51 Types of Cassava Including a Mzungu Variety

Jack Fruit or Cowwar

Last weekend Elsa (our Danish Chiropractic volunteer) and I decided to do a spice tour.  With Mwalim (one of my students) as our taxi driver and Said our knowledgeable tour guide, we headed to the government farms about 15km from Stone Town.  Said is also a herbalist and teacher and spoke perfect English.  Initially I thought he looked like a seriously conservative Muslim in his kofia (hat) and kanzu (long flowing gown).  But a couple of jokes about his nutmeg concoctions to make sperm swim more heartily, and he and I quickly became chums.

Nutmeg Presented in Banana Base

The first stop was a farm which had 26 varieties of sweet potato and 51 types of cassava growing – including a variety called Mzungu, which is Swahili for white person.  This variety had bright red stems – the colour that Mzungus generally turn when they stay in the sun too long.  Cassava and sweet potato leaves are also cooked and eaten here, which is unheard of in the Caribbean.  You use the young leaves at the top and cook as if you were preparing spinach, and sometimes nuts are ground and added to the dish. I am thinking some good salt fish would work as well – hard to find here – might have to substitute dried octopus.  By the way there are also 26 types of bananas grown here including an amazing red skinned variety which you rarely find in the Caribbean these days.

Cloves - An Opened Flower

From the farm we visited other smaller farms and saw bongo (a tart large seed passion fruit type fruit), jack fruit (cowwar), black pepper (grows on a vine), cloves (an unopened flower), cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric root, sour cherries, papaya, some sort of red cherries which are very rare, tangerines, cocoa, coffee, cilantro, lemon grass (fever grass), sapodilla (nesberry), sorrel, and tons of nutmeg.  One of the highlights was stopping in the nearby village to use the washroom and there was a little hut with two women cooking.  Said introduced me to them and they were frying these tiny finger sized fish whole.  Of course I had to sample them – it is the Trinidadian equivalent to fry-dry.  It was super – lots of geera (cumin) and you eat it in one go – head and bones and all.

Fish Fry - Was Yummy

After the spice tour we retreated to Zanzibar coffee house for my usual cappuccino and passion fruit tort.  From there headed to Archipelago for our lunch and on our way we made an amazing discovery.  In one of the winding streets we smelt freshly baked bread and following our noses, we found this amazing old bakery. It looked like something from the 14th century – wood fired stone ovens and hundreds of loaves of fresh bread coming out.  Of course we sampled the bread and bought some hot loaves – 3 loaves for 900 shillings or 60 cents US$.  Another week another super adventure in spicy Zanzibar.  Next week I am off to Dar es Salaam on the mainland for ICT training at VSO (my employers) headquarters.  Looking forward to meeting some of the new volunteers but not so much the Econo Lodge hotel where I will have to stay.  Hope there will be not electrical fireworks this time and leg restricting pillars in front the toilet, as I have not yet mastered the little practiced art of sitting sideways on a toilet seat to poo!

A Braai, $5 Shiraz & Prisoner #46664 - Amazing Cape Town

V&A Waterfront with Table Mountain in Background

Last week our school was closed, so after several frustrating Skype calls to Air Canada, I was able to secure a ticket on South African Airlines to Cape Town from my diminishing Aeroplan Miles.  I left home the same day that a ferry sank between Unguja (main island and commonly referred to as Zanzibar) to Pemba, the other island that makes up Zanzibar.  The ferry was overloaded with passengers and cargo (TIA – This is Africa), and over 200 persons drowned and many are still missing, making international news headlines.  Of course my overseas fan club members who knew I was travelling that day, heard Zanzibar and ferry sinking and there was Panic! At the Disco (great Vegas-based band by the way).  Facebook posts, and the fact that most of them did not have my new cell number, made it worse.  While my whereabouts and safety were being contemplated thousands of miles away, I was comfortably flying to Dar (8 minutes) on a Fly540 jet with 2 other passengers, to overnight and catch my flight to Cape Town the next day. Seeing a Safety Suggestion Box at the airport in Dar between two gates on the tarmac was somewhat unnerving – this is like having a surgical suggestion box in an operating theatre. Stayed at the Transit Motel close to Dar airport (AC, some TV, hot water, free WiFi, free breakfast, cheap beer, and terrible fried chicken) for a mere US$18). As a resident here I basically get about half price off on everything – hotels, flights, ferry ticket, not beer though.  Although like the airport suggestion box, the entrance to the hotel from the airport main road did not instill confidence – it looked like a backstreet in Mogadishu – no wonder the beer was so cheap.  I had to be up at 4 am though so could not do much damage to those cheap cold Serengetis.

The Braai at Michelle and Luche's

Next morning I was flying for the first time on South African Airways (SAA) and was very impressed.  On the first leg of 3.5 hours to Johannesburg (JoBurg) they served up minced meat, sautéed spinach, omelet, fresh fruit, yogurt, Ceres juices (best juice in the world), free booze – all at 7am in the morning in economy.  SAA makes business class on American Airlines and Air Canada look like McDonalds.  Wait not true – McDonalds’ coffee is actually better.  Couple small complaints though - they could have circled the airport before landing in JoBurg so we could see the end of Midnight in Paris - Woody Allen’s latest offering.  If it was an Indian Airways flight the pilot would have had no choice, as one of my friends experienced many years ago over New Delhi. Also they need to work on their in-flight magazine – it reads like the transcript of a Paris Hilton/Nicole Ritchie conversation. JoBurg airport is super nice - give yourself ample time though to get from the international to domestic terminal.  You don't need to fill out any immigration forms – a first ever for me.  Went to buy a bottle of water and had only large US$ bills and no Rands (local currency) and the person behind me asked if I was visiting and offered to pay for it.  That sort of friendliness I found throughout the week in Cape Town.  On the short 1.5 hour leg from JoBurg to Cape Town we got fed again (reminds me of Air Jamaica and BWIA in the old days although nothing beats the food on Kingfisher Airlines) and arrived in Cape Town early afternoon.  Checked into the Westin close to the immaculate and touristy V&A Waterfront and left my iPad with the front desk to get it charged (a power surge destroyed the charger a few weeks ago – I desperately need bush bath for my electronics).  My friends Michelle and Luche (and their lovely daughter), whom I met on my India trip last year, picked me up late afternoon for a braai at their place.  They love wine and I love wine so we became good friends.  Now about this braai thing – it means grilled meat so it is basically a barbeque lime and a national pastime in South Africa.  But guess what, because the weather is always windy and sometimes cold – they were “braaiing” inside the house – they had a fireplace on one end of the living room and a braai fireplace on the other end.  Had some great food and wine with them, caught up on life, got good advice on what to do and not do.  Unfortunately, they were both travelling for work during the week so I only saw them this one time.  Baie dankie for the braaii Michelle and Luche! 

The Kids Singing to Me in the Township

During the week I did most of the highlights in Cape Town – after first picking up a light jacket (it was cold and windy).   I visited District 6 and the museum – an area which razed in the 1960s and 60,000 blacks and coloureds evicted to make way for white settlements (which never materialised).  By the way to differentiate between blacks and coloureds the pencil test was sometimes used, whereby a pencil was stuck through the persons hair and if it fell out they were considered coloured. I wonder what they did for bald people.  Visited a couple townships (slum areas), which makes Laventille and the Beetham Estate in Trinidad look like Rodeo Drive and a far cry from the pristine V&A Waterfront area. This part of the tour made me feel like I was watching a not-so-funny episode of Good Times with no JJ (my age is showing now).  But while it was a bit depressing to see the substandard conditions in which hundreds of thousands of people lived in Africa’s largest slum Khayelitsha, there were some bright spots.  I was sung to by undernourished kindergarten-aged kids being cared for at a community centre, and saw women being taught pottery, screen printing and weaving skills to improve their livelihoods.  Perhaps the most optimistic of the lot was Vicky and her husband who set up South Africa’s smallest hotel in the middle of a slum.  It is cute and quaint and gets many overseas visitors including a British MP.  I guess not all of them stay in 5 Star hotels and do expense claims for 3 laptops and a flat for their misters and mistresses.  One suggestion though – they should rename Khayelitsha  “Coca Cola” – the same way I always suggested that the ferry from Antigua to Montserrat be renamed the “KFC Express”.  Coke logos were everywhere – on every business, on the streets, and even on the schools – the tour guide said that the Ministry of Education is sometimes confused for the Coca Cola offices. 

Mandela's Cell at Robben Island

The two highlights of my trip (there would have been three if I had not gotten a bit inebriated during a night on the town and forgot to wake up for my pre-booked winelands tour) were Robben Island where Mandela was imprisoned and taking the cable car up Table Mountain. Home to the 3rd largest penguin colony in the world and 125 species of birds, Robben Island is a World Heritage Site and one of Cape Town’s most popular attractions.  Our bus tour guide from the ferry port was quite the character – a sarcastic former courier for the Pan African Congress with a polished and eloquent English accent, with funny anecdotes on everything under the sun.  He gave Obama the tour on his visit at the request of his friend Mr. Mandela.  Robben Island was a former leper colony before it was converted to a prison after WWII, with its most famous guest being prisoner #46664 (the 466th prisoner arriving in 1964).  A former political prisoner gave us a tour and it was quite emotional to see Mandela’s cell.  Hard to believe that after all those years of inhumane treatment and incarceration he was able to keep his dignity and sanity and start the process of leading South Africa on the path or racial harmony and equality.  Mind you all is not perfect today and there is a long way to go in terms improving the socio-economic conditions of non-whites and the ANC needs to get their act together.  But when one reflects that were it a different man that came out of prison, maybe one cut from the same cloth as a Chavez or a Mugabe, the country would be a train wreck today, and thus you have to be even more impressed with the man that is fondly referred to as Madiba. 

My Favourite Time of Day

A visit by cable car to the top Table Mountain – the flat topped mountain that frames Cape Town – is a must.  The cable ride is a bit scary but knowing it is a piece of Swiss engineering (as opposed to Italian) provides some comfort. The view from the top is spectacular and a photographer’s dream.  I enjoyed the view chomping on some tasty stewed ostrich and sipping on a Castle Lager while fending off some aggressive crows.  I also did the Two Oceans Aquarium – with 2,000 other annoying school kids and did not even get to stick head in the nemo fish tank.  After nearly pushing a few of them into the shark tank and hightailing it out of these, I needed me some good Shiraz. So I made my daily (sometimes bi-daily) trip to Pick and Pay (I kept asking people for Pick and Carry) in the V&A Mall to pick up some wine and some food.  The wine is really, really good in Cape Town and cheap.  I was spending about US$5-$7 and getting stuff that you pay US$20 for in LCBO in Canada or worse yet US$40 in Montserrat.  Like a good bottle of wine though, all good things had to come to an end and after 6 days in one of the best cities in the world, it was time to go home back to sleepy Zanzibar.  It wasn’t so bad though as I had two meals to look forward to on SAA and another overnight stay in downtown “Mogadishu”.

Beach or Tarmac Running - Trying be Like Bolt

My 2nd Marathon, Toronto 2007-Posing with Rosie

After a couple months of intermittent running, mainly because of the 30 or so going away limes (parties) that I had in four countries in June and July, and the usual relocation issues that come with moving to a new continent, I finally got back into a regular running routine two weeks ago.  For the past couple weeks I have clocked a fairly impressive 50 miles – not bad for an old guy.  It is quite the experience running here, and there are some parallels with running in Montserrat, my previous place of abode for 5 years.  I took up long distance running in Montserrat - it was either that or drinking yourself silly every day.  It also helped that my good friend and work colleague at the time, Rosemarie Thomas (another Trini) is a seasoned marathoner - who can fall of a bar stool after half a drink.  She encouraged me to run rather than regularly falling of bar furniture (thanks Rosie!).

Anyway back to running in Zanzibar.  Timing is everything.  I never been a morning person (don’t talk to me before I have done the three S’s and had my cup of tea with some cereal and undergone some music therapy), so early runs have generally evaded me.  Late afternoon runs have always been my thing.  Running in the afternoon does cut into one’s happy hour time and it is much warmer - but like the sex life of a married couple after 1 year, you have to have set a time and make a rigid schedule. Although in the case of my running, I do it several times a month and I frequently alter my pace and route.

At Low Tide the Beach is Amazing to Run On

So armed with my IPOD, GPS watch, sun-block and my Running Room Canada-emblazoned hat, I have been hitting the beach or the main road at least 5 times a week.  The beach is much more fun – very picturesque, lots of eye candy, and very shady in the late afternoons, as we are on the east coast.  I usually get into a nice steady rhythm after 15 minutes - something I was never able to actually do in Montserrat because of the mountainous terrain (and the constant shouts of “Ishwar you need a beer?”  from passing cars).  But like running in Montserrat, I do get a lot of attention.  I have to answer to at least 50 “Jambos” (hello in Kiswahili), the occasional “mzungu” (white person – really now – don’t you all have a word for brown people?), or they call me Ali Baba (the nickname of Alastair – one of the Directors of the school and also an avid runner).  I also get offers to go snorkeling, fishing or diving from the entrepreneurial locals (must be the Canada hat).  This is diminishing a bit as they have now figured that I live here.  The most fun part are the young kids who sometimes come running with me – usually they want a sprint and man they are fast –speedier than Bolt coming out of the blocks in 100 metre final or on the last leg of a 4 x 100 metre relay (good going  by the way on the new world record today Jamaica!).  They leave me way behind on the sprints - but we long distance runners are built for stamina, and eventually they fall away and say their goodbyes.  I do run into a few other runners – mostly visitors,  and we do the obligatory nod of the head or slight wave of the hand, acknowledging the usual runner’s thought of “why the hell are we doing this again?”

At High Tide I  Have to Hit the Road

The thing with the beach is that one week the tide is low in the afternoons – great for running, and then the other week it is very high – great for drowning. Not really, but you get the picture. This is when I switch to the main road.  Thankfully we have excellent roads here – a major road construction/paving project a few years ago have left us with long (and more importantly straight and flat) stretches of beautiful tarmac.  On either side there are nice shoulders, which are a runner’s or cyclist’s dream.  And since the road sees very little hydrocarbon burning vehicular traffic (the traffic is more pedestrians, bicycles, oxen carts, herd of cows) – they have remained in stellar condition.  The two drawbacks though are that the few drivers on the road drive like Jenson Button on crack, and the second is getting fluids for hydration during my run.  I run against the traffic therefore – keeping my good eye on the oncoming vehicles.  In terms of the hydration issue, I do have a Nike running fanny pack to hold a bottle of water, but it is uncomfortable. And I feel that wearing it will make me look like one of those people in an airport with the money belt and the passport holder around their necks.  When running on the beach, I leave a small bottle of water in the yard so I can quickly run in and take a drink.  In Montserrat, I would just run into Garrymoore’s bar in Salem or John’s bar at Forgarthy Hill, grab a Ting or a Gatorade, run out and pay later.  No such luck here.  I therefore have to come up with a hydration strategy for the road running soon, as I need to lengthen my runs since I plan to do the Kilimanjaro Marathon next February on the Tanzanian mainland.  Think I need to find me a new John’s or Garymoore’s real soon.