Zanzibar: Between Mecca and a Hard Place

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On the occasional evening when the absence of both a breeze and electricity brought me to wonder if I was residing in a kiln, sanctuary existed under one of the bread fruit trees at Migombani, the only prostitute-free local bar in my quarter of Stone Town, Zanzibar. And when you’re a broad-shouldered American, in a region where size is roughly equivalent to wealth, you tend to get plenty of smiling faces approaching your table in the shade. Perhaps stemming from the island’s legacy of trade, perhaps because they posses nothing else to peddle, one becomes accustomed to the fact that […]

Zanzibar: Between Mecca and a Hard Place

SUBSCRIBE NOW
Free Newsletter

On the occasional evening when the absence of both a breeze andelectricity brought me to wonder if I was residing in a kiln, sanctuaryexisted under one of the bread fruit trees at Migombani, the onlyprostitute-free local bar in my quarter of Stone Town, Zanzibar. Andwhen you’re a broad-shouldered American, in a region where size isroughly equivalent to wealth, you tend to get plenty of smiling facesapproaching your table in the shade. Perhaps stemming from the island’slegacy of trade, perhaps because they posses nothing else to peddle,but one becomes accustomed to the fact that the pleasure of an outgoingZanzibari’s company is […]

Zanzibar: Between Mecca and a Hard Place

SUBSCRIBE NOW
Free Newsletter

On the occasional evening when the absence of both a breeze andelectricity brought me to wonder if I was residing in a kiln, sanctuaryexisted under one of the bread fruit trees at Migombani, the onlyprostitute-free local bar in my quarter of Stone Town, Zanzibar. Andwhen you’re a broad-shouldered American, in a region where size isroughly equivalent to wealth, you tend to get plenty of smiling facesapproaching your table in the shade. Perhaps stemming from the island’slegacy of trade, perhaps because they posses nothing else to peddle,but one becomes accustomed to the fact that the pleasure of an outgoingZanzibari’s company is […]

Zanzibar: Between Mecca and a Hard Place

SUBSCRIBE NOW
Free Newsletter

On the occasional evening when the absence of both a breeze andelectricity brought me to wonder if I was residing in a kiln, sanctuaryexisted under one of the bread fruit trees at Migombani, the onlyprostitute-free local bar in my quarter of Stone Town, Zanzibar. Andwhen you’re a broad-shouldered American, in a region where size isroughly equivalent to wealth, you tend to get plenty of smiling facesapproaching your table in the shade. Perhaps stemming from the island’slegacy of trade, perhaps because they posses nothing else to peddle,but one becomes accustomed to the fact that the pleasure of an outgoingZanzibari’s company is […]

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