We are now at Paul's mid-break time. We had a sad (tearful for me, and Grace) goodbye in Moshi and have arrived in Zanzibar, an island off the coast of Tanzania. We are staying along a rural stretch of the mid-east coastline and I GET THE HYPE about Zanibar now. It is nearly impossible to feel that there is anything amiss in the world when you are here. The beach is a blindly white, soft, smooth confection like creation of fine coral, the Indian Ocean is like a tepid bath, the warmest water the kids and I have ever been in (Paul already was in the Indian Ocean for his post rural party weekend). The kids were in the water as soon as we finished eating our late lunch yesterday and in all day today as well. There were only a total of 6 other tourists in sight this whole time and it turns out we know two of them. Yesterday the eldest repeatedly said this is truly paradise. We had planned on spending 2 nights in Stone Town (think big ornate doors with metal fittings and crumbling buildings, old Person bathhouses and Indian Jones movies) but we love it here so much we decided to stay one extra night here and one less in Stone Town.
After breakfast we all walked out to a sand bar/reef area about a quarter of a mile off shore. In order to get there we made our way out between the colorfully (fully) clad women harvesting and tending to their seaweed farms all the while treading carefully among the countless urchins carpeting the low recessed rocks (or more accurately worn down coral). The seaweed they harvest is one that looks like a semi firm/gelatinous tree coral. Apparently it is dried and processed into a stabilizer (like agar) for cosmetics etc (this along with tourism and spices is the main economic source), here and there were bursts of living coral making me wish over and over for a mask just to get a clear peak at them. I have limited Swahili and it's also situational. We learned how to get by in town, at shops, restaurants, swimming pools and the like. I am completely lost when the women here do more than greet us as we wade by. I am not sure if they are saying 'hey asshole get out of my area of seaweed farm!' or 'don't go out to the reef there is a rain storm blowing in' (there was) or 'how lovely to see a family' or 'watch out for the urchins'. We did have an interesting conversation with a former Dutch man here who runs a seaweed farm here and on another island. He and a partner originally set the ones they run up as a way for women to be able to earn more money and then be more empowered. There are studies that have shown if women are able to earn more the rate of domestic abuse goes down, it is interesting how one conscientious business model can have rippling effects, just as an amoral business model can devastate an area.
Naturally we were delighted to be out at the sandy 'reef' area. I say 'reef' because it was very low laying old coral that was covered with seaweed and little bits of sea life. Exploring coastal tidal areas in any sea is just about my favorite thing to do and the 4 of us all enjoy it. There were a few fishermen (for lack of a better term) walking about with sticks. Some had bags and I began to feel suspicious that they might be looking for octopus. One man walked by us with dingy white pants, the front pocket areas were all grey/black (I thought he might handle a lot of charcoal and wipe his hands on his pants?) he had a bit of banana fiber tied around his chest and his shirt had a knot in the middle. This knot must have been to hold his shirt tight so it wouldn't flap ceaselessly in the breeze. It was a little unclear to me what he'd be hunting? fishing? for. He had one long stick and two or three short ones, he would be quickly poking them at a spot them moving on like an anteater. I kept him in sight for any exciting harvest and wasn't disappointed! Paul (he was the one to say I think he is looking for octopus) saw he had one and I sprinted the 20 yards over. He had one and let me hold the stunned mollusk, by the siphon. He was beautiful and I felt bad for him but that is the way it goes. He was creamy with yellows and blues and darling eyes, much smaller than our Giant Pacific. He then took him and quickly stuffed him in his front pockets, solving the question of the black stains: ink! Later on shore I found out that (and saw) people take and pound them in the sand to tenderize. I tried to get one guy to give me beak and either he didn't understand at all or he truly did toss it away so no beak. Maybe another time.
I have also realized that no matter what you think a little shower water gets in your mouth. I thought I did a good job not getting it in my mouth but the shower and tap water here is brackish and I taste the salt when I shower so I am obviously not doing a good job. The fun things you think about when your partner and his entire social circle are studying tropical disease is how many things you can get walking bare foot in the sand (I am anyway) and how very very small some cysts and eggs are that you can get via water and how you only need 1 to be infected.
