Annie Shoberg: Music Festival and Trashing a Motorbike- Zanzibar, Tanzania

From the moment we heard about the music festival on the island of Zanzibar, we were game, and it was perfect timing given that we would be in Dar Es Salaam’s port at the time of the festival. At the port, Mike, Mark and I purchased $35 first class ferry tickets, a 1.5 hour ride in the air conditioned VIP room where Jackie Chan videos are shown, back to back. We stowed our giant travel bags at the Resort, and took only our small backpacks to the narrow streets of Stone Town. Rooms were sold out and many people’s reservations were not honored, so finding a room was challenging. Our taxi took us from one full hotel to the next, so we were happy when we found something available, an oversized third floor room with dorm-style mattresses on the floor at Manch Lodge. There was no air conditioning available, but at least there were mosquito nets and fans.

By day, we explored the streets, snapping photos of the picturesque doorways and various people hanging out. In the narrow streets of Zanzibar we found a local newspaper displaying the good news: Egypt’s President Mubarack had finally stepped down after two weeks of protests. We were relieved to have our regularly scheduled departure flight out of Cairo- everything was back on track.

It was hot and sweaty on the island, so we sought out shade by eating progressive meals: crepes and coffee for breakfast at the guesthouse followed by latte and ice cream at Mi Amore’s for brunch, Lebanese lunch at the Green Garden, then beer at the Africa House while waiting for the ocean-side sun to set, all followed by grilled festival seafood and freshly pressed sugarcane juice with lime after dark. Between shaded snacks, I found a simple $7 silver wedding ring with a teardrop diamond to show that I was married rather than Mark’s sister (a common question which has surfaced repeatedly). I loved the shopkeeper who, without me even asking, admitted the ring was a fake that would only last a few years. The shopkeeper and I had such a pleasant negotiation that I wanted to linger and buy more from her shop simply to visit longer.

The five day Bosura music festival attracted various artists from all over Africa. We bought $20 one night tickets at the Old Fort and stepped inside to hear the drums of a Zambian dance troupe dressed in black and white cow-like attire. The performance was a bit childish, but still, I was happy because we were outside listening to music at an Africa music festival. Surprisingly, the crowd wasn’t dancing, but there was an energetic response to a big mama’s performance- she really knew how to shake it. My favorite performer of the night was a Kenyan woman who had bright red hair like Rihanna. She was a brilliant drummer and during each song, she interacted with the audience, involving everyone by teaching a key dance move or chorus line.

The following morning, we decided to cruise to picturesque Nungwi and Kendwa Beach. Mark and I rented a dirtbike while Mike opted for a red scooter. Renting motorbikes is one of Mark’s and my favorite things to do when we travel, so we were really excited to explore Zanzibar in this style, but in the back of our minds, we were thinking about a guy we met before getting on the ferry. The guy had just lost his eye in a motorcycle accident in Zanzibar. We were horrified. I think he was still in shock. Anyway, with this image in mind, we cruised through the narrow streets to the main road heading north. The road was filled with hazards like bikes, pedestrians, trucks, and the occasional pothole. Mike was a little nervous because it was his first time, but he did great through the gravel, bridges, towns, and open stretches. We stopped in a small seaside town for mangos, jackfruit, soda, and pictures before continuing north. We waved to kids who yelled in excitement from their villages. At Kendwa beach, we were overjoyed by the beauty of the white sand beaches and crystal clear waters.

We continued toward Nungwi Beach and as we slowed for a speed bump, I signaled with my hand for Mike to slow down for the bump. I immediately heard an awful screeching sound behind me and turned to see Mike’s scooter skidding forward on its side and him skidding separately on the ground, like someone flying down a slide, over the bump, continuing on the road, and finally to a skidding stop and run on the road’s shoulder. “No, no, no,” I worried, followed by “Shit! Oh, shit!” “Stop!” I yelled to Mark. We pulled over, and before we could get to Mike, the locals had already gathered around him and picked up his scooter which no longer worked. It was dented and smashed on the skidded side, and the handle bar was smashed up, but more importantly, Mike was slightly banged up, but overall okay. He would end up with a golf-ball size welt on his butt from skidding, but the other scratches were minor, two on his arm and one on his foot (his sandal went sliding off in the incident). His expensive leather camera case and leatherman sheath had taken a significant portion of the impact and skid. Mike was worried about how much it was going to cost to repair, but Mark and I were simply relieved he still had both eyes.

The locals told us there was an auto repair shop just down the street, so Mike pushed the now derelict scooter down the street. At the repair shop, half a dozen guys started disassembling the bike. With a hammer and broken chunk of flip flop sandal, they pounded out the bulk of the dents. The handle bars were disassembled and straightened on a wooden stump by beating them with a hammer. During this process, Mark and I searched for food to combat what looked like shock. It probably wasn’t any comfort, but Mark and I tried to encourage him by sharing stories about how common these type of accidents are. By the time the bike was running again, we were short on time to get back and reach our ferry (the last one goes out at 3:30pm). Mike paid 12,000 shillingi ($8 USD) for the repairs, but he was worried about how much the owners would want for the remaining cosmetic damages when we returned to the lodge. We rode back without incident and as we slowly weaved through the narrow streets of Stone Town, we realized in the last block or two that we had lost Mike. I walked back to see if he had maybe taken a wrong turn, but started laughing when I saw him pushing the bike with a discouraged and heated look on his face. I asked if he was okay, and he relayed the story about the last turn where he accidentally popped the clutch and the bike took off from underneath him and mangled itself on the tall curb. I felt so bad for him, but couldn’t stop laughing. That scooter was thrashed. In addition to the dented rear wheel cover and distorted handle-bars, the front was now cracked and dented. It was now 3:15pm, and we were in a rush to get our bags and a taxi to the 3:30pm ferry, and the owners weren’t around, so Mike parked the bike at the entrance and we made a mad dash for the ferry. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have suggested leaving money in the bike for repairs, but we were all in a hurry, so, I’m not proud of it, but we just left the dilapidated bike sitting there without paying for repairs. Pole (sorry). If I were that owner, I’d ask for a deposit next time around.. and I’d really think twice before renting to first-time drivers.

We had one last night at the lovely Resort in Dar, one last lovely supper of broccoli and peas and dahl and red wine, one last dip in the pool, one last night of cool air conditioning, then at 7:30am, we started our 13 hour journey to Arusha. We wished Mike well as he parted the bus ride in the mountains of Mombo, a mountainous village area that he could use to train for the marathon. He had been great to travel with- I feel totally safe with Mark, but with an extra male along, I never worried about dangers; there was always someone to watch my bags or walk me to a sketchy bathroom, a third opinion as to whether or not I should buy something, another mouth to eat whatever food I couldn’t finish, another party to split cab fare with... and then we were back to two in the wolfpack :-)