Something owned, bigger, an island. Owning it on the get-go. The name, Changuu, has been taken from a popular fish, taken around the island.
But oh – where are my manners? My name is Jackline and I love traveling and discovering. Welcome on my blog and discover with me, with my l(s)enses, all that Mother Earth has to offer that I get to see.
On a blissful Monday morning, in a sunny Stone town, small capital city of the Zanzibar government, I took place gently on one of the numerous small motor ships on the shores of the Indian Ocean around Stone Town. In a shy, broken English, the owner welcomed us on with a few safety rules and off, we went to what was going to be a crush for years, a tiny-cute island with yet much to offer, and an unique story on its own.
On the way, I swear to God, the water was blue. But as we got closer and closer, as I was lost at the stunning beauty of the small piece of land on water, the water turned into a turquoise kind of green, then maroon, then green. Not green of dirt, but a green of a rare tree found only in a deep forest. A green that only father George Washington lives with on a green dollar bill when he looks at how you irresponsibly give him away, without smiling nor crying. Doesn’t tickle him, poor humans that he gets exchanged from a hand to another. A green that only “la rosée” waters in the morning. Green. Waters.
As much as I could use my senses to hear, see, touch and smell the fresh air, I stood up and stepped away from the small motor boat whose engine was disturbing the serene silence of that lost beauty, and stumbled on a stubborn rock with an outstanding view just beneath it.
Just for the heads up, the Island was acquired by two Arabs and was due to be used as a prison for rebellious slaves. Later on, the first British Prime Minister for Zanzibar, afraid of outbreaks on the island purchased it from the Arabs and installed it as a quarantine for years.
As I got up to discover, over the stone-made stairs, a luxurious guest house looked to have been customized from the quarantine rooms of the two last centuries. The guide took me to the giants tortoises park, aged a hundred years and counting. The tortoises were given by the British governor of Seychelles, from an island to another. Majestic as they sat, one taking ages to move an inch, with a hard-rocky shell on the side, it only took a leaf to be friends with it. It could never mind touching the shell and posing with it. I would bet it even blinked of an eye, in the process.
Could it have been enough, but nothing could stop me from the breathtaking sight seating right atop of a rock that gave, bluntly way, with sharp edges, to the ocean down its side. A good dozen of meters down at least, if anyone would hurry down on the highway to the opposite of heaven. Just in case. Lost in wander of the sharp edge, a selfie worked better, as I couldn’t look down.
Tempestuous but yet serene, mixed emotions I left to the long bridge, just for a few shots before I left. Changuu stands, and will always be a memory, as alive as it is, a crush, a stunning adventure, for years and for generations.
Stay tuned for the next!
Memories from Zanzibar, August 2016