Keith and Christine would love to hear from you with questions, comments, personal news and any news at all from
We were up with the birds, or rather the monkeys, because we had a trip of a couple of hours and after ten o’lock the red colobus monkeys that are only found here on 
Haji had told us all the possible dalla dallas that would be passing the National Park, but we were scooped up by a helpful man who asked where we wanted to go, and guided us to a dalla dalla that was about to leave. We did check with the driver that he would be going where we wanted to, and also so that he and the assistant would tell us when we had arrived. There was only a lady, her child and us when we set off, so we expected a very comfortable ride and to arrive in very good time. What we had forgotten, and what we had had plenty experience of, was that public transport, privately owned, does not have a timetable and does not leave unless full. We drove a circuit of about two kilometres three times, with our assistant leaning out and inciting people to make a bus ride right now, to wherever this bus was ultimately going. It was a very interesting circuit and a bit like being on a tour bus, but instead of missing things seen from the other side of the bus, we had plenty of opportunities to see everything. A major market was in full swing with the most enormous loads being transported away on bicycles, enormous barrows or tricycles. No-one seemed to be buying a small amount of anything; this was definitely a market for the big purchasers. It was no problem for those without transport; the roof of the dalla dalla was just the spot. Meat was hanging out in open kiosks waiting to be purchased. A truck of white coral blocks was for people to buy and burn to make lime for a form of concrete to use in building. While it seemed a sacrilege to us to be burning lumps of coral, the whole island is made of it and it is not the living reef where creatures live. Gradually our dalla dalla had been filling up, with each new passenger now being resented by us old hands, and only the plonking down of a bottom in a tiny space forcing everyone to move up. At last we were seeing a new stretch of road and realised that we were on our way.
The
Our guide, Bakari, was excellent, and explained lots of interesting information about the monkeys.
They have four toes and no opposing thumb on their hands, they only eat unripe fruit, they can’t digest sugar, dogs die or lose their hair if they eat them (I fail to recall which) and they smell really bad and no-one ever keeps them for pets. Bakari took us to a section of forest where he had seen a troupe earlier, and sure enough, there they were. We were entranced as we watched the agile antics of the younger ones, only a couple of metres from us. We had to be careful not to stand under some already drowsing adults in case they got nervous and we got wet. They were clearly used to people observing them and they totally ignored us. The guiding system prevents people calling to them, offering food, or in other ways trying to gain their attention. It was not yet ten o’clock, but probably earlier would have been even better.
The other part of our tour was in the rain forest, where mahogany and palm trees were common. We walked along the path, enjoying the beautiful trees and hoping to see creatures, but they were all hiding. Bakari saw vervet monkeys high up in a tree, and without his trained eyes I am sure we would have missed them.
It was a beautiful walk through the forest, with only bird calls, and no sounds of humans to be heard. Back at the centre, we had another look at the information boards, and then revived ourselves with some coffee with condensed milk in it and
We walked back along the road about a kilometre and a half to the 
The pupae were then sold to the butterfly garden to keep it supplied, and eggs given back to start the whole process again. Eventually they plan to export pupae. The garden was pretty and some butterflies and moths were out and about. Apparently we would have seen more if the sun had been shining.
We crossed the road and began to walk back, ready to hail a dalla dalla if one should pass. One did in only a few minutes, so we squeezed on. At every stop, incredible loads were untied and passed down to the ground for the disembarking passengers. One lady with a full veil and face cover flipped it all back while she was in the bus and reorganised it to cover her when she got out. A boy of about ten slept all the way, being shoved this way and that with the changing numbers of people on board. When he got off, he was met by a man who may have been his father, and the four tied loads of firewood that I think the boy had gone to the forest to cut were thrown down from the dalla dalla roof. The wood did not please the man, and the poor exhausted boy was in trouble and crying as we drove away. A kanga around the shoulders provided a child with almost a bedroom when it was draped over him, allowing him to ignore all that went on and sleep. A bicycle was lifted down and ridden away. Some ladies got on and placed an enormous bowl of cooked corn, still in the leaves, in the middle of the aisle, where it kept the huge bag of rags already there company. We seemed to be making a spiral through the streets of the town, dropping off unaccompanied parcels and piles of building materials. Eventually we recognised the market we had started from and those of us who were left disembarked.
We rang Haji and said that we would be only a little while, since we were already a little late for our lunch together. He took us to a vegetarian restaurant and shouted us a delicious lunch. We were a little embarrassed because we had run out of money and had not had time to call at our guest house to get our Visa card. We had thought that we would call at his office, pop back to the hotel and then go out to lunch, but Haji said it was his intention to take us out so not to worry about the card before lunch.
We had a very interesting conversation about how villages in
Haji’s five children all have different interests and that seemed to be the basis for the opportunities that they had. The one who is academic and likes to study attends two schools; the state school in the morning and a private school later in the day. When we asked Haji about the revolution in 1964, he said that it was difficult to understand what had gone on, and particularly for him because he had family members who took different sides, and has heard contrasting versions. We were very pleased to have met Haji, and enjoyed our two visits with him. If we come to
Back at our guest house, we met Terry and arranged to meet him for dinner. We were racing off so that we would see the
The Palace is set up as it was, with the Sultan’s bedroom, his wife’s bedroom, their sitting rooms, dining room, and many other rooms. It was easy to imagine a very fine style of life going on here, and there were other palaces and royal homes where the many concubines and children lived.
In the pre-telephone days, everyone kept runner slaves, whose job was to run between people, delivering written or verbal messages. Those slaves were very powerful, and could make or break relationships. Most daughters in wealthy families were taught to read, but writing was considered to be for men, so literate slaves would write what their mistresses dictated, but the mistress could only hope that her ideas had been faithfully written down.
While it is easy to think of the Sultans as all being long ago, that is not the case. The Sultan continued on under the British Protectorate up until the 1960s and so in some parts of the palace, modernisation had made its mark. 
Seyyid Majid B. Said, Sultan of Zanzibar 1856 - 1870
Seyyid Khalifa b. Haroub b. Thuwain b. Said, Sultan of Zanzibar 1911 - 1960
The bathroom was the perfect example of hotel style facilities, although a German folding water closet, that was once on wheels and used to be wheeled in to the Sultan or his wife if they were unwell, was probably an innovation that had had its day.
The day ended with our dinner with Terry, in a Monty Pythonesque situation in which we were in a restaurant but our waitress seemed to be put out that we had come for food. After trying to ignore us for a long time, and we were the only customers present, she said, “Do you want food?” When we said “Yes,” she rolled her eyes and walked off. Later she asked if we wanted to order, and when we said that we did, she again departed, having taken no orders. It was impossible not to laugh, and it certainly gave this meal, or for about forty-five minutes, this non-meal, together, a most amusing edge. Eventually we ordered, and had our food plonked unceremoniously down before us.
The meal was absolutely delicious, and the restaurant owner, the opposite in his approach to customers, came out and chatted with us. He was willing to talk about the time of the revolution, when he said that there had been racially motivated killings. He believed that some of the killings had been revenge killings related to the slave trade in the past. Many Indians and Arabs fled. Where there were previously 2500 or more Hindus, there are now about 350. Many of those who left were granted refugee status. This man’s father had told him to leave if he wanted to have a future, and so he had escaped in a fishing boat with a friend on Festival Day. When they were intercepted and questioned, they said that they were fishing, and the official just told them to make sure that they brought him some of the catch.
We walked back to the guest house, taking the first turn beside the fort, and after twenty minutes, the high walls of the fort were looming beside us again. What could have gone wrong? We tried again, more successfully. It was not too late so I typed a little, but really I had to go back to my book, where the sad repercussions of the Nazi death camps were working themselves into the next generation. I read on and on.
Jackfruit - larger than a watermelon and unfortunately we didn't taste it.
Rather chaotic electrical wiring in the streets of Stone Town
Below: Some fascinating features of the Palace Museum were the furniture from the 1950s, the holes in the roof and the pigeons coming and going through an open window. 
Some scenes of Stone Town Harbour
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