Hakuna Matata

My head was fuzzy for days following Livingstone (I’m not sure it’s possible, but I think I may have overdosed on adrenaline), and the next two weeks were pretty much spent in paradise. We left Zambia for Tanzania – landed in Dar es Salaam and took a 6-seater plane straight to Zanzibar, an island 25 miles off the coast of the mainland. Before traveling to Zanzibar, I wasn’t even quite sure where it was or that it even existed – it seemed too mystical and mysterious to be a real place. But it is real, and it is as gorgeous and remote as it is gritty, busy and crowded. We spent nearly two weeks on the island, traveling from Stone Town, the main commercial district, to Paje, on the eastern coast, up to Nungwi, on the very northern tip of the island. Our first night in Paje, we arrived to an all-night beach party at our hostel. A fun, loud, surreal dance party of locals and travelers.

The water at Paje was a spectacular blue-green, and the sand literally felt like flour. Endless stretches of blue beach and white sand, dotted with fisherman’s boats (dhows). Indescribably gorgeous. Paje is a quiet, somewhat secluded region of Zanzibar, and for a week, we lay in hammocks, ate meals of pineapple and fresh bread, and woke up to watch the sun rise over the Indian Ocean. The island is supposed to have some of the best snorkeling in the world, so we took a tiny dhow out for a day. The trip was a near disaster; as soon as we dove in, an hour into the Indian Ocean, we immediately started getting stung by some mysterious jellyfish-like creature. I was determined to see some tropical fish, but after about ten minutes of getting stung, repeatedly, we all gave up. We were taken to a private island, where local fisherman had prepared a feast of octopus, calamari, tuna, lobster and prawns, plus traditional rice, bread, and fresh fruit. Likely the best meal I ate on the trip. So the snorkeling was a total bust, but the private lunch on the private island made up for it.

We became friends with a couple local guys, Sale and Danda, who showed us the other side of Paje. They own their own small restaurant/bar, which runs entirely without electricity, and they invited us to dinner and a drumming circle down the beach. Another incredible meal, and a wonderful way to experience real Zanzibari food, music and culture. I’m not too naïve to think they’ve never done this for other tourists, as they’ve clearly perfected the balance between friendship and business, trying to make a living with foreign money. But, for a few weeks, they were our friends, and gave us a really great view of the island. I probably picked up more Swahili from them in my two weeks in Zanzibar than I’ve learned of Sotho, Tswana or Afrikaans in my 3+ months in Bloemfontein. It’s a beautiful language, and I quickly learned that the locals are pleasantly surprised, and less likely to rip you off, when you address them in Swahili. And, everyone says Hakuna Matata, all the time (it’s not just a stupid line from the Lion King, which most ignorant tourists assume, including myself!). It means no problem, don’t worry, and I heard it many times – when we were getting stung by jellyfish, and when our taxi got a flat tire, mid-day, at peak heat. Most of those times, I wanted to scream, but eventually I was [somewhat] able to adapt the mindset, and let it go. Hakuna Matata.

Random note: One night, Sale grabbed my feet, pressed one spot, which sent a shock through my leg, and said “You had a headache today, here…” and pointed to the exact spot where I’d had a tension headache earlier that day. He kept prodding at my foot, rather painfully, and said “You get lots of headaches, migraines, don’t you?” I don’t understand how, but he knew what kind of headaches I get and where, from the pressure points on my feet.