Lesson #1 – Be friendly
3/24 5:21pm
When I arrived to Dubai International Airport for check-in, I quickly observed several people sorting through their luggage. I noticed that they were trying to figure out how to get all their belongings to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia (or wherever their final destination was), but they were over the weight limit. One woman was looking through her suitcase, taking out various clothing items piece-by-piece, trying to keep as much as possible in her luggage while staying under the limit. While I listened to and watched the check-in assistance bark “suggestions” to the woman to “remove heavy items – perfume, shampoo, soap,” my attention was drawn to a lady holding a gym bag. All of a sudden, her travel partner, or so it seemed, was holding the bag. An airport security officer and I soon realized these two were not actually travel partners; instead, the woman was helping the man by adding his bag to her trip because she had extra weight. The security officer “kindly” reminded the two customers that this was not allowed, but they continued to discuss what seemed like a plan or agreement in Amharic. The security office then said, “You think I am stupid over here?! I know what you are doing, and I already told you that you can’t take someone else’s baggage. That it’s not allowed.” The man and woman simply ignored her.
After checking in my one small backpack, far below the weight limit, walking through and around the airport for over an hour, and enjoying a Potbelly’s sandwich, I finally boarded my flight. And what do I discover? The airplane isn’t even half full! I asked myself, “Couldn’t the check-in assistant just given the customers the extra weight?” They obviously couldn’t, or didn’t want to, pay for the extra kilos. Or better yet, “Why didn’t I offer the first woman my extra weight?” What does it matter who takes what baggage, as long as it doesn’t equal too much weight for the plane? I’m not saying I should walk around an airport with a stranger’s luggage. That would be crazy; there could be a bomb in one of those bags for land’s sakes! But couldn’t I, instead of taking such pride in packing light and having a quick check-in, have at least asked the check-in assistant if I could give my extra-weight to one of the other customers?
4/6
I arrived in Stone Town, and was not impressed! After 20 minutes of wondering around the crowded, dirty markets, avoiding the puddles with every step, and ignoring several men trying to speak to me in Swahili and English, I jumped into the first cab I could find and asked to go to Makuti Beach Hotel. After 10 minutes, I arrived to Mercury Hotel, and had to explain that I wanted to go to the east side of the island to MA-KU-TI hotel. Soon, my taxi was surrounded with 5 men trying to help the driver and I figure out where I was going. After a few phone calls, the men explained that I needed to go to the bus park and look for the bus to Bweijuu. I thanked them for their help, and made my way to the buses.
A man wearing pants cut into shorts, a torn and dirty t-shirt, and no shoes in the middle of the bus park approached me and asked where I was going. I told him Bweijuu, and he led me to a tent to get out of the rain. About 15 minutes later, he waved me over to a van. I got in, and sat among four sleeping men. The bus did not move, so I asked, “Bus to Bweijuu?” He waved and said, “wait” and of course, being a young woman, alone on a van/bus with five men who do not speak English, I thought to myself, “I’m going to be kidnapped,” and quickly began praying. After another 15 minutes of waiting and praying, the shoe-less man yelled, “Bweijuu!” then shuffled me off the van and onto the dala-dala to Bweijuu. One would think this is where I write, “He asked for money for helping me.” No, he simply said, “bye” and walked back to his van in the rain.
Finally on the dala-dala, I sat beside a man from Zanzibar who spoke very good English, and we talked about how nice people are in Zanzibar. I explained that in America, if someone is being really nice to you, they are probably trying to scam, cheat, or hurt you.
Midway through our conversation, my dala-dala had to pull over because the roof was leaking buckets of water onto the sheet of plastic that just couldn’t hold up to the weight. While the conductor of the bus tried to scoop cups of water off the sheet and out of the window, we had no choice but to stop when the tire blew. Luckily, we stopped near a large market, and just had to wait for another dala-dala to Bweijuu to come along. While waiting though, it continued raining, but thankfully I had a scarf to cover my head and bare-shoulders (I think Muslim women may be on to something.) After about 45 minutes of waiting in the rain for a dala-dala that was not already full to come by, my new travel buddy found us a man who was willing to drive us to Bweijuu for less than the dala-dala would’ve charged. I crawled into the 12-seater van with about 20 other people, and eventually made my way back to the hotel.
While you’re not missing much if you never make your way to Zanzibar, I must say I’ve learned a lot from just my two days here with some of the most friendly, helping, generous people I’ve met.
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| Ever seen a cow on a beach before? Me neither. |
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| The storm clouds before it began raining while I was in Stone Town. |
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| You might think this house is still under construction, but you're wrong. This is what most homes look like, but I think it's kinda cool. |
