Zanzibar Memories of the Hindu Navratri festival; garbas and treats. By Bhadra Vadgama

Zanzibar before 1964

As you will all remember, in Zanzibar during the Navratri festival, young girls used to come to Hindu homes in a group to sing these 'garbas' after school, and we used to give them 'ek ke be paisa' in return. The practice is so similar to Carol singing during Xmas and 'Treat or Trick' during Halloween in the West but the treats we gave these girls, in comparison, were so modest in our days.

 When these girls sang at our homes we used to give them 5 or 10 cents each. So one song to rhyme with the first letter of the currency says, for example:
 Tel [oil] purave [gives] tene [to her] teliyo [oily] dikro [son] aave re [will be born]. 
These girls will be carrying small earthen pots with holes in them and they'd light a diwa in them. 

They also mention the name of the son at whose home they are singing, so for example, in one song it says, ‘Jawaharbhai [my brother’s name] will bring a lotus flower and his wife Anupama will have the pleasure of enjoying its fragrance.'

With the help of my brother, I wrote these down before we all forget them for ever.

If any of you, or the friends you are in touch with, know any more of these, please do send them to me. 

નવરાત્રિના કેરોલ્સ

  

એક દડો, ભાઈ બીજો દડો, ત્રીજા તોરણ બાંધજો

આજના મારા  જવાહરભાઈ તમારી વહુને વારજો

તમારી વહુ છે લાડકાં ઝાંઝરિયાં ઘડાવજો

ઝાડ ઉપર ઝૂમખાં, ચોખલિયાળી ભાતરે

ભાત રે ભાત રે ભળકડાં વેલ છૂટતી જાય રે

વેલમાં બેઠો વાણિયો કાગળ લખતો જાય રે

કાગળમાં બે પૂતળી હસતી રમતી જાય રે

વાંકાશેરનો વાણિયો શેર કંકુ તોળે રે

આછી ટીલી ઝગેમગે, ટહુલે ટહુલે મોર રે

મોર વધાવ્યા મોતીડે ઈંઢોણી મેલી રડતી રે

રડતી હોય તો રડવા દેજે.

·          

તેલ પૂરાવે તેને તેલિયો દીકરો આવે રે

ઘી પૂરાવે તેને ઘેલો દીકરો આવે રે

પૈસો પૂરાવે તેને પાંચ દીકરા આવે રે

સેન્ટિયો પૂરાવે તેને સેડાળો દીકરો આવે રે

રૂપિયો પૂરાવે તેને રુપાળો દીકરો આવે રે.

·          

 ચાંદા ચાંદાની રાત ચાંદો કેદી ઊગશે રે

ચાંદો પાછલી પરોડ મોતીડાં વીણશે રે

જ્વાહરભાઈ ચાલ્યા દરબાર, ઘોડે બેસી આવશે રે

લાવશે કમળનાં ફૂલ, અનુપમા વહુ સૂંઘશે રે.

·          

મા એકના એકવીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા બેના બાવીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા ત્રણના ત્રેવીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા ચારના ચોવીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા પાંચના પચીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા છના છવીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા સાતના સત્તાવીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા આઠના અઠાવીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા નવના ઓગણત્રીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે

 મા દસે પૂરા ત્રીસ ગરબો ઘૂમે છે.

·          

ચકી તારા ખેતરમાં મેં ઝીંઝવો વાવ્યો

 ઝીંઝવે ચડી જોઉં રે કોઈ આદમી આવે

 હંસલો ઘોડો હાથમાં જવાહરભાઈ આવે

 હાલડહૂલડ બેટડો ધવડાવતી નાર  આવે

 આવને વીરા વાત કહું, કયા દેશથી આવ્યા?

 ઝીણી ભરડાવું લાપસી વીર વાડીએ જમજો

આદુમરીનાં આથણાં વીર વાડીએ જમજો.

ભદ્રા વડગામા અને નટુભાઈ કાપડિયા

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.

Life in Zanzibar before and after the Revolution from the Kanga Family

The Zanzibar Revolution:

On 10^th December 1963 Zanzibar island gained independence form Great Britain. A month later, on the night of January 12^th 1964, a band of some 300 people, violently seized the island of Zanzibar (Unguja) and overthrew  the Sultan of Zanzibar and his mainly Arab Government. In this bloody Zanzibar Revolution hundreds and thousands of Arabs and Indians were killed in genocide and thousands more expelled.

On the morning of the revolution the square in front of our house was surrounded by revolutionaries with guns and Machetes (broad heavy knives) but because of the British locality none of the houses were stormed (attacked), although observed day and night. None of us would dare go out for several days in fear of being attacked and killed.  We eventually ventured out to get to work, shopping etc., at first by car and then walking to work.

Most of the killings occurred outside the town in rural areas although few were killed in town caught unawares outside and others attending the church service. The Zanzibaris were caught unawares, as none of us, visualize that this would happen, as in Zanzibar all the citizens lived together in harmony regardless of class or creed.

Hoshie and Bepsy's parents in Zanzibar: wedding day

Kanga Family: from Hoshie Eddie Kanga

Hoshie & Bepsy's father on 'protection' duty during the visit of Princess Margaret to Zanzibar in 1956

I was born on the spice island of Zanzibar on Armistice Day, 11^th November 1941. My parents are of Zoroastrian faith. My father was Eddie Fredoonji Kanga and he worked in the British Colonial Government.
My upbringing was a happy one. After graduating with GCE “O” levels from Aga Khan High school in 1960, I started temporary work for six months at the Municipal Elections, and later joined the Zanzibar Colonial Government service in the department of H M Customs and Excise.

After the Revolution, in January 1964, I with other Asian officers was sacked on the spot without prior notice. On the day of the sacking all the staff was called to assemble outside the corridor and was told “When your names are called out, Step forward”. 

I was amongst the ones whose names were called and were then told that we were all sacked. I had completed two and a half years of service. No compensation was paid.  This sacking was in a way, blessing in disguise, which gave me opportunity to go to London and I took it.  

Beginning of May 1964 without notifying anyone outside the family, I set out to go first to the mainland Dar es Salaam, stayed for a fortnight and then got a passage on French ship to go to London via Suez Canal.  Ports of call:  Dar es Salaam – Mombasa – Djibouti – Port Said – Port Suez – Alexandria – Marseilles – Paris - and finally arrived at Dover, Kent (UK) on 31 May 1964 – then by Train to  London, Victoria.

My sister, Bepsy, was also in Zanzibar during and after the Revolution. The people in power after the revolution were planning to forcibly marry with young Persian and Indian girls. My parents, requested me to call my sister to the United Kingdom. I, therefore, arranged to enroll Bepsy for a secretarial course at a college in Dublin, Southern Ireland.  Bepsy also quietly left Zanzibar for Dar-es-Salaam to avoid suspicion (after revolution one could travel to the mainland); then after a fortnight stay travelled in  August 1967 to Dublin, Southern Ireland, via London. I also flew from London to greet her on arrival at Dublin airport. Bepsy was 17 years old at the time.

My Brother, Dhanjishaw, escaped the turmoil of Zanzibar Revolution as he was already living and working in Dar es Salaam since i962.

My Father was born in Navsari, Gujarat state, India in 1908; after his secondary school education, at the age of 18 years, immigrated to Zanzibar and started working at first in the Shipping Company, African Mercantile, and then joined the British Colonial Service, worked in various government departments and finally In Attorney General’s office. 

After retiring from the Government Service in Attorney General’s office, my Father worked as a part time Priest (while in India, my Father also did our Zoroastrian Religious studies and was ordained to become a priest) at our Parsee Fire Temple (Agiari), which was situated on the outskirts of town, near the Zanzibar Prisons. The Fire Temple at night was isolated and after the Revolution was not safe so we pleaded with my parents to consider leaving Zanzibar. In the beginning they were reluctant to do so as both loved the island so much, besides lived in a beautiful house in town in Shangani area which was a nice location. Our house was opposite then Cable and Wireless which was later converted into now Serena Hotel.

My sister and I persuaded our parents to leave Zanzibar to go India.  Finally, in 1983 our parents left Zanzibar secretly to Dar-es-Salaam, the mainland and stayed couple of months with my brother before travelling to Mumbai (Bombay) India. Had to keep the travel plans secret; although, soon after the revolution, many people were expelled, later the government were reluctant to let them leave.

As a result of people leaving Zanzibar, especially businessmen, the thriving economy of the island suffered; and the once well known trade, in Cloves and copra (dried coconuts), coconut oil and clove oil also deteriorated.

The Bulsara Family

Another Zoroastrian (Parsi) family, Bomi & Jer Bulsara, whose son Freddie Mercury born Farrokh Bulsara, the front man of Rock Band “Queen” and charismatic solo performer became famous in the United Kingdom and all over the world. “We will Rock You” the Queen’s musical in London, one of the best.

Freddie was born in Zanzibar on 05^th September 1946 and went to an English style boarding school in India when he was eight. Freddie always loved to sing and set up a school band when he was 12. He later joined his parents in the United Kingdom. Freddie lived first in a flat and then a big mansion, also in Kensington, London.

In 1964 as a result of the Zanzibar Revolution the family including Freddie’s younger sister Kashmira, now 60 fled to the United Kingdom and settled in Feltham, Middlesex. Jer Bulsara (Freddie’s Mum) who is 90 is still living in Nottingham, England. Her husband Bomi, a former cashier in the British Colonial office, died nine years ago, aged 95.

Freddie Mercury died tragically of Aids related pneumonia in November 1991. He was 45. Mrs. Bulsara is particularly keen on a lavish new book which is about to be published, twenty years after the death of Rock’s most famous singers. The new book “Freddie Mercury, The Great Pretender: A Life in Pictures", is full of wonderful photographs including several never-before seen images, that span the rock star's life.

Although Freddie’s house in Shangani was close to ours, I have never met Freddie, either in Zanzibar, or in the United Kingdom.  However, we used to visit his parents frequently in Zanzibar and have also met his parents and sister Kashmira on numerous occasions in London.

Other Parsi Families

Another well known, Jasavala family, used to live in a beautiful big house which is now converted into Hotel “Tembo” ran a thriving business, Liquor and General store, established by Coswjee Dinshaw of India. After the Revolution, the property was confiscated by the Revolutionary Government.  Eventually the house was converted into the present hotel “Tembo”, so named because originally, in the house courtyard stood a big statue of an Elephant (Tembo in Kiswahili). There is now a swimming pool.

Gradually, one by one, most of the Zoroastrians (Parsi) family left the shores of Zanzibar, first to the mainland, Dar es Salaam, and then to India, United Kingdom, U. S. A. and Canada. Also the Indians as well as other nationalities had to flee leaving their thriving businesses behind.

At the present time, there is only one Zoroastrian family, father and daughter, remaining in Zanzibar, they are also planning to go to Canada to be reunited with another daughter who has settled there.

My Brother, Dhanjishaw, goes to Zanzibar regularly three to four times in a year for holidays and relaxation.

Final Reflection:

2002 Hoshie Kanga MBE at Buckingham Palace

Since settling in London in May of 1964, I have visited Zanzibar many times; in the beginning, I was refused permission to visit my parents, as I was declared Prohibited Immigrant but gradually situation improved in Zanzibar and then I could visit regularly.

All the visits to Zanzibar, since the Revolution has been peaceful and brought all the beautiful memories flooding back of my growing up in Paradise, on the spice island of Zanzibar. At present, Zanzibar is in the limelight; as we noticed many tourists are now visiting Zanzibar and staying in Stone town, as well as different beautiful beaches all over the island. Let’s all wish that Zanzibar remains peaceful.

I have often wondered, what I would have been doing, if the Zanzibar revolution did not take place. However, I have no regrets; have enjoyed life to the full.

I arrived in London on 31st May 1964; after three days of my arrival, I was fortunate to find a temporary job in a cigarette manufacturing company, worked there for eleven months; was unemployed for one month (received Social Security benefit); then joined the British Civil Service in May 1965.

I Retired from the Civil Service; H.M. Treasury, on 10th November 2001 after a service of over 18 years. In the New Years Honours  list of 2001 I was awarded the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (MBE) from Her Majesty the Queen Elizabeth II for my services to HM Treasury. I received the MBE at the Investiture Ceremony and it was presented by His Royal Highness Prince of Wales, Prince Charles at Buckingham Palace on 17th April 2002.

THE ZOROASTRIAN BACKGROUND: WHO ARE THE ZOROASTRIANS?

Zoroastrians are the followers of great Iranian prophet, Spitaman. Zarathushtra (known to the Greeks as Zoroaster). Zarathushtra lived and preached somewhere around the Aral sea, about three and thousand years ago, circa 1500 BCE.

The History:

For over a thousand years circa 549 BCE to 652 CE the religion taught by Zarathushtra flourished as the state religion of three mighty Iranian empires, that of Achaemenians (549-330 BCE) , the Parthians (28 BCE – 224 CE) and the Sasanians (224-652 CE). Amongst the many subjects of the Achaemenian empire were the Jews who adopted some of the prophet’s main teachings, and transmitted them in due course to Christianity and later to Islam.

THE PARSI ARRIVAL:

In the 7^th century CE, the Arabs conquered Iran and many of them settled there and gradually imposed their own religion of Islam. In the early 10^th century, a small group of Zoroastrians seeking freedom of worship and economic redress, left Iran and sailed towards the warm shores of Western India. They eventually arrived along the Gujarat coastline in 936 CE at a place they named Sanjan, 180 kms north of Mumbai (Bombay). There they flourished and came to be known as Parsis (Persians). Over the millennium, a small band of faithful Zoroastrians have continued to live in Iran, and have tried to preserve their culture and religious traditions as best as possible.

CURRENTLY:

Today, the Zoroastrian community, consisting of about 130,000 individuals, live in India, Iran and various parts of the English speaking world.   

by Hoshie & Bepsy Kanga

Why I shall Always Love Zanzibar by George Pereira

http://zanzibarsogas.blogspot.co.uk/
To me, Zanzibar was the ideal place to have been born and raised in. For one, it was a small little town; small enough to have been called a village, judging by its size. Its multi-cultural population added spice to an otherwise boring life. What made it very cozy was not only that the whitewashed buildings appeared to be hugging each other but that the people were unreservedly generous, tolerant of each other and warm. Above all, it was the lack of sophistication of the population that made it so welcoming and an ideal place on earth. Perhaps it was the best place on earth.

There were many distinct communities in Zanzibar, The Africans, who were by far the majority, lived primarily in an area called “Gambu” where they built their huts and lived peacefully within their own culture which had now become an amalgam of Arab and Swahili culture. This culture was understandably influenced by Islam and so it borrowed appreciably from Arab culture. The Muslim Arabs were the carriers of Islam wherever they went. Occasionally, the Africans held their “Ngomas” (dancing to the haunting sound of African drums.) The majority of Africans were Muslims and like most Muslims in Zanzibar, they were consciously polite and gentle people in spite of the general poverty that was endemic. In fact, the language itself reflected the politeness and gentleness of the people. “Swahili” in its dynamism, also assimilated many words from other languages but particularly from Arabic and Hindi words. The Africans, though in the majority, had few twentieth century skills during the early years of growing up on this island. This was probably due to their lack of formal schooling which had to be paid for. There was no free public education at that time. They usually took up jobs as “domestics” in households, or did menial tasks such as the ones offered to them by the municipality or the Public Works Department. Many were in construction and they were generally relegated jobs that involved heavy lifting. Some of the Africans lived on small pieces of land outside the town boundary and lived a subsistence life growing cassava and sweet potatoes, and raising chickens and goats. Others took up to fishing in the very generous Indian Ocean that hugged and embraced the shores of Zanzibar. Extra fish that were caught were sold at the busy local fish market and one was always assured that the assortment of fish on display would be fresh since they were taken from the pristine Ocean the night before. Refrigeration was unknown then and so the fish had to be sold as quickly as possible in order to maintain their freshness. I recall that one way to tell whether fish were fresh was to open up the gills. If it was a bright red it might be considered safe for eating. As in most developing countries the customer was expected to bargain since the initial asking price was usually very inflated. Bargaining had a cultural component to it. Good bargaining techniques came with years of practice and involved a whole lot of acting and body language that conveyed messages of dissatisfaction, disapproval, walking-away-from-the-deal, or final acceptance expressions. If a customer chose not to bargain he might be considered “foolish” or “retarded”. He might also be considered an ignorant foreigner.

Other Africans worked for wealthy Arab land owners in possession of vast clove and coconut plantations. During the year, the workers were occupied in weeding large tracks of land, and during the picking season, they were up the trees picking cloves or coconuts which were then dried and stored in large burlap sacks for export to places like Russia, India and other countries. The export of cloves and copra were the chief cash crops of Zanzibar. Many Africans also worked the Port area and helped in the task of loading and unloading ships. In those far off days, large goods were transported by “hamali carts”. These were long carts on four wheels, steered by one strong African while the others pushed vigorously at the cart from behind to keep it moving. There were no brakes on these carts so that accidents were liable to take place particularly if the crew operating the carts were irresponsible or in hurry to avoid late deliveries.

Another large group in Zanzibar were the Arabs. Arabs were generally from Yemen. The Sultan of Oman was appointed the Sultan of Zanzibar through a treaty with the British. Consequently, most of the land and houses were owned by Arabs. The Arabs were Muslims. Since Zanzibar society was fashioned around the manorial system as practiced in Europe in the Middle Ages, the Arabs could well be compared to the Lords of the Manor. The serfs were the Africans, and I am sure that there must have been a quiet resentment among the Africans since they were paid a subsistence wage for all the hard work that they performed. It was very rare to see an Arab in the retail business or working as civil servants. The skills and the enthusiasm or the patience for desk jobs were just not there. The Government of Zanzibar, however, was Arab dominated. Eventually this was to change after the Revolution in the sixties.

As you might expect, Indians from India was a sizeable group in Zanzibar. However, this was a very heterogeneous group. Some were Muslims and represented different sects in the Islamic world. Of these groups, the Bohoras, the Ithnasheries and the Ismailis were the largest groups. Most of the Indians were shop keepers and ran a variety of businesses from car sales to selling local and imported produce. For all practical purposes, Zanzibar town looked very much like little India. Most businesses were owned by Indians who generally lived within the confines of the town. This must have been a source of quiet resentment among the indigenes who always viewed the Indians as foreigners and were considered exploitive in their business practices.

The Goans, who refused to be called Indian at this time, were another distinct group. Having migrated from Goa where there was an entrenched Portuguese Colonial government, the Goans felt that they had an edge over their Indian counterparts in as far as they were Christians like their British masters and most of them were fluent in English made even more so by the efforts of the Sisters of the Precious Blood who ran St. Joseph’s Convent school. Catholics were forced to join this school failing which, their salvation was rumoured to be in jeopardy. Most Goans chose to err on the side of eternal salvation more out of the fear of eternal damnation rather than conviction. The Goans were favoured by the British and given priority in joining the civil service. This was in great part due to the innate honesty of the Goans; their ability to work hard and their loyalty to their British bosses. They were cut out to be excellent civil servants. A book written by a British civil servant entitled, “The Isle of Cloves” devoted an entire chapter to the contributions that Goans were making to their adopted country and revealed that without the Goans the British bosses would probably be in limbo with regard to their responsibilities. The author of “The Isle of Cloves” was promptly transferred out of Zanzibar for being on the side of truth. British Colonials referred to this kind of transfer as a promotion. British Colonialism was synonymous with the Russian Gulag.

Wherever the Goans have gone, it would seem that before long, they would get themselves institutionalized. This sounds very innocuous. What I mean is that Goans have always felt the need to band together and form an association. Legend has it that a Goan Association (call it a Club if you must) was a necessary component of Goan life because it gave them an opportunity to meet, expand their friendships, tear down reputations and preserve their “Goanness” whatever that might be. To some it meant the preservation of Konkoni while to others it probably meant the exchange of Goan recipes that were bound to bring disparate groups of Goans together. Finally, it was hoped that through social interaction, children could ultimately find their mates locally rather than having to travel all the way to Goa in search of one. It was never articulated in public, but mixed marriages were not looked upon kindly. These clubs also provided, on a regular basis, social events such as dances, bingos (usually referred to as “housey-housey”) and sports such as billiards, and table tennis. The bar was the watering hole for the young teenagers who felt that a beer or two (and sometimes a lot more) never killed anyone and so the bar became the focal point of many young sports participants and enthusiasts who met after a game of hockey or soccer to share their collective experiences. Some these young adults played “flush” (a variant of poker) at very low stakes.

When the Goans got to Zanzibar at the turn of the 18th Century in search of better opportunities, the need for a Goan Club became very urgent. At that time, the various groups ethnic, religious or cultural banded together because they felt that they had much to preserve from the Mother country and there was always safety in numbers. In essence, it became a multicultural society very much like Canada is today. The British (the Colonial Masters) did not seem to mind this just as long as these groups did not pose a danger to their stake in the colony.

Initially, the band that played at the Goan Club was made up of old veterans from the mother country. One played the drums, another played the violin, yet another played the piano and then there was a sax player. In the context of the times when the Waltz, Quick Step, Slow
Foxtrot, Tango, Samba and the Viennese Waltz was king, this band churned out all the appropriate sounds and tempo for couples to show off the latest steps. Then came Artie Shaw and his band of renown and conventional sounds were challenged. One fine day a Goan artist from Daressalaam (who played Artie Shaw’s famous tunes on his clarinet) introduced the Zanzibaris to those melodious sounds, and music forever began to change. Dancing steps became more vigorous with the entry of Elvis Presley on the music scene much to the discontent of the older folk who viewed jive and jitterbug as crude and a curse visited upon their children. It was only after President Kennedy led the way, that these dance expressions found some respectability and subsequent acceptability.

But dances were not the only activities that were planned by the Goans. There was an active field hockey team (A and B teams) representing the Goans and also an active cricket team. All these teams participated in a variety of leagues which were open to serious competition by the other Club enthusiasts.

When Christmas rolled along, we would have Santa dress in his usual red garb and come and meet the excited children at the Club in a hand pulled rickshaw. When the children had their fun and received their toys, there was a Christmas dance held late in the evening for adults. The bar was well attended and there were quite a few inebriated individuals who in spite of their unsteadiness late into the night still got home safely because most people walked home. Perhaps only a handful of members owned cars. Many participants at these dances promptly left for home at mid-night since it was almost cultural that fights ensued shortly thereafter due to the drunkenness of some individuals.

In the early sixties Sports visits were encouraged between the Daressalaam Goan Institute and the Zanzibar Goan Institute. These were times when there was much excitement in Zanzibar and Daressalaam. It was also a special occasion for all the young boys and girls to meet and develop relationships which parents hoped would eventually end in matrimony. Zanzibar was known by the rest of East Africa (Kenya, Tanganyika, and Uganda) as the one place where teams could look forward to being given a great welcome and a wonderful time. It was also known for its pretty girls.

Most Goan parents in Zanzibar (and I expect elsewhere) were deeply entrenched in the belief in caste. This surfaced particularly when a marriage prospect was to be considered. Somehow, some parents believed that if you married “down” you were marrying someone with some genetic or intellectual disability. Caste also played a pivotal role when it came to membership in the Goan Club. The victims generally denied membership were the Goan cooks, shoe-makers and tailors. As a result the cooks, tailors and shoe makers formed their own association. This form of discrimination will forever be a black mark on the Goan community who, by their very silence, were a party to this degrading and unchristian practice.

They say that it takes a village to raise a child. This is very true of growing up in Zanzibar. Parents kept a religious eye on all the children and this must have assured their safety while they grew up. The great thing about growing up in Zanzibar is that you could go to a friend’s house at any time of the day without phoning ahead, that is, if you had a phone. You were always welcomed and you were assured that you would be treated with generosity and love by the parents. There was also a great deal of sharing. I recall that our Parsee friends Saros and Goderich Engineer had parents (Parsees) who would order Laurel and Hardy Comics from the UK. Saros and Goderich were considered by their friends to be very fortunate to have wealthy parents who could afford all kinds of toys particularly during the war years. However, Saros and Goderich were very generous and shared whatever they had very willingly. I remember being a regular visitor to their house and enjoyed the “Beano” and “Dandy” comics that appeared at regular intervals. “Captain Marvel” and “Captain Marvel Jr” comics were in short supply but somehow Saros and Goderich always had them.

The Goan Institute surely fulfilled its purpose at least in Zanzibar. To me it became the meeting place of all my friends. We could have healthy fun and grow into mature adults. Above all, the Club provided parents with security that their children were safe, and this took the potential for worry out of parenting.

There were other groups such as the Parsees, Comorians, Chinese and Iranians. All these groups were integrated into Zanzibar society and played an important role in the development of Zanzibar.

The final group were the British Colonials. They were the privileged ones. They had their own exclusive English Club and Golf Club. They generally went about their business without attracting much attention from the public. From time to time, bits of gossip trickled to the community about the misconduct of the Britishers at their Club particularly after they had much to drink. They made excellent rulers but their private lives were generally a shambles. The British did not mix with the “locals” on a social level. Those who made any attempts to do so were ostracised by their own and were often forced to leave the island or were transferred to another less hospitable colony as a penalty.

Our teenage years in Zanzibar were also quite interesting. In spite of all the teenage urges that occupy ones universe of desires at that age, we were still able to exercise a great deal of restraint particularly with the opposite sex. It would be pointless to compare our teenage years with how we see teenagers in North America conduct themselves and the freedoms that they are allowed. Ours was one which was based on sometimes imposed respect for the girls we knew. Sexual contact was taboo. Girls getting pregnant outside marriage were considered “wayward” and they were ostracised by the Goan community. Somehow, even the family of the pregnant girl got ostracised with the shame of it all. As a result, girls were very careful about their virginity, and boys were too scared to be saddled with an unwanted pregnancy particularly because it meant a shot gun marriage if pregnancy did occur. Furthermore, most young boys and girls were looking forward to furthering their education, a theme that was drummed in by the parents since kindergarten. An unwanted pregnancy would bring a swift end to their ambitions. Fear of venereal diseases also had a very moderating influence on sexual conduct. A.I.D.S. was not known then, but there were other sexually transmitted diseases that were considered as life threatening as H.I.V. (A.I.D.S.)

Growing up in Zanzibar was constantly monitored by parents and friends alike. Neighbours were not reluctant to correct you if they found you doing the wrong thing. Neighbours were respected and so were friends of the family. There was always an awareness that if we did not listen to our elders, we would have to reckon with our parents and this meant serious corporal punishment befitting the offence. There was a deep seated belief in the adage “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” Children were to be seen and not heard particularly in the presence of their parents and elders. I really do not believe that it was a good life skill. But I am sure that this made the lives of our parents a lot more bearable than it is for parents today.

St. Joseph’s Convent School in Zanzibar has got to be the pulse of our lives as we grew up We were given the discipline that would stand us in good stead, not only in school, but also in later life. My experiences in this School are what movies are made of and on reflection often leave a smile on my face.

Many parents who were forced to leave Zanzibar because of the convulsions of the political system would give their right arm to have brought up their children in Zanzibar. Their children would have had a full childhood free from the stresses of life as it is known in the West today. In the West children are forced to become latch-key kids because economics in the West demands two wages to make ends meet. Children are often denied their childhood that they rightfully deserve and this will forever influence their attitudes and relationship in the future.

Many Zanzibaris tell me that the Zanzibar of the twenty-first century has changed dramatically. The old values have been laid to rest in preference for the values of the West. While this was inevitable, I know I shall always cherish the Zanzibar that I once knew and still love unreservedly.

A Story to be Told: John Baptiste da Silva - 1937-2013

By A. Tapper & F. McKenna - from EA Circle

The wind was blowing and the movie screen was shaking on a hotel rooftop high above the remains of Stone Town, ancient capital of the Zanzibar archipelago. Yet John da Silva, then 75, was undeterred. He wanted to tell his story. Many followers and friends will remember how the frail man with spectacles made up his way on the steep staircase of Emerson Spice hotel to give entertaining power point lectures about the elaborate and often painful history of Zanzibar, every fortnight or so. The audience of eager listeners was growing every week - tourists, expatriates and locals alike.

John da Silva passed away on March 20, 2013 at the age of 76, with his family by his side, leaving many wondering: Who, now, will pick up where the renowned historian left and continue to tell the story?

Da Silva, who died of heart complications, some related to diabetes, had been ill for some time and leaves behind his devoted daughters Donna, Valerie and Cecilia, his adored nieces Bernadine, Presilda, Lucas, Lorna, Francesca, Lorraine, Ulrica, Roselee and Ramona, and three brothers Santana, Abel and Cajetan. His wife Carmen, who he had met and married in Zanzibar, died in 1993 and his late brother Rudolph had passed away recently.

Not least, he leaves an island, which is in mourning today for a man universally loved, admired and cherished for his gentle, generous and gregarious soul, his sharp wit, intellectual brilliance and tenacious dedication to the integrity of Zanzibar and its people. All its people. Those from every community he so lovingly sought to be preserved in their intertwined intricacies of their diverse histories.

The historian, artist and family father was Zanzibar's living memory. And he had indeed a story to tell. Of artistically carved doors of Indian, Persian and Arab origin, of Sultans' times and merchandise, of Zanzibar's development over the centuries under the gentle trade winds of the monsoon. Audiences were spellbound when he talked about "The doors of Zanzibar", "The history of Cosmopolitan Commerce" or "The history of Zanzibar thorough old photos" as some of his lectures were titled. In his later years, when the end of the Cold War in Africa and the world finally enabled him to speak more freely, Da Silva was using his private archives of photos, drawings, street maps, shop signs and files to bring to life chapters of the rich history of Zanzibar, the spice islands off the coast of Tanzania. He presented facts and photos, which might have otherwise been lost forever.

As the main historian of Zanzibar he had witnessed it all: Born in Portuguese Goa on the 24th January, 1937, as the son of Goan immigrants, his family moved to Zanzibar in 1947. His father, a renowned tailor, had been the dressmaker of the island's ninth sultan, Seyyid Sir Khalifa II bin Harub Al-Said. The Omanis had ruled Zanzibar for two centuries before it became independent. As history has it, John's father also designed and stitched a dress for Princess Margret from England during her state visit to Zanzibar in 1954. Often, little John was to make the deliveries of the royal gowns to his father's clients.

In 1964, when Zanzibar became part of Tanzania after a bloody revolution where many were killed and fled the country, da Silva stayed on initially working for the local registrar. In 1958 he started work in accounting, but his interest in art soon led him to work on the restoration of of the paintings and murals in the Catholic Cathedral of St Joseph. Built by the French about 1898, the Cathedral's Romanesque style is a replica of the basilica of Notre Dame de La Garde Marseilles.

Although Da Silva's early paintings featured Zanzibar portraits, the work on the Cathedral stimulated his interest in the architecture of Stone Town. Concerned that there was no documentation of these diverse architectural styles influenced by cultures of the Omani Arabs, Indians, Persians and European colonials, he soon focused his art on the buildings of Stone Town.

Da Silva captured these facades in pen and ink and watercolour as well as with his camera. He leaves a collection of over 300 photos, and in many instances, the only known record of the carved wooden doors, windows, iron lattice work decorating the balconies, alleys, streets, historical and architectural important buildings of Stone Town.

Over the years he saw the decay of the main island's historic city centre, a unique collection of 2000 or so elaborate palaces, temples, merchant houses built entirely from coral stone, most of them stemming from the height of Zanzibar's development in the mid-19th century.

"In 1880, this was one of the richest trade towns in the world after New York, Paris and London; we had a garage for Rolls Royce cars here but only a one-mile-stretch of road", da Silva used to amuse his listeners in his typical dry humour.

Following the revolution in Zanzibar it was not allowed to photograph Stone Town - yet, although it endangered his freedom, da Silva did. As an historian he felt a personal obligation to document the fate of the islands, which had seen 11 dynasties of Omani rulers in three centuries, before it became a British protectorate in 1890, and where last Sultan, Barghash, had built "The House of Wonders", Africa's first property with electricity and an elevator south of the Sahara.

John da Silva was intimately connected to the history of the island. Not only in talking but also in doing. He personally re-painted some of the frescoes of St. Joseph Cathedral, the centre of Catholic faith on the predominantly Muslim island, and he took part, although not voluntarily, in the building of the so-called German Flats, a present of residential buildings by former East German Democratic Republic to Zanzibar.

His walking tours became legendary amongst visitors to the island, often undertaken in his later life with the help of a walking stick in searing tropical heat during periods of ill health. Walking with Da Silva, Stone Town became a living museum. He pointed out the details that distinguished the Arab (Swahili) doors from the Indian (Zanzibar has the largest number of carved doors in East Africa): the simplicity of the Arab mosques as compared to the ornate Indian mosques and four Hindu temples: Gothic, Italian and English window styles all in the same building; history learned from change of ownership of buildings as new rulers came to power.

In 1991 the united Republic of Tanzania approved a proposal by Da Silva to dedicate a series of postage stamps to the rich architectural heritage of Stone Town. A unique collection of four stamps was issued featuring his pen and watercolour drawings of the National Museum, The High Court building, the Balnarna Mosque and a Balcony.

Not last with da Silva's documentation and scholarly assistance Stone Town was declared a UNESCO world heritage site in 2000. Experts fear, however, that 80 per cent of the building stock is already beyond repair. The House of Wonders was turned into a Museum in 2002, and is currently under repair after parts of the backside of the historic monument collapsed late last year. John da Silva was furious about this, as he always was when neglect overran conservation.

He was an ardent defender of historical sites appreciating their immeasurable value against all odds. A conservationist of high moral standard, he always pleaded in favour of protecting the cultural sites of Zanzibar in all their variety - but also stressed that he did not want Stone Town to become a museum nor a collection of boutique hotels. Meaningful restoration to him meant authentic, multi-purpose reuse of old structures. The preservation and restoration had to be done without creating a sterile, new environment affordable only to the wealthy and the tourists.

John da Silva loved the island, which was his home and the island loved him. He was one of Zanzibar's true and rare cosmopolitans. He has lived to tell his story.

Da Silva's funeral mass took place Thursday 21st March at St Joseph's Cathedral, Stone Town  and was followed by his interment at Mwanakwerekwe Cemetery.