Zanzibar Meetings 3 - Stone Town

An Evening Out

On Thursday late afternoon, they organized a trip into Stone Town, a tour of the old city and a dinner near the water. We loaded up into three buses and we made our way to town. I’ve visited Stone Town several times, but I’ve never had a guided tour of the place. Though Zanzibar has changed quite a bit since I first visited back in 2005, Stone Town’s old city was much the same. Some of the buildings have been cleaned up and/or renovated, but, thankfully, they have done some amazing work in preserving the historic architecture. I had heard that the prominent House of Wonders Museum partially collapsed in 2012 (sad). I guess the renovators didn't get there in time. 

We had a guide, a former deputy mayor of Stone Town and expert on historical architecture, and we followed him around as he recounted the history of the city and some of the key buildings. We were a large group and the old city is full of chaos and noise, so it was difficult to catch everything he was saying. It’s such a rich history that it’s impossible to do it justice in just a couple of hours.

 

Stone Town

Zanzibar is an archipelago rather than a single island or a city.  The main city is often referred to as Zanzibar by tourists but it’s actually called Stone Town. The archipelago was an independent state until it united with Tanganyika on the mainland to become Tanzania. But the place has experienced considerable drama over the past few centuries.

Amazing doors

After Vasco de Gama’s visit at the end of the 15^th century, Zanzibar was sucked into the growing Portuguese Empire. It’s the same empire that included Mozambique, Angola and Brazil, and why they all still speak Portuguese to this day. Zanzibar, however, ended up taking a different path. As the Portuguese leadership strangled trade and diminished local power, the island’s Swahili elites collaborated with Mombasa (on the Kenyan coast) to invite Omani aristocrats to assist them in driving the Europeans out. By 1698, Zanzibar came under the influence of the Sultanate of Oman. This was one of the most significant developments in the island’s history as much of the historical architecture and cultural influences stem from these centuries under the Sultan. After significant investments into the island, the Sultanate’s capital was even moved from Muscat to Stone Town for a period of time.

This serene square was previously Stone Town's primary slave market

Though the Sultanate seemed like a better option than the oppressive Portuguese, they did maintain the nasty habit of exporting slaves, primarily from the mainland. These slaves were destined for the Middle East, Arabia, Oman, Persia and the Red Sea. With the combination of slavery and other exports, including spices, ivory and other crops, the island became a wealthy center of commerce in East Africa.

During part of the tour, I was walking with a couple of Somali colleagues. We were remarking how similar the historic architecture resembles that of the old city in Mogadishu. The guide pointed out that both were part of the same Sultanate and thus share the same beautiful architectural influences. In fact, he said that he still has some extended family in Somalia going back to the 1700s.

By the 1800s, European influence returned, only this time it was the growing British Empire. Zanzibar officially became a protectorate in 1890 and would remain so until 1963. Though there was a brief attempt at independence, by 1964 Zanzibar agreed to unite with Tanganyika to become part of the new country of Tanzania. And though there have been some efforts to become independent over the years, for the most part, Zanzibar has been content to maintain its semi-autonomous status as part of Tanzania.

 

Farewell

After the walking tour, we ended up at a restaurant called 6 Degrees South. It was not there when I frequented Zanzibar back in the mid-to late 2000s. It has become fashionable to name buildings and restaurants after their street address. This place derives its name from Stone Town’s location south of the equator.

Our group had rented out the terrace on the main floor with a view overlooking the Indian Ocean. We were facing west so we were able to catch the sunset as we were ordering drinks. I sat next to the meeting facilitators (an English couple) who also had about two decades working with international organizations around the world. It was interesting swapping stories and discovering how many people we had both worked with over the years. 

At one point conversation was broken by the sound of Hakuna Matata being sung by restaurant staff as they filed into the dining area. Normally in Tanzania and Kenya, this means that someone is having a birthday. They usually beat a traditional drum or, in this case, a cooking pot, and clap their hands as they wind their way through the tables and end up surrounding the birthday person. In this case, I was the hapless victim and it was not my birthday. The regional team had arranged a small farewell ceremony complete with speeches and a small gift. I wrapped things up by thanking everyone and acknowledging those in the room that I had worked with for so many years. I pointed out how fitting it was that this is taking place in Tanzania where my work with the organization began two decades ago.

One of the people who spoke was the outgoing field coordinator, Elijah, who handed over to me when I joined back in 2006. Four years later, when I was outgoing country director (heading to Burundi), I handed over back to him. We’ve both moved around the continent since then but have stayed relatively close. As he is in the process of moving to Nairobi, we’ll be able to stay in touch with both him and others even though I’m leaving the organization.

* * *

The next day, Friday, a group of about twelve were all flying out around the same time. We crammed into a bus at 6:30am and began the half-hour drive to the airport. I’m a rather pensive person by nature, and, as we drove through the Zanzibar countryside, I was taking in the scenery and reflecting on the fact that this chapter of my life is coming to an end. I may end up taking on some short-term assignments here and there but, in all likelihood, this career as I know it is reaching its conclusion. I looked out the bus window as we drove through poor communities, small children playing on the dirt roads, women opening their small shops, bicycles carrying goods to market, groups of girls wearing matching hijabs making their way to their madrasa (school based on Islamic instruction), etc. Though I’m not leaving Africa, I will be shifting away from being active participant in supporting communities like these.

It’s both sad and wonderful. The sad part is probably obvious. I’ve been steeped in this sort of work for nearly 22 years. It’s what I know. Indeed, it’s been a constant headwind throughout, almost always stressful and, occasionally, dangerous. But it’s also been incredibly fulfilling, and I’ve worked with some amazing people. In addition to becoming acquainted with a variety of cultures and some remote parts of Africa, I’ve also learned a lot about myself. Overall, it has been a fantastic journey.

The upside is also probably obvious. I need a mental and physical break from all this. I need to recalibrate what is “normal” to me and lower my baseline stress levels. And I need to spend more time with my family. My girls are in their last years of secondary school and it’s important that I be there for them. It’s time.

To use a horseracing analogy, we’ve turned the last corner and have entered the homestretch.

Zanzibar Meetings 2 - Reconnecting

In the end, my flight arrived in Zanzibar late evening. I was stunned at how the airport had changed since the old days. 

The airport back in 2006...

It felt like it was the size of a large house. Most transactions were done on paper. It was rather quaint.

 

... and now, twenty years later

I'm told that tourism has increase fourfold between the time that the two photos were taken. Very impressive.

We arrived at the hotel by midnight. I made my way to my room, tired but happy to be back in Zanzibar. My room was large, clean and had everything I needed. I didn’t realize until the next morning that I had a view of the Indian Ocean (and the pool). Things were looking up.

 

* * *

While I enjoy meetings in locations like this, the problem is that we don’t really have much opportunity to take advantage of it. You have limited time to take a dip in the pool or go for a swim in the ocean. I suppose that there’s a feeling that the organization has spent all this money pulling people together that we need to squeeze in meetings sunrise to sunset. Though there have been complaints in the past that there hasn’t been enough unstructured time, they haven’t been heeded. The temptation is too great to load up the schedule and not feel like you’re wasting people’s time. Case in point, after getting in late the night before, I had an early breakfast meeting with my supervisor prior to the full day of meetings.

It was good to reconnect with people, some of whom I’ve known for almost twenty years. It was strange at times. The comradery. The discussions. It all seemed normal after all these years except that, given that I’m leaving at the end of the month, it’s not.

 

New Room

At the end of day one, which was day three for those who hadn’t been struck in Nairobi, I went back to my room, considering maybe a dip in the pool. There was a knock at the door and it was one of the organizers of the meetings along with a guy from the hotel. He told me that there was a mistake the night before when we arrived and I was put in the wrong room. After telling him that I was perfectly happy with my room (ocean view, spacious, etc.), he assured me that the change would be an upgrade. So I packed up my bag, met them at the reception and we took the elevator towards my new room.

As the elevator took us to the top of the building, I thought that at the very least, the room was going to have a nice view. That ended up being an understatement.

We went through the double doors and the view was stunning. Not only was it the penthouse, it was the top two floors of the building. I’ve had a few decent hotel rooms throughout the years, but this was in a different league. It will easily be the biggest hotel room I will ever have.

There was a massive common area – the width of the entire building – which included a second-floor loft. Floor to ceiling windows offered amazing views. There were about six TVs, three dining areas, a kitchen area, etc. I would share the room with two of my country director colleagues though I never ended up seeing them in the room. It was a bit of a shame that I didn’t get to spend much time there given how nice it was. Apparently, it was at no extra cost so I didn't feel bad.

I was on the top two floors of the high-rise

 

Dhow repair guy working near the hotel

Sunrise from my room

Zanzibar Meetings 1 - Travel Woes

As I entered my last month of employment, there remained two travel obligations. The first would be to go to Zanzibar and the second, later in the month, to Somalia to bid farewell to my team. One rather inconvenient task that needed to be done in the midst of the travels was the renewal of my Kenyan visa. Given that the process involves my passport being in the hands of the government for a couple weeks, I needed to build my travels around it.

Aware of the importance of the visa, I was ready to forgo my Zanzibar travels if necessary. The renewal of my visa is synonymous with the renewal of my family’s visas, and we can’t have a presence in the country without legal status. As it worked out, the plan would be that I would go ahead and travel to Zanzibar, return to Nairobi, submit the visa application and two weeks later make a shortened trip to Somalia just before my final workday. We’re only partway through but fingers crossed that everything happens as planned.

* * *

The Strike

My last time in Zanzibar was about seven years ago, also for regional meetings. It’s less than an hour and a half by plane from Nairobi so it’s an easy flight. The challenge in this part of the world is not so much the flight itself but whether or not the flight even happens.

I was scheduled to fly out at 8am on Monday (Aug. 31). Given that there were rumors of a strike by airport (JKIA) employees, my taxi was set up for 5am. Upon arrival at JKIA in the dark of early morning, I quickly realized that the strike was indeed happening, at least in part, and the place was packed with people. Some bleary-eyed travelers were still around after flight cancellations from the night before trying to sort out their fate.

It was an ugly scene, and I was getting nervous that my flight might not happen. I say nervous but, in all honesty, I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the trip. I often question the fruitfulness of these types of meetings and there would be a lot of emphasis on the way forward, something I’m not going to be a part of. Regardless, good soldier that I am, I pressed on.

The queues were long everywhere. I wasn’t worried about the long wait so much as whether the navigation of this gauntlet was going to be futile. We just couldn’t get any definitive information about our flights. I suspect it was because there were ongoing efforts to resolve the labor dispute and the airlines were optimistically processing passengers in that hope.

I eventually arrived at my gate where a few dozen people were already settling in for what could be a long wait. And a long wait it was. By noon things were looking dismal, and the airline still hadn’t said one way or another as to whether we might eventually fly. In fact, staff in these situations tend to make themselves scarce since they don’t know any more than we do and they, understandably, get tired of fending off the never-ending questions. 

We could see the plane was sitting on the tarmac, but there weren’t any signs of activity around it.

As time passed, the airport continued to fill with thousands of people, sitting, lying, standing, drinking, eating, etc. It reminded me of many years ago when Priya and I were stuck overnight in Amsterdam during a winter snowstorm. Priya was a few months pregnant, and we ended up trying to find a quiet and not-so-chilly place on the floor to lie down for the night. Weary bodies were everywhere as people had to wait through the night as the weather and runways cleared for possible flights the next morning. On this occasion, the airline finally threw in the towel by about 3pm. The group of fellow staff (about 20 altogether) and I gathered to ponder our options. We’d already lost one day of a five-day schedule and rumors of strike negotiations weren’t positive. The first idea that came from the regional team (already gathered in Zanzibar) was that we could recover our checked-in bags (who knows how long that would take given that the airport employees were on strike), rent a bus and travel across the border into Tanzania to Arusha (6 hours not counting airport time) and fly to Zanzibar from there (another hour). 

I immediately dismissed this idea as ludicrous and suggested that I would wait in Nairobi and take my chances on a flight the next day. The others, possibly naively, seemed interested in trying it, albeit not enthusiastically. I didn't see any way all this could happen where they would arrive in Zanzibar before Wednesday. I figured that if I skipped on the bus idea, caught a flight the next day, strike resolution pending, I could probably get there by the next evening (Tuesday). Regardless of how this would play out, I had no interest in staying at the airport any longer. I bid my farewells and made my way home, uncertain as to how this was going to play out.

The others, sadly, weren’t out of the woods. My fears about the bag retrieval were realized. Almost all of them had checked bags (not me) and some ended up waiting until almost 10pm before the last bag appeared and they were able to go home (or to their hotel). Very long day for me. Very, very long day for them.

Late in the evening, the regional team finally decided to pull the plug on the bus idea. I realize that they had invested a lot of money in these meetings and they desperately wanted everyone to fill these hotel rooms sitting empty in Zanzibar. Admittedly, the travelers from Nairobi made up about a third of the attendees overall and this was a significant blow to the organizers. But the bus idea was a desperate grasp at straws (a hail Mary) that should probably never have been on the table.

That night I slept in my own bed and joined the meetings electronically the next morning increasingly doubtful that the trip would happen. The regional support team worked diligently all morning trying to sort it out with our travel agent. By mid-morning we received word that the strike was over and, gradually, planes would begin departing Nairobi. By early afternoon we received word that some of us could catch an evening flight. Others would catch a 3am flight (ugh). Though I offered to remain behind if it meant someone else (with a longer future with the organization than I) could get a seat, we all were able to get seats on the two planes – mine would be the evening flight.

* * *

Arriving at the gate at JKIA, and after you've checked in and proceeded through immigration and security, there is always another check-in with the airline staff before entering the gate area. It seems redundant since there was already a check-in and issuance of a boarding pass, but, at least in this case, it worked to my advantage. After cracking a few jokes with the airline staff, the guy that was looking at my documents ripped up my boarding pass and issued me a new one – in business class. I didn't even ask. I don't know if it had something about my mileage program status and an overbooking or if he was trying to do me a favor. I’m not normally very chatty with service industry people but this may be an indicator that I should probably do so more often.

It was feeling like I was finally going to make it to Zanzibar.