Days 10-12 (Zanzibar): Native Piph, A Heavy Past, & Octopus on a Stick

Cruising outside of the gates of the hotel and beach was beautiful in a different way. Dark faces, bright natural colors, and beautiful foliage were on deck. We went about an hour into the heart of Zanzibar into the main area called Stone Town. In there (and the rest of Tanzania) standard conversation went something like this:

Me: Jambo (hello)
(Any) Tanzanian man: Jambo. [insert hella long Swahili sentences here]
Me (w/ a smirk): Nah. I’m from America. Like most there, I’m dumb and only speak English.
TM: Oh, sorry. I thought you were from here. [insert another hella long Swahili response]
Me: My G...we just spoke about this.
TM: Oh, you’re serious? I just thought you goofy. Sorry. Good to see you brutha.

This did my unidentified, stolen from my heritage black man’s soul proud. I’ve never tricked on a DNA test to find out where my roots lie. Although I doubt it’s East Africa, when the FEDS eventually start looking for me for either being the revolution’s food tester or pulling this Soderbergh heist I’ve been planning, I know a place where I could blend in.

Anyway, we hit the market full of dope sights, sounds, and smells. Ok. You called it,I’m lying about the smells. Due to butcher shops walks, seafood markets with squids laid out like Banana Republic socks, and the selling and usage of every spice except Old...the scents got intense quick. It is what it be. I travel a lil bit and have been in markets as such before, so my hoe-bred American nose got used to it quickly.

I did the same type of shopping I normally do at markets and malls, which is buy nothing. However, mom dukes more than picked up the slack as she’s good to purchase baby clothes for seeds that none of her children have and she can’t. But let me find out them blue pills that dad got in the mail aren’t the multivitamins for osteoporosis that he said they were. Hol’up...is that what he meant by “bone density”?!? Anyway, this just got disturbing, let’s proceed...

Food:  It’s good. I eats bruh. Adventurously eat too which often leaves the belly on MJ kicks, but I lives dat lyfe. After chilling in the hotel at the special beach buffet on our final night, I found out that grilled octopus skewers (see pic) are my new crack. Although each clearly visible tentacle is like, “You know I’m an octopus, right?”, my gastric fluids were raised properly. #GetInMyBelly

For the buffett's big bang, some brethren from Stone Town rolled through to perform. They did stunts, flipped, literally jumped through hoops, and other junk that you tag folks in comment sections to peep. I can’t lie, I was amazed. Then inspired. Then even strategize how I could beat my body and mind up to achieve such feats as Stone Town’s Cirque du Soleil. But then I heard the lamb, rice, and cheesecake whisper “Jambo” in my left ear from behind. I smiled, turned around, and asked them, “How do you say “I want to be with you’ in Swahili?“ Jambo indeed...