Memories of the Maalim Healers in old Zanzibar by Amir Rashid

Zanzibar never had witch doctors, per se. They were respectfully known as "Maalim". There were some psychics and some administered herbal medicines derived mostly from plants and natural elements.

I remember one gentleman of Iranian/Agha descent who lived at Mwembetanga also provided psychic services. He had a bicycle and, I believe, worked as a debt collector for some company (Smith Mackenzie ?), but also did some part time work in giving herb medicines, at a nominal charge of Shs.2 (or US$.028).

Another lady, mother of the late Bwana Aziz, a gymnast, who resided behind the then Kuku market (now fish market), also provided psychic services for a nominal fee of also Shs.2. She normally would have a silver plate full of sand and one had to dip one's palm of right hand in the sand and think of the issue one had come to get her services for, and she was expected to respond and try to assist in solving that particular issue. For example, if one lost a wedding ring, and she would make a suggestion to look at a particular spot (under a mattress , etc.) in one's home.

The Zanzibar "Maalims" should not be confused with Tanganyikan and other African witch doctors. We read a lot on how Tanganyikan witchdoctors brutalize albino villagers - cut off their body parts for so called "healing" purposes. When I was in UK as a student during the 60s, I remember reading in London Times or Sunday Observer that a team of Cambridge University scientists had gone to Southern Africa to research types of herbal and plant medicines used by locals or natives, and incorporate such organic medicines in Western pharmaceuticals.

In Unguja, Zanzibar, we were also blessed by having two retailers at Hurumzi, right behind Khoja Ismaili Jamatini, Late Bwana Saleh and Late Bwana Bando. They were experts in recommending right herbal medicines and would sell small amounts at an affordable cost. We also had a Zanzibari Bahora businessman at Malindi, next to Abedi Samosa, who would give out freely some sticky stuff which when heated, could then be applied, (using a piece of cotton cloth), on a wound for speedy healing. We could not then afford imported Johnson & Johnson bandages, and this home made remedy worked like charm.

There was another word in Zanzibar Swahili witchcraft vocabulary. And that was "HALBADIRI". When someone had a grudge or had been wronged by another party, they would ask a witch doctor back home to send a "halbadiri" spell on the offending party. The witch doctors were often reluctant to administer such a strong spell on the offender, as the spell could backfire and return to the sender, who could then have mental breakdown or suffer from schizophrenia for the rest of his/her life!

I remember in the 50s, a middle aged lady passing everyday at Ngambo (by our residence) and screaming at the top of her voice in Swahili, apparently cursing someone. We were told that someone had sent a halbadiri spell on her. (It was obvious that poor lady was suffering from schizophrenia or some mental disorder).

There was another spell called "KIFARA".  This was a quick type of spell which a victim would have his Maalim or witch doctor  send on  a party which had done wrong to the victim.  Kafara would result in a major accident or disaster that would befall on the enemy.  Unlike "halbadiri", kafara cannot revert on the victim.

Yes, Zanzibar was gifted by locals who were not materialistic, as now, and we all lived like one family, although, like in any family, there were ups and downs every now and then. Unfortunately, foreign interference in Zanzibar's politics ended all that one family relationships among Zanzibaris. (Now even our Wapemba brothers try to smuggle cloves to Kenya in order to get more money for their produce). Yes, times have changed and drug culture has taken over everywhere in this dunia.

Wa salaam, Amir Rashid.

What’s Wrong with Shikamoo?

The CITIZEN SUNDAY, APRIL 17, 2016

By Esther Karin Mngodo

There is something peculiar about the greeting, exclusive to Swahili culture.  

In Summary

Shikamoo is a greeting for those older than us. Surprisingly, when greeted this way, some people just utter a simple ‘Poa.’

There is something unique about the way we greet our elders, starts Rachel Magege. There is something peculiar about the greeting, exclusive to the Swahili culture. Rachel, 24, recently returned to Tanzania from the US where she was pursuing her Bachelor’s Degree in Law. When she arrived in the US, she immediately noticed the difference. 

“I remember feeling awkward that a child could say ‘Hi Rachel’ like it was normal.  And you can greet your Professor with a simple Hello. But when you get used to him, you greet him with his first name. ‘Hi James’. There is no way I could do that here,” she says and adds: “That is why I appreciate our way of greeting. I think it is a way of showing respect.” 

That awkward moment

Not everyone wants to be respected this way, says James Martin, 31, a businessman based in Arusha. “I hate Shikamoo,” he says of the greeting, especially if it is a young woman involved.

 “I prefer to be asked how I am doing. Shikamoo creates so much boundaries. It makes me feel like they are showing me so much respect. It becomes hard for me, or men in general, to make any other advances. The relationship becomes too formal.”

Robby Salehe, 33, a management accountant based in Dar es Salaam, knows this too well. In fact, most young women must have encountered this situation. 

In her view, there must be a reason why her shikamoo gets an abruptly spoken ‘poa’. Poa is usually a response to mambo, a greeting among peers. 

“If it is a woman, perhaps they think I am too old to say shikamoo. I am big in size, so that confuses many. But if it is a man, it is possible that they want something else from me,” she says.

What is this shikamoo about?

Swahili Professor, Abdulaziz Y. Lodhi, a Professor Emeritus at Uppsala University in Sweden, explains that shikamuu is derived from nashika miguu yako, (I touch your feet). This is an ancient Bantu greeting used to address respectfully all elders and people in position. 

In all civilisations people develop new greetings from time to time influenced by economic and social developments, political changes and integration with immigrants. 

Our Kiswahili civilisation has a continuous history of almost 2,000 years developed by the coastal people coming in close contact with people from various parts of the Indian Ocean. 

The professor explains that in different Bantu tribal cultures, it was normal practice to kneel in front of the Chief, or even lie down and touch his feet as if he were a king as kings were divine and representatives of God on earth. Such practices have gradually disappeared with the abolition of divine kingship and feudalism in many societies. 

The response, marhaba, which meant ‘You have my blessings’ is of course derived from Arabic. Prof Lodhi believes this Arabic loan replaced a longer original Bantu response during the 8th century when Islam was firmly established along the EA coast and Arabic became the literary language of the people all around the rim of the Indian Ocean. 

Prof Lodhi recalls how he and Mwalimu Nyerere (Tanzania’s first president) used to greet each other and how that changed with time. Back in the 60s and early 70s, he always greeted Mwalimu Nyerere with a shikamoo mwalimu, and Nyerere would respond with a simple marhaba! 

“But later in the mid-70s when I was Chairman of TANU-ASP in Scandinavia, Mwl Nyerere responded with marhaba maalim! And later from 1994 when we travelled together to Swaziland he started responding with a marhaba profesa! or marhaba bwana profesa! 

“Only once in Stockholm in the home of Balozi Wilson Tibaijuka, an old colleague from Dar es Salaam from the 60s, did he greet me shikamoo Profesa before I could greet him first. I had to respond with marhaba mwalimu. Then he added with a hearty laughter ‘Nimekuwahi leo! Nawe upate fursa ya kunipa marhaba.’ (I greet you first today so that you can also say marhaba to me.) Mwl. Nyerere and I had serious literary and political relations and at the same time a joking relationship.”  

Is it another form of oppression?

In her blog, Nasaha.net, Ashura Kayupayupa analyses an unpublished essay, ‘What’s wrong with Shikamoo’ (1995) authored by Rakesh Rajani who is currently Head of Civic Engagement and Governance with Ford Foundation. The paper reflects on the effects this greeting has in the process of learning and public engagement. 

 “Rakesh explained that since the salutation was brought by Arab Sultans to undermine Tanzanian elders and creating inferiority complex, it was not an appropriate salutation for people with equal relationship, rather for the one who is a master and the other one who is a slave. He challenges this greeting among adults today,” writes Ashura.

Ashura highlights Rakesh’s views, saying that this is also true for the teacher-pupil relationship whereby the student surrenders their right to equal participation in learning by saying shikamoo to the teacher.

Rakesh dares us to imagine a day when a teacher will encourage students to question, challenging them to think outside the box without holding a stick. That is his problem with shikamoo.   

  Changing times

Amina Juma, 42, a librarian based in Dar es Salaam says she remembers how wives used to greet their husbands shikamoo in her tribe of Wanyamwezi from Tabora. 

“When I was a young girl, there were many homes where the man was much older than his wife. The wife would comfortably greet her husband this way. I know it might sound strange today, but why not? It was considered a respectful greeting. However, I don’t think that women today would greet their husbands this way,” she says with a laugh. 

Robby, the management accountant says that this generation does not like shikamoo at all. It is quite normal for a teenager to say ‘Hi’ to a 10-year senior than themselves. 

It is partly the fault of the ones receiving this greeting, says James, the Arusha-based businessman. He is also of the view that most young people think that they are too cool for shikamoo. 

He blames it on ‘utandawazi’ (globalisation). Many would say ‘unanizeesha’ which translates to ‘you are making me look older than I really am.’ 

Prof Lodhi explains that his younger colleagues, and sometimes even those who are his age, greet him with a shikamoo profesa! However, recently one of the Kiswahili Professors in Dar greeted him with ‘mambo profesa?’ Instead of responding with a poa, Prof Lodhi said mambo bambam! Which the younger professor had never heard before! “People think mambo is a new greeting developed by the young generation – No! It was there already in the 40s and we boys of my generation were using it. In my experience, most people in the world have no historical depth. Most of them are acculturated, in fast growing unplanned urban areas living in a cultural vacuum.” 

Its cultural significance

Modern African cities are a good example of large uprooted populations that are developing vibrant new Western-influenced cultures, which are exploited by new technologies and related commercialism necessitating new terminologies and language usage, says Prof Lodhi. 

Prof Lodhi further explains that in East Africa, we have a special linguistic situation where Kiswahili, the only native language with a long literary tradition in the whole of east-central Africa, which is a minority language as far as the number of native speakers are concerned, is the most widely spread language with a very high status, always competing with English. 

It has been ‘nationalised’ and it is the 2nd or 3rd language speakers of Kiswahili, who are the vast majority and who have been changing it especially by mixing it with their own ethnic tongues, marginalising the traditional native 1st language speakers of Kiswahili. 

“I think that this point has to be made clear before one can answer your question “Do we really need shikamoo anymore?” For a Mswahili like me, the question cannot arise since it is part of our deep-rooted basic culture and social mannerism expressing good upbringing and showing respect to elders! What is wrong with it? On the contrary we need it even more today when an increasing number of children are growing up with little or no respect for elders.”

“I would suggest one should go and present this question to those to whom Kiswahili belongs as their legitimate cultural heritage. The ‘cultural significance’ of shikamoo – marhaba and many such socio-cultural elements depends on who is using them and in which contexts.”

The professor goes on to say that; “the question raised, I believe involves an insignificant minority of people in East Africa and who I am inclined to claim are not traditional native speakers of Kiswahili. 

One cannot ‘prescribe’ which greetings people should use and which not; however, one can do a good job ‘describing’ how certain greetings are used by a specific group/category of persons, in what contexts and why, and what are their socio-cultural and linguistic backgrounds. Only then one can claim it is a scientific study.”

Email: ekmngodo@tz.nationmedia.com

Time Past in Africa - My Father

A Biography of my Father, Mervyn Vice Smithyman

My Father was very keen to get his family story written down. In 2005 he was 94, and he asked for help with a booklet about his Mother. That was this book’s origin and these words are mostly his words. This is a story. Perhaps it is a true story. However, all family recollections are stories from a particular viewpoint.

He and I then began to plan his life story and this interest occupied him during his last years and particularly during his last difficult months. I hoped that after his retirement my brother, Michael Smithyman, would help with the unfinished project, but sadly, Michael died too young in 2011.
The Smithyman family depicted in this book were Africans, born and brought up in Africa of British ancestry. They eventually grew up in Zomba, speaking fluent Chinyanja, the language of Nyasaland.

As children they were independent,  resilient and resourceful and often barefoot! The ten children were born over a period of 25 years (1905-1930) and loyal bonds were formed between them.
I am one of the children of those ten. I have, or had, 23 cousins spread across the world and every one of them and their children has an individual view on the story of the Smithyman world. It was a fascinating world.

In my family our Smithyman aunts and uncles were always honoured and spoken about. There was the eldest, Doris; Fred, the eldest boy; Harold on his farm in Zimbabwe; Victor who was always such fun and so close to my father; Jessie, Pearl and Freda my father’s dear sisters; Wilfred, the young pilot who died in France and was always mourned; and John.
I came to realise my Father would do anything for his siblings. He loved them all and was always caring and giving advice even if it wasn’t always taken on board.

The photographs I have included are old and faded but we have these as memories and they are precious. I have realised these images have historical value beyond our family. I have given the Society of Malawi at the Mandala Centre in Blantyre, Malawi, copies of my Father’s photos as well as sending the Tanzanian Museum in Dar-es-Salaam copies of the photos of my Father’s social welfare programs from Samé in the Pare Mountains in the 1950s.

****

Section One is about Fred and Catherine Smithyman’s family from their beginnings in Port Elizabeth to settling in Zomba, Nyasaland. Of course, it focuses mostly on my Father, Mervyn Vice Smithyman, the fourth child, as it is mostly through his eyes and memories that the stories came to me. Section Two starts after the war and focuses on my Father and Mother.

The first time I really understood the depth of my Father’s dedication to his family and particularly his Mother was while we were on a family visit to Italy. It was 1961 and I was a thirteen year old. We were on a bus travelling to Venice as my Father told me the story of the Spanish Influenza of 1919 and how his Mother had ministered to her seven small children while she herself was sick and unable to walk. He told me how she had crawled to the kitchen to make soup for them. My Father wept as he told the story. I had never before seen my Father weep.

I met my grandparents only twice but the story of their lives in Zomba was made very real to me over the years. Theirs was a vibrant, exciting world. The children had a freedom not seen in modern times and, with it, a great deal of fun. Someone once told me that the Smithyman family did not need other friends, they had one another.

There has been a mystery to solve — it was the family background of our grandmother, Catherine Jessie Vice. My Father told and imagined all sorts of stories to demonstrate and understand her sterling character. Part of this mystery has been solved since he died through the determined research which my daughter, Shannon Adams, has done on Ancestry. Shannon has also discovered more about Fred Milner Smithyman, my Grandfather.

Section Two deals with my Father and Mother’s move to Tanganyika in 1946 and their life in East Africa till the terrible 1964 Zanzibar Revolution / Invasion.

This is the world I remember as a child and which I absorbed as my world. I felt that I was not really British: I was some sort of hybrid with a deep love of Africa and a growing awareness that our living there was complicated.

I am aware this book largely neglects my Mother’s story. Her strength and her grace sustained us all.
This book is for the future generations: so the story of our past is remembered and is not lost. It is for my Father who is no longer here; for my brother, Michael, who is sorely missed; for my children, Shannon and David; for Mike’s children, Matthew, Stephen and Sarah, and for our greater Smithyman family that they should know something of these remarkable lives.


Anne M. Chappel, née Smithyman

This book is available as a print book on Amazon.

http://amzn.com/1517172276

The Sultan's Spymaster by Judy Aldrick

from Coastweek-- Many books have been written about the history of Zanzibar from 1850 to 1900, but these books focus almost entirely on the role of the European powers and their relationship with the Sultans.

Left out of these histories is any mention of the important role played by Indian merchants and politicians.

This new book attempts to fill in the missing information by looking at the role of Indians during this complex period of Zanzibar history.

The main character in this intriguing book is a man named Peera Dewjee.

He was born in India in 1841 and lived until 1904. Much of his life was spent in Zanzibar during the years when European nations were taking an active interest in Zanzibar and the eastern coast of Africa.

He started out as a lowly labourer for Sultan Barghash and over the years rose to become a prominent advisor to four different Sultans.

Although raised in India, Peera Dewjee was a Muslim belonging to the sect called Nizari Ismaili.

The founder was an Iranian missionary named Pir Sadruddin who traveled to India at the end of the 14th century and converted many Hindus to Islam.

These Indian converts called themselves Khojas and they organized themselves into a close-knit community based in Bombay.

Their Imam was later referred to as the Aga Khan, a title still used by subsequent Imams to this day.

Their society was based on trade with an annual tithe paid to the Aga Khan.

Close trade links were set up between Bombay and Zanzibar with many Ismailis eventually settling on Zanzibar where they became prominent members of society.

Peera Dewjee was raised in Bombay and was well educated.

He knew how to read and write and spoke numerous languages including Arabic, English, Hindustani and Urdu.

As a young man he moved to Zanzibar where he lived with relatives in the Khoja community.

Eventually he got a job in the Sultan’s palace as a lamp cleaner and barber.

Over time he earned the trust of Sultan Barghash and worked his way up to the roles of messenger, spy, chief steward, advisor and ambassador.

He even travelled to England with the Sultan to meet Queen Victoria.

When Sultan Barghash died, Peera Dewjee continued to serve as advisor to the three following Sultans in turn.

In spite of his great influence during this jumbled period of history, Peera Dewjee remained a shadowy figure, hidden in the background of Zanzibar politics.

The author of this book, Judy Aldrick, has done extensive research in libraries and through interviews.

Her research is to be commended as Peera Dewjee is revealed through the haze of Zanzibar history.

In later life Peera Dewjee was a significant figure in Zanzibar politics.

He had the ear of the various Sultans and was at the forefront in dealing with British, French and German ambassadors.

He was involved in negotiating many treaties - especially in ending the slave trade.

He was considered to be a smooth and able politician - often playing one side against another.

During his career he continued to be a successful merchant and businessman.

At various times he was the manager of the Sultan’s steamship line and collector of customs tribute at the port.

Above all he was a highly skilled organizer. At the installment of Sultan Hamoud, he planned the festivities, called Siku Kuu in Swahili.

He organized a feast in the Sultan’s palace for 8,000 people.

Over 10,000 plates were used at this feast and 55 different entries were served.

It took over 300 cooks to prepare the food. For such feats he was often referred to as the “Majordomo to the Sultans.”

This book is a fascinating history of Zanzibar as seen through the eyes of Peera Dewjee, an Indian merchant and confidant of the Sultans.

For a new and insightful look into the history of Zanzibar, I highly recommend this book.

Reviewed by Jon Arensen, Professor Emeritus, Houghton College

The Truth About Zanzibar by Aman Thani Fairuz

http://www.amazon.com/Truth-About-Zanzibar-Thani-Fairuz-ebook/dp/B00W521I6Q/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1432554251&sr=8-1&keywords=zanzibar+truth

NEWS: Aman Thani Fairuz has passed away a few weeks ago. (1927-2016) in Dubai. His story lives on. We salute his life and recognise the suffering he endured. He survived through the torture inflicted by the regime and escaped to tell the tale. History can now record what happened. 

For many years this book was almost unavailable. The original date of authorship was 1995. It was passed between people as a word document and parts of it were spoken about. Now, fifty years after the Zanzibar Revolution / Invasion, it is available on Amazon. with thanks to the translator, Ali Muhsin Barwani.

Anyone interested in the history of Zanzibar should read it. For Aman Thani Fairuz was there during the years of political wrangling and then during the dark years of suffering under President Abeid Karume. Maybe we should not dwell on those years, maybe we should be looking ahead, but the trouble is the truth of those years is hardly known, hardly acknowledged.

There have been few stories published about them. Luckily for historians Aman Thani Fairuz was a man with an amazing memory and a determined nature. He survived the prisons and the torture and came out determined to tell the story of those that did not survive.

This is how the author speaks in the Preface:

"My gratitude to the Most Merciful God who has enabled me to write this little book in which 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.

 It is not an easy read, the descriptions are disturbing and distressful. But it must be told for the people that suffered need to be remembered. And most important  - Zanzibar is still trying to work out how to achieve justice and Zanzibaris should learn from the past and not from the sugared lies that are told about the achievements of the Revolution. Only with the truth can they heal the past and go forward. 

Mr Issa Peera and Mrs Anne Chappel - author of Zanzibar Uhuru

The author, Anne Chappel, with Issa Peera in Adelaide.
Issa grew up in Zanzibar and qualified as a lawyer. He now lives in Adelaide, Australia

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