KILOMBERO, Pts. 1 & 2

A brief testimony of rural East African life as seen through urban West African eyes

Most people come to the island of Zanzibar, that part of Tanzania that sits deep in the Indian Ocean, for the breathtaking beauty of the landscape which encompasses incredible cocaine white sand banks, crystal clear cartoon-like turquoise waters, unbelievably fast tide changes and tasteful fruits straight from one of the many community oriented spice farms. And they should because Zanzibar is all that and much more, a proud African entity as clean as much of Geneva, where rush is unnecessary and security is confident enough for police officers never to be seen anywhere.

However, as a landscape photographer having already secured a few nice shots in the couple of weeks I spent on the island, I felt an urge, before I left, to look for that “much more” I had seen time and time again while I strolled around town, a “much more” visible in the faces of those who make all this natural beauty go unscathed: the people.

Watu Wa Zanzibar - “people of Zanzibar” in local Swahili - come in many shapes and forms as people from everywhere do, while most of them share a Muslim faith they do not otherwise feel the need to wear on their sleeves. I found these men and women to be mostly pleasant, tolerant, gracious and seemingly worry-free (besides the usual overzealous police officers at the airport), most of them ready to shoot a combinaison of “Jumbo”, “Karibu” as well as the world famous “Hakuna Matata” to the tourists they meet every single day, for the land - somewhat of an independent state with its local governing entity within a non-federal country - thrives off tourism first and foremost. These greetings are usually followed by the classic “Where are you from?” or the guessing of such, especially when they meet a dark skin fellow looking just like them, except for his professional camera gear which underlines his non-resident status.

So the curious in I strolled through a few areas of Zanzibar most tourists don’t bother to visit in order to capture moments of rural everyday life in places like Uzini and Kilombero, while constantly wondering, even there, far from tourists mainstays like Nakupenda Beach and Fumba Island, about the squeakiness of the area which stood in sharp contrast to the muddy, messy, overfilled streets of my native Côte d’Ivoire. My guide, Cool Rama, who was a professional local guide, private hire taxi driver and overall easygoing fellow, knew how to help maneuver the required diplomacy and friendliness - let alone the Swahili language - needed to introduce me to the locals I wanted to take photos of, always with their consent. Most of them, although startled and unprepared, were accommodating, while the rare “no’s” I encountered were being offered firmly but gracefully, usually, I believe, for religious reasons I did not feel the need to judge. Still they mostly obliged and the results are these few pictures taken around Kilombero, most notably at Wizara Ya Elimu public school - itself an unexpected photo shoot which was allowed by the principal and the teachers on the spot, with no prior knowledge of my visiting and no requirement whatsoever, a kind, atypical gesture I would have had a hard time encountering in my own country.

Hence I dearly cherished these shots, average as they may be, for they were taken outside of my comfort zone, socially, culturally, geographically and, yes, technically, but still showcase a slice of rural East African life through my urban West African eyes.