Spartans! Never surrender!

Outside Livingstone's restaurant/bar. The first time I met the Zanzibar Stone Town Crew (performing in this picture: Eddy)

Still outside Livingstone (performing: Abdul)

Some break dancing as well (Abdul and Muhit)

As the sun sets, we do capoeira (Mundir)

And at a festival called Visa 2 Dance, the ZSTC dance again

The Taarab Spell

At 10pm the night if fully dark. There is a moon, and a few stars, but the night is dark and wet. The town is lit electrically by tired yellow lights, and so the darkness remains in the light.

In the Ngome Kongwe (Old Fort), the open ground is lit powerfully and aggressively with large stage lights, colourful and white hot. The stage is huge the the chairs sitting in front seem smaller than they are. As do the people sitting on the stairs. The stage it full to bursting of music players and singers, making the stage seem all the more bigger and the chairs bellow all the more smaller.

All glitters - the men in dark suits and slicked back hair. The women sexy, colourful, cosmopolitan, powerful, flashing their dresses, a leg, with thick and theatrical make-up.

Men are crammed into any open space on the stage, violins, oud, cello, keyboard. The stage is vibrant and very much alive tonight.

A woman begins singing, high and sometimes grating on the ear. Her voice fills the spaces between the music's sometimes unfamiliar beat. The rhythm, the sounds, the women on stage and in front swaying, all create an atmosphere of delightful naughty fun.

People get pulled from their seats, and sway their buttocks' tantalisingly from side to side as they walk and sing towards the music. One lady holds a 10 000/= (Tanzanian shilling) note and as she walks past (supposedly) male friends, she increases her sway and flicks the note over and around their seated bodies. And then she is gone to join the crowd.

They all step to the music; step to the right sway, step to the left, sway. Over and over, hands and arms follow freely, hips move just barely or very energetically. Most are waving their 5 and 10 000/= notes for the singer to lean down and pick coyly from the outstretched hands. All the crowd sing along to the song.

It is a woman's space, I am told later, a place for women on the island to dress up, to sing and dance and be sung about. It is true. While the men play the instruments, the women dance. Sometimes a man joins in with the singing and oh my... his beautiful voice fills the fort with such deep longing. And makes the women blush.

The night is dark. The night is colour. The dresses bright, the make-up thick. The sound familiarly unfamiliar. The nature of sound. This is the space of the woman.

Muonja asali, haouji mara moja

On the fourth of October, I returned to Zanzibar one last time.

After leaving Zanzibar I went to Bagamoyo (1 hour north of Dar es Salaam); saw the biggest arts festival in East Africa; decided to go back to Dar; half way through the 1 hour bus trip, I decided to go to Zanzibar and learn the djembe drum at the music college; when I arrived in Dar I decided first to buy a ticket to take a 9 hour bus trip to Arusha, the official half way point between the Cape to Cairo trip; arrived in Arusha after a 15 hour trip due to the bus breaking down 4 times; found two British med students and at 9pm at night, when we arrived, went to Ujamaa Backpackers with them; ate left over mashed potato for supper and never tasted anything nicer after not eating much all day; spent the next day in glorious rain and coolness, taking pictures of the half way monument mark; took the late bus back to Dar the next day and arrived at 10pm; the next day bought my ferry ticket back to Zanzibar and was on the ferry by 12 noon; dosed on a couch, in the cool cabin room, listening to my music and being rocked by the sea; met the nephew of the owner of the ferry; arrived at about half passed three in the afternoon; was a registered student at the Dhow Countries Music Academy by 4:30pm.

And now here I sit, in my regular internet cafe. I see the familiarity of my places, and I still enjoy the new discoveries that I find each day. Fatma no longer (or at least rarely) calls me Khadija anymore. I now hear a "Hey! Lauren, mambo Lauren!"

Ninarudi hapa eZanzibar.

There is a swahili/Zanzibari quote that says: once you dip your finger in the honey, you go back for more - "Muonja asali, haouji mara moja"

On the bus I sat next to a newly graduated doctor who works in Moshi (near Arusha). She told me that it is nearly Diwali, the Hindu celebration of lights.

The Story Of Diwali

There were once three brothers, sons of the king, from three different wives. When each son was born the king told each wife that she could have any wish that she wants. The wife of the second born son asked the king if she could have her wish later and he agreed. When the elder son came close to getting the throne, the mother of the second born son went to the king and asked for her wish. Her wish was that her son and not the eldest son, Rama, get the throne. The king tried to change her mind but as he has to fulfill this promise, he banishes Rama and Rama's wife, Sita, to the forest for 14 years. The second born son however, refuses to take his brothers place and so agrees to rule the kingdom until Rama returns. But the brother never sits on Rama's throne, he rules the kingdom from a chair next to the throne.

While in the forest, Rama gets spiritual guidance and is told that he will have to defeat a bad spirit. This spirit is going to kidnap Sita. Sita, however, knows about this and so asks the Spirit of the Earth to take her soul back into the ground, to look after it, so that it is only her body that is taken. So this takes place. Rama eventually defeats the evil spirit, and this happens at the end of his 14 year banishment. Rama and Sita, who has her soul back, return to the kingdom and Rama takes up his position of ruler of the kingdom.

Every year, people light oil lamps to guide Rama and Sita back home.

Writing Zanzibar

One of the local score boards In Stone Town for all the football matches that captivates most of the world. Near Darajani vegetable, spice and food market.

Near the Seyyida hotel, in Stone Town. I love the contrast and the collision of the ancient and the contemporary art.

One of many black board notice boards throughout Stone Town, on which anyone can write anything (as long as it is not offensive). This notice reads: We do not want a Union; it is not serving us. (Tensions between the mainland and Zanzibar is rife - according to Zanzibaris, all that Zanzibar is - what she makes, such as spices, clove oil etc - is taken to the mainland, used there and exported from there and little of the profit makes its way back to Zanzibar). Covert political opposition in its prime! This board in in Jaws Corner, the liveliest of squares in Stone Town due to its bustling street side coffee bazara, its central location to watch football matches and also close to tour companies and internet cafes. The notices here get noticed.