In Stone Town, people know how to celebrate: Eid ul-Fitr, Eid al-Adha, Tanzanian Independence Day, Christmas, New Year, Zanzibar Revolution Day. And that was just in the five months that I was there. There are still seven months of celebration in Zanzibar that I have not been witness to.
I arrived in Unguja, Zanzibar near the end of Ramadan. It was a hungry 10 days. I will always remember where I was at the end of the fasting. It was Forodani Gardens, at the night food market. There were people everywhere, eating much food after a day of nothing. Ramadan ends when the new moon is sighted. It had been seen in Malaysia. People were excited, and full of food. No moon was seen that night. The next night again the market, lit by gas lamps that swarmed and shimmered with people. The message spread again: they'd seen the moon in Dar es Salaam, surely now it was a mater of minutes. And then the call rose up from the middle of Stone Town and people in Forodhani cheered and hugged each other. Fourty days of fasting was over. The next three days were celebreation days. The streets buzzed with exquisitely dressed women and children - new dresses of blues and red and yellows, flowing chiffon, lace, bling. Thick make-up. Men and boys clean and smart. The day time for visiting friends and family and eating. The night time for night markets and street games and general celebrations.
The second Eid, Eid al-Adha, is supposedly the biggest Eid but it snuck up quietly and suddenly we were told that tomorrow and the next day and the next day there would be celebrations. This time I was involved and I went house to house visiting friends, drinking litres of chai and eating what seemed to be whole cakes and kilograms of biriani. It was like the first Eid but it lasted more days. It didn’t seem as festive as the first one but that may have been because at the first one people were hungry and so their happiness seemed larger as they suddenly had boundless energy from the regular meals they had been eating.
On Independence day, to be honest I didn’t do much. But I know there were celebrations on Thursday and Friday night.
Then came Christmas and never before have I have I been in a place where Christmas is not only celebrated by opening presents and being with family, it is CELEBRATED on the 24th, the 25th and the 26th (regardless of whether you are Christian) with music and dancing and many parties, out in the open for all to join. And New Year, well, in all the markets and in all the dance halls and beaches and in all other public spaces, everyone together to count down to 12 midnight. Everyone with everyone, it seemed as if no one was by themselves.
My final celebration and my actual point of this story was Zanzibar Revolution Day. It was on a Thursday. At 12 midnight on Wednesday night, air-raid sirens began wailing around the town and the sound of machine gun fire echoed off the stone buildings. If you did not know it was Revolution Day you would have thought the island was under siege. Glowing “bullets” were being shot and they arched over Stone Town and neighbouring Maisara. The sirens and gun fire continued for a long time, interspersing the impressive and very loud fireworks display happening in Mnazi Moja show grounds. The air lit up and would explode into hundreds of coloured lights and then du-du-du-du-du-du-du, more bullets were shot.
After the fireworks, the crowd turned and began the walk to The Traffic Circle (or as it is called in Zanzibar, The Keep Lefty). Here there would be lit up water fountains. But people were really going there because this is where cars would take it in turn to race around the circle and the more daring of the crown would try to jump on the vehicles. Dala dalas, trucks, scooters, Jeeps, minis, all these and more took their turn to drive. And as the night wore on the driving got more daring. Of course this is illegal. Up until 12:30am the police were there, closing the road, preventing the cars from entering. And then the game began.
It would have been boring for the police to stay there the whole night, both for the crowd and the police themselves. So the police leave, knowing full well that the cars would arrive and the people would get slightly out of hand and slightly dangerous. And then I can just imagine the police saying to themselves, "man I am bored, do you think we have waited long enough, I want to join the fun”, and then when they thought they had left just enough time for things to be getting a bit crazy, the would come roaring down the road, lights blaring and they would skid to a halt and armed reinforcement would spew out of the back of the vehicle and begin the chase.
I was with my Danish Tanzanian friend, watching the cars from a distance. And then there was a shout and another and we turned to watch the spotlighs blaring down on us and then the crowd started running and so we joined, running, running away from the cops, laughing at being chased and then stumbling to a stop and watching and waiting for the police to leave again, giving us space once again to get a little reckless so they they could play again and come and pretend to chase us away.
It was a big fat game that the police and the people played that night. It did however somehow prevent the drivers and the audience from getting too dangerous as each time they came to chase us, the level of recklessness dropped and as far as I know, no one was killed…
Three days later I left Zanzibar, the island of celebrations. The thing is with Zanzibar, they know how to celebrate, to celebrate out in the open, for all to join. And this makes the whole event all the more festive and you, the celebrator feels part of something bigger, really part of a town who knows how to have fun and does so at any excuse.
Showing posts with label Islam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Islam. Show all posts
Friday, January 20, 2012
Friday, November 11, 2011
Hina, piko, biriani and other sikuku enjoyments
Brace yourselves. This shall be a long post.
In Islam there are two very important celebrations in the year. The first one is one that most people across the world are familiar with: Eid ul Fitr, which marks the end of Ramadan, the month of fasting that Muslim people across the world take part in (fasting from sunrise to sunset).
I was in Zanzibar for the last week of Ramadan and then also for Eid*. I remember the day that Ramadan ended. The ending is marked by the sighting of the moon. Everyone whom I spoke to was sure that Ramadan would end on the Monday for the moon had been sighted in Malaysia. People got themselves excited at the prospect of eating three meals again and drinking water throughout the day. But alas the day passed and no moon was seen.
So the next day dawned with breakfast eaten at 4:30 am. And then the day wound to a close and people made their way to Forodhani gardens to eat and hope that the moon would be seen. Soon it was known that the moon was seen in Dar es Salaam, on the mainland. Surely it would be seen on the island. People waited. And then something was said and someone knew and all across Forodhani and Stone Town you heard cheers and clapping because eventually the moon made its appearance; fasting would and Eid would begin.
The nest day the streets were awash with beautifully dressed and make-uped little girls and bigger girls and young women and older mothers and grandmothers. And the men were dressed in the clean, new white Djelebas. All clothes are new and the days running up to Eid the streets of Stone Town were full of women bustling back and forth to find the material and get measured and have their new clothes made at any one of the many, many tailors to be found in the city.
The day is spent visiting friends and family and the night is spent eating at the Mnazi Moja market or at Forodhani Gardens. There streets and roads and paths and open areas are full of people.
I didn't get very involved in the first Eid. I'd just arrived on the island and I was working with Jahazi Festival.
And then, about a week and a half ago, I suddenly found out that there was going to be another Eid. And then I found out that in fact this is the biggest celebration in the Muslim calendar. And yet I had never heard of it!
It is called Eid ul Adha, the festival of the sacrifice which marks the end of the Hajj to mecca (that a lot of people take in the days leading up to the festival). It is a celebration of the sacrifice that Abraham was willing to make of his son, and the animal that was eventually sacrificed in his place. So yes there is a lot of slaughtering of animals... which is well, sad.
The times and dates of the festival are again reliant on the moon cycle. There is no month of fasting before, where if you are in Zanzibar (where the majority of the people are Muslin and therefore fast) it means that there is no food, well very very little food, available from when you wake up until 6:30pm. The island seems to carry on as normal before Eid ul Adah. And then suddenly people have new clothes again and much much food is prepared and there is four days of celebration and eating and revelry.
So this time I got involved.
My mom had come to visit me for a week in Zanzibar and she wanted hina done (for all yall westerrrrn folk, henna is actually pronounce hina, and so for this blog, it will be written as such). And on my mom's last full day on the island, while enjoying a fresh, hot, strong espresso cup of coffee in Jaws Corner, who comes to say hello to me? None other than Sada, my 4 year old mate who met me once while I was chatting to her uncle and now remembers my name and knows she get fused when I see her. She had beautiful hina on her hands and so we went immediately to her house (just off of Jaws Corner) and found out that it was her sisters friend who does the designs. So that Afternoon Aisha (Sada's sister) too us to Mahira.
Mahira is an artist. We arrived at a house where we climbed to the roof and in a bare room that I named the hina room, we found women draped in all manner of poses while they waited for the wet paste to dry and stain their skins. Mahira sat in all manner of poses as she wound her designs around and up and over women's bodies. For the whole body is often adorned with hina. Even though a woman's body is covered save for her face and hands, it is quite a beautiful thought that this hina that is put on the body is a beauty accessory that women do for themselves, no matter if the wold can see it.
Sometimes the women chatted, sometimes they didn't. On the rooftop a cool breeze blew through the room. And after maybe an hour it was mine and mothers turn.
Mahira as I said, is an artist. She wore a brown scarf wrapped around her head, not as a hijab (how Muslim women wrap their heads) but as many women in South Africa and other African countries wear a scarf; wrapped over the top and taken to the back and then wound round and round to form a "bun" effect at the back. Mahira wore glasses of the 70's Cadillac style, bejewelled on the sides. She wore a simple loose dress that skimmed over her hips, had a v-cut at the neck and shortish flared sleeves with braiding on the edges. I can't tell you what the original colour of it was (I think natural yellows and browns and the like) because it was COVERED with stains from the hina and piko that she used. Similarly her hands and fingers were stained dark by the dyes.
Now hina is the brown dye that most people are very familiar with. Piko is the black dye that I only learnt of on the island. Piko is actually a regular black hair dye that is mixed and squeezed out into patterns. Mahira sat me down and in under 10 minutes I had beautiful beautiful designs on my hands and feet. My mom only got her feet done.
And then we were instructed very firmly that we HAD to sit still so that it dried and not a drop of it was smudged. We sat and chatted to the women and the young girls (I have to brag and say that it was mostly in kiSwahili!) and then we moved outside and the younger girls, whose task it appeared to be, began peeling off the now dried paste. And once this was done out hands and feet were washed and dried for us.
This took the whole afternoon. Yet another place of the women.
And then on Saturday my mom left and then on Sunday, well it was sikuku time!
Sikuku is what celebration is called, I think it is a Swahili term. Regardless, I received 3 invitations to go to peoples houses.
This is what happens on the day: people wake up and get dressed and the morning is spent visiting friends and drinking litres of chai and eating many, many slices of cake! This is indeed what I did - three cups of spiced chai, 2 slices of cake at one house, 2 slices of cake and three biscuits and a chapati at another. And then two hours later a plate of biriani, and then maybe one hour later some pilau. Good grief!
But apparently this is normal, to eat three breakfasts and up to two lunches. I did feel loved that people invited me to their houses to celebrate with them!
So that is the tale of hima, piko, biriani and sikuku.
This celebrating continued for 4 days. This is indeed the biggest and most important Eid on the Muslim calendar.
Skuku njema!
*Eid means festival
In Islam there are two very important celebrations in the year. The first one is one that most people across the world are familiar with: Eid ul Fitr, which marks the end of Ramadan, the month of fasting that Muslim people across the world take part in (fasting from sunrise to sunset).
I was in Zanzibar for the last week of Ramadan and then also for Eid*. I remember the day that Ramadan ended. The ending is marked by the sighting of the moon. Everyone whom I spoke to was sure that Ramadan would end on the Monday for the moon had been sighted in Malaysia. People got themselves excited at the prospect of eating three meals again and drinking water throughout the day. But alas the day passed and no moon was seen.
So the next day dawned with breakfast eaten at 4:30 am. And then the day wound to a close and people made their way to Forodhani gardens to eat and hope that the moon would be seen. Soon it was known that the moon was seen in Dar es Salaam, on the mainland. Surely it would be seen on the island. People waited. And then something was said and someone knew and all across Forodhani and Stone Town you heard cheers and clapping because eventually the moon made its appearance; fasting would and Eid would begin.
The nest day the streets were awash with beautifully dressed and make-uped little girls and bigger girls and young women and older mothers and grandmothers. And the men were dressed in the clean, new white Djelebas. All clothes are new and the days running up to Eid the streets of Stone Town were full of women bustling back and forth to find the material and get measured and have their new clothes made at any one of the many, many tailors to be found in the city.
The day is spent visiting friends and family and the night is spent eating at the Mnazi Moja market or at Forodhani Gardens. There streets and roads and paths and open areas are full of people.
I didn't get very involved in the first Eid. I'd just arrived on the island and I was working with Jahazi Festival.
And then, about a week and a half ago, I suddenly found out that there was going to be another Eid. And then I found out that in fact this is the biggest celebration in the Muslim calendar. And yet I had never heard of it!
It is called Eid ul Adha, the festival of the sacrifice which marks the end of the Hajj to mecca (that a lot of people take in the days leading up to the festival). It is a celebration of the sacrifice that Abraham was willing to make of his son, and the animal that was eventually sacrificed in his place. So yes there is a lot of slaughtering of animals... which is well, sad.
The times and dates of the festival are again reliant on the moon cycle. There is no month of fasting before, where if you are in Zanzibar (where the majority of the people are Muslin and therefore fast) it means that there is no food, well very very little food, available from when you wake up until 6:30pm. The island seems to carry on as normal before Eid ul Adah. And then suddenly people have new clothes again and much much food is prepared and there is four days of celebration and eating and revelry.
So this time I got involved.
My mom had come to visit me for a week in Zanzibar and she wanted hina done (for all yall westerrrrn folk, henna is actually pronounce hina, and so for this blog, it will be written as such). And on my mom's last full day on the island, while enjoying a fresh, hot, strong espresso cup of coffee in Jaws Corner, who comes to say hello to me? None other than Sada, my 4 year old mate who met me once while I was chatting to her uncle and now remembers my name and knows she get fused when I see her. She had beautiful hina on her hands and so we went immediately to her house (just off of Jaws Corner) and found out that it was her sisters friend who does the designs. So that Afternoon Aisha (Sada's sister) too us to Mahira.
Mahira is an artist. We arrived at a house where we climbed to the roof and in a bare room that I named the hina room, we found women draped in all manner of poses while they waited for the wet paste to dry and stain their skins. Mahira sat in all manner of poses as she wound her designs around and up and over women's bodies. For the whole body is often adorned with hina. Even though a woman's body is covered save for her face and hands, it is quite a beautiful thought that this hina that is put on the body is a beauty accessory that women do for themselves, no matter if the wold can see it.
Sometimes the women chatted, sometimes they didn't. On the rooftop a cool breeze blew through the room. And after maybe an hour it was mine and mothers turn.
Mahira as I said, is an artist. She wore a brown scarf wrapped around her head, not as a hijab (how Muslim women wrap their heads) but as many women in South Africa and other African countries wear a scarf; wrapped over the top and taken to the back and then wound round and round to form a "bun" effect at the back. Mahira wore glasses of the 70's Cadillac style, bejewelled on the sides. She wore a simple loose dress that skimmed over her hips, had a v-cut at the neck and shortish flared sleeves with braiding on the edges. I can't tell you what the original colour of it was (I think natural yellows and browns and the like) because it was COVERED with stains from the hina and piko that she used. Similarly her hands and fingers were stained dark by the dyes.
Now hina is the brown dye that most people are very familiar with. Piko is the black dye that I only learnt of on the island. Piko is actually a regular black hair dye that is mixed and squeezed out into patterns. Mahira sat me down and in under 10 minutes I had beautiful beautiful designs on my hands and feet. My mom only got her feet done.
And then we were instructed very firmly that we HAD to sit still so that it dried and not a drop of it was smudged. We sat and chatted to the women and the young girls (I have to brag and say that it was mostly in kiSwahili!) and then we moved outside and the younger girls, whose task it appeared to be, began peeling off the now dried paste. And once this was done out hands and feet were washed and dried for us.
This took the whole afternoon. Yet another place of the women.
And then on Saturday my mom left and then on Sunday, well it was sikuku time!
Sikuku is what celebration is called, I think it is a Swahili term. Regardless, I received 3 invitations to go to peoples houses.
This is what happens on the day: people wake up and get dressed and the morning is spent visiting friends and drinking litres of chai and eating many, many slices of cake! This is indeed what I did - three cups of spiced chai, 2 slices of cake at one house, 2 slices of cake and three biscuits and a chapati at another. And then two hours later a plate of biriani, and then maybe one hour later some pilau. Good grief!
But apparently this is normal, to eat three breakfasts and up to two lunches. I did feel loved that people invited me to their houses to celebrate with them!
So that is the tale of hima, piko, biriani and sikuku.
This celebrating continued for 4 days. This is indeed the biggest and most important Eid on the Muslim calendar.
Skuku njema!
*Eid means festival
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