After spending a few days in Stonetown, I jumped on a dalla-dalla (converted pickup truck with 2 rows of bench seats facing each other) and went to the northern tip of the island to a beach called Kendwa. The journey was bruising, especially after the paved road ended. Fortunately, the views were striking. Abundant rainfall combined with highly fertile soil provide the perfect resources for lush green vegetation. Banana trees, palm trees, papyrus trees….a dense jungle paradise in any direction.
Took a thatched bungalow on the beach and then sat and stared at the most spectacular beach I’ve ever seen. Thailand, Fiji, Goa, the Mediterranean riviera’s are dirty bathwater compared to the beauty of the beaches fringing Zanzibar. The water is truly that perfect turquoise tourist brochures print but always fail to deliver. And the sand is ridiculous. As fine and white as bleached flour. No joke.
There isn’t much to write about for the next week or so since this was the routine:
Wake at 8am, breakfast on the beach at 9am, read on the beach at 10am, swim at 11am, lunch on the beach at 1pm, sleep on the beach at 2pm, swim at 3pm, read on the beach at 4pm, walk down the beach at 5pm, beer on the beach at 6pm, dinner on the beach at 7pm, bonfire on the beach at 8pm, sleep in the bungalow at 11pm.
Every meal was fresh fish less than two hours old. I was constantly exhausted from inactivity. With the exception of a sarong and some tribal jewelry I bought in India, I walked around naked every day.
A group of Masai boys walked up and down the beach every day hawking beaded jewelry handmade by their elders. (The Masai is a warrior tribe found in Kenya & Tanzania and one of the remaining few which wear traditional tribal dress). One of the boys, Olomonyak, befriended me and we hung out quite a bit. The first day I met him, he asked me what tribe I was from (an assumption based on the jewelry I was wearing). I told him Red Indian. He nodded and smiled, extending his arm to mine and saying, “welcome, my warrior brother.” He had a scar on his face, presumably some tribal initiation rite, and long braided earthy orange hair, colored with Ochra. He was heavily adorned with beadwork made by his mother. He asked if I wanted to buy anything from his bag of treats but I declined. Instead, I asked if his mother would create a custom piece for me. I sketched it out on a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to him. We agreed on a price and he left.
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