To Zanzibar by magical motor car. To ZAN-zibar by magical motor car. To ZAN-zibar, by magical MO-tor car.
It’s a mnemonic they teach you in medical school, in anatomy class, to remember the order of the nerves of the face as you dissect them out of your cadaver. The phrase runs through my head now on a loop, as I wait my turn at passport control.
I’m not waiting to travel by motor car, magical or otherwise, but rather by ferry boat, which is the normal way to travel between mainland Tanzania and Zanzibar, the semiautonomous island paradise where the food is spicier, the air is saltier and the ocean water is that perfect, perfect turquoise. I’m leaving today, here on a short break from the bustle of Dar es Salaam, where I’m living.
I arrived on this dock two days ago, traveling the same route where another ferry had sunk a few days prior, the second ferry accident in a year on the routes around Zanzibar, The MV Skagit was over capacity by a few dozen people whe…
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