I started to breathe in the fact that it was nearly time to move on again. When I booked this trip of a lifetime,Zanzibar had sounded so romantic and I was intrigued by the fact they grew so many spices so it wasn’t difficult to fill up my next to last day after the first 2. Dives with a Spice tour. This was going to be followed by a guided walk around the Old Stone town on the west coast where Freddie Mercury was born.
All the while, I knew each day brought me nearer to Brisbane and Matthew. It was a kind of nervous excitement but I had to fill every minute with absorbing and taking in this tiny island off Tanzania.
The hotel was a jewel really, set on different heights with several pools and a genuine mixture of guests from all over. But it seemed almost empty and I wondered if this was because I was used to the mayhem of tourists that flock to Mediterranean beaches. Its the little things you notice and although the cluster of deeply thatched roofs linked together by walkways of Bougainvilla pergolas were supremely pretty, and it was a perfect spot for honeymooners, there were so many staff who shyly kept to themselves. That morning, as I came down the steps from my room,the chamber girls were ready to pull back the mosquito nets and clean, but this one girl only had one arm and was carrying at least a dozen or so water bottles. I don’t know how she managed but I’m glad she was employed.
My ride was waiting. Usef, complete with White Fez and long white tunic didn’t trouble me at all, nor did his initial silence. It was the sparkling tinsel right across his dashboard and a lilac frilled tissue box that caught my eye. I would be driving for an hour before we reached the Spice farm and his car was immaculate. The floor was covered in pretty green Lino with fresh mineral water to drink laid out for me. And it was air conditioned!!! He was immaculate too, I almost felt that I couldn’t shake his hand in case I dirtied him. But I needn’t have worried, he soon warmed up and chatted to me , pointing out his village as we jostled through. Those little villages in the centre uplands of Zanzibar had a kind of orderliness about them. Children walking to school, girls in full Muslim dress and the boys in matching colours, the women carrying loads on their heads and greeting everyone as they passed by, and goats being herded off he road in between village huts made from the materials of the earth. I was to see later that Stone Town was completely different.
But it was the turn of the Spice boys. Come to think of it I was having no direct contact with any women, it was always the men that looked after me.
The Spice farm didn’t disappoint and the sweetest things happened. Omar, introduced himself with good English under a jack fruit tree where the men workers were sprawled out and taking a break. Have you ever seen a jack fruit tree? It was huge and the fruit hung like the biggest green balls you can imagine. How they remained on the tree, I’m not sure. Yes, I can hear you laughing…a very masculine tree!!
A pretty boy accompanied us, his hands moving continuously with banana leaf strips that he was weaving. He said his name was James Bond but it was Jumo really. Omar opened up a garden of delights, scraping the soil and showing me the ginger roots, green cardamon flowers hung lusciously pink and white like pendulous sweets, while black cardamon flowers struggled out from big leafy rosettes way down at soil level. It was wonderful traipsing through this sample garden, watching Omar scrape the bark away from a cinnamon tree, and holding bunches of green vanilla pods that hung from their vine like ladies fingers, having to be hand fertilised..and all the while jumo’s fingers weaved away. It made me laugh when Omar broke open the woolly casing from a mace tree, opening up the bright red striped shell that nestled a nutmeg inside…this is a dye he said used for many things….at which point Jumo rubbed his fingers on the crushed red skin and applied it to his lips. He put a red spot on his forehead and transformed himself into a woman. ? As we laughed, he presented me with a banana leaf woven ring, tied a bracelet to my wrist,crowned me with a flower laden woven hat and handed me a beautiful hand bag. Finally, there was a frog charm he tied round my neck as a necklace…all from leaves.
I was touched and enchanted to see how my Spice kitchen grew. The king of Spice was the clove but only the government will sell that on, the queen of Spice is the cinnamon tree, but for me the Spice boys won the day……I was captured but not a slave…that was later