is More

I'm really mixed up with all these posts. I think I wrote this in the first week, but it got lost in the Zanzibari interwebs.


Less shampoo, less food, less detergent. Less shampoo means a faster bucket bathing experience (no more tears!), less food down the hatch means less out the... (less sleepyness too), and as for less detergent - today was interesting. I somehow agreed to washing my clothes this morning. I was told that someone 'washed the family' once a week because it can be hard, but that I was welcome to try myself. This confused me because I had seen the kids run out of the bathroom in a towel yesterday. Quick to avoid being washed, I instead found myself washing clothes. The detergent smells exactly like the raspberry-esque effervescence that accompanies Dukoral. For those of you that have travelled to places with high cholera prevalence before, I need not explain. For the rest of you, I strongly encourage the aforementioned travel with all of the necessary medical precautions taken. This stuff is strong - both the Dukoral and the detergent. Put too much and it'll never wash out. Less is more.


Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone on the Tigo Tanzania Network

Pole

Sorry, I've been getting really sloppy with these posts. Work has surprisingly gotten busy recently, and so I've just been posting unedited things I jotted down. They're really incoherent and probably boring to read, but I have another 20 or so to type up and post so I have no time to produce good writing. Let me know if there's something in particular that is more or less interesting and I'll take it into consideration. Most of you fb message me anyway, so that's probably the easier and faster way rather than comments. Baadaye, Adam

Approval

It is my conviction that with all things in life, old Brown ladies are the hardest to impress. Thus, if you get their approval, you have succeeded and nothing else matters. Plus, they all talk so getting one's approval is equivalent to getting them all.
If you don't believe this about old brown women, then I have a short story for you:

I went to a traditional Zanzibari wedding yesterday. Just quickly, the men meet the groom at the mosque, listen to a few prayers and then eat some halua (this warm gooey tough jello thing), sambusa (samosa), and kahava (coffee). The women do something similar at home with the bride, but I'm told there's no food. After, the bride and groom meet at the reception and are then ridiculed by old brown women who don't even know them. It's just tradition.
Everyone makes a tiny speech wishing the newlyweds well. (seriously everyone - this takes a while) At this particular wedding, the father of the groom made an interesting speech. He mentioned that his son had been able to marry the girl of his choice, which is something new in their culture. Now the father of the groom is Ismaili and his wife is Sunni - it's odd that this was an arranged marriage. Although, there aren't too many Ismailis left in Zanzibar so maybe it was a necessity - Nyerere and nationalization, look it up.
But back to the old brown women; they stole the mic after these speeches and made hilarious comments the rest of the evening. For example, when the bride and groom went to kiss but slightly missed, these women said something in swahili along the lines of, "if you can't even kiss now, how are you gonna make a baby tonight?"

So when one old brown lady complemented me on my Swahili skills, I knew that in my quest to speak Swahili, I had succeeded.

Canned cheese is Weird

I should be clear about something: This is NOT a development blog. I may rant about life in the developing world, but that's just me venting. I am not in Zanzibar to save the starving kids, cure AIDS, or fix the broken government. This is a personal blog. Its supposed to be about my life, experiences and my take on everything from politics to cheese. (Its the processed Kraft stuff, but it comes in a tuna can.)
I've noticed that I'm changing - I was never shy, but I'm starting to become more of a self-starter. For example, I started reading a book about Urban Design and failed Colonialism in Zanzibar. And then I started to contact locals that were interviewed by the author. (It's fairly easy to find someone here just by asking - people might send you to 10 wrong places but eventually it works.) And then I found out that the professor who wrote the book is back in Zanzibar for a few months. A little later and I now have his phone number. This is relatively new for me. I think it may be the friendly/ask-anyone-anything culture here that's changed me. Locals call it the "survival of humanity." They see the West as devoid of care and concern for your fellow 'binadamu' (sons of Adam).
Toronto can be cold (temperature-wise too), but I liked it. The concrete city, inside and out. It was efficient and you were free to be yourself, because really, nobody you didn't care about spoke to you anyway. At the same time, I guess that meant nobody was willing to help a stranger. And I have noticed before that in smaller Ontario towns, people are friendlier. (Except for the racist ones, but I digress.) This isn't very coherent, but I guess what I mean is: It's taken Zanzibar to make me realize that a city's stone walls don't have to match the hearts of its people. To be fair, you do have to conform here. Wear shorts or start talking without going through a 5 minute intro of your whole family, and you won't get any help. Back in Toronto - wear a pink tutu on the subway, and you're just from Rosedale.

I wish I had more Arms to Carry all this Octopus

I've been confused in class many times. But usually it's because I didn't understand what my mwalimu was saying. Today, I understood his words, just not why he was saying them.

In Swahili, there is a different verb for carrying things on your head, carrying things on your back, lifiting things to carry, taking little things, taking things out, taking things away, bringing things and just carrying in general. And there's different verbs for actively carrying and referring to someone carrying. I said I was carrying a bag and then used the same verb to say my baba was carrying a bag - It took about 20 minutes of my teacher explaining why that was ridiculous before I just pretended to understand and we moved on.
I found this really unusual for Swahili, because so many English words are covered by one Swahili word. 'Kama' can mean If, Like or Such as; 'Juu' can mean Over, Above, On, Top, or Up; 'Nafasi' can mean Time, Space, Chance, or Vacancy, etc.
So the fact that carrying is so specifically defined (and confusing) was initially strange. Maybe this was how they distinguished locals from foreigners when paying for tickets? (For movies, ferries, everything, foreigners pay at least double and up to 5 times as much as locals.) But when I thought about, I realized these different 'carry' verbs must be for practicality's sake. Every aspect of life here involves some carrying. Water doesn't just flow out of the taps in the bathroom (if you even have a bathroom); meat and fruit don't just go from the supermarket cart to your car to your fridge; your baby doesn't ride along happily in their stroller, your fancy executive-style all-in-one laptop case doesn't just swivel, roll out of the elevator and down the marble ramp from your air-conditioned corporate oasis (the SunLife building at Mansfield/Rene-Levesque where my mentor works - go there): Nope, you carry your water, your fresh octopus, your child and your unsold goods however you can manage. With your head, your back, your shoulders, your arms and your pockets. And I guess describing each of these ways would be too time consuming since you have to run home to eat before prayers.

JLo

Yup, you read the title correctly. Everyone here listens to one particular style of music: Local, Arab or Indian (bollywood is huge here); but in addition, they all like the popular rap/r&b artists from the great USofA. Sometimes when I get lost in Malindi, a part of town where the streets are literally sand poured on top of litter, it's quite common to hear Sean Paul, NeYo, Chris Brown, Craig David, and Shaggy (more on Shaggy later). Oh and of course Rihanna. She's like a virus. But here, she's not the only girl in the world. (That was bad, even for me.)
Now someone correct me if I'm wrong, but JLo isn't black. She's not even as black as Obama. (Come on, he was brought up in Hawaii with white grandparents.) Regardless, everyone man/woman/kid's ringtone is JLo. Except for my neighbour; her ringtone is a brown song from my dad's childhood. It's painful. And she's loves to text.
Re: JLo's roots. Of course Africans can listen to a Latina, and Arabs can listen to a Frenchman, and the whole world can live happily ever after. But I was specifically told by a few people that they listen to Jlo because she is "like them." 
Am I missing something here? Is GLo (George) African too? I googled a whole bunch of things and all I found was that Glow is now available in perfume shops across South Africa.
The bank teller's ringtone was 'On The Floor.' 'You Got It' is always blasting from the street vendors' boomboxes. A couple old dudes in Jaws Corner had her first CD. Even the thugs outside my window and the construction Mussas were listening to 'My Love Don't Cost a Thing.' I watched a Kenyan football star's interview - his first crush? JLo.
Her ethnicity is up in the air, but one thing's for sure: JLo has major street cred in Zanzibar.

Edit: According to a couple EWB junior fellows, Celine Dion and the Backstreet Boys are huge in Ghana. I didn't believe this until I started hearing them here too. (Read more about Bailey and Daniela in Ghana - links are on the left!)

p.s. I walked in the house one day and my mama said 'O Na Na' at complete random. Did I mention Rihanna is big here too?

Maji

(A while ago...)
I was washing my clothes today and thought "wow, I can't wait to get back so I can have hour-long hot showers and do a massive load of laundry." Not exactly the typical response to such an experience. Usually the response is more like, "After living in [developing country name here], I appreciate [basic human right] so much more!" Perhaps I'm not as close to my int'l development degree as I thought.
But in a way, I do appreciate the river of drinkable tap water in my dorm much more now. (And I guess those people don't always say they're going to conserve from on.) I guess the difference is in what I do about it, if anything. Because appreciating it and working towards universal access are two very very different things. I don't have an answer right now and I suspect I won't do anything when I go back. But at least I'm now aware of how very different life is without running water. And maybe someday in the future I'll remember this day and I might be in a position to do something about it.
I think I may just have gotten back on track to that int'l dev't degree.

Anyway, here's a great pic of me getting all sudsy and wrestling with a pair of jeans. Oh, and I thought I was being stupid and colourblind when I saw blue and green water left behind, but today there was red too. Anyone want to pre-order a complete set of white clothing? I suspect it'll be available in about 9 weeks. (You could use it to remake a really bad 80s music video.)
Correction: The pic won't upload, but the clothes are still for sale.

Jaws Corner

(a few days after the last one - these are actually really old, i'm doing a bad job of updating these)


Zanzibaris have a pretty traditional idea of gender roles. Mama and Farida cook and clean all day while Baba works and the boys go to school and the Madrasa (Quran School). I occasionally see Farida going to school, but not every day. As well, the men eat first, then mama, the boys and finally Farida. And of course, you eat with your hands.
There’s almost no alone time. If your entire life isn’t unfolding in front of the whole family’s (and neighbours’) eyes, then you must be sick and that’s why you’re in your room writing a blog. The kids play with the neighbours’ kids and they rotate houses (which helps to give mama a break). The front door is essentially left open all day long, because so many people from the area will visit for just a few minutes. Come to think of it, nobody seems to have a job. Even in town, people just walk around for hours meeting all their friends. (Edit: Since I wrote this, I've read a book that talks about how most people spent a few days every week visiting the palaces and government offices as part of their obligation to the Sultan. If people didn't show up regularly to talk and have chai, they would lose their trading rights.)


Maybe they spend so long walking around because they keep getting lost. When people go out for a walk, they say they are going 'Kutembea.' Instead, I've started saying I'm going 'Kupotea,' literally to get lost. This is a major problem for me so I thought navigating deserved a post of its own.
There are no maps. People have tried. But it would take a lifetime before you could walk every street and alleyway. The roads all intersect at arbitrary angles, at random times and occasionally never at all. I've noticed the locals aren't too concerned with the fastest or shortest way - they usually just walk to a place they know and then go from there. Most people choose the same spot as their reference point - Joe's Corner. It's appropriately named because you meet every average joe here. (There's even a few tables set up in the middle where you can get a cup of joe and play Bao, a Swahili game that I'll try to explain later.) For some reason it's written Jaws Corner and there's a painting of a shark on the wall just in case you weren't confused yet. It's the only 'intersection' with almost perpendicular streets and so acts as a sort of Zanzibari compass.
I too have my reference points for the route I take to work, and surprisingly it doesn't go through Jaws Corner (which saves me lots of time I would spend saying Salaam to everyone). There are no street names, but to give you an idea my route passes the Ice Cream shack, 'Bra St.,' Darajani Market, Spice St., the Fake IKFL (Its a shack called the Institute of Foreign Languages and Kiswahili, IFKL, that tries to imitate the university I study at.), Jewellery St. and the Old Fort. For a Toronto boy like me, working without a perfect grid and transit on every corner is definitely a new experience.

Context

After our walk in Stone Town, I was talking to Bwana Sallum about how I'll be working at the STCDA. While we were walking he pointed out a few renovated buildings and lots of new buildings on land that the government had sold. Stone Town is a very dense area and so the existence of land for all these new buildings was hard to believe. He explained that the government had been selling off old buildings to a few wealthy Europeans who demolished them and built hotels in their place. Despite the implementation of a conservation area and the designation as a UNESCO world heritage site, the government itself was causing the destruction of Stone Town.
"Great!" I thought - Not because of what was happening but because at least now I had some context before I started work tomorrow.

My findings: All toilet paper is wet in Zanzibar. It's just the humidity. Also, when Zanzibaris say "just a little rain," they mean full on thunderstorm. And when they say it's cold, they mean 30 degrees Celsius.

Kutembea

Leo, watoto walienda madrasani. Baada ye, baba nami tulienda kupeleka watoto nyumbani. The kids were running late and so we - Omg as I write this Sahil is replaying Delta Force Part B. His mom recites the lines before they even appear in the subtitles. I forgot to mention we got a break yesterday with Mayday instead.  And now Apu (Abu?) just walked in. Apu is one of their friends from the neighbourhood. He's a little scared of me, but the Toblerone I brought is helping. (Life view: food is the best gift.) As I was saying, we went to get the kids. They were a little late so we walked around Stone Town. And I have to admit, although I made mental notes of all the expensive hotels with acceptable bathrooms - Idea! I can steal toilet paper if I can't find a place to buy some - it was then that I remembered why I was here: the bright blue ocean, the cobblestone streets, the intricate carvings on Arab and Indian-style doors, the colourful shops and the friendly people (walking always takes twice as long as if you google mapped it - they really need a Salaam/Walekum function for Muslim countries). I could feel something I had missed since arriving in Zanzibar. A cool breeze. And then finally, I started to hear it: Quiet.
I think I'm beginning to like Chuck Norris too.

p.s. It's Abu, as in Abu Bakr. Also, I now have a recreation of Delta Force on my camera, starring Abu as Chuck Norris, with cinematography and production by Sahil.

Noise

(Sunday, June 5^th)
Oh god. I miss music. I never thought that in “Africa: Land of Culture,” would I miss music of all things. Anyone who knows me well knows that I associate everything with a song, and that there is always something playing in my head; At school or home, at weddings or funerals, throughout any conversation or contemplation – without exception. But here, I’ve mentioned there is noise; night and day, Zanzibar is not a quiet place. I've wondered who throws parties outside my window until 3AM every day, despite the fact that the rest of the island sleeps at 9. And especially since it is such a muslim & fairly conservative society – although I have heard of certain places one can go at night… The noise though, yells, orders, street vendors, cars, trucks and city noise really, with the occasional azaana (call to prayer broadcast from every mosque 5 times a day) – drowns out any chance of hearing myself. I've resorted to my iPod playing familiar songs to calm me down. (8:40AM – Stars, Soft Revolution) Between the heat and suffocating noise, I've become claustrophobic. Actually, this must be what a typical dorm feels like. (8:42AM – Stars, Sleep Tonight) I didn’t want to resort to my iPod, but until school & work start, it’s the only thing keeping me sane.
Aside from that, I've adjusted to the pace of life quite well. And by pace, I mean the only rate at which one can move in 30+ weather.

Chuck Norris

(Saturday, June 4)

Starting Monday, I'll be studying Swahili in the morning and then at work in the afternoon, learning about the restoration projects going on here in Stone Town. For now, I'm busy getting to know my new family. Bwana Sallum and his wife (I just call her Mama) are extremely relaxed - a pre-req it seems for living in Zanzibar. Mama stays at home while Bwana Sallum has two jobs. His part-time job is working with a tour operator - tourism is big business here - and his full time job is with the Norwegian Embassy, reporting on politics in Zanzibar. I had actually hoped I could talk smack about politics with someone here - Zanzibaris don't generally appreciate their lack of influence in Tanzania - a union of Tanganyika (the mainland) and Zanzibar (an archipelago off its coast).

My new Mama and Baba have two boys - Sahil, 7 and Salahi, 4. Sahil is in standard 1 and is learning English at school (with books from the US gov't). When he does his homework, I 'help' - aka learn as many words in Swahili as he does in English. But this kid is, for lack of a better word from the 90's, Badass. Whenever he's not running around or eating mkate and chai, he's watching Chuck Norris in Delta Force. He has every single Chuck Norris-esque movie ever made but I've yet to witness any other. Salahi, younger and prone to crying, does whatever his brother tells him to. Their niece Farida also lives with them, though I don't really know the story. She is the complete opposite of her cousins - quiet and reserved. She does the housework with mama, while the boys play. I get the sense that it's a "woman's role." (Ironically, my grandfather told me that I would learn how to treat women here. So far I've learned how not to treat your niece.) Although she was shy at first,  that disappeared after I bought the three of them ice cream. (Ice cream transcends language barriers.)

Aside from that ice cream thing, the culture is entirely different here. I'll need a separate post for that.

Baadaye,

Adam

Edit: Their Bibi (grandma) got really worried when she saw me walking around the market with the two boys. She also calls Sahil her husband and Salahi her brother-in-law (in English) - apparently this is a common grandma joke in Africa?

Standin' at the Toilet!

(Friday June 3rd)
I've just arrived at my home in Zanzibar!
Before I start, I should make it clear that I've been to East Africa before. So I won't be complaining about the bugs, the lack of power, using bottled water, garbage on the streets, or the heat - scratch that, it's always 35 degrees here and it makes me so sleepy. Even with chai 3 times a day, I'm still always yawning.
But when I was last here, I stayed with my relatives. Now that I'm with a local host family, it's very different- life is slow, simple. There's no running water, which leads to interesting bucket showers (mainly splashing water with cupped hands). Interestingly, the water isn't cold - I guess the climate keeps it toasty. And in any case, a bit of coolness is welcomed by all here. 
Before you read any further, watch this clip:

Now picture the exact opposite. No sittin', no toilet, no an' Flush! Just a hole in the earth and my friend the bucket. I wonder how long it'll take before I suck it up and just do it. I suspect I'll frequent the university/hotel toilets for a bit. Advice to future adventurers: bring tissues. Or better yet, a whole roll of the good stuff. I could really elaborate on this bathroom, but I'll spare you the details.
From my last visit, I also don't remember there being constant noise. I'm on the ground floor and there is construction going on outside my window - and by construction I mean five guys beating sheet metal into useful shapes. And it seems they're all named Mussa.

Finally! (Again)

Internet! On this tiny island they call Zanzibar! I've been writing for a few days now and am dying to get everything typed and uploaded. I'll stagger all my posts to give you and me both some time to deal with this awesomeness. Did I mention that I now have internet? Well on my phone at least. It's slow and clunky but it works - sometimes. (I can't see the page links up there so I hope they work and posting in them isn't a colossal waste of time.) It's now late afternoon here and that means naptime. G'nite!

Finally!

So after months of trying to reach someone, I finally spoke to the someone at the Institute for Kiswahili and Foreign languages. Apparently, everything was set up for me weeks ago, but there was some e-mail mixup.
Anyway, I've learned where I'll likely be staying. Called Michenzani ("New City"), it's a network of pre-fabricated concrete apartments designed by the East Germans in the 60s and early 70s - an attempt to show the power of Socialism in Zanzibar.
This is a picture I've frequently come across in my research of the area. (I'll get my own ones up soon.)