A visit to the immigration office in Chake Chake and a long discussion between all the staff members (who were distracted somewhat by a diversion into my marriage status, or lack of) uncovered that they do not deal with foreigners. Quite who the immigration office in Chake Chake does deal with I’m not too sure, and there are very few foreigners anyway… but this meant I had to travel to Unguja this week to apply for our permits.
On Tuesday morning I waved goodbye to Beth and Romina and started off on my journey. All was going well, squished on a dala-dala with a small boy on my knee, until the dala-dala began some tractor/motorbike sound and spluttered to a stop. This meant everyone had to get off the dala-dala ans walk up the hill, while a group of men poked around in the engine. This was repeated on every hill (Pemba is quite hilly!), until finally we reached Mkoani, the port in the south of the island, just in time for the ferry.
The ferry journey was another experience entirely. We were all solemnly handed sick bags, and I was soon to find out why. The channel between the south of Pemba and northern Unguja is very rough, and soon there were people being seasick all around me. Perhaps the extra $60 for the plane is worth it…
There was good and bad news when I reached immigration in Zanzibar Town. Firstly the bad news – a volunteering resident permit had increased from $120 to $550 in July. Good news – as volunteers under a government ministry we could apply for a different permit, which was free. However this permit needed another letter from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a whole load of forms to be filled in, and more passport photos. This meant a wild goose chase around a number of different offices to get the required paper work, charming officials in broken Swahili and standing in crowds of people waving bits of paper in the air, all held up by a number of power outs. However, after three trips to the office, I have been assured they will be ready next week – hooray!
For the rest of my time in Stonetown was time for me to be a tourist. It was actually quite a culture shock to see so many wazungu tourists wandering round the narrow streets in huge tour groups in short shorts – nothing like Pemba! It’s clear to see why Stonetown is so popular though – a wonderful mix of Swahili, Arabic, Indian and European culture and peoples, shops full of spices, bright kitangas and jewellery, markets full of strange looking fish, groups of men drinking coffee and playing dominos on the street corners, spicy Indian foods and cocktail bars overlooking the harbour. Zanzibar’s famous doors are everywhere, even simple and crumbling buildings have an impressive decorated door.
Stonetown market - fish and spices
Visiting the old Slave Market
Iced coffee and a newspaper, possibly the highlight of the whole trip
On Friday I took a small boat out to Prison Island, a small island just a few kilometres away which was originally used as a prison and then a quarantine zone during the British Empire. Now it has a hotel and a turtle sanctuary. I think this was my first turtle encounter - they were as big as me (if I was turtle shaped), have heads like snakes and even make a hissing sound. They didn’t eat me alive, so I think we’re friends…
Arriving at Prison Island
Making friends with the turtles
Snorkelling off Prison Island
Then it was up early on Saturday morning, another stomach churning trip back across to Pemba, two squished dala-dala trips later and I was back home, with a huge pile of laundry to do in the muddy lake.
Watching sunset from Africa House, the old English Club
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