jueves, 30 de agosto de 2012

Do You Need a Spoon?


VAGABUNDO MAGAZINE

Do You Need a Spoon?


Me hiking and looking awkward
“Do you need a spoon?” A metal spoon is shoved in my face. I shake my head, blushing, motioning that no, I’m fine feeding myself with my hand, hoping my hosts don’t notice that most of my rice is in my lap. Unfortunately, I’m left handed, so eating saucy rice with my right hand looks something like watching a monkey use a tool for the first time, but I’m going for it. I can’t make the cultural faux pas (again) of eating with my left hand – the poop hand.
It’s Eid in Zanzibar. That means two things: a four-day celebration of Muslims whooping it up after spending the last 29 days fasting during daylight hours, and biryani. Biryani is the tastiest frickin’ thing I’ve eaten in days and the cosmic unfairness of most of it ending up on my lap instead of in my mouth is making me want to cry. Also making me want to cry is the stifled snorts of laughter from my Zanzibari friend across the room, sitting with the men and successfully managing his own motor skills well enough to feed himself like an adult.
My social awkwardness was at threat level 9 the entire meal, but as we were leaving I was profoundly thankful. In my butchered Swahili I tried to express my thanks to the women of the house, putting my hand over my heart. There was rice there, so I brushed it off subtly, hoping the sweeping motion would emphasize the gesture. No matter how cripplingly awkward you can be (and by you I mean I), there’s something pretty cool about being welcomed into a special family event by strangers.

Breaking fast with friends during Ramadan (photo credit: Kait Keet)How did I end up here? Last November, I was offered a one-year job placement in Zanzibar completely out of the blue. As they made the job offer, I had to ramble on to disguise my ignorance while frantically Googling to determine that yes, Zanzibar is a real place and not just a fun word to say. At the beginning of winter in the Canadian subarctic, a sudden job offer on an island paradise seemed like someone’s cruel joke. Somehow, less than four months later, I found myself walking off a ferry into the blinding tropical sun of Stone Town, Zanzibar.
Zanzibar is an archipelago of two main islands:  resort-dotted Unguja, and its relatively undeveloped sister island, Pemba. Semi-autonomous from Tanzania, Zanzibar is over 90% Islamic and has a fascinating history of centuries of
My Stone Town hood.Arabic, Indian and African cultural confluence. My new home would be in the heart of Stone Town, a maze of crumbling centuries-old buildings and narrow streets that is Zanzibar’s cosmopolitan political and sociocultural capital.
By contrast, my hometown is basically Mars. With midnight sun in the summers and near-complete darkness in the winters, Yellowknife only became a city in 1970 and attracts the outliers of social normalcy. Only a certain breed survives the frontier mentality, isolation, deep cold and the lack of entertainment (you’ve never been to an ugly truck and dog contest? Well let me tell you, my friend, you are missing out.) I managed to entertain myself fairly well with the typical folly of youth, but the larger world beckoned. My travel experiences had thus far been limited to a few months of backpacking here and there, primarily in Central and North America and Eastern Europe. I wanted something new.
The last six months have been a crash course in Africa, Islam, and my own occasionally entertaining incompetence. It’s been a rollercoaster of intense highs, frustrating lows and learning that there’s a lot more to this place than meets the eye. Just like Optimus Prime.
Late afternoon on the Zanzibar sandbank
I have six more months left in Zanzibar. In that time, I’ll be traveling to Ethiopia to hike the Simien Mountains, see the churches carved out of rock atLalibela, and eat my weight in local food. I’ll be hosting my parents on their second tour out of North America. I’ll be continuing to explore the island of Zanzibar by bike and go deeper down the rabbit hole of local culture and custom.
Next spring, when my contract is up, I’ll be heading south as far as my funds will allow. The goal? To travel overland to the southern tip of Africa, hitting Mozambique, Malawi, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, and South Africa along the way. See you on the other side.

No hay comentarios:

Publicar un comentario