All posts in “Travel”

It’s been more than two days now that I’ve been travelling, and my body is reeling from the experience. My heart is engaged, sorting out the maelstrom of emotions which are overwhelming at the present moment. My head is rather clear though, and I’m in a calm which is certainly helping what needs to happen to happen; I’m staying out of my own way right now, and the moments, thoughts, and emotions are coming and going, without grasping and holding each for posterity.

My travels home have been quite full and rich with good conversation and experience. The flight from Zanzibar to Dar-es-Salaam was quiet and sad, short and easy. I sat in Dar at the airport for about 4 1/2 hours, and read quite a bit in the book I’m currently reading, “The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying,” which is a great read if you have any interest in Buddhism and/or meditation. As circumstance would have it, Aya, one of the two Japanese girls I shared a ride with to Hakuna Majiwe in Paje, Zanzibar walked into the Flamingo Cafe at the airport, so we sat and talked for a bit before her departure to Tokyo and Nairobi for myself.

The flight to Kilimanjaro was beautiful watching the sun set over the Great Continent the last time for awhile. It was quiet and still, and about 90 minutes long. We picked up another group of passengers to join our dual-propeller ride to Nairobi, and a Swedish girl sat next to me who had been living in Moshi, near Kilimanjaro, for the last two months. Somehow she’d managed to spend the whole of her stay without learning any significant amount of Swahili, which is perplexing to me. Personally, I don’t know how you understand a culture if you do not at least make a stab at understanding the language – so much of culture finds root in the language.

In Nairobi, one of my Zanzibari brothers Naufal came to meet me at my hotel with his wife and daughter. Naufal was the last of the siblings I’d not met – Eddie, I met on my second night in Zanzibar and spent a majority of the trip with – and it’s always so incredible to me how quickly connection is established with my Zanzibari brothers and sisters, even if we didn’t meet on our first trip. They all know so much of my life and could pick me out of a crowd, no doubt due to Shinuna and the fam telling stories and showing pictures (the same is true vice versa, as I knew quite a bit about both Naufal and Eddie before meeting them). So, we hung out for a short visit only because Dr. Naufal was on call at the hospital and couldn’t stay too long.

I ate a big meal, took a nice, long, hot shower, flipped on the news for a bit, and went to sleep. I awoke early, and headed to Jomo Kenyatta International Airport to board the first of the long return flights. The Kenya Airlines Boeing 777 was immaculate and the most comfortable plane I’ve ever ridden in. Added to the comfort was the bonus of being seated next to an older man named Thor (pronounced ‘Tor’) who had lived in and around Uganda and Kenya on and off for the past 45 years. He first arrived in Uganda in the late 50′s on a mission, and later returned to help WorldVision set up their program in Uganda. Very knowledgeable and personable, the first three hours of the flight flew by in conversation about East African history and the present situation in which the region finds itself. I wish I could’ve talked longer, but I couldn’t last too much longer and dozed in and out for the next few hours, basically until the flight ended.

The layover in Amsterdam was more just a shifting of planes. It would’ve been nice to rest, stretch the legs a bit, and relax for a few before getting on another flight, but alas, I jumped on my second flight an hour after arriving in Amsterdam, this one just as long…8+ more hours.

Again though, I really lucked out with my seating. I landed on the aisle packing in Walter (Crazy) from Switzerland and Katherine from France. Between the three of us we had 9 languages I think – English, Swiss, German, Italian, Polish, French, Spanish, Mandarin, and Swahili – and not one of them did we all speak. So, Walter served as the translator between Katherine’s French and my English. We had so much fun talking and getting to know each other over the flight.

Walter is a world-renown breakdancer who was en route to NYC for the annual reunion of the Rock Steady Crew. He’s 40 and is one of the OG European Bboys. He had plenty of good stories from back in the day to keep our ears perked. He had been travelling about as long as I had coming from Switzerland earlier in the day, but all the way from Korea the day before (where he was judging an international qualifying breakdancing event for the world championships).

Katherine is a 17-year-old high-school student travelling to her cousin’s in Long Island for a month holiday. Here’s a busy girl. She is a competitive ice skater and pianist, pre-med (the education system works a little different), a painter, and as we found out a fiendish chocolate addict. We certainly made for an interesting group, and had a lot of fun bouncing around stories and conversation. Maybe I’ll be as lucky with my last flight here. I’m now at JFK sitting on a wireless connection in this Wal-mart of a waiting area. I can’t believe how many people are here, and how damn loud it is. I am not liking this as my location for reacclimating myself to American society. Loud ass people with a loud ass PA system never make for an interesting time unless you’re at a club. And, umm, I’m not interested in going to a club right now. I want to climb in a hole.

It’s odd how much different the world is only 18 hours away. The standard of living may be a little bit lower (or a lot), but what should define that standard? Twenty-eight percent of all Americans are listed as having some sort of mental disorder or another. We have thousands of murders each year. THOUSANDS. There’s much less disease here in the States, the water is safe to drink, I don’t have to worry about getting bit by a mosquito and the ensuing disease (unless West Nile picks up again), and still I don’t feel any safer here.

People are chattering away about the Space Shuttle and it’s impending doom. Who really cares in the grand scheme of things? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do care about the people up there, and seeing as my uncle works on the Space Shuttle a successful mission is of concern to me. But, there are many more pressing issues in this world that I can’t find any news on. It’s not just stuff that’s more pressing to me, it’s pressing to many people around the world, but you have to hunt for it here in the States. What is going on with Sudan? What’s happening with the UK’s enormous food drop in Niger? Anyone have any idea how the demonstrations are in Nairobi?

Arg. I’m preaching now, and that’s not my intent. I don’t mean to be too down on the States, it’s just that there are so many things which are hard to get used to here. I’m going to go relax and read for a bit. I’ll see you all soon, Inshallah.

Damn it, I hurt my foot. I was running up the beach in the middle of another game of football (a game which I should be banned from as a result of recurring injury) and stepped on a large hunk of coral rock which blended right into the sand. It removed about a square inch and a half flap of skin from the bottom of my left foot. It hurts to walk. Maybe the airlines will have sympathy on me and hook me up with an open first-class, business-class or emergency row seat. We can all hope…

I’m off for now. I leave in about 36 hours, my brother Zahor is done with his email, and we’re going to get back to the house to hang out with the fam. He returns to Norway in a couple of weeks as well, so family time is precious.

Much love…

I never thought I’d have to say it, but when it came out of my mouth this morning, I burst into laughter – “Kuna wadudu ndani ya mayai!” Which basically translates into, “There’re ants in my eggs!,” but I still only heard myself say that there is doodoo in my eye. Next best thing to the words themselves was Mama Chachi’s response, “Ahh, they won’t hurt anything; just eat.” Perfect. Protein. But, well, uh, yeah, I scraped off all that I could before chomping down my morning meal of eggs ala oil and bread con ants.

Today I’ve awoken with a headcold of sorts, but it seems to be waning. We were supposed to go out to Chumbe Island today to go snorkelling, but I decided to just mull around town with my camera and hang out with the kids. I think I’m going to try to find a moderately priced hotel for a stay out of town somewhere by myself tomorrow night, as my days are running out here in Zanzibar.

This is another short post, but I’m going to do my best to get some photos up right now. There are a few up and live at: http://www.417north.com/viewer/

Hope all’s well where you are…

For those of you who don’t know, the calendar, the clock, and the days of the week are all significantly different than they are in the rest of the world. Here, and everywhere else in the Muslim world days, weeks, months and years are all run from a different system. The Islamic calendar starts with the day of the prophet’s initial reception of the Qur’an (or perhaps its completion, I forget) and so as such is about 670 years younger than our own. It’s somewhere in the 1430′s here I believe.

The first day of the week is on Saturday, as the holy day here is Friday where you see many more don traditional Islamic garb. It’s pretty easy to remember as well, cause in Kiswahili the days are named Jumamosi, Jumapili, Jumatatu, Jumanne, Jumatano, Alhamis, and Ijumaa; and if you look at the first five days, they closely resemble the first five cardinal numbers, moja, mbili, tatu, nne, tano. I find it interesting even if you don’t.

Continue Reading

The third week has started, and it started with a bang yesterday. I awoke with a stiff back from swimming out on Changuu a couple of days prior, but really because I haven’t let it have the proper time to heal cause I’m not going to sit still during this holiday. In any case, I jumped on the daladala – the major mode of transport here which is a flatbed truck with a cover and bench seats so named because it used to cost a dollar – and headed out to sister Hobo’s place to see Eddie’s wife Husna off on her return to London.

While I was waiting for Eddie to return from the airport, little 5-year-old Said gave me a tour of the property to show me all of the papaya, banana, and guava trees. He was so bored it was making me laugh. Eddie and I left shortly after he returned and headed to Darjani to meet their soccer team at the market. We waited around for the big cement truck that was to haul us out to the shamba (umm, rural farm-ish countryside) which took about 45 minutes due to stops at the mosque for prayer and bubblegum from the shop nextdoor. But we finally arrived at a farm, with a proper soccer pitch in the middle with goalposts and all. Really a great sight – noone had a camera, but I’ll make sure to take mine next Sunday.

There’s much more to this, but I have to run. I’ll fill it in later.

My clothes have been hanging on the line for the last two days and they are still kinda damp. The humidity is so crazy strong that I have to wait days for them to dry. Not much else to report today. I’m going to head out for lunch and then I think there’s a wedding in the family. Wonder whether I’ll get to go…

Good day…

So, I awoke this morning with barely any pain. I guess running and keeping oneself in pretty good shape actually does decrease your recovery time. I laid low today ’cause I’m still not 100%, but at least I’m not in pain. I did some work that needed to be done, and watched a couple of movies. Not what I want to be doing here in Z’bar, but I’m not going to rush it and have to be in bed for a few days. I’ll probably do my ‘around the town’ time in the next two days to give myself time to heal properly. I’ve got plenty of things to do around Stone Town anyways.

I’m going to do some travelling next week. Chumbe Island with Zahor at some point, hopefully somewhere south with the family for another picnic next Saturday, and then dipshit tourist stuff that I’d like to do like Jozani Forest to check out the red colubus monkey which is indigeneous to Zanzibar.

Who knows what else. I’m just trying to follow the day and see what comes next. Drop me a line people…each and every email is quite nice to receive.

In a good way…

Every time I have left the confines of my own culture and stepped into another I’ve been greeted by culture shock in the wake of a sickness or injury. When I stayed out on the Hopi Reservation 9 1/2 years ago, it was sickness that woke me up to my surroundings. 9 months later, when I arrived in Zanzibar it was the double-whammy of strepped throat and two ear infections only days before falling ill with malaria that gave me a quick taste of homesickness. Five days of haluccinations and pain were enough to show me how stripped I was of all that was comfortable to me. I’d never been that sick in my life, and it happened here where I barely knew the language, and had not a single person who I knew for longer than 3 weeks. No Western medicine to be my safety net, and at the time, no spiritual life to lean on with faith. It was probably the single greatest shock of my life after birth (which I’m guessing was kinda jarring).

Continue Reading

Thousands of days have passed since I left Zanzibar some hundred plus months ago. And, I think nary a day I have not thought about East Africa, my past and my hopeful future of living in Zanzibar again. The idea is certainly one which is appealing still, but I am becoming very clear on my own reality, my priorities, and some of the reasons why. My family is so important to me, and while my Zanzibari family is included in my concept of the word ‘family’, nothing could replace my own mother, father, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins, and of course the extended family living in the States.

I think what’s becoming clear is that I will always have my Zanzibari family, and considering that they are living across the world, I will always be able to visit and see them, as they are always welcome with me and mine in the States.

Continue Reading