Zanzibar: Stone Town

Zanzibar is a semi-autonomous state within Tanzania. It consists of the islands Unguja, Pemba. Unguja is generally referred to as Zanzibar.

The capital Stone Town, or Zanzibar Town, is a warren of narrow twisting streets, bustling markets, bazaars, souvenir shops and touts. Former palaces and Arab mansions bear witness of the grandeur of olden times.

Grandeur only for the ruling class: Zanzibar used to be an important slave market where Arab traders sold slaves to Europeans who made them work on plantations in their colonies.

The 1964 Zanzibar Revolution, made an end to the Oman Dynasty, and the United Republic of Tanzania was a fact. Zanzibar has its own president and has 50 of 169 seats in the Tanzanian National Assembly. The Zanzibaris are not happy with this union. They see it as a mainland plot to take over their island.

But the days of starvation wages for the Zanzibaris are not over yet. The better-paid jobs are given to people from the mainland. Zanzibaris try to make a living from seaweed farming and the lower-paid jobs in the tourist industry: gardeners, cleaners. Many of the hotels are foreign owned and tourism doesn’t bring a certain affluence to the Zanzibaris.

Quick Tips:

Zanzibar: a dream destination?

Zanzibar: the name stirs up dreams of romance and mystery, pristine white sand, clear turquoise waters of the Indian ocean, gentian blue skies, palm trees whispering in the wind.

Zanzibar: the spice island, aromatic scent of cloves, vanilla, cardamon.

‘Zanzibar will not disappoint the traveller bored with mass tourism’, I read in Precisionews, the inflight magazine of Precisionair.

I found an island crowded with package holidaymakers.

Best Way To Get Around:

The Seabus, the ferry to Dar es Salaam has three departure daily: 7 am, 1.00 pm and 4.00 pm. There is a two tier price system, one for wazungas, we, the tourist and Tanzanian citizens. We pay and they pay Tsh 16.000 (= ). Harbour tax is included.

The seabus is a catamaran which only takes seated passengers. There are 125 seats in the second class; rows of three seats, five seats, three seats. There are 35 first class seats at . We had bought our ticket in advance but there was no need as the ferry was only half full. The crossing takes just under three hours. At Dar es Salaam taxi drivers are waiting. A taxi to a hotel in the centre should not cost more than tsh 2500 / 3000 (.50 - )

The ceiling-high double door decorated with studs stood open. Behind the reception desk sat a bespectacled, friendly young man. Behind him a notice said, "No alcohol, only married couples." This was unmistakably a Muslim hotel.

The receptionist slowly wrote down our names in the register and for once I was happy about the extra line in my passport: spouse of and then my husband’s name. What more proof that we were a married couple.

“They prevent elephants from barging in,” the receptionist explained when I asked him why the front door was covered in sharp spikes.

We climbed the five flights of creaky, wooden stairs. Our room was right at the top, windows on all sides and splendid views. The ocean and Prison Island, the clock tower of the House of Wonders, the Catholic Cathedral, the spire of the Anglican cathedral, the minaret of the mosque. And in the distance the dismal apartment blocks in the residential area, built in Neyere’s time after Soviet Union fashion: square, grey concrete blocks.

Pride of place was taken up by two Zanzibar style beds: four posters with painted headboards. There was a chest of drawers but the drawers didn’t open, a television with a wide selection of channels, most of which had a good reception. The room was not particularly clean, but it definitely had atmosphere.

Breakfast was served in a half-open veranda on the second floor. While we were having breakfast, two big, black crows were waiting. The moment we left they took possession of our table looking for crumbs.

We paid $30. You can pay in dollars or Tanzanian shillings. To make things easy, the going rate was $1 equals Tsh 100.

When I opened my suitcase at our next destination we had transported one cockroack, be it a small one.

“No, too many mosquitoes” is the answer when we suggest we want to be taken to Monica’s Hostel. We have just disembarked from the Flying Horse, the ferry from Dar es salaam to Stone Town, and we are welcomed by one of the touts.

“Not a good neighborhood” was his objection to our next choice. We then decide to be taken to his choice of accommodation: Florida Guesthouse. We settled on the taxi fare and knew we had to pay for his commission at the hotel. Indirectly, of course. It simply means that we can’t negotiate the price for the first night.

Stone Town is much smaller and less of a maze than my guidebook had made me believe. Yet the taxi fare was a good investment after a three-hour boat trip in a stuffy lounge.

Florida Guesthouse is off Vuga Road, not sign-posted and therefore difficult to find. We entered a very small reception area and were welcomed by the owner who descents from Omani Arabs. We inspected the rooms: downstairs they have a double bed and are fairly small. A steep narrow staircase leads up to a communal hall with a table and chairs for the guests to sit. Upstairs there are four spacious rooms, furnished in true Arab style: ornamental and clustered. I loved it!

Our room had a king-size double bed and a small-size single bed, a tiled floor, a paneless window with mosquito gauze to keep the bigger creepy crawlies out. The room is quite breezy and we didn’t use the fan. There are mosquito nets over the beds but the one for the king-size bed was too tight and didn’t reach to the floor. There were also holes, so we used our own.

A boiler provides hot water but must be switched on well in advance, a thing we discovered the following morning. There is also a fridge and a TV with a satellite receiver but one cable missing so no reception.

The best feature by far is the huge breakfast: quarter of a papaya, big slice of watermelon, boiled egg, pancake, meat patty, big hump of bread, fresh fruit juice and fruit salad and of course tea or coffee. We paid US$35 (which included the commission for the taxi driver).

After we had toured the island we came back and agreed on US$30. We came back for a third time when we had been to mainland Tanzania and haggled down to US$25, which was accepted reluctantly.

I grope my way down the narrow stairs to the cells. Only two slits in the thick wall allow daylight to come in. When the caretaker switches on one bare bulb I can take in the terror of this confined place. It is here that slaves awaited their lot. The ceilings were too low for them to stand upright nor could they sit down as the place was crammed. As a result many suffocated and only the strongest survived.

In 1873 the slave trade was declared illegal. Consequently the slave market in Stone Town was closed but the slave trade continued until 1918 when Tanganyika became a British protectorate. Exploitation of the former slaves did not stop; they worked for a pittance in the spice plantations. In 1961 when Tanganyika became independent the slave trade stopped for once and for all.

Next to the slave chamber is the Anglican cathedral Church of Christ built in 1873, the year the slave markets closed. The interior of the church is full of reminders of the slave trade. Dr. Livingstone, explorer, doctor, anti-slave activist, is commemorated in a stained glass window. There is also a crucifix made of the wood of the tree under which Livingstone’s heart was buried. It was his explicit wish that his heart should remain in Africa. A red circle next to the altar marks the spot of a post. Slaves were tied to it, then whipped to test their strength and resilience before being sold.

If you would like to know more about Dr Livingstone I advise you to visit the Dr Livingstone Museum in Stone Town.

‘Dr Livingstone, I presume?’ This is the immortal phrase with which Stanley greeted Dr. Livingstone after Livingstone had been missing for five years. He was suffering from dysentery and Stanley saved his life.

Livingstone was born near Glasgow, Scotland. He was a preacher, doctor, anti-slave campaigner and explorer. He crossed the Kalahari desert and was the first European to see lake Nyasa and this huge wall of water which he named Victoria Falls.

Stone Town was the main departure point for European explorers in the 19th century. It’s from here that Livingstone set off to explore the area between Lake Nyasa and Lake Tanganyika in search of the source of the Nile. This journey ended with the immortal phrase. This meeting of Livingstone and Stanley took place in Ujiji, 10 km south east of Kigoma on the shores of Lake Tanganyika. Stanley went back to Zanzibar but Livingstone stayed behind and set off on his fifth and last expedition. In 1873 he died of dysentery. His heart was removed by his servant who buried it under the tree where he died. His embalmed body was shipped to London where he was buried in Westminster Abbey with Stanley as one of the pall bearers.

Livingstone House on Gulioni Road is the headquarters of the Zanzibar Tourist Corporation. In the 19th century it was used as a rest house for explorers and missionaries, Livingstone was one of them.

A very friendly official welcomed me, fetched the key, switched on the fan and said I could see everything at leisure. The museum consists of one room, dedicated to Livingstone. Photos and text tell about his explorations and life.

Waterfront:
Beautifully restored mainly 19th century architecture. You get the best view from the ferry when you arrive.

The Old Dispensary
is one of these restored building. It’s a four story building and reminds of British colonial architecture in India. It now houses the Stone Town Cultural centre. There is no entry charge and you are free to come in and look round.

The Big Tree
is next to the Old Dispensary. It is a huge Banyan tree that was planted in 1911. It serves as a home to a colony of monkeys. It’s a cool and shady place for builders who use it as their workplace.

Palace Museum
is the former sultan’s palace. It is a white, three-story building and overlooks the ocean. Inside you can see furnished rooms and some possessions of the sultan. I liked best the Formica wardrobes, 1950s style, on the second floor in the sultan’s bedroom.

House of Wonders
has a colonnaded facade of huge pillars and balconies. I find it the most characteristic building of Stone Town. It was the first to have running water and electricity installed as early as 1906. It also boasts an electric lift but this broke down long ago. The clock tower is a true landmark and tells the time in Swahili: add or subtract 6 hours and you have western time. The house of Wonders used to be an administrative palace, now it houses the National Museum. Exhibits show many aspects of daily life in Zanzibar. They are clearly labelled in English and Swahili. What I liked best was Livingstone’s medical case, which looked as if it had been used yesterday.

Africa House
is a grand old building and used to be the English Club. There is a huge terrace overlooking the ocean, a popular place to see the sun set. This was the place where Europeans used to sip their gin-and-tonic. The terrace is above eight garages where members could park their cars. These days they have been converted into little shops selling souvenirs to tourists. Africa House is now a hotel frequented by small tour groups as it has only 12 rooms. The terrace is still as popular as ever.

Near Victoria Hall and Garden in the Vuga district there is a milestone which says: London 8040 miles. This was the distance by ship after the Suez canal was opened in 1869. I’m a long way away from Europe.

Stone Town was built by Indian and Arab traders in the 18th and 19th centuries. It reminded me very much of an Arab Medina with its warren of alleyways, its minarets, mansions, latticed balconies and beautifully carved doors.

The streets are too narrow for cars but they are full of pedestrians, bikes and motorbikes. Contrary to what guidebooks made me believe, it was not difficult to find my way. The old city is quite small and compact, and sooner rather than later you will find yourself at the sea front or in Creek Road, the boundary between the old (tourist part) city and the residential area full of grey, concrete apartment buildings.

I was rather disappointed with Stone Town. All guidebooks praise it as one of the best kept secrets in the world. I had high expectations also because it was declared a World Heritage Site. Now that I have been to Stone Town I know that Fez in Morocco, or Aleppo in Syria are far more mysterious and exotic.

True to say there are some beautifully restored old houses. on Hurumzi Street is one of them. It was an old Zanzibari Mansion, a mixture of Arab and Indian influences. The rooms are luxurious, have high ceilings. You will sleep in a traditional Zanzibar four poster called Semandari. The rooftop restaurant is a great place to enjoy the sunset while you eat a multi-course dinner. Room prices start at $150.

All together we stayed in Stone Town for over a week. In the end I was a bit fed up with the eternal ‘Jambo’ hello in Swahili. When we first arrived it sounded friendly but soon we realised that ’Jambo’ was equivalent to ‘spend your money on any of my services’, because stopping and saying ‘jambo’ in return will inevitably land you up in a restaurant, shop or transport.

There are not enough things to see in Stone Town to justify a stay longer than about three days. This is a recognised fact because otherwise why would tourists be shown an alleyway where big spiders have their webs?