We were sitting around the other night, chatting with Baraka, a local batik artist with a torso like that model from the calvin klein adverts, Ame, the cheeky receptionist of the dive centre and Dan, the smiley Malawian divemaster, when conversation turned to a local phenomenon: the "Sugar Momma". Sure, you've heard of Sugar Daddies but out here it's the other way around, spend a bit of time on this beach and you'll spot ropey older women, looking like they belong in Benidorm, probably called Sharon or Tracy, wrapped around a local beach boy. For them it's the "African Experience", the flattery of being lavished attention by a handsome young guy with a physique honed by hard work and meagre diet, for the beach boys it's a ticket out of poverty. For everyone else it's a source of great amusement. I don't know whether to regard it with sadness or amusement - i guess if they are both happy in their own way, then what the hey?
The Sugar Mommas were out in force at the full moon party last weekend. Before you imagine scenes of Goan revelry, hippies bopping to repetetive gabba music 'til dawn and poi on the beach, stop. Instead imagine the scene from the cheap drinks night in the shoddiest club in Leicester or Plymouth and you're spot on. Yup, both full moon parties here have failed to live up to their names, inspiring mostly horror mixed with amusement. Even though this is Zanzibar the formula is straight out of one of those clubs: tons of sleazy local men, pissed and making passes at anything with four limbs, whilst white guys in shirts dance awkwardly to commercial hip-hop. It's scenes like this that make me question humankind... is this where evolution and the advanceof globalisation has brought us?
Friday, 30 November 2007
Tuesday, 20 November 2007
Sharing a taxi with several tourists the other day reminded me how much the "them and us", white/black, superior/inferior complex still exists. Two french ladies, very much suffering from culture shock, were constantly complaining to the driver about leaving late, about speed and then tried to direct HIM to the their hotel, assuming he was an idiot, not a native Zanzibarian who's driven these roads for twenty years. Okay, so they were French, but still, I found myself pretty disgusted.
It's subtle but portrayals in the western media of Africans as mainly poor, uneducated, starving, victims or perpetrators of conflicts mean that many people still come here with a subconscious assumption about African people. It shows in the way some tourists talk down to locals, or adopt pidgin english and generally treat them as if they were children. Others are constantly suspicious and regard all interactions with Swahili people as minefields, arguing over change or storming out of shops when they think they are being overcharged, when mostly they're not.
The point is that there is so much depth and complexity to Swahili and indeed African culture that western imperialism mostly ignores, indeed the "history" of this continent as it is taught in our schools begins with colonisation, wiping out thousands of years of vast civilisations with the stroke of a pen. So many people fail to scratch beneath the surface and try to understand this culture and the lives of people here.
For example, if you've never eaten in a restaurant with waiter service, how can you know what people expect? If you're a poor taxi driver, trying to provide for a family of ten, of course you're going to try to get as many people in as possible. If you had to leave school at 10, you're going to speak pidgin English. If you don't own a watch, how can you be on time? If there's no waste collection service or any bins, of course the streets will be dirty. Complaining and shouting is not something that's done around here, largely because if you live somewhere where daily life is a struggle, what's the good of complaining?
Living out here is like a process of unlearning, gradually attempting not to see things through the lens of Western perception and trying to see why things are the way they are and why people act the way they do.
It's subtle but portrayals in the western media of Africans as mainly poor, uneducated, starving, victims or perpetrators of conflicts mean that many people still come here with a subconscious assumption about African people. It shows in the way some tourists talk down to locals, or adopt pidgin english and generally treat them as if they were children. Others are constantly suspicious and regard all interactions with Swahili people as minefields, arguing over change or storming out of shops when they think they are being overcharged, when mostly they're not.
The point is that there is so much depth and complexity to Swahili and indeed African culture that western imperialism mostly ignores, indeed the "history" of this continent as it is taught in our schools begins with colonisation, wiping out thousands of years of vast civilisations with the stroke of a pen. So many people fail to scratch beneath the surface and try to understand this culture and the lives of people here.
For example, if you've never eaten in a restaurant with waiter service, how can you know what people expect? If you're a poor taxi driver, trying to provide for a family of ten, of course you're going to try to get as many people in as possible. If you had to leave school at 10, you're going to speak pidgin English. If you don't own a watch, how can you be on time? If there's no waste collection service or any bins, of course the streets will be dirty. Complaining and shouting is not something that's done around here, largely because if you live somewhere where daily life is a struggle, what's the good of complaining?
Living out here is like a process of unlearning, gradually attempting not to see things through the lens of Western perception and trying to see why things are the way they are and why people act the way they do.
Thursday, 15 November 2007
DJ Jizzy James in da House
Last week we approached the amusingy German manager of a local bar and asked him if we could DJ (well, press play on the ipod) for him one night. He replied "Ja zat vould be good, we are liking zee eighties and zee cheese and zee hip hop in zee moment". I assured him I had plenty of that and then set about putting together a four hour mix of relentless pounding drum n bass and techno. Teehee. Unfortunately, all the bars round here play a mixture of terrible eurotrance and commercial rap so we were determined to give people something good.
It turned out to be a really fun night, being a dj is pretty fun, especially when you're being plied with free drinks and can go around to people introducing yourself casually as "the DJ". The DnB was well received but the locals still prefer their beanie man and sean paul... will have to work on them.
It turned out to be a really fun night, being a dj is pretty fun, especially when you're being plied with free drinks and can go around to people introducing yourself casually as "the DJ". The DnB was well received but the locals still prefer their beanie man and sean paul... will have to work on them.
Sunday, 11 November 2007
Observations on Zanzibar
I've got so many half-thought out ideas and impressions to blog about that I can't seem to find one subject to write about. Thus, I thought I'd just jot down some general observations about life here.
1. Zanzibar's palms, white sand beaches and azure sea is not just a beautiful cliché, it is the original inspiration for all tropical paradise clichés. Sometimes, I can't believe I live in such a breathtaking place. The sun on the sea at noon glitters like diamonds and the water is crystal clear like a swimming pool.
2. Zooming along on a speedboat dressed in a wetsuit, wind whipping my hair, a white line of coast spreading out behind, makes me feel like a Navy Seal.
3.”Karibu” (“Welcome”) is a word that defines Swahili culture. Life here is filled with little acts of kindness and people will go out of their way to help you when they see you’re a visitor. Hang around the house and it’s not long before a plate of fresh mango or some rice and stew is pushed into your hands. Look lost at the minibus stand and people will help you find the right one. It’s a different welcome to other places I’ve been – not the minor-celebrity style attention you receive in Ethiopia, nor the obsessive over-feeding of Senegal or the touristy service of South East Asia, there’s a open, friendly but not intrusive attitude here that makes me feel very at home.
4. As in all African countries, greetings are paramount and there are dozens of them. I think it's indicative of the value placed on community here - after all, if you haven't got dvd players or playstations to entertain you, people are a valuable resource. Greetings include: Habari - how are you? /Mambo - how's life? / Vipi - How's it going? / Sema - Say what? / Salama - Peace / Karibu - welcome. Moving around here is necessarily at a slower pace because to get from a to b you inevitably spend up to 5 minutes at a time going through endless greetings with everyone you meet. Only slightly annoying when you desperately need the loo.
5. Despite the massive influx of tourist dollar, there's very little of the Thai-style aggressive touting. Furthermore, people haven't lost their traditional ways: walking home along the beach at night, it's common to see a group of Masai having a good old drum and a singalong, not for the benefit of any tourist.
1. Zanzibar's palms, white sand beaches and azure sea is not just a beautiful cliché, it is the original inspiration for all tropical paradise clichés. Sometimes, I can't believe I live in such a breathtaking place. The sun on the sea at noon glitters like diamonds and the water is crystal clear like a swimming pool.
2. Zooming along on a speedboat dressed in a wetsuit, wind whipping my hair, a white line of coast spreading out behind, makes me feel like a Navy Seal.
3.”Karibu” (“Welcome”) is a word that defines Swahili culture. Life here is filled with little acts of kindness and people will go out of their way to help you when they see you’re a visitor. Hang around the house and it’s not long before a plate of fresh mango or some rice and stew is pushed into your hands. Look lost at the minibus stand and people will help you find the right one. It’s a different welcome to other places I’ve been – not the minor-celebrity style attention you receive in Ethiopia, nor the obsessive over-feeding of Senegal or the touristy service of South East Asia, there’s a open, friendly but not intrusive attitude here that makes me feel very at home.
4. As in all African countries, greetings are paramount and there are dozens of them. I think it's indicative of the value placed on community here - after all, if you haven't got dvd players or playstations to entertain you, people are a valuable resource. Greetings include: Habari - how are you? /Mambo - how's life? / Vipi - How's it going? / Sema - Say what? / Salama - Peace / Karibu - welcome. Moving around here is necessarily at a slower pace because to get from a to b you inevitably spend up to 5 minutes at a time going through endless greetings with everyone you meet. Only slightly annoying when you desperately need the loo.
5. Despite the massive influx of tourist dollar, there's very little of the Thai-style aggressive touting. Furthermore, people haven't lost their traditional ways: walking home along the beach at night, it's common to see a group of Masai having a good old drum and a singalong, not for the benefit of any tourist.
Friday, 2 November 2007
The Pit of Doom
I fell into the pit of doom last night. Fortunately, I managed to hang onto the edge with one arm and one leg, whilst my other appendages flailed about in the darkness below. I don't know what was down there but I'm sure it wouldn't have been a nice landing.
The pit of doom is a large, man-sized hole, conveniently placed between the side of my house and the next one. Especially convenient if you stumble home a little the worse for wear after midnight, only to find the front door locked and have to make your way around to the back in the pitch black. It was a bit of a shock, let me tell you, to plunge into the pit of doom when all you want is to go to bed.
Luckily, I have only some cuts and scrapes as a reminder of my run in with the pit of doom. It could have been far worse. Its gaping black jaw conceals unknown fathoms of depth. Some say it is the lair of a monster, some say it is a route to China, others a bottomless jail. It is safe to say I'll be going the long way round from now on.
The pit of doom is a large, man-sized hole, conveniently placed between the side of my house and the next one. Especially convenient if you stumble home a little the worse for wear after midnight, only to find the front door locked and have to make your way around to the back in the pitch black. It was a bit of a shock, let me tell you, to plunge into the pit of doom when all you want is to go to bed.
Luckily, I have only some cuts and scrapes as a reminder of my run in with the pit of doom. It could have been far worse. Its gaping black jaw conceals unknown fathoms of depth. Some say it is the lair of a monster, some say it is a route to China, others a bottomless jail. It is safe to say I'll be going the long way round from now on.
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