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.

Anna do = published online

Hi all, please click on the link, click on the title of this blog post, and see my first online "publication". With thanks to Lisa for making the publication possible. And with thanks to Aisha Gothey for providing the written form of the rhyme!

Thus is the law of the writer, and the child.

Anna anna anna do!

I thought to add some fun anecdotes from children whom I have met in Zanzibar:

Fatma, a young girl in an adjacent alley way to the one in which I live, is the salesperson for her mom's chapatis. They sell fresh chapatis (as do at least half of the women in Zanzibar) every day, on the side of the, well road would be an over statement, on the side of the alley way. She is spunky and young and oh so funny to talk to, even though I speak kidogo (a little bit of) kiSwahili and she speaks no kidogo kidogo English.

She could never remember my name so I decided I was going to be called Khadija (Pronounce Hadija, but when you say the Kh sound, give it a bit of a phlegm-y growl in the back of your throat). Now I hear, most evenings when I walk past, "Khadija, mambo vipi?" (howzit, how are ya?) "Mambo poa! Habari za leo?" (I'm good/sweet/fine. How has your day been?) I reply to her. And then, these last few evenings there have been no chapatis, only and then I put my hands on my hips and ask "chapati waphi?" (where are the chapatis?) and she laughs a loud, confident laugh and says "Hamna chapati!" (No chapati). We're mates, us two.

*

The alley ways of Stone town are fantastic (and really, I mean FAN-TAS-TIC) to play hide a seek in. You needn't even try to hide, you get lost if you daydream for but a moment. But none-the-less, the children play hide and seek. A lot. And this is the little song that they use to choose who is going to be on (it's like Eenie, meenie, miney, moe), and it's in nonsense swahili:

Anna anna anna do,
kachanike basto,
ispiringi mitido,
anna kwa, anna kwa,
duku duku lemba kwa fuus!

Thus is the law of the children.