1st -15th Dec 2020
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| Princess Salme |
I think I've covered most of interest (to me) around this charming island, Zanzibar, and have been having a very relaxed routine in and around the town for the past two weeks. Reading about all the hassle in UK makes me feel a very lucky chap indeed!
I briefly mentioned Princess Salme in my earlier report from the Palace Museum. I found a small museum, near my gaff on Hurumzi Street, dedicated to her. The curator, and expert on all things concerning Salme and the Sultans, was a most extraordinary and charming chap called Said El Geithy. He was very dapper and spoke fluent 'posh' English in the manner of a 1950s country squire and was dressed accordingly. He had been to both London and Brunel universities and had lived in London for most of his younger life before returning here, his country of birth. He was highly entertaining...and knowledgeable.
Princess Salme was also an extraordinary character. She was born in the Mtoto Palace north of Stone Town in 1844, one of 36 children (blimey!) of Sultan Sayeed Said. Against the 'law' in Zanzibar that prohibited women of that era to read and write (it might give them ideas!), she did just that. She taught herself by writing out verses from the Koran on a camel's flat shoulder bone. Can't think how she got hold of sufficient camels. Anyway, she was a rebellious young lady and duly incurred the wrath of the Palace...a staunch feminist of her time.
The photo above tells much of the story (click on to enlarge and you should be able to read it).
To cut a long story short, she fell in love with a wealthy German trader, Rudolph Heinrich Ruete who was based in Stone Town and whose residence was overlooked by Salme's apartments. She was smuggled off the island by Herr Ruete and, via Aden, ended up in Hamburg where they got married. She changed her first name to Emily. They produced 3 children, one of whom died in childbirth, and she became 'persona non grata' in Zanzibar Royal circles. Her husband died, aged only 31, in 1870. After his death she travelled widely via Beirut and London, wanted to go back to Zanzibar but was banned by the Sultan, and finally settled in Hamburg where she died in 1924 aged 80. She wrote two well received memoires (favourably reviewed by Oscar Wilde). One of her children was the German Defence Attaché in London for a time.
So that, in a nutshell, is her story. Thanks Said, if you read this.
Right: The Old Dispensary, built in the 19th century by the Ismaili merchant Tharia Topan who was an adviser to the Sultan and banker to the infamous Tippu Tip. It was a charitable medical dispensary. It is situated on the waterfront near the New Harbour. The elaborate and beautiful façade fronts what is now a few boring offices with nothing of interest inside.
Behind the Dispensary was this rather smart looking house called either Kholbe, or Kholle, house. It aroused my interest because I couldn't work out what it was. It might have been a guest house, but there was no sign of public entry. I am confident that my ever rescourceful investigative team will find an answer. They did. It is named after Princess Kholle and is now an upmarket guest house.
I met, briefly, some interesting and amusing people in Zanzibar. Two escapee tourists I met in Antonio's Hotel, a post-university couple, were of note because we decided we wanted to watch the England v France rugby match on 6th December. Lots of effort went into finding a suitable location. After a few false starts (all uselessly promising to show it) we eventually found it was on a TV channel at the North@6º South bar. A great find and I thought England were very lucky to win. A jolly evening nevertheless.
Before leaving the island to fly (via Nairobi) to my next destination I had to get, on instructions from Kenya Airways, one of these blasted 'Covid Negative' certificates. They were done at a place called the Lumumba Clinic north of the town. My helpful assistant Ali (from Bottoms Up) took me there by scooter on Friday 11th before I was due to fly out on Tuesday 15th. The test had to be valid within 72hrs of departure. What a performance! There was a tent which contained several tourist victims, a desk where you had to produce a copy, not the original, of your passport, fill in various forms and pay $80. They didn't accept cash or Mastercard credit. I then had to get to a bank to pay the fee. On return with a receipt I was then, relatively quickly, shown into a scruffy room with a 'doctor' who took two minutes to stuff a swab down my throat. I was told I would have to come to collect the result, and certificate, on Monday. On Monday the redoubtable Ali again took me back to the clinic. No result and I had to come back the following morning when 'inshallah' the certificate would be there. Back again on Tuesday morning and, miraculously, there was a certificate, dated the 15th; negative, of course. Nobody, I was told, has ever been issued with a 'positive' one! They wouldn't know what to do in consequence. The whole process is a money making scam and a complete waste of much time.
So this and the preceding editions just about sums up my extended visit to Zanzibar. I had originally booked a return flight to UK on 12th November but subsequently cancelled it. I have enjoyed my visit enormously for all the reasons previously mentioned. I really can't think why I would wish to return to UK while all these ridiculous restrictions are in place. Off next to Zambia where I have been invited to stay by a generous host on his large plantation near Ndola, up north in the Copper Belt. I've been there before which is meticulously detailed in my blog from Dec 13-Jan 14. No silly covid concerns there; I'm more likely to suffer from alcohol poisoning.
More to follow from Zambia....I hope.
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