A Woman Goes Africa
He who stays at home beside
his oven and is content with
the information which he may
acquire concerning his own
region, cannot be on the same
level as the one who devides
his lifespan between
different lands, and spends
his days journeying in search
of precious and original
knowledge. -Al-Mas‘udi,
The Meadows of Gold
(Zanj-Traveller 916 AD)
his oven and is content with
the information which he may
acquire concerning his own
region, cannot be on the same
level as the one who devides
his lifespan between
different lands, and spends
his days journeying in search
of precious and original
knowledge. -Al-Mas‘udi,
The Meadows of Gold
(Zanj-Traveller 916 AD)
In a big and hectic city in the middle of Europe a woman lived with her grown up daughter and
son.They lived in an attic floor of a house. Sometimes the woman was sitting on her roof garden in the
evening after she had come home from work seeing not much but other roofs of other houses and a bit
of the sky. When she was tired and sorrowful she sometimes felt a kind of longing for a wider wiew,
like watching the horizon over an ocean but she could not term this feeling. It was like a dream you
cannot go on dreaming because you don’t know what you will be dreaming of. One day an idea fell into
her head and told her she should go to Zanzibar. The woman was quite amazed then she didn’t aqtually
even know where Zanzibar is. So she went to pick up the atlas of his son to look for Zanzibar.
Next autumn the woman decided to travel to Zanzibar to find out why she had become this idea.
She started to collect information about the island, about Africa generally then she noticed
that it wasn’t much she knew about it. She was reading books, belles lettres, history, travellers
guides, stories about the discoverers, about the colonisation etc., was surfing the internet,
connecting people who had knowledge about Zanzibar and found a compatriot woman who was
leading a hotel resort there with her Zanzibarian husband. She thought it might be more “secure”
to do that, after all it was her first travelling to this for her unknown continent.
She was enquiring about flights to Zanzibar and found an advantageous connection by The
Ethiopian Airlines. Most travel agencies were dissuading this airline as too exotic but as the E.A
had the most suitable connection for her and the best price she chose the E.A.. Anyway it should
also become a kind of adventure for her.
She was packing her luggage putting in various summer clothing, sun protectors, mosquito
repellents, books and bought a new snorkeling equipment. She was forearmed with vaccinations
against yellow fever, polio, hepatitis and tetanus, started the malaria prophylaxis. Later she
learned that the most important thing, that she really needed, was not in the luggage but in her
heart, in her hope to get new experiences. The vaccinations also certainly were beneficial also at
home. The luggage showed to become rather ballast weight in a land where you actually do not
need any clothing at all. And when behaving rationally it also is possible to avoid sunburn. But
against mosquitos you only can fight with mosquito nets and appropriate clothing. Still you will
be eaten by them enough. They do not mind much the repellents.
The woman also decided to keep a diary about her experiences.
DIARY:
20.10.1998
We took of in F. on schedule.The E.A has a well equipped plane, the food is good, the service is
excellent and very friendly. An ethiopian veterinary is sitting on my neighbour seat. He’s flying
home to Addis Abeba. We start talking about different things. He tells me that he has studied
veterinary medicin in Germany and that his brother is studying dentistry there, too. He tells
that her mother on the one hand is very proud of her sons who get their education in Europe on
the other hand is suffering while missing her sons staying away from home. Later in the night he
tells me that he’s a coptic christian and that he believes in the Bible. I ask him therefore what he
thinks about the death penalty, because this question has been busying me lately. He carries his
point according the old testamentarian way: eye for eye, tooth for tooth. So I ask him what he’s
thinking about the mark of Cain, that God put on his forehead after Cain had slained his brother
Abel and thus protecting Cain from the vengeance by man. This makes him pensive but we get
over to easier topics and by and by we get sleepy and then I must have fallen asleep then at
once I wake up because in the east the sun goes up and I’m looking at this fire ball outside the
window. The sight of the sunrise in this hight is overwhelming me. The experience is cording my
throat and almost moves me to tears. As we are landing in Addis Abeba my seat neighbour invites
me to visit his family there. Unfortunately I cannot adopt this invitation then I’m on my way to
Zanzibar.
The terminal is rather sleazy; it is not the flair there you are used to by other international
airports The lino on the floor is worn out, the seats simple and the upholstery has holes. I cannot
even change money; the exchange offices are still closed at 8 o'clock in the morning. The other
shops too. I' ve only got travellers checks in $ with me (I was told to take them, because of
security) so I cannot buy even a coffee at the bar. I'm running out of cigarrettes, I start
paniking. I'm tired because of the night on plane, my mood gets low. I'm sitting on one of the
seats in the terminal dozing.
But after a while I start getting interested in the scenery around me. People of all kinds of
colour are walking around wearing all kinds of clothing. Pilgrims to (or back from) Mecca – you
can identify them because of their white clothing - Ethiopian women in their traditional garbs,
African people in colourful and fancy designs, heavily veiled moslem women, Chinese business
men in their crumpled suits, children in all colours and ages, European and American tourists in
tropic look, backpack people and more sneaky ones. This lively and exciting scene keeps me
awake and I notice that this is much more interesting than all the dull european terminals, mostly
full of pin striped business people carrying their laptops and everybody with a deadpan
expression on their face. Here the most people are smiling at you if you catch their eye, in
Europe everybody tries to avoid to look at each other openly.
The connected flight from Addis to Dar seems very long to me and not to smoke feels hard. In
Entebbe I can soften the steward to let Monika - a German girl, also flying to Dar es Salam -
and me get out of the plane and we can go in an office near to where the plane is standing for a
smoke.This would certainly not have happened on a Lufthansa flight. In Kigali something is
beeing repaired on the landing racks, which takes some time. Seems to be a success then the
landing in Dar es Salam is proper. Monika and I get to hotel „Ecologia“, which I found in the web
page of the Tansanian Tourist Board. The room is simple but clean, you can even have a shower
with warm water – what a boon after a night and day on plane!
We both go to an Indian restaurant near by for dinner. After about half an hour there is a
cloudburst outside. The airconditioner above our heads becomes breathles, the bulks of water
are, so to say, strangulating the ventilation. Soon water also is running into the dining area
through the ceiling. The host stays cool and puts a bucket under the leakage. The guests at the
table underneath give themseves a jerk and get a little aside. Nobody except me seems to worry
about that the water is floating throuhg a hole where also the lamp is hanging. The light is
flickering and I' m expecting a short circuit and worse but after 10 minutes the rainfall is over.
We are wading through the flooded street back to the hotel. I can throw my espadrillos in the
dust bin.
son.They lived in an attic floor of a house. Sometimes the woman was sitting on her roof garden in the
evening after she had come home from work seeing not much but other roofs of other houses and a bit
of the sky. When she was tired and sorrowful she sometimes felt a kind of longing for a wider wiew,
like watching the horizon over an ocean but she could not term this feeling. It was like a dream you
cannot go on dreaming because you don’t know what you will be dreaming of. One day an idea fell into
her head and told her she should go to Zanzibar. The woman was quite amazed then she didn’t aqtually
even know where Zanzibar is. So she went to pick up the atlas of his son to look for Zanzibar.
Next autumn the woman decided to travel to Zanzibar to find out why she had become this idea.
She started to collect information about the island, about Africa generally then she noticed
that it wasn’t much she knew about it. She was reading books, belles lettres, history, travellers
guides, stories about the discoverers, about the colonisation etc., was surfing the internet,
connecting people who had knowledge about Zanzibar and found a compatriot woman who was
leading a hotel resort there with her Zanzibarian husband. She thought it might be more “secure”
to do that, after all it was her first travelling to this for her unknown continent.
She was enquiring about flights to Zanzibar and found an advantageous connection by The
Ethiopian Airlines. Most travel agencies were dissuading this airline as too exotic but as the E.A
had the most suitable connection for her and the best price she chose the E.A.. Anyway it should
also become a kind of adventure for her.
She was packing her luggage putting in various summer clothing, sun protectors, mosquito
repellents, books and bought a new snorkeling equipment. She was forearmed with vaccinations
against yellow fever, polio, hepatitis and tetanus, started the malaria prophylaxis. Later she
learned that the most important thing, that she really needed, was not in the luggage but in her
heart, in her hope to get new experiences. The vaccinations also certainly were beneficial also at
home. The luggage showed to become rather ballast weight in a land where you actually do not
need any clothing at all. And when behaving rationally it also is possible to avoid sunburn. But
against mosquitos you only can fight with mosquito nets and appropriate clothing. Still you will
be eaten by them enough. They do not mind much the repellents.
The woman also decided to keep a diary about her experiences.
DIARY:
20.10.1998
We took of in F. on schedule.The E.A has a well equipped plane, the food is good, the service is
excellent and very friendly. An ethiopian veterinary is sitting on my neighbour seat. He’s flying
home to Addis Abeba. We start talking about different things. He tells me that he has studied
veterinary medicin in Germany and that his brother is studying dentistry there, too. He tells
that her mother on the one hand is very proud of her sons who get their education in Europe on
the other hand is suffering while missing her sons staying away from home. Later in the night he
tells me that he’s a coptic christian and that he believes in the Bible. I ask him therefore what he
thinks about the death penalty, because this question has been busying me lately. He carries his
point according the old testamentarian way: eye for eye, tooth for tooth. So I ask him what he’s
thinking about the mark of Cain, that God put on his forehead after Cain had slained his brother
Abel and thus protecting Cain from the vengeance by man. This makes him pensive but we get
over to easier topics and by and by we get sleepy and then I must have fallen asleep then at
once I wake up because in the east the sun goes up and I’m looking at this fire ball outside the
window. The sight of the sunrise in this hight is overwhelming me. The experience is cording my
throat and almost moves me to tears. As we are landing in Addis Abeba my seat neighbour invites
me to visit his family there. Unfortunately I cannot adopt this invitation then I’m on my way to
Zanzibar.
The terminal is rather sleazy; it is not the flair there you are used to by other international
airports The lino on the floor is worn out, the seats simple and the upholstery has holes. I cannot
even change money; the exchange offices are still closed at 8 o'clock in the morning. The other
shops too. I' ve only got travellers checks in $ with me (I was told to take them, because of
security) so I cannot buy even a coffee at the bar. I'm running out of cigarrettes, I start
paniking. I'm tired because of the night on plane, my mood gets low. I'm sitting on one of the
seats in the terminal dozing.
But after a while I start getting interested in the scenery around me. People of all kinds of
colour are walking around wearing all kinds of clothing. Pilgrims to (or back from) Mecca – you
can identify them because of their white clothing - Ethiopian women in their traditional garbs,
African people in colourful and fancy designs, heavily veiled moslem women, Chinese business
men in their crumpled suits, children in all colours and ages, European and American tourists in
tropic look, backpack people and more sneaky ones. This lively and exciting scene keeps me
awake and I notice that this is much more interesting than all the dull european terminals, mostly
full of pin striped business people carrying their laptops and everybody with a deadpan
expression on their face. Here the most people are smiling at you if you catch their eye, in
Europe everybody tries to avoid to look at each other openly.
The connected flight from Addis to Dar seems very long to me and not to smoke feels hard. In
Entebbe I can soften the steward to let Monika - a German girl, also flying to Dar es Salam -
and me get out of the plane and we can go in an office near to where the plane is standing for a
smoke.This would certainly not have happened on a Lufthansa flight. In Kigali something is
beeing repaired on the landing racks, which takes some time. Seems to be a success then the
landing in Dar es Salam is proper. Monika and I get to hotel „Ecologia“, which I found in the web
page of the Tansanian Tourist Board. The room is simple but clean, you can even have a shower
with warm water – what a boon after a night and day on plane!
We both go to an Indian restaurant near by for dinner. After about half an hour there is a
cloudburst outside. The airconditioner above our heads becomes breathles, the bulks of water
are, so to say, strangulating the ventilation. Soon water also is running into the dining area
through the ceiling. The host stays cool and puts a bucket under the leakage. The guests at the
table underneath give themseves a jerk and get a little aside. Nobody except me seems to worry
about that the water is floating throuhg a hole where also the lamp is hanging. The light is
flickering and I' m expecting a short circuit and worse but after 10 minutes the rainfall is over.
We are wading through the flooded street back to the hotel. I can throw my espadrillos in the
dust bin.
Next morning I'll get the ferry boat to Zanzibar. I' m enjoying the passage very much
standing astern outside and the airflow is moistening my face and my arms with seawater
sprays. This is also my first real meeting with the African sun. Until now I was only sitting on
plane or in a terminal. I'm starting to get happy - the adveture goes on. After ¾ of an hour I
can see the panorama of Stonetown, the old city of Zanzibar.
In the port of Stonetown I dispatch the immigtation and customs formalities very quickly which
amazes me a little. I had expected more trouble. Now I' m standing there with my heavy luggage. The
guesthouse that was recommended to me, is supposed to be near to the port, so I think I won' t need a
cab. Thera are a lot of men standing around; all of them are offering themselves to carry my luggage.
One of them is hefting it on his head and starts whizzing through narrow lanes and around some
corners, a shortcut, I assume. I' m running behind him.
In „Malindi Guesthouse“ I get a simple room for $10, in there are two beds with a mosquito
net, a table, a chair, small ceiling windows with bars. I have to climb on the chair to have a look
outside. Anyway, there is nothing to look at; just the opposite wall on the other side of the
narrow lane. There is a common bath in the floor beneath. The floors are nicely decorated
with carpets and all kind of old fashioned objects on the walls. The ambiente looks nice enough
to me.
My next draw – to find a bank or office of excange to get local currency. I' m strolling
around in the old city and find myself at the Post Office. Opposite there is a bureau of
exchange; now I have cash and I buy postcards and stamps (I don' t know it yet, but if you run
around the deranging lanes of Stonetown you always land at this post office, somehow) .
Around the corner there is The Tembo Hotel, built in indian-zanzibarian style for well-heeled
tourists (overnight stay from $ 75 on). There is a terrace with a bar and sight over the
seaside of Stonetown. I sit down, order a cappucino and start writing my postcards (this will
become a ritual; by further visits to Zanzibar I always get to Tembo terrace on my first day
and write the postcards there).
standing astern outside and the airflow is moistening my face and my arms with seawater
sprays. This is also my first real meeting with the African sun. Until now I was only sitting on
plane or in a terminal. I'm starting to get happy - the adveture goes on. After ¾ of an hour I
can see the panorama of Stonetown, the old city of Zanzibar.
In the port of Stonetown I dispatch the immigtation and customs formalities very quickly which
amazes me a little. I had expected more trouble. Now I' m standing there with my heavy luggage. The
guesthouse that was recommended to me, is supposed to be near to the port, so I think I won' t need a
cab. Thera are a lot of men standing around; all of them are offering themselves to carry my luggage.
One of them is hefting it on his head and starts whizzing through narrow lanes and around some
corners, a shortcut, I assume. I' m running behind him.
In „Malindi Guesthouse“ I get a simple room for $10, in there are two beds with a mosquito
net, a table, a chair, small ceiling windows with bars. I have to climb on the chair to have a look
outside. Anyway, there is nothing to look at; just the opposite wall on the other side of the
narrow lane. There is a common bath in the floor beneath. The floors are nicely decorated
with carpets and all kind of old fashioned objects on the walls. The ambiente looks nice enough
to me.
My next draw – to find a bank or office of excange to get local currency. I' m strolling
around in the old city and find myself at the Post Office. Opposite there is a bureau of
exchange; now I have cash and I buy postcards and stamps (I don' t know it yet, but if you run
around the deranging lanes of Stonetown you always land at this post office, somehow) .
Around the corner there is The Tembo Hotel, built in indian-zanzibarian style for well-heeled
tourists (overnight stay from $ 75 on). There is a terrace with a bar and sight over the
seaside of Stonetown. I sit down, order a cappucino and start writing my postcards (this will
become a ritual; by further visits to Zanzibar I always get to Tembo terrace on my first day
and write the postcards there).
As I' m leaving Tembo Hotel a young man called
Steven approaches to me. He is one of the many
"professional persons of charge for tourists" (by
my later travels to Zanzibar I sometimes meet him
in town and we always have a little chat).
- “ Jambo, Mama, where are you going? “
- „Jambo, oh I' m just strolling around “.
- „ May I guide you somewhere? “
- „ No, thank you, I rather look my way “.
- „What will you do tomorow? "
- „Tomorow I will go to Nungwe ".
- „How will you get there? “
- „By a tourist bus at the market ".
- „ I have a brother who will drive to Nungwe
tomorrow and he can pick you up“ .
- „ How much will he charge? “
Steven approaches to me. He is one of the many
"professional persons of charge for tourists" (by
my later travels to Zanzibar I sometimes meet him
in town and we always have a little chat).
- “ Jambo, Mama, where are you going? “
- „Jambo, oh I' m just strolling around “.
- „ May I guide you somewhere? “
- „ No, thank you, I rather look my way “.
- „What will you do tomorow? "
- „Tomorow I will go to Nungwe ".
- „How will you get there? “
- „By a tourist bus at the market ".
- „ I have a brother who will drive to Nungwe
tomorrow and he can pick you up“ .
- „ How much will he charge? “
He is naming the price I was told to pay for the buses at the market as well - As a bonus Steven
promises me to get me picked up at the Guesthouse at 8 o'clock in the morning, inclusive my
luggage. I' m wondering if he really will show up.
After that I' m strolling to the famous Forodhani Park which is mentioned in all travellers guides.
There you can shop souveniers all day, at night you can get all kind of traditional food, grilled on
carbon fires. You can smell it miles and miles of.
For present it is too difficult for me to survey eating in the dark, that's why I go into a restaurant
which is built over the water at the park. There you can catch some air coming from the sea. I' m
not used to such heat at night and enjoy every breeze.
At the bar I learn to know Hassan who is working there. He is nativ Zanzibarian and he is going to
become my best friend in Zanzibar for the next years. As we talk, he tells me about his dream to go
to England for studying. Almost every young man in Zanzibar is dreaming of getting to Europe. We try
to talk about the most differnt ways of seeing Europe or Africa, according to where you are growing
up and living. This subject we will talk very often about in the future.
Later on I' m walking back to Malindi Guesthouse armoured with my torch, thinking of the
admonishing leaflets which even hang in the hotel rooms: The tourists should not walk around alone
after darknes. But then, I' m alone and the darkness breaks out already at 6:30 p.m. I' m not
willing to give away my freedom to walk around, thinking there is no need for a cab because of 10
minutes of walk.
(Even by my later visiting Zanzibar I have been walking around in town without fear and never had
any unpleasant experiences. I don' t know if it is a matter of luck but I rather think that it
depends on your own attitude towards the people who's home country you are visiting. I think you
shall always encounter the people with an open mind, and when you meet people, learn to behave in a
polite way exchanging the traditional greetings , having a little chat maybe and do not be afraid of
getting in touch with people. When I' m on my way in Stonetown I always carry a little bag of
chewing gum along so that when the children I always meet on my way to, for instance, my hotel or
to a restaurant or the shops, come along and greet 'jambo mama' I drop them some chewing gum.
When you take these ways some times, stop for a chat at the shops etc. you will be known by all the
people who sit around in the streets (a habit in Stonetown) and often even sleep there at night , you
will soon be greeted as an old friend. And who will be mugging a friend in front of all the others?
By my third visit to Zanzibar - this time I came in spring, not in autumn as usual - I met an old
toothless man in one of the lanes. He made a stop, came to me to shake hands ans said: „How nice to
see you again, mama". I had no idea who he was; maybe he remembered me, maybe he just wanted to
be nice to a tourist, who cares about the reason. It just made me feel damn good!
Lately I was told by some Zanzibarians that in certain corners in Stonetown tourists have been
raided (this of all places!) at the mosque which I always pass when I go from Forodhoni park to my
hotel by night. The emphasis was but that these criminals sure are not locals but come from Kenia,
Somalia or other places.
This kind of criminality appears to surface there where the traditional politenes of the local
people start suffering under the masses of tourists, where there hardly is a possibility to tie up
relationships between the visitors and the locals. So thus I recommend the tourists at least to
behave decently and at least learn the polite traditinal greetings. By some tourists, as I have
experienced, there seems to be no good upbringing or just lack of good manners generally, I' m
sorry to say.)
The next morning the brother or friend or whatever of Steven really comes at 8 o'clock to pick me
up at the guesthouse with his bus. It will be rather comfortable then except the driver and his
copilot only three further people are sitting in the car. The driver but is not quite satisfied by
that so he heads to the market to find some more tourists to get them to Nungwe. Two more guys
get inside. Now the driver seems to think that the trip will be payable. The main road to the north
is quite comfortable to drive as it is asphalted. Later the road divides and we are now riding on a
sandy road surface which is full of holes of different size. The surface is washed away during the
rain season. So the car is trying to awoid the holes and is driving from left to right or vice versa,
according to the holes. As the cars to meet do the same, the manouvres in the road make your blood
pressure rise. For a western european tourist it is hard to believe that there are no accidents
every 2 minutes. Especially the so called dalla-dallas, vehicles of undefinable construction, stuffed
with people, some of them even hanging half outside. Even the roof is loaded full with baskets,
bags, henns etc. are curving along and seem to keel over any time.
In spite of the traffic we arrive in the village Nungwe. To the right and left of the sandy track
there are huts of coral stone and clay covered with palm or tin roof. At the end of the track we
arrive at the beach. I get out of the car, catch sight of the ocean, the shining white sand which
blares you and the water that explanes the word aquamarine. The sunbeams that embrace me I
cannot explain then I' m lacking every experience of this kind of sun. The heat is enormous but
also a sensual embrace you have to cherish. In spite of all this passion I look for a place to sit in
the shadow under some palm blinds. Some young black men also are sitting there asking me where
I' m heading for. I tell them that I' m going to Kendwa Rocks and they start laughing and say: „Hei,
mitä kuuluu“ which is Finnish and means: hello, how do you do. They wave happily and a blond girl
approaches saying in Finnish: "I' m Leena and we' ll take you to Kendwa":
They take me and some other tourists to a boat, that is, we are wading through the water. The guys
of the Kendwa - team carry our luggage into the boat (even my impossible suitcase) and we tuck
over the water around the cliffs. I start feeling relaxed, the ride on the boat reminds me of the
boat rides earlier in Finland, even if such a different climate, the travelling on water always
makes me feel easy.
promises me to get me picked up at the Guesthouse at 8 o'clock in the morning, inclusive my
luggage. I' m wondering if he really will show up.
After that I' m strolling to the famous Forodhani Park which is mentioned in all travellers guides.
There you can shop souveniers all day, at night you can get all kind of traditional food, grilled on
carbon fires. You can smell it miles and miles of.
For present it is too difficult for me to survey eating in the dark, that's why I go into a restaurant
which is built over the water at the park. There you can catch some air coming from the sea. I' m
not used to such heat at night and enjoy every breeze.
At the bar I learn to know Hassan who is working there. He is nativ Zanzibarian and he is going to
become my best friend in Zanzibar for the next years. As we talk, he tells me about his dream to go
to England for studying. Almost every young man in Zanzibar is dreaming of getting to Europe. We try
to talk about the most differnt ways of seeing Europe or Africa, according to where you are growing
up and living. This subject we will talk very often about in the future.
Later on I' m walking back to Malindi Guesthouse armoured with my torch, thinking of the
admonishing leaflets which even hang in the hotel rooms: The tourists should not walk around alone
after darknes. But then, I' m alone and the darkness breaks out already at 6:30 p.m. I' m not
willing to give away my freedom to walk around, thinking there is no need for a cab because of 10
minutes of walk.
(Even by my later visiting Zanzibar I have been walking around in town without fear and never had
any unpleasant experiences. I don' t know if it is a matter of luck but I rather think that it
depends on your own attitude towards the people who's home country you are visiting. I think you
shall always encounter the people with an open mind, and when you meet people, learn to behave in a
polite way exchanging the traditional greetings , having a little chat maybe and do not be afraid of
getting in touch with people. When I' m on my way in Stonetown I always carry a little bag of
chewing gum along so that when the children I always meet on my way to, for instance, my hotel or
to a restaurant or the shops, come along and greet 'jambo mama' I drop them some chewing gum.
When you take these ways some times, stop for a chat at the shops etc. you will be known by all the
people who sit around in the streets (a habit in Stonetown) and often even sleep there at night , you
will soon be greeted as an old friend. And who will be mugging a friend in front of all the others?
By my third visit to Zanzibar - this time I came in spring, not in autumn as usual - I met an old
toothless man in one of the lanes. He made a stop, came to me to shake hands ans said: „How nice to
see you again, mama". I had no idea who he was; maybe he remembered me, maybe he just wanted to
be nice to a tourist, who cares about the reason. It just made me feel damn good!
Lately I was told by some Zanzibarians that in certain corners in Stonetown tourists have been
raided (this of all places!) at the mosque which I always pass when I go from Forodhoni park to my
hotel by night. The emphasis was but that these criminals sure are not locals but come from Kenia,
Somalia or other places.
This kind of criminality appears to surface there where the traditional politenes of the local
people start suffering under the masses of tourists, where there hardly is a possibility to tie up
relationships between the visitors and the locals. So thus I recommend the tourists at least to
behave decently and at least learn the polite traditinal greetings. By some tourists, as I have
experienced, there seems to be no good upbringing or just lack of good manners generally, I' m
sorry to say.)
The next morning the brother or friend or whatever of Steven really comes at 8 o'clock to pick me
up at the guesthouse with his bus. It will be rather comfortable then except the driver and his
copilot only three further people are sitting in the car. The driver but is not quite satisfied by
that so he heads to the market to find some more tourists to get them to Nungwe. Two more guys
get inside. Now the driver seems to think that the trip will be payable. The main road to the north
is quite comfortable to drive as it is asphalted. Later the road divides and we are now riding on a
sandy road surface which is full of holes of different size. The surface is washed away during the
rain season. So the car is trying to awoid the holes and is driving from left to right or vice versa,
according to the holes. As the cars to meet do the same, the manouvres in the road make your blood
pressure rise. For a western european tourist it is hard to believe that there are no accidents
every 2 minutes. Especially the so called dalla-dallas, vehicles of undefinable construction, stuffed
with people, some of them even hanging half outside. Even the roof is loaded full with baskets,
bags, henns etc. are curving along and seem to keel over any time.
In spite of the traffic we arrive in the village Nungwe. To the right and left of the sandy track
there are huts of coral stone and clay covered with palm or tin roof. At the end of the track we
arrive at the beach. I get out of the car, catch sight of the ocean, the shining white sand which
blares you and the water that explanes the word aquamarine. The sunbeams that embrace me I
cannot explain then I' m lacking every experience of this kind of sun. The heat is enormous but
also a sensual embrace you have to cherish. In spite of all this passion I look for a place to sit in
the shadow under some palm blinds. Some young black men also are sitting there asking me where
I' m heading for. I tell them that I' m going to Kendwa Rocks and they start laughing and say: „Hei,
mitä kuuluu“ which is Finnish and means: hello, how do you do. They wave happily and a blond girl
approaches saying in Finnish: "I' m Leena and we' ll take you to Kendwa":
They take me and some other tourists to a boat, that is, we are wading through the water. The guys
of the Kendwa - team carry our luggage into the boat (even my impossible suitcase) and we tuck
over the water around the cliffs. I start feeling relaxed, the ride on the boat reminds me of the
boat rides earlier in Finland, even if such a different climate, the travelling on water always
makes me feel easy.
