Into the Weekend

Our laundry lines.

[The photos in this post will not appear where I wish to have them placed, so they will appear at their whims, but I shall try to maintain some sort of chronological order in my comments.  I hate it when my computer decides that it knows better than I what I want! ]

During the night between Thursday and Friday, it poured rain, and that seemed to cut the heatwave down to a more manageable temperature.  It was such a relief to wake up and not feel drenched in perspiration and to have the effects of a morning shower last for perhaps a long 15 minutes.  And, finally, my dear readers, you will not have to read another sentence of my whining about the wicked climate here--at least in this post.

Saumu (25) and Habiba (16) cooking ugali over charcoal.

I am still trying to figure out which name goes with which dada.  Just as I thought I had certainly got the identity of the eldest one, Saumu, one of the girls told me I was wrong.  Then, a sister of one of the dadas showed up for a visit, and I got more confused than ever.  I'm embarrassed by my lack of ID skills, but they are all young, veiled, and constantly flitting about.  These are young girls from rural areas whose families want them to earn some money for the family and maybe gain a better life for themselves.  I think Fahdila is a good employers, as past dadas want to return, and the three girls here now laugh and seem to have a good time --especially when left on their own.  It is the dadas who do all the daily cleaning, cooking, and laundry, as well as a great deal of the child care.  Fahdila has been so busy with her new restaurant enterprise that she is rarely home, and I don't think she has done any of the cooking so far.  Because of that, the meals have not been nearly as good as they were in 2012, when Fahdila made sure we got good Swahili dishes. Now, we get lots of bread, rice or ugali, and maybe red beans or occasionally roasted fish (my favorite!), but none of the pilau, biryani, or stews using coconut milk we had before.  Worst of all, we have almost no vegetables!  That seems odd to me since greens are so cheap.  Maybe the dadas don't know how to cook them.  Anyway, when the students talk about all the incredible food their host mothers cook for them, I get terribly jealous.

After John returned, had lunch, and rested a bit, we took a daladala downtown so that we could sit up on the open terrace of one of the pricey tourist restaurants overlooking the ocean and enjoy a bit of ocean breeze.   Of course, one must buy a beverage to enjoy the view, so I got an iced latte and John some sort of fruit smoothie.  I always wince at the "high" prices at such place, but then when I calculate the price in US$, I feel better.  For example, my iced latte cost me $1.88 and I got an hour of watching boats and fishermen and enjoying a lovely breeze.

We had agreed to meet Megan at 6:30 at Forodhani, the incredible open park area along the shore, where chefs from all over Zanzibar City set up food tables every night for the enjoyment of families and, of course, tourists.  When I first saw this place in 2012, I couldn't believe that such a place existed in Africa!  It's almost magical and so incredibly low key and safe that everyone feels comfortable walking about, visiting, chatting and bargaining with the vendors, and enjoying time with family and friends.  Once dusk comes, lanterns are lit and the whole area is one big fairyland.

Fruit at Forodhani

Women friends enjoying time together in the park.

One of the many tables of food at Forodhani

After we had found a place to sit, John went to select some food for us, and Megan began a conversation with the woman sitting close to us. It turned out that this very ordinary Muslim woman was an undercover cop armed with a camera with which she took pictures of any crime she saw and immediately called for backup.  Things got even more incredible when she whipped out her camera and showed Megan photos of past apprehensions.  Thieves are not treated at all well in Africa, and are usually severely beaten long before they get to any jail.  Then she pointed out other undercover cops dressed as ordinary citizens or park workers.  Because of its importance in the tourist trade, Zanzibar wants absolutely no crime in the Forodhani Gardens, so no wonder it always feels so safe there even at night.

Megan and the undercover cop.

The students planned to meet at Forodhani at 8:00, so John and Megan went to find them and check out how they were.  Of course, they were just fine, so we soon packed up and took a taxi, first dropping off Megan at her hotel and then continuing out to our home at Fahdila's.  All were in bed, but one of the dadas let us in the gate.

Habiba (16) doing the laundry.