(August 2020, from my journals; Six weeks in Africa during a pandemic and divorce).
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Day 27 RED COLOBUS MONKEYS AND A SPICE FARM TOUR
Traveling alone has its challenges, but it also brings the opportunity to trust, rely on, and befriend the locals that you might not otherwise. Today I had Asa, a driver who has worked at the hotel I’m at for eighteen years, drive me all over Zanzibar. He safely navigated the usual goats, cows, chickens, children, rickshaws, dola dolas (local transport named from the old days how the locals pronounced “Dollar” in Swahili), bikes, women with bundles on their heads, motorcycles, etc. First was Jozani National Park for the Zanzibar red colobus monkeys. I had the rhyming Khamis and Shamis for enthusiastic guides. They’re so delighted to have a customer. They both travel nearly two hours each way… to volunteer. They count on tips, but with no tourists it has been brutal.
Spice Tour
After the super entertaining monkey sightings, Asa took me to a spice farm tour. I thought it would be a tourist trap sort of spot. Nope. Big Body Tatata Spice Farm, a cooperative that supports fifty local families. This time I had “Big” Mohammed and “Little” Mohammed as my exuberant guides. They especially enjoyed telling me about all the aphrodisiac properties of various spices.
Little M. (short end of the stick?) demonstrated the “lipstick” plant. Hard to keep a straight face. They showed me around the forest/farm showing me lemongrass (didn’t know same as citronella), vanilla (harvested only once a year via manual pollination – thus the high prices), ginger (explained how it helps their masculinity LOL), jackfruit (and sampled), tumeric, peppermint, cinnamon (their main one), cocoa beans, sweet potato and kasaba fields (I’ve had delicious kasaba spiced chips), cloves (their highest earner), cardamon (their Muslim trick to hide forbidden alcohol on their breath), and nutmeg (claimed to have female aphrodisiac properties… hmmm).
Spice Queen
I was then presented by Little M. a woven plant ring, bracelet and necklace adorned with hibiscus that he made in route. Then Ismael the coconut climber presented me with a crown and proceeded to sprint up the tree and retrieve a coconut with the most delicious coconut water that they made sure I drank every last drop of. The wild chickens scrambled over my feet pecking at every speck of coconut that fell.
Once again, jubilant Swahili was exchanged between me and all of the spice farm workers. I bought some soaps and lotions that they made on site with medicinal properties (not nutmeg!).
Then Asa got me back through the chaotic streets, during “rush hour” (a ferry arriving from mainland) in time for me to eat more coconut – in the form of a sauce on the local king fish.
All material for my script in progress.
Africa Night 32 – THE FISH TACO/SPIDER INCIDENT
Practically an international incident. My son and I enjoyed drinks, food, and a fabulous sunset at one of the top Zanzibar locales. His GF, feeling under the weather, had stayed back at their flat. My son the dutiful boyfriend ordered her fish tacos to go.
Cut To: Me sitting on the comfy sofa at the high end establishment, alone, finishing my South African pinot, when Son sends me a horrific image of a dead spider the size of a fist, poking out of GF’s fish tacos. Apparently she had eaten one fish taco, and was enjoying the greasy salty chips when some black legs appeared. Justifiably horrified, Son removed it with a tissue and took a photo as Exhibit A.
So, being a dutiful customer, I showed the waiter the photo of the giant dead arachnid. He first tried to claim it was a mosquito. I said, do you see my son’s foot in the corner of the photo? It’s about the same size. And it has EIGHT legs. (The spider, not my son.) Now a serious incident was created. All fingers pointed to the chef – in the largest chef’s hat I’ve ever seen. Chef, all waitstaff, and managers, gathered round to view the dreadful image. Gasps and horror spread. Phones were whipped out and took photos of the photo. No one could explain the monster creature.
The Tanzanians are so damn nice, there is no way to be angry. We laughed, a few “Hakuna Matatas” were said, and ultimately I got one free fish taco – and a water – taken off the bill.
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