Zanzibar Uhuru (Freedom) now in hard copy - paperback edition

Zanzibar Uhuru is now available in paperback at Amazon & Book Depository.
(as well as an ebook on iBooks through iTunes)

This is the story of Zanzibar's 1964 Revolution and the years since then. It is told through the lives of two women, one Arab Zanzibari, the other a child of a colonial administrator.

The story touches on:
the nature of the mad leader of the revolution: John Okello
the years of the despotic presidents post-revolution - the hunger and suffering of Zanzibaris
the torture within the prisons set up by the East Germans after the revolution
the forced marriages of the Persian girls
the imposition of a system of spies (Volunteers) on the islands
the neglect of the ancient Stone Town
the nationalisation of the homes in Stone Town and the clove and coconut farms
the creeping corruption within the system
the neglect of the sister island of Pemba

http://www.bookdepository.com/Zanzibar-Uhuru-Anne-Chappel/9781505511840
http://www.amazon.com/Zanzibar-Uhuru-revolution-challenge-survival/dp/1505511844/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422766471&sr=8-1&keywords=zanzibar+uhuru&pebp=1422766474079&peasin=1505511844

That Fateful Day, Half a Century Ago (Khoja Perspective) by Abdulrazak Fazal

12 January 1964 - 12 January 2014

Talking of Zanzibar’s Khojas, they came in dhows to Zanzibar since the mid nineteenth century (even earlier) and with the passage of time lost all the traces of their contacts in India. They were simple, peace loving and God fearing people. There was immense brotherhood among them and they cared for each other. Economically they were contented and mostly worked in Government offices where administration was excellent. Those who had business maintained only minimum margin of profit that resulted in high purchasing power and generally a good standard of living. They did not have the slightest inkling of such a revolution and were visibly shaken by it.

The past has flown fast and times have changed completely. The social, economic and political changes have had tremendous effect on our lives. It is exactly 50 years since that fateful day in Zanzibar. Sadly a large number has passed away. The anniversary has awakened poignant memory of the Zanzibar days. Today only a handful Khojas emanating from our Zanzibar diaspora remain in Zanzibar. 

The moderate policy of the government of the day (in line with its mainland counterpart, their merger resulting in TANZANIA, at times at loggerheads) gives them confidence of staking their fortune in Zanzibar and cultivate loyalty towards it. The rest (now with grown up generation), wherever they are settled (some prosperous, some languishing in poverty), still find themselves attached to Zanzibar culturally. They speak Swahili among themselves. The photo albums fattened by the old black and white photographs are some of their precious possession with sentimental attachment. Those with means do go to Zanzibar once in a while. Others find it painful to pay a visit there, for it is no more the good old Zanzibar that they were associated with. Its Stone Town is haunting. The mosques, mehfils and jamaatkhana are desolate and bereft of the huge gathering that once filled the entire place. Your house glares longingly, you pass through those streets and gullies where you played and frequented in the past and some ghostly feeling creeps up, and in the still of the moment everything around there seems sad and bleak.

Some diasporans subjected to displacement still harbour grievances against the authority for the unfairness meted out to them. Their modest houses were confiscated. On the contrary today outsiders are welcomed and encouraged to put up mansions, hotels, and luxurious resorts under the guise of promoting tourism. They thrive and have their ways and means. 

The present day Zanzibar is more of a tourist resort. Forodhani has undergone renovation, courtesy HH the Aga Khan, but its naturalness deformed. Its eateries mostly cater to the taste of tourists who flock there in the evenings. Zanzibar is swayed by the needs of tourists. Imagine nowadays they even sell curio stuff at Forodhani! Also every alternate shop on Portuguese Street deals in curios. The street has lost its old charm. It seems there are certain individuals behind the chain of business. Even their mode of salesmanship betrays the normal Zanzibari etiquette. The era of quality stuff, minimal margin and cordiality is forsaken to pave way for modern commercialism. The post-revolution phase has also given boost to Darajani/Ngambo trading mainly in garments and electronics. The business is again the monopoly of certain bigwigs who thrive through their overseas and mainland connections.

The indigenous Zanzibaris are God fearing, innocent and honest people. It is pity that the prevailing inflation snatches every penny of theirs. Zanzibar’s false economy and its political gimmickry is the feature of their day to day life. 

In all honesty Afro-Shirazi Party (ASP) should have won the 1963 elections. Their share of votes was almost 55%. If the constituency representation had been apportioned in accordance with its denseness ASP would have emerged clear victor. Mind that the rapport between locals and us was remarkably good. 

Our diaspora ( pre Revolution inhabitants and not those integrated of recent, also prior to the East African Railway settlers on the mainland) had a congenial environment with the adoption of the Afro Arab culture in its true sense. 

To quote Professor Abdul Sheriff, in reply to Times of India’s Dilip Padgaonkar’s question, “What do you make of the Indian Government’s efforts to reach out to the Indian diaspora in Zanzibar?’ he put it beautifully:
“Feel for us. But please leave us alone; Zanzibar is our home, our past, our future.”

Zanzibar’s Uniqueness: of music, weddings, cricket and times past. by Chirantan Shukla

I have followed people’s reminiscences about our beloved Zanzibar with much interest. It has prompted me, rather belatedly, to offer a few experiences of growing up in Zanzibar.

I became aware of Zanzibar’s uniqueness soon after our arrival in late 1953; when I was just 7 years of age. At the time, we were staying in Sokomogo Street. It was the holy month of Ramadhan and in the middle of the night, I was woken by singing and music coming from the street. The tunes sounded familiar. The accent was different but nevertheless melodious. I could not resist getting up and looking from the window. The group singing and playing the music was entirely Waswahili, but they were singing popular Hindi songs from hit Bollywood movies of the time.

We had arrived in Zanzibar from Kenya and this first hand cultural experience left its mark. Thereafter, I well remember non-Hindi Zanzibaris proclaiming with joy “lewo iko Awara” as they went about their daily
routines; and sure enough multi-ethnic audience would flock to the Empire Cinema to see their favourite Raj Kapoor and hear “Awara hoon”.


In later years, I found that a significant number of Hindi tunes were adopted for Swahili songs. Elements of Hindi music were also adopted for some taarab music. This could only happen in Zanzibar.

Indian weddings were held with proper pomp and ceremony in Zanzibar. The procession of the bridegroom was an essential element of the wedding. The procession was led by a band playing music. I only knew of one band; the “Salum's Band” named after the band leader Salum. The band’s dress, while performing, was khaki shorts and a khaki shirt. I believe Salum was of Arabic extraction and some of his musicians were Waswahilis. They exclusively played Hindi songs. What memories!

There was a tea/coffee house cum Arabic restaurant; opposite our house in Sokomogo, The radio in the restaurant was constantly tuned to radio Cairo and played popular Arabic songs of the time. I did not speak Arabic but fell in love with the music blaring out from the radio. I soon began to appreciate songs by
Arabic legends like Om Kultum, Abdul Halim Hafiz, Farid-el-Atrash etc. This appreciation of Arabic music stood me in good stead when during the course of my career; I worked in Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Abu Dhabi, Qatar and Tunisia.

This early cultural exposure in Zanzibar allowed me to retain my appreciation of Arabic music and later I became an ardent fan of the great Fairuz. This was only possible because of growing up in Zanzibar.

I had a keen interest in sports and followed the national cricket and football teams. The make-up of Zanzibar cricket team illustrated the multi-ethnic cohesion of Zanzibaris. The cricketers (1950’s and early 60’s) who come to mind are Ahmed Himid, Mansour, Baker Tejani, Zaghlul, Harji Mawji, Rusi Madon, Abdulkadir, Gajendra Doshi, Gulam ("Golo") Mshamba, Jawad, Ahmed Bachoo, Mehdi etc. Juma Aley was closely involved with cricket and did play for Zanzibar. He was a better administrator than a cricketer.

In my view, Harji Mawji was perhaps the best Zanzibari cricketer. He was a genuine all rounder in
the mould of Gary Sobers. Actually, I have always considered Gary Sobers to be in Harji Mawji’s mould; as Harji came before Sobers. Harji was a prolific batsman, a very good medium pace bowler who also bowled spin and an excellent fielder. Harji was not adequately challenged in Zanzibar and could not achieve his potential. Ramanbhai Patel (then Captain of Kenya and a fine batsman) was so impressed with Harji, that he advised Harji to go to England and become a professional cricketer.

Harji and his family were of modest means and there was no prospect of him coming to England. Harji played football for Kikwajuni. He was the only Indian to play football for a first Division team. He was a very good volleyball player. Harji remained a Zanzibari to his end. Footballers who played for the national team in the 1950’s who come to mind are Issa, Sururu, Shaban etc.

I have fond memories of my years at King George VI Secondary School. In one respect, the class was a microcosm of Zanzibar. Names of my classmates illustrate this point; fellow students like Salim Himid, Abii Seif, Abdulla Ahmed, Moh’d Shangama, Salim Juma, Makame Usi, Moh’d Raza Sultan, Bipin Suchak,
Harkishan Bhagat, Abdul Latif, Irshad Dalal, Abitalib etc. In another sense, the ethnic distribution of the class did not reflect the percentage make-up of the Zanzibari population.

I have to conclude by noting that my mother Mrs Shukla was a teacher at the Government Girls Secondary School. Girls who were students at the school between 1954 and 1970, would have been taught by Mrs Shukla.

My mother tells me that when the late Abeid Karume was President; his then young sons, Amani and Ali, used to come to the Jani Building (behind Beit-el-Ajab) for private tuition with her. I am proud that my mother may have played a very small part in developing illustrious future leaders of Zanzibar.

Mrs Shukla is almost 90 years old and keeps remarkably well for her advanced years.

The light died, the fan stopped, I fell for Zanzibar. by Zehr Peera

Memories of Zanzibar by Zehra Peera 2002

From  http://www.dewani.ca/af/guestbook/ of Abdulrazak Sheriff Fazal

I enjoyed going through your Memoirs. It brought back a lot of pleasant memories, in particular those of Vaddi Bhajar(Hurumzi). It was indeed a lively street and probably nicknamed “Vaddi Bhajar” by the Kutchi-speaking settlers. The rows of houses facing each other, within earshot, shops on ground level and dwellings above shops, created an atmosphere that made the early migrants feel as if they were at a home away from home.

The shops in the street catered for most daily needs, such as grains, spices, and herbal medicines. Most of the goods were imported from India. Chocolates and biscuits imported from Britain were also available in our shop on the street. Our shop carried the signboard advertising Cadbury’s Chocolate over the door. In 1988 Issa, my husband, visited Zanzibar. He was shown a book in the planning department about Zanzibar streets, prepared by a team of Swedes working in Zanzibar. The book had a picture of the Cadbury’s Chocolate signboard over our front door. The Swedish architect who showed the book to Issa said that the signboard was a feature of such curiosity that it deserved to be included in the book.

Name-tags were common in Zanzibar as you mentioned in your Memoirs – some no very complimentary though! Mostly they indicated businesses. In Vaddi Bhajar we had Jafu Msumari who sold nails and cement, and we had Saleh Madawa who sold herbal medicines. As children we were often sent to Chacha Saleh’s shop to buy herbal medicine. No sooner we named the ailment to him, e.g. constipation, he stretched his hand out and drew the right box from the shelf at the side or back without turning his head. He knew precisely the position of the box on the shelf, and its contents. He wrapped the right amount of herbs in the paper and handed it to us.

Our shop was a meeting place with Marhum Bha Taki on his chair (left on baraza day and night) presiding over the group until late at night. We had regular daily visitors from your end of the town as well as the other, Soko Mohogo. The grand chair was on the baraza for a long time after the family’s departure. In 1997 though, when I visited Zanzibar, after nearly 25 years, both the chair and the Cadbury’s signboard had disappeared.

The Wednesday evening Majlis for men, and distribution of fateha to children on Thursday evening were weekly family features. Besides men, a couple of elderly women also came to Majlis regularly and we all sat in the room across from the Men’s area, with curtains drawn across the door, listening to recitations. As to Thursday’s fateha, I remember standing at our shop door chanting “ Wa toto fateha” and hearing the response “ Kina nani” from afar. I replied “Kina Ali Khaku”.

You must have been in the group of children returning from Forodhani and knew what to expect. Besides the Wednesday Majlis at my house, one evening every year Vaddi Bhajar would be closed to the traffic for celebration of Hazrat Abbas’ birthday. It was like “Khushiali Ya Bankro” at Junni Masjid. On one occasion Laila (your sister Zainab’s sister-in-law) and I, together with some other children from the street, took part in reciting Kasida. I was reminded of this occasion when I was talking to Laila recently.

Issa remembers attending a function once and being given a “ladu”. These ladus were made by Laila’s aunt, Mami Tahakro, who lived in the vicinity. The barazas in Zanzibar served multiple purposes. The elderly on their long walks used to sit on them for resting and the hawkers like Ali Bajia (another name-tag) put their wares on the barazas to serve their customers.

As children we used barazas to play a game called “ crocodile chase”. The street was the ocean and the barazas were the shores where we would be safe from the crocodile’s jaws. Also, to avoid being run down by fast-moving hamali carts delivering goods from the wharf to the shops, we jumped onto the baraza when we saw one coming.

The street separating the rows of houses on either side were so narrow that we could hear and see what went on inside the households around us. Neighbours standing at their windows gossiped across the street space. We threw packets of eatables to our friends through their windows. We also sat at the windows to listen to new songs from the Indian films being played in the neighbourhood, to memorise the lyrics.

Growing up as children in Vaddi Bhajar, life was never dull. During Ramadhan, as the dusk approached, someone from my household and someone from your grandparent’s house would stand at the windows. Laila would be at her window from which she could see the minaret at Nai Masjid. When she saw the Muazzin reaching the top, Laila would come over to the window overlooking our house and cry, “Haya”, at which we rushed to the dinner table.

We had good connection with Parsees. We were friendly with quite a few Parsee families because we attended the same school as their children, Saint Joseph’s Convent School. Dara Mistry’s family lived in the neighbourhood and as children we spent a good deal of time with them. According to Issa, I speak Gudjerati as Parsees did, which was somewhat peculiar.

In your memoirs you describe Washiri coffee sellers. Their style of pouring coffee in tiny cups and stopping in time to avoid overfilling the cup was a skillful performance. So was the juggling of cups to announce their arrival. A coffee seller had certain streets for his territory by common consent with others to avoid competition. On his rounds, he would stop at the shops and pour coffee for the shopkeeper and whoever else was present in the shop.

A shop was a venue for trading gossip and rumours. The coffee seller was also a purveyor of news, rumours and gossip which he picked up on his rounds. To this day, Issa brews coffee which he calls Kahawa ya Unguja every morning and drinks it from one of the tiny cups brought from Zanaibar. I even have a doll replica of the coffee seller in his traditional costume carrying his dele.

Occasionally I make Haloowa Ya Manga which I learnt to make from Ukera Kassamali Peera on one of my visits to California. Dinesh Pandya's letter took me back to my student days in Arya Samaj.as well as my teaching days at Bait ul Raas. I remember his father panpati shop under Arya Samaj. Harish Pandya was my student at the Teachers' College Zanzibar. 

I have written a couple of articles on Zanzibar too. One article was prompted by an article I had read in the local paper which opened with the words "The light died, the fan stopped, I fell for Zanzibar.

A Question of History

If you visit Zanzibar today as one of the thousands of tourists now pouring into this small island off the coast of East Africa, you will want to visit the sights. One of the top activities, as listed in the Bradt Travel Guide, is to see the places that record the history of slavery on the island. One of these localities is the Anglican Cathedral in Stone Town, the capital of the island. Zanzibar is a Muslim country, whereas the mainland of Tanzania is predominately Christian. Over 95 percent of the population of one million follow Islam and the 48 mosques in the town testify to its long standing influence.

Slavery was finally outlawed in 1873. When the slave market was closed, the Anglican Christian Mission was given the site by a local Hindu and Sultan Barghash donated the tower’s clock. There is more symbolism in that the altar is the reputed site of the slave whipping post and the wooden crucifix in the nave is made from the tree under which David Livingstone’s heart was buried in Zambia.

Nowadays there is a statue outside the Cathedral, a memorial to those thousands of slaves that were traded through Zanzibar. You will be asked, when you arrive, to pay three US dollars to a guide and he will explain the horrors of slavery. Tourism is providing many jobs for locals. The enthusiastic guide will take you to the building opposite the Cathedral, St Monica’s Guesthouse, and show you the cellars there. The latest Bradt Guidebook is most eloquent:

‘Its basement provides one of Zanzibar’s simplest, but arguably most moving and evocative, reminders of the dehumanising horrors of the slave trade … (they were) crammed five deep on the narrow stone slabs and shackled with chains which still lie there today.’

Countless websites and blogs echo this story and recount how people weep when they hear the stories of this basement.

However, it is not true, it is all a fabrication. The St Monica building was erected in 1905, more than 30 years after slavery was abolished. The cellars were used by the missionaries for dry storage of medicines in the tropical climate. But the story lives on in the streets of Zanzibar. Fundamentally, stories about slavery in Zanzibar are historically correct. David Livingstone’s vivid accounts of the effects of slave raids into Africa’s heartland alerted the British population to this ghastly trade. Long tentacles of traders worked their way as far as Malawi, Botswana and Zimbabwe in the need to find more victims. And nowadays British people like to feel good about the issue when they remember the work of people such as David Livingstone and Wilberforce.

Yet again, it is more complex than that. On one telling of history, Britain grew wealthy on the back of the slave trade. Cotton from India was made into cloth in the new industrial mills in the Midlands. British ships traded these goods into West Africa for slaves. The slaves were taken in dreadful circumstances across to the Caribbean where they worked the plantations of sugar cane. This is the infamous ‘Middle Passage’. The sugar was then traded back to Britain, to a country that was increasingly drinking tea and sugar. Millions died in this triangular trade. British ships were estimated to be responsible for shipping 2.5 million slaves out of the 6 million transported in the 18th century. The leaders and the population of Britain hardly reacted. Did they know? Did they care? Yet by the end of that century they stopped their trade in slaves. Their motives for doing so have been questioned.

So we come back to Zanzibar. Does it matter that there is a small untruth in the telling of the tale of slavery? Prof. Abdul Sheriff, an expert on the conservation of Stone Town, now a UNESCO World Heritage site, says that slavery has become a product to sell to the tourists. But it goes further than that. The question of slavery, and who was responsible for it, has riven the island for 50 years. It has split the population into racial lines and ultimately it became one of the reasons that over 10,000 people were massacred in 1964.

As democratic institutions were designed for Zanzibar in the late 1950s and the first years of the 1960s the political parties that arose were loosely divided on racial lines. Those of more African heritage felt more dispossessed of power and joined the ASP. Those with more of an Arab background tended to support the status quo, the Sultan and supported the ZNP coalition. However, it was an old socially inclusive Muslim state and most people were very mixed in their racial lineage. They were Zanzibaris.

The British encouraged parties to develop that represented different interest blocks so there was a choice in the democratic process. This caused the parties to try and differentiate themselves. So the ASP brought up the issue of slavery and the Arab involvement in the trade, over 80 years previously. Stories of terrible acts were spread around, rumours of what might follow if the ZNP won were started. One of the stories my father told me: ‘it was said that some Arab men were arguing about how a baby lay in the womb, head up or down. They could not decide, so they called up a pregnant slave and using their swords cut her open to see who was right’. A ghastly fantastical story.

And the hatred engendered would be visited on the innocent people who had nothing to do with slavery. Independence in December 1963 from British control was short-lived. In January 1964 a revolution resulted in the genocide of tens of thousands of Zanzibari Arab people, Arab looking people, small merchants, land holders or people that got in the way.

The successful revolutionaries organised themselves into the Revolutionary Council and proceeded to abolish democracy and created a dictatorship. The quality of life, for those citizens who chose to stay in Zanzibar, became appalling. A police state evolved, spies abounded and all land and property was nationalised. Over forty years later, times have changed and a multi-party system is working again. However, the issue of, what I might call, ‘Arab guilt’ continues to play its part. In order to acquire legitimacy, the Revolutionary Council has written into history the justification of the revolution. It has portrayed the revolution as a great liberalising event that gave the population a better life. The more the facts of this purported ‘better life’ that they delivered are criticised, the more they have to portray the time before the revolution as terrible and the influence of the Zanzibar Arabs as being of a ruthless and colonial nature.

So we come back to the slavery story. It carries behind it other meanings. The more the current powers show you how terrible slavery was and connect it to the old regime, the more it is apparent that it was right to get rid of (and kill) the Zanzibari Arab descendents in the 1960s. I think this crazy logic is repeated across the world. We seek to justify the acts of history in many ways. Only in rare instances do we, as a human race, try to make amends. And one of those occasions was the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa where victim and perpetrator faced one another and both wept for what had happened.

So, in Zanzibar, one day an account should be made of those innocent people who died in the genocide that swept across that beautiful tropical island. And the survivors, who fled to the mainland, to Oman, to any country that would give them sanctuary, still carry the sadness of their loss. No one has been called to account. No mass graves are recognised to give people proper ceremony. It is sadness that still haunts many Zanzibaris.

After all, remembering the cruelties of slavery is important, but using it to justify a revolution where thousands of innocents were massacred is another. We should be wary of how history can be manipulated to enhance power of current governments.

The Truth by Aman Thani Fairooz 1995

THE TRUTH
(TO REFUTE FALSEHOOD)
(Note, Ed.this is a very short excerpt from Aman Thani Fairooz's book about the old political world of Zanzibar and about his horrifying time in prison. It is an important record of events by a man who suffered much for his homeland. The 86 page book is available on other websites. )
http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/abbey/313/truth1.html

PREFACE
My gratitude to the Most Merciful God who has enabled me to write this little book in which I have tried to describe the events which took place in our country, Zanzibar. In particular I have concentrated on what happened to me and what happened to my fellow countrymen as a result of what is called the Revolution which befell our country on 12 January 1964. What I am writing about is what I myself know. Without there is much more that I did not know. It is my hope that there will be others who will be able to relate what happened to them or what they saw was being done to others.

I am doing this for no reason other that relate the truth regarding what took place in our country, so that my fellow citizens (and our Tanganyikan brethren as well as the whole world) and especially the younger generation, may know the facts regarding the so-called Revolution of Zanzibar. If in the relating of my story I happen to mention names of individuals it would be in the course of narration and illustration, not for the purpose of ridicule, sarcasm or cynicism. My aim is to tell the truth of what really happened. I will not hesitate to tell the truth, for that is my aim. For too long the truth has been suppressed. and distorted. With that I take full responsibility for what I herein write.

It is important I should request my readers to concentrate on my story, for it consists purely of undoubted facts and only facts. I beg them not to worry overmuch about my style of writing and about the language used or arrangement of chapters etc. for I am no writer.

If any question arises or anything is obscure, I am the one who should be referred to for clarification. I shall try my best to clarify any riddle that may occur. If I fail I will not be ashamed to confess my inability and to ask for forgiveness. Only God is perfect.

May God enable this humble effort of mine to receive a wide readership and appreciation so that the wrongs herein described may be righted. For the greatest good is to repent and to correct the wrongs. May Allah be our Guide and Protector.

Education before the 1964 revolution
For both nationals and aliens, from class one to eight education was free for all. Every pupil had a desk by himself, and every pupil was provided with free exercise books, free textbooks, pens and pencils, ink pots and ink, even blotting paper was provided free (in the days before ballpens had come into use.) Every Friday pupils were provided with free soap for washing their clothes. In rural schools pupils were provided with breakfast - beans and porridge - before they entered their classrooms.

In the '50's parents were expected to supplement a token sum for the pupils from class seven to class twelve. The payment was minimal and not every parent was obliged to pay. Most parents did not have to pay a single cent. Those who paid had to pay from five shillings to twenty shillings every term of three or four months.

Before a decision was made whether a parent should or should not pay there was a process to be followed. The parent had to fill a questionnaire regarding his income, his employment, and the number of his dependents. To ascertain the correctness of the information given the filled form was sent to the Sheha (headman), then to the Mudir (the area administrator). After this the form was sent to the District Commissioner. After this exercise decisions were made whether to pay or not to pay, and how much for each applicant.

From this sort of arrangement more than 70% of the parents were not obliged to pay, and their children received education absolutely free. Twenty per cent paid reduced fees, and only 10% paid full fees which was less than 200 Shillings a year. Those who paid full fees were almost entirely from the Indian community. The so-called Africans and the so-called Arabs were not in that category.

The important thing about education was not so much to pay or not to pay. The vital thing was the quality and type of education available in those days of pre-1964, and what became available after 1964. That is the deciding factor which we have to face. If what is branded as "Free Education" means what we are seeing today - schools having no desks, children having to squat on bare earth, no books to read or write on, and above all no qualified or trained teachers - that sort of education is indeed too costly even if free. It is the condemnation of generations to come. Our Zanzibari children have developed into hunchbacks having to double-bend in order to write on the floor. When they return from school they look like grave-diggers, so dusty and dirty are they after a whole day of crawling on bare earth in their classrooms.