Cyber Ethiopia

In Part I and II we went on the Spice tour and through the slave markets of Zanzibar. Now the tour continues. Sites in the Stone Town Apart from being built on the slave trade and ivory, both of which were industries of death, Zanzibar has a nasty history of class domination and conflict. Up until the revolution of 1964, Stone Town was reserved for the Arab and Indian upper classes. Beginning with the Portuguese, each ruling class printed their mark on the city. The Portuguese are represented only by some ruins from their era of domination, which was begun in the 1560's and helped maintain Portuguese control of Zanzibar until 1698, when the Omani Arabs tossed them out. The slave trade grew under the Sultans of

Oman, peaking in the mid nineteenth century. Stone town prospered, with many of the forts and palaces coming from this period. The large Arab fort on the waterfront was started in 1698 to consolidate the ownership of Zanzibar by the Omanis against the defeated Portuguese. Part of the old Portuguese church can still be seen in the walls of the fort, which was symbolically built over top of the razed church. There are plenty of old looking palaces in Zanzibar town, including the neighbours of the Arab fort, and the National Museum. Most of these actually date from the period of British ascendancy, which grew from the 1840's to the formalization of the acceptance of the British protectorate over the Sultans in 1890. The earlier sultans preferred to build their luxury palaces in the countryside, which was much safer from the regular epidemics the unsanitary Stone town suffered from. The European era left many buildings - traders houses, official residences and offices, and other colonial structures. These are often very elaborate, such as the Dispensary, the Old Customs House, the House of Wonders and others. The narrow passages of the Arab town also harbour many treasures - most buildings are multi storey, and it is worth looking up from the ornate doors to see the wood carvings and decorations above. The story goes that the class system in Stone town was very rigorous - the higher you were on the social scale the higer the storey you lived on. The class and race system of Zanzibar survived under the British Protectorate, and even into independence for the Island. Long held resentments finally welled up in the revolution of 1964, which saw the majority blacks rise up against the Arabs and Indians, slaughtering 17,000 in just one day. Although many Arabs and Indians remain on the island, most of the survivors left after the uprising. Zanzibar subsequently joined the independent mainland country of Tanganyika to form Tanzania. The suburbs surrounding the Stone town are composed of slums, and Soviet style apartment blocks, built during the 'revolutionary' phase. After the interesting architecture and relative prosperity of Stone town, the rest of the city is particularly unattractive. The rest of Zanzibar Island The first sight of Zanzibar which many visitors have is the airport south of the Stone town. You know you are in the Third World. The palm fringed runway drops you at a decrepit terminal, which greets you with torpid heat and crush and confusion of bodies. I'm sure the airport could be worse organized, but I really couldn't tell you how. Confusing line ups lead you to the vaccination card checks, visa table, or immigration, all staffed by lackluster and uninterested staff. Once this ordeal has been hurdled, you can enter the crush to get your luggage, which is pulled from carts one by one by staff, who wave it around until the owner can struggle through the crush to retrieve it. The final hurdle is the customs check, which is difficult to find in the crush, consisting of a row of staff ready to pick through your underwear to find who knows what. You emerge from the terminal, sweat soaked and harassed, to another crush - this time of taxi drivers and touts - all determined to rip you off in their own special way. The real advantage of the airport is that the rest of the visit is so nice by contrast. Apparently the roads in Zanzibar have improved enormously in quality in the 1990's. There are now good paved roads to major destinations in the South and the North, although the roads across the island are somewhat narrow and occasionally potholed. The roads to more remote spots are about the same as all the roads were a short while ago–dirty, muddy, and barely passable. In a way I find this refreshing. Zanzibar was less developed and touristy than I expected - there is a lot of untouched forest and plenty of remote and empty places. Near the airport south of Stone town, lie one of the terrific old ruins of Zanzibar - the Mboweni ruins. Built on the ruins of this 130 year old girls school is a modern, overpriced hotel. Palaces line the route further south of Zanzibar and to the north of town, close enough for easy access by horse carriage, but far enough to avoid the deadly stench of 19th century Stone Town. North of stone town, you pass through the attractively named Bububu. There is a typical story about the town. The guide tells you that Bububu is name after the sound of the train, which ran on a short track 6 miles up from Stone town. Actually, Bububu was named that before the train was dreamed up. It's fascinating to see how some creative guide thinks these things up and then it becomes an urban legend accepted by everyone. Mangwapani Caves Past Bububu and the ruins of more palaces, is another fascinating and morbid reminder of the slave trade. At Mangapwani you come to an insignificant looking stone stairs going down into the ground. They lead down into a large cave, with a connection all the way to the sea 1km away. It is said the cave was discovered when a shepherd was looking for his goat and he heard it bleating from under a bush, which concealed the entrance to the cave. After the slave trade was formally banned in 1873, the cave became the centre for keeping and smuggling slaves out of Zanzibar. Although the stairs are steep going down into the cave, there is a railing to cling onto. My kids were convinced that I would fall in the cave. They've seen me fall in caves all over Africa - in Cango Caves and a cave near Knysna both in South Africa, and in Sof Omar caves in the Bale area of Ethiopia. The floor of the cave was slippery and slanted downwards alarmingly, but little juttings of coral provided some purchase, and I fooled the kids by not falling. There is a pool at the bottom end of the big entrance cavern, which provides clean drinking water which sustained the slaves 100 years ago. It is easier to climb out of this dip than to slide into it. I didn't brave the 1-km walk down the narrow passage of the cave to the sea–I didn't want to embarrass myself by risking a fall? The adventurous can follow the path to the sea, with the assistance of a good flashlight. A surprising part of the cave was the difficulty in breathing, particularly near the pool. I've been in plenty of caves, but this was the first time I'd experienced breathing difficulties, and this is commonly known as a problem in the cave. For the hundreds of slaves crowded into this small space (up to 800), there was ironically enough fresh water, but not enough air.