To escape my slothful stupor, I went downtown with John on a daladala (25 cents each) yesterday morning to spend the morning in the air-conditioned library of The American Corner. The daladala ride from Fahdila's to near SUZA takes about half an hour and passes by streets crammed with repetitive small shops selling hardware, backpacks, clothing, shoes, kitchen items, beauty products, rice, and floor tiles. There is no consolidation of merchandise at all, so within a short distance, one can see the same items for sale over and over again. I don't know how a customer decides which little shop to purchase from.
Daladalas have a legal limit for the number of passengers they can carry, but that is never strictly applied--unless there is a police check set up on a road. Then, the dalas quickly pull to the side and disgorge extra passengers as fast as possible. Even though this is a Muslim area, there seems to be no effort to keep any gender separation, and men and women passengers crowd in tightly together. I've noticed that while the men still dress in slacks and secondhand American tee-shirts proclaiming "I <3 NY," "Crane's Car Repair," or "Ski Aspen," the women, who must be veiled, have gotten a bit freer with their head dress. There have always been distinctions in the type and quality of scarves or veils denoting class and wealth, but now there seems to be a trend toward decoration as well. I have noticed ornate brooches, pearl-headed pins, sequins, and even fake flowers holding scarves in place. If I thought I could do it unnoticed, I would love to take close-up photos of some of these personal fashion statements.
Since the American Corner doesn't open until 9:00, I walked a short distance to a small cafe I remembered from 2012, and ordered a pot of freshly roasted and brewed coffee ($1.25 for three cups)
and sat and enjoyed the street scene of uniformed school children, market women, and hundreds of others hurrying to their destinations. An hour later as I walked back to the AC, the path was lined with small vendors, each with a single wooden crate or sturdy cardboard box for a display "counter." They were selling small bags of peanuts, shoe laces, sticks of gum, cigarettes, matches, lollipops, pencils, and other small items a passer-by might need. The daily profit made by such sellers must be infinitesimal.
Once I was at the American Corner, I sat quietly at a table and read until John and Megan got out of class. They had had to discuss moving two students from their host family, as the students were basically being ignored and told they shouldn't take showers every day. SUZA is excellent in responding to such situations, so by the time John and Megan showed up, new family arrangements were in place. I hadn't seen Megan since we arrived last Saturday, so we all walked toward the Anglican Cathedral to Lukmann's for lunch together. Lukmann'a has a wonderful buffet of modestly priced Swahili dishes and is frequented by as many or more Zanzibarians as tourists. It's my favorite place to eat on the island, and I was not disappointed this time either. Biryani, pilau, stews, beans, roasted chicken or fish, greens, carrot soup, samosas, chapatis, and on and on. The three of us ate all we wanted for about $9.35, including beverages. (Find out more online: http://migrationology.com/2013/11/lukmaan-best-restaurants-in-zanzibar/)
It was late afternoon until we returned to Fahdila's, where the children were waiting for us. Unless we stay in our room with the door closed, we are open prey for the children, who can never get enough of crazy pet videos on YouTube, looking at books, or playing the game we brought for the boys. There is no concept of personal time or space here. It is only when the children go to bed at about 8:00 p.m. that John and I can have any peace in the living area of this house.
So, imagine how odd it felt when Fahdila left this morning for Dar es Salaam, telling me that I was in charge until she returned Friday morning. Actually, although I may be officially in charge, there are three dadas, ages 16 to 25, who do all the work and know the routine the children are to follow. However being left in a household with 6 children, 3 dadas, 4 dogs, and 1 monkey is a bit daunting. (And, then I found out there are also small parrots sitting on eggs in nests up on the terrace.) Things reached a screaming high about 4:00, when the children and the dadas were in the courtyard racing about with a ball and yelling at the top of their voices. The dadas had removed their veils and looked like the young girls they actually are, cutting loose while their mistress was away. I felt bad that because a visitor had come to see us I had to tell the merrymakers to quiet down a bit.
When Fahdila returns, I'll report that all went very well, as nothing was broken, no one got hurt, and the dadas will be sure everything is cleaned up and in place before Fahdila enters the house again. I won't even mention that the little monkey got to romp around in the house a bit, too. Nor, will I ask if it was okay for various teenage boys to wander in and out with Amin and Marthad, something I never see when Fahdila is home. Our visitor, Professor Hassan, looked a bit askance at the all the goings on, but I doubt he will mention anything about it either. Ahlam very nicely served us tea and cookies, which I thought was remarkable for an 8-year-old to do all on her own. All in all it was a good day for everyone here.
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