Pemba, Tanzania, Tuesday October 14th

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We hadn’t made definite plans for when we would leave Pemba. The Norwegians found out that the possible days for leaving by boat were Wednesday and Saturday, so we went with Mzee to the boat office to book for the next day, Wednesday, but no-one was there. We had a deadline to meet with the outing to Misali Island, so the receptionist at the hotel kindly offered to organise our tickets for us while we were away.

The six of us all bought some food for lunch at the market, where stall holders were busy selling fruits, vegetables, bread and a wide range of seafood. Buckets of what looked like sawdust turned out to be tiny shrimps. Mzee chose an enormous fruit called ‘bollongi’, which looked like a giant green orange. Mzee had arranged for his brother to bring his dalla dalla for transport since there were too many of us for the car. We piled into the dalla dala, remembering to keep our heads down so as not to hit them on the roof.

When we arrived at the port, the little boat we had seen yesterday was not there, but in a few minutes it came sailing along, and stopped at the edge of the mud flats. We took off our shoes and plodded out to it, and then everyone hopped nimbly in except me. I had to be hauled in over the side amidst lots of encouragement.Several friends of Mzee’s and the captain’s had come along as ‘crew’, or maybe just for the ride. When Mzee had worked for the diving company he used to take people out to Misali in this boat, which I think could seat about fifteen. The sea was calm and we had a very pleasant trip, for a while seeming to follow a channel marked by floating golden and lime green leaves. The Norwegians chatted amongst themselves and with us. Janette will soon marry her non-traveller fiancée, who has agreed that she can continue to travel with friends, as long as she comes back to him.

It was very exiting when the island appeared in the distance, looking just like a treasure island that you might draw. The centre is forested and runs down to mangrove swamps and rocks at one end, and perfect silver beaches everywhere else.A coral reef lies beneath the water only about five metres out from the shore. Misali Island is a marine park and conservation area, where visitors are allowed, and where traditional fishing can continue. All arrivals (people pulling their boats into the shore and wading onto the sand) are met by the rangers and pay a fee of US$5. They are taken over to the visitor centre and given a talk on the park and the rules. There were only three sets of snorkelling gear available to borrow so we went for a walk through the forest while the others swam and explored the coral reef.

The paths that we followed were clear, but only the width for one walker. We pretended to be Robinson Crusoe as we explored, knowing that someone else was there somewhere, since the paths existed. Nevertheless, we had studied the map at the centre, and knew that although a small island, it was not very likely that we would meet anyone. We were wrong, because a sure footed and silent man had been following us. It was only when we stopped our heavy footed crashing along that he came into view and passed us. We were too late in the day to see any monkeys, which were sensibly keeping out of the heat and conserving their energy. Some parts of the forest were dry, but generally it was green and lush, with ferns growing high up in some of the trees. As the path wound along, we would catch glimpses of the shore and the sea through windows in the foliage.

Still following the path, we walked right through the middle of a fishermen’s camp, where we were greeted by some men who were resting, mending nets and cooking in enormous pots over open fires. It felt a little embarrassing to be suddenly right in the middle of other peoples’ living space, but they did not seem to be worried. They are able to camp there as long as they don’t stay permanently and take away all their rubbish.

People from Pemba often visit the island to speak to the spirits which are believed to live in the caves there. We saw one of the caves, full of crystal clear water and plants, quite a long way in from the shore. We thought that it was probably salt water, since it is such a low island. It would have been impossible to test the water without a bucket on a string, or without falling in, and it would have been disrespectful too. Our other great find was Turtle Beach, where green turtles lay their eggs. We saw the patterns of tiny prints going down to the sea and were very excited. Later we saw the prints made by the crows that raided our food bag and they were similar, so we are not sure whether we really saw baby turtle prints or not.

When we returned, the others had prepared the picnic so we all sat and ate and relaxed. We wandered down to test the water, which was perfect and beckoning us. Dressed in our bathers, snorkels, flippers and masks, we plunged in and swam out to the reef. It was very different to our experience in Dahab in Egypt where we had only had to step about a metre from the shore in fairly shallow water. The reef was about two to three metres under and more than five metres from the shore. Schools of zebra fish swerved back and forth, while aqua fish swam past them as if they didn’t exist. The water was a little turbid, and visibility not so far, so it was a surprise when some yellow, black and white fish swam into my view very close to my face. The reef itself rose and fell in banks of different shaped coral, but from where I was looking, I couldn’t see any bright colours. It may have been clearer for the others earlier, but the tide was rushing in and there was a lot of movement of the waves. I really loved looking down into the submarine world, and would be a little alarmed to see how far I had drifted or swum each time I came up to check where I was. Keith got out because he had problems with his flippers being too tight, and I had the same problems but stayed in until I virtually couldn’t feel my feet any more. I sat on the shore line massaging some life back into them before we could return.

Everyone else had been lying about on the lounges in the sun or relaxing under the shelter – a very lazy day. By the time I was dressed again, Keith was asleep on his lounge and the others were tuned into their respective MP3 players. The crows were patrolling the picnic tables in the shelter, trying to infiltrate the package containing the remains of the bollongi fruit, which had turned out to be like a grapefruit, with juicy segments and the same bitter taste. Luckily they were unsuccessful.

The trip back was quiet, with everyone tired from doing not very much. Both moon and the stripy waisted jellyfish were plentiful in the water. A large sailing dhow was moving faster through the water than we were with our motor. Mzee tried his luck with a fishing line trailing behind the boat.

We were so grateful to Mzee. After only one meeting in England, he had given us two interesting and wonderful days in Pemba, looking after not only us, but our fellow travellers as well. He lives in England now, but it is easy to see why both he and Dianne love Pemba so much. Our only regret was that our time this visit was limited, if we were to see Zanzibar and Bagamoya as well. What a pity there hadn’t been a Thursday or even a Friday boat.

We felt that we hadn’t even had the chance to see Chake Chake, so even though the sun was beginning to drop, we went for a walk along our street. After the commercial centre with shops lining the road, and residences or guest houses in the floors above, we quickly moved into a poorer area where people were out and about talking, doing little jobs, playing – all the things that happen at the end of a day in a hot and humid climate when at last it is cool enough to be outside. People greeted us in a friendly way, and children practised their English, and then thanked us for replying to them. It was such a relaxing and pleasant walk, and had something of the feel of being in Turkey about it, in the good manners and friendliness. A man who spoke English, and who we had asked for directions, walked along with us for some time. He was good company, and when we parted, he gave us his phone number and told us where he lived, and said that we should contact him next time we are in Pemba so that we could meet again. Now we were really feeling what a pity it was that we would be sailing away from this beautiful place in the morning. Perhaps the secret of travel is never to book anything in advance, because it is impossible to know how much time you will want to have.

There was a lovely atmosphere in the hotel dining room, as we, the Norwegians, Jane, and Denis from Dar es Salaam all chatted. Jane gave us the number of a guide for Stone Town in Zanzibar and we exchanged email addresses. Finally we made a move and wandered back to our Annexe. As we left the main hotel, we noticed that the enormous pile of white building blocks that were piled up there, and which nightly were moved by a gang of children, were almost all gone. It was as if the pile had been like an hour glass and the time, our time, was nearly done.

The same man leapt up to accompany us as we passed him. He repeated his conversation of the night before, and now we realised that it was more than just poor language skills that prevented him understanding us. Our neighbour watched again as we passed, and in his eyes I saw concern not for us, but for our companion. He rose and stepped forward and I thought he was going to say something, but by then we were saying goodbye at the door and entering. This time the man followed us upstairs, despite us telling him that we were going to our room and that he should go. Our receptionist came over from where he was sitting in the foyer, watching television through his open bedroom door. Yes, it was our turn to have the power on. He gently told the man to go, and when he didn’t, moved towards him to guide him on his way. He wasn’t loud or bossy or authoritarian. What to make of it all? We thought that perhaps the man was slightly intellectually disabled and that the others in the community, who know him, accept him in whatever he does, while maybe watching out for him. Whether other tourists have given him money in the past, or why he wanted to talk to us, we will never know. It is just possible, that like all the other people we had met, he was friendly and just wanted to chat. Nevertheless, it was a bit creepy having someone follow us up the stairs towards our room and we were very relieved that the receptionist was there to handle things.

We stopped to watch these crabs at work on the beach at Misali. They would repeatedly come out of their hole in the sand carrying an 'armful' of sand, scurry a metre or two then fling their sand away before returning to their hole.
A building site close to our hotel. The poles are made from mangrove branches, which are apparently very strong and durable and, presumably, as good as steel for holding up the formwork for concreting.
Below: views over Chake Chake from our hotel rooftop terrace