He asks me where I like to go out, and I say I don’t. Kwani [Okay, he’s TZian, he didn’t say ‘kwani’] what are my hobbies. I like to read. Si I can go to a restaurant and read a book? [Now why would I want to go to a restaurant to read a book?] I said I really don’t like going out [which is true, I’m like a major house-mouse].

I stare back at the water, and suddenly, he says ‘Karibu’ and walks away. Oops. Something I said? **pout** I was rather enjoying that. He was cute. Plus he’s the first attractive non-sugar-daddy-non-watchman-non-makanga to ever talk to me – voluntarily. And I scared him off. **Double pout** I need to learn how to talk to boys.

Anyway, halfway to the island, Bossman texts me to say he’s booked a hotel and a driver. Fine. [refer to 9 female words] I’d already called a friend of a friend of a…cousin, who’d agreed to fix everything. Oh well.

So we get to the island and we have two rides. I decide to take Bossman’s ride, then call up the other boy in the morning. He’s cuter. As I’m negotiating with my two drivers, Jamshid drifts by, waves and leaves. Sigh. He is sooooo pretty. [Note: I like pretty]I reeeaaally need to learn how to talk to boys.

We get to the hotel and Bossman calls raining fury and brimstone and all that good stuff because I’ve blown off his contact. Oh well. Me Kenyan. Umia.

[No, that’s not how I reacted. I was actually shaking at the prospect of being sacked for sassing my boss. Fortunately, I was not. Turns out the group had so much fun with my tour guy that I was forgiven for my initiative. Double Phew!]

Haya. Kufika hotel. I realize I’m short. Not in height. See, since I have a workpermit, I pay resident rates, which is like a third of what my guests have to pay. The Accountant didn’t factor that in. so here we are, three loud Kenyans trying to bargain the bed-rate at a fancy hotel, and the Zanzibaris are looking at us and thinking ‘Wakenya hawa.’ Hehehe.

We did get in eventually, and went for dinner, where we paid a cover charge of ten bucks a head for the ‘kenyans’, and 10K Tshillings for me. The Tshillings is currently at 1400 to the dollar … and 18 to the Kshilling. Of course, being the Kenyans we are, we calculated the actual cost of our meal, and found that we ate only19,000 Tsh worth of food, half of the cover charge. Refund!! No, we didn’t get one.

I went back to my room. It’s kinda pretty, except for three things. One, the water in the tap is so salty that after showering, you wipe yourself and the white towel stays clean. Disinfection, hehehe. [the next day after driving around all day, I wiped my sweating forehead and the white hanky stayed white. Either it’s the salt in the bathwater, or there’s no dust in Unguja].

On the downside, that water is so hard that you use a whole cake of soap to lather up! Said soap is round and white and packed like candy. Smells like it too. Yum! Two, the room faces the street, so I can hear the kids noising and the dads praying. And three, the only view I have leads straight into some lady’s kitchen, so all I can see are lesos and frying pans.

My room had a pretty plastic chandelier and a chair that was soooo comfy that I wanted to stuff it in my suitcase! Forget the bed – I want to marry this chair! I have a fetish comfy chairs – almost a syndrome. Everywhere I go, I test chairs for comfort level. It is my goal to find the ultimate chair for my sitto, one that I can curl up in and read for days at a stretch without getting sore on taut. This is that chair!!

I sank in the said chair and flipped channels. 63 of the, including Citizen and KTN. Yipee!! I must have sat there four hours watching Tyra’s models and Charmed [for fashion tips. Have you seen what those witches wear! Funky!!]

We were staying in Stone Town, and I had this romantic idea of walking along the narrow pathways, breathing in the scent of moist stone and salt water. Uh huh. When I finally did go for the walk, all I got were catcalls of ‘Vipi rasta’,propositions for boatrides, and a guy who asked me ‘looking for something special today’ in a tone reminiscent of K street. And it was 7.00 a.m. Sigh. So much for daydreams…

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The day was pretty mundane. We got a car and a driver from my friend – he’s such a sweetheart – and went on a tour of the Slave Market and House of Wonders. The Slave tour was haunting. It’s a post on it’s own, but I have to say that western civilization is totally overated. **shudder**

At the museum we saw a replica of an Arab dhow, and I have to say, a million blue diamonds would not make me board one of those things and sail across continents. Those sailors must have been high on cheap seawed. That, or they had a death wish. Or perhaps even back then, the Pemban girls they were sailing to were super gifted. Coz yenyewe, those boats, ai !!

We spent like four hours at the market shopping. Interesting. And we ate at Passing show, a nice bustling joint with some heavenly pilau and extremely untanzanian waiters. Those guys make Kenyans look slow. They move like the wind, are fast, efficient, never drop food…and are all so cute! But they’re too busy bustling to hit on anyone, so no numbers to get. *Pout.* No, I did not want a number from a Zanzibari waiter. Chances are I’d get offended if they aksed. I’m just saying that’s how busy they were. And how cute.

By mid afternoon my guests were tired, so we ended the tour. **Pout** So much more to see! Oh well, next time. We headed back to the hotel where I retired to the chair and KTN. Odd that watching NTV makes me homesick, but KTN does nothing for me. At least I finally saw the KTN robot. Hehehe. Was hoping for a glimpse of Lulu or Janet or one of the other heartthrobs driving Kenyan men mad and Kenyan women to FB groups. But alas, the newshost was male. *pout*

Later on, our guide took us to Forodhani B. It’s an open air food market with all sorts of local cuisine. Funnest part of the trip. Everything from seafood mshikaki to squid-cubes and obambula-looking dried octopus. Eeeeew. I refuse to eat anything that looks like it could eat me. Sometimes they cut off the…er…legs and splay them on a plate, Big red coily things with suction pumps. Ergh!

There was something icky called Urojo which is a broth made from mashed potatoes, coconut, lemon and ukwaju, and served with mihogo crisps and some manadazi-looking things called Zanzibar mix. Yekh…I mean yum! It’s a Pemba trademark. One more reason to be Pemban. NOT!! I had sugarcane juice and Zanzibar pizza. Pure bliss. Sigh. I could live on that beach forever just for that pizza and juice. And no mosquitoes either!

Next day we were on a plane back to Dar. Kinda cool, the teeny ones with propellers. We flew over the ocean and I could sea underwater islands and strings in the sea, it was beautiful. 20 minutes passed way too fast.

Conclusion: tropical islands aren’t what I expected, but I’d sure like to try snorkelling and scuba. And to drive the full three-hour length of the place. It’s really pretty and green, no dust, and all local women in head gear. That was weird. But the people are nice and you don’t get the ‘Mkenya wewe’ treatment. And there’s KTN. And sugarcane juice. Everyone looks so homely and content, but I could never live on an island.

I always say that my dream home would be on a deserted island with pinacolada and an endless bookstore that takes coconuts for money. But after visiting one, I’m glad I wasn’t born there. I’d always look at the water and want to know what’s ‘out there’. I feel glad and blessed that I do know.

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