Mo mafelong a masha

When life gets busy, writing becomes rather difficult, almost like wading through thick molasses. It is in my downtime, when I am able to think, able to breathe, when the writing starts to flow again.

It has been a month since my last update. In that time, I have explored two new countries and gotten visits from multiple special guests. It has been a whirlwind of magical memories, but in the chaos, I fear that I have neglected this blog. I hope you’ll accept my apology in the form of two blog updates this week, one describing my experiences at the end of July and the other about the beginning of August.

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Maun, Botswana

I had just seen an ostrich on the side of the road.

The ostrich was bending down to eat something, possibly the African sage or another plant, and it started to flap its wings. It wasn’t particularly strange to see them along the road to Maun, but it suddenly struck me as something that I would never see once I returned to the United States unless perhaps a zoo was unleashed into the streets.

It was the beginning of my week-long, midterm break, and I had driven to Maun to get on a plane the next day. I stayed with my ETA mentor and friend who has graciously offered up her spare room whenever I might need it.

I spent the night there, and then, just before my flight the next afternoon, I got chai with my friend at my favorite cafe in Maun.

Johannesburg, South Africa

Because of the timing of flights, I had to spend the night in Johannesburg with two of the other ETA’s. Despite spending a lot of time in O.R. Tambo, I had never actually left the airport.

As we drove to our airbnb, I noticed gated communities with tall walls. Security guards waited at the gate to let cars through. I wondered whether these were the scars of apartheid that I had read so much about. Or perhaps, it was just the nature of class divides. It was impossible to tell in such a short amount of time.

Nairobi, Kenya

Our plane to Nairobi was two hours late. It was July 13th, and my friend, another Botswana ETA named Ajani, and I were trying to fly to Mombasa. We were going to stay with one of the ETA’s in Kenya, Charity. And our flight was delayed. By two hours. By the time we arrived in Nairobi, we were already too late to catch our next flight.

So, we ran around trying to figure out when we could get to Mombasa. At first, we tried to figure out whether we should fly out on the next flight at 12am or the morning flight at 7am. Both would make us absolutely exhausted. Finally, we made the decision to ask whether any other airlines had flights. Luckily, we were able to get onto a flight on another airline, and we arrived in Mombasa that night around 11 pm. It was a chaotic night, but we were happy to arrive at our destination.

Mombasa, Kenya

*View of Mombasa from Charity's apartment*

Our first day in Mombasa was filled with lots of food and history. We started the day with a Swahili breakfast, including some fried dough called mahamri and fried potatoes called viazi. Then, we headed off in a tuk tuk to Old Town to visit Fort Jesus.

Each tuk tuk was intricately designed with advertisements, wallpaper, or sometimes trinkets which showed the personalities of the drivers. As we drove into the heart of the city, it struck me how truly different each region in Africa was. The humidity, the tuk tuks, and the architecture were all so different from what I had known in Southern Africa and even what I had seen during my quick trip to Senegal. I had known this, of course, as I studied the African continent and its diaspora for five years, but to see the diversity, it was striking. Swahili culture itself was so distinct, so charming.

Fort Jesus, built by the Portuguese in the 16th century, was captured about nine times by groups hoping to control trade along the Indian Ocean. The fort was large, with thick walls of rough stone and beautiful doors brought over from Zanzibar. We spent some time there as Charity explained the history, and we even bought earrings from a local artist.

Then, once we left the fort, Charity showed us around Old Town, the oldest part of Mombasa.

Known for its eclectic, historic architecture, Old Town is a mix of Swahili, Islamic, and Portuguese buildings. As Charity walked us around, I found myself enamored by the collection of overhanging balconies, narrow streets, and intricate, Islamic detailing along the facades of the buildings.

Soon after, we stopped for coffee at an outdoor coffee stand that Charity frequents. We waited on benches as the owner prepared cups for us, and he brought them over to us on a tray. The coffee looked light and it had an auburn color. I had never seen coffee that looked like this. It was ginger coffee, Charity explained. And as I took a sip, it was unlike any coffee I had ever tasted. It was more tea than coffee, truly.

The owner then came around with a tray of sugary, taffy-like candy that we pulled apart with our fingers. He showed us how to twist and pull the candy from the tray, and when we finished our tea, he asked if we wanted another cup. We, of course, replied yes.

After that, we stopped in a restaurant to have some chicken biryani, masala fries, and sugar cane juice. It was all delicious, but I had so much to eat by that point that I think I may have overdone it.

That night, another Botswana ETA, JoyceLyn, arrived. We sat on the couch talking and relaxing, but by that point, I was starting to feel horrible. I had had too much to eat and drink, I think, and my stomach was overwhelmed. I do not think it was food poisoning since I had the same foods as everyone else, but at times, I guess my stomach overreacts. I think I had just had too much, too fast.

It took me hours to get over it, and I felt so bad for making my friends worry about me. When it was time for me to sleep, though, I felt a bit better. And by the morning, though I was feeling some lasting effects, I was ready for the day ahead.

Diani, Kenya

On Monday, we boarded a ferry to Diani with the intention to go to a hair salon and to see other ETA’s in Kenya. As our tuk tuk approached the small shop on the side of the road, we entered the salon, where three workers were quickly yet carefully braiding and doing someone’s nails. It was a single, small room and three chairs sat in front of the mirror. We were greeted by the workers and JoyceLyn and I got our hair braided while Ajani got her nails done.

We arrived around 11 am, and one of the stylists got started on my hair, parting each section carefully. We soon found a rhythm as she took each pack of braiding hair and handed me a chunk so that I could separate it into pieces. As she braided, I got lost in the soft pull of her hands and the drum of afrobeats through the salon speakers.

JoyceLyn and I sat in the salon for around seven hours. When we finally left to have dinner, I was exhausted and still feeling dull waves of nausea, but my hair looked absolutely beautiful. The parts were pronounced, the hair flowed down to my back. The hair was not too heavy, the braids were not too tight. I felt fresh and lovely.

At dinner, we dipped our feet into the beautifully warm waters of the Indian Ocean. It was almost like taking a warm bath, especially in the cool night air. The restaurant was right along the water, and we were joined by another Kenya ETA who lived in Diani. I couldn’t be as present as I wanted to be because of how exhausted I was and because of the nausea, but it ended up being a lovely dinner.

Zanzibar, Tanzania

The next afternoon, Ajani and I left to go to the Mombasa airport to take a quick flight to Zanzibar. I was probably the most excited to visit this island out of all of the places I’d traveled so far because I had studied and read about Zanzibar, or more specifically stone town, and its architecture in university. We had read extensively about the Zanzibar doors and the unique aspects of Zanzibar’s architecture. I was, frankly, a nerd about it.

Ajani and I were also excited because we missed the beach. It was summer in the U.S., and I think my body knew that I needed to be near saltwater. It was calling to me, desperately. And as soon as we flew over the crystal blue waters, I was in heaven.

We stayed at an all-inclusive resort, and Ajani and I were in awe when we arrived. Sea Cliff Resort and Spa was fifteen minutes from Zanzibar City, with two pools, private beach access, two restaurants, and a bar. And, our room had a beautiful view of the ocean. It was one of the nicest places I’ve ever stayed in.

We hopped into the pool pretty soon after we got there. Then, after a few passionfruit mojitos and a lovely meal, Ajani and I headed back to our room to prepare for the next day.

On Wednesday morning, we got up to go kayaking at our resort. The current was quite strong, but we maneuvered our way around the mangroves and cliffs at the shore. After that, we headed in a taxi to go to Stone Town for a private, guided tour. As we drove, a lot of the women along the road were wearing modest clothing and hijabs or niqabs. Even the uniforms for the school children featured a hijab, usually white. The Islamic influence on the island was so much starker than in Kenya where Christianity was more popular, despite both places being only a short boat trip apart.

*Kayaking at Sea Cliff (Photo Credit- Ajani)*

When we arrived, we met our guide, Hassan, at Old Fort. Like Fort Jesus, Old Fort is another Portuguese fort in East Africa, with a long history of being repossessed by different groups. In the 1600’s, the Omanis completely rebuilt the structure, and our guide showed us where the old Portuguese walls had been. Near the entrance, Hassan also taught us Swahili phrases. Jambo, Asante, Pole Pole, and of course Hakuna Matata were phrases that we were taught. And, everywhere we went, we learned more snippets of Swahili.

After leaving the fort, we walked around to see the town, and each time I came to a door, I had to stop and admire the devastatingly beautiful craftmanship. In Zanzibar, there are three types of doors: the Indian door, the Swahili door and the Arabic door.

Each door tells a story.

The most defining characteristics of the doors are the bronze, bell-shaped knobs and the intricate carvings, but each style changes based on the culture, the religion, and the status of the owner. The Arabic doors often feature script from the Quran, the Swahili doors are older and feature carvings of lotus, fish, and vines, and the Indian doors have small square panels. Some doors have a flat upper lintel while others have an arched top. All of these features combine to offer a beautiful, handmade art form.

Other than the doors, the rest of the architecture was also stunning. Expansive, breezy courtyards and walls made with coral covered the town. And in the center of the town, there was a central meeting place where people gathered, with coffee and food. We also walked through the marketplace where people sold spices, fruit, fish, and more. It was overwhelming but so beautiful.

On the way back to our resort, our taxi driver stopped to pick up fresh coconuts for us to drink, and we went back to the resort and had an amazing dinner with a spectacular band playing music as we ate.

On Thursday, Ajani and I planned a full-day tour around Zanzibar. We started at Mnemba Beach, where we snorkeled and saw dolphins. The water was clear and gorgeous, with colorful fish and coral. Next, we kayaked in a clear boat on Kendwa Beach over starfish and coral. While it was fun and interesting to look through the boat to see the creatures below, we were restricted to a small area and the waves were rather strong, so we returned to the shore pretty quickly.

The highlight of the day, though, was when we went to a spice farm and did a cooking class with the chef there. When we arrived at this beautiful, jungle-like farm, we were escorted into a wooden, thatched, open-air structure with charcoal braziers along the edge. Rugs were laid out across the ground, and in the center, there was a large container with a bunch of spices, all in their natural form.

The chef greeted us and placed fabric around our waist and hair. Then, we started cooking. We chopped onions, potatoes and carrots with a dull knife, ground up the spices and herbs with a mortar and pestle, and then placed all of it in the pan.

*Using a mortar and pestle to cook at the traditional cooking class (Photo Credit- Ajani)*

*The meal with the five dishes that we made as well as some extra dishes*

At certain points, it started to rain as well, and the pitter patter of rain on the roof and on the leaves of the trees created such a heavenly atmosphere. Finally, when the dishes were ready, we sat down to eat. The dishes were split up between Ajani and I, so she made curry, coconut relish, and chapati while I made pilau and falafel. Together with some prepared meat and salads, our meal was absolutely delicious. The coconut relish paired beautifully with the falafel, and the pilau had a beautiful mixture of spices.

We then went to Mangapwani, where our resort was, to ride horses along the beach. It was late into the afternoon at the point, and the horses were a welcome break after the chaos of cooking.

For our final stop, our guide brought us to the market in Stone Town to buy spices and other objects in the market. Then, we returned to our resort and had a lovely Swahili meal before heading to bed.

*Ajani and I with a Prison Island tortoise*

On our final morning in Zanzibar, we took a boat to Prison Island, where we learned about the history of the place and saw beautiful giant tortoises who were brought to the island to be protected from harm. The island, once designed to be a prison, has now become a protective place.

Our tour guide, Hassan, who was also the guide at our Stone Town tour, was so helpful and even had us take an impromptu trip to Nakupenda Beach. The beach was absolutely breathtaking, a small strip of beach completely surrounded by ocean. As we arrived, the waves were coming in on both sides of the small strip, almost fighting for control of the beach.

We stopped there only for a moment, but if I ever return to Zanzibar, I think I would spend a whole afternoon there swimming in that warm, crystal blue water.

When it was finally time to say goodbye, I think both Ajani and I already wanted to come back to Zanzibar.

There was still so much that we hadn’t explored, hadn’t learned about the island. Even writing about it now, there are so many beautiful, incredible things that I have left out about my time there. The island was filled to the brim with tourists, more than I had ever seen anywhere in Africa, and the island revolves around tourism so heavily that it was hard not to feel a sense of hospitality, a sense of welcoming.

But, even with all of the tourists, the people of Zanzibar showed just how much they loved their island. While talking with our guides, they told us about how they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. And throughout my trip, I began to see why.

*Drinks at Sea Cliff (Photo Credit- Ajani)*

Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

Ajani and I took the ferry across the channel to Dar es Salaam. We were staying in a hotel there overnight to catch a red-eye flight the next morning.

Dar es Salaam is a huge city, with skyscrapers and a marketplace that is well-known. While Ajani and I did not visit the market, I asked our uber driver to drive past it so that I could see it. We were told that Kariakoo market would not be a good place to go unless we had a local with us, someone who could show us around and keep us safe, so we just drove past. There were lots of shops and stands that we could see, selling food or handbags or shoes.

Dar es Salaam felt very different from other African cities that I had visited. It was perhaps most similar to Dakar, I thought, with its eclectic mix of modern and traditional buildings. The Islamic influence was apparent as well in the city. As we drove through Kariakoo and got onto the highway, there was an immediate shift from skyscrapers to very few, very small buildings and structures.

On the way to our hotel, there was also an insane amount of traffic heading out of the city. Our hotel was right outside of the airport and it was rush hour, so it took so long for us to get there. Finally, though, we arrived and ate some food before falling asleep for a few hours before our flight.

Gaborone, Botswana

Before I returned to Shakawe, I made my way to Gaborone for a few days to see my boyfriend. You might remember him as my “friend” from a couple posts back haha.

*Ajani and I at the Three Chiefs (Dikgosi) Monument*

We had been dating since May and were unfortunately long distance living 1,000 km away from each other, so I jumped at the opportunity to see him again before he left Botswana to head back home to the US and then off to Brazil for his next assignment.

We spent a few days hanging out with friends and spending time together. Ajani and I even took a brief trip to the Three Chiefs Monument when we first arrived, a testament to Botswana’s sovereignty and leadership. It is dedicated to the three dikgosi, Khama III, Sebele I, and Bathoen I, who went to Britain to ask for Botswanan independence in 1895.

I was devastated when I had to leave, since my boyfriend and I were going to be separated an even further distance for possibly a year. But, I guess I’ll have to start planning a trip to Brazil in the near future :)

Shakawe, Botswana

When I returned back to Shakawe, exams were in full swing. Luckily, I had a special guest to keep me company, another ETA! Together, we explored Shakawe for a few days, ate at my landlord’s restaurant, and we even visited Tsodilo Hills, a UNESCO heritage site just outside of Shakawe.

Tsodilo Hills is a formation of hills that the local people, the San and the Hambukushu, used for spiritual and cultural practices. The site was named a world heritage site in 2001 to protect the land and the historic rock paintings there.

There are four main rock formations, the Father, the Mother, the Son, and the Daughter. As the story goes, the family of hills used to be close until the father, the tallest hill, started to “move away” from the family. Now, the hills are spread out across the valley creating a beautiful formation.

The hills have one of the highest concentrations of rock paintings in the world. On our hike up the mountain on the Rhino Trail, our guide pointed out each painting and their significance. Animals like buffaloes and rhinos were painted to encourage good hunting or even just to show respect to the animal and male initiation ceremonies were painted to show cultural practices. It was a way to pass on knowledge and to have a connection with the land of the hills.

The hike up and around the hill was hot and exhausting but also so revitalizing, and I learned so much about the indigenous people and their relationships with the land.

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Well, if you made it this far, you earn a gold star. There’s so much more that I could say about this trip and my experiences, so I’m leaving the comments open in case anyone has questions or comments. Stay tuned for the post about August. It should hopefully be out in a day or so.

Ditsala, lelapa, botho

poetic interlude #6: cooking as mother nature stirs, or the spice of life