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this post is in a series of stories written by and about Rebecca Corey, a volunteer who lived in Tanzania in two different occasions, and is now involved in a project reviving Radio Tanzania music archives, read the story …..HERE
During her second time stay in Dar Es Salaam, Rebecca was unfortunate to get a motorbike accident. The accident was life threatening, and involved a number of surgeries in order for her to get back in her normal shape.
Here is Rebecca narrating the events of the day of her accident!!!
It all started with my underwear. Or lack of them. Don’t take that the wrong way, it’s not how it sounds. I know, it’s a strange way to start out talking about a near-fatal accident in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, on my back in a puddle with my neck on the curb, my motorbike mangled in the road a few feet away and my right leg shattered. But I was alive, and it might have been because of my underwear–at least that’s the conclusion I’ve drawn. After an accident like that, it’s hard not to think about every moment that led up to the fateful event, trying to find the first thing that set it all in motion. It’s also hard not to feel the parallel universes in which the accident never happened or was just avoided by the necessary few inches peel away into the night ahead of you, leaving you behind to suffer the cruelty of might-have-beens. So that night, on my back in the puddle with my neck on the curb and my bike on its side and my leg exploding with the greatest pain I have ever felt, my mind managed to or couldn’t help but think back to try to figure out what precise chain of events led me to end up there in that spot, and at the same time I watched a phantom dream of me disappear down the road with the wind in my hair having avoided the taxi cab that drifted into my lane and brought all the possibilities of the future crashing down into one unbearable, undeniable now. And in a moment that could have lasted a millisecond or a millennium, I thought it might have started with my underwear.
A few weeks ago I realized I needed to do laundry. Why? I was almost out of underwear. Living here in Dar es Salaam, that seemed a pretty good way to set the schedule. Back in the States I always hated doing laundry. Then I came to Tanzania. I don’t think I will ever complain about a washer and dryer again. Tanzanian women wash clothes by hand. They fill a big plastic bucket with water, and another with water and a handful of powdered soap. The dirty clothes go into the soapy water, and then, in a back-breaking move, the women straighten their legs, bend over at the waist, and lean over the clothes as they scrub them against themselves, then plunge them back into the browning water, then scrub them again, hard, one-two-three times, then shove them back in, all the while maintaining this angular, unnatural pose. The clothes are washed, then rinsed in the bucket of clean water, then wrung and hung from the clothes lines that stretch across any open floors or dirt patches. The first time I did the wash this way, my back ached and the blood rushed immediately to my head as I bent over the bucket. Soon my forearms were jelly as I tried in vain to imitate the rapid, rough scrubbing of cloth on cloth. Next my shoulders burned as I stretched my arms over my head again and again to hang up my dripping clothing. My host mother laughed and laughed, turning a bucket upside down so she could sit and enjoy the show. Mzungu anaoga nguo! Hah! The white girl is washing clothes! Soon I had an audience of half the neighborhood.
Well, after this embarrassment I decided to pay my house sister to do it for me. Whenever I was close to running out of underwear, I would tell Bahati, she would do my laundry, and she would use the money I gave her to get her hair braided at the salon down the road. It was an arrangement that suited us. So a few weeks back when I realized I need a clean set of clothes before the next morning, I went to Bahati with my request. Tafadhali, dada, kesho utaweza kuoga nguo yangu? Her answer: Sina nafasi. I don’t have time. I didn’t have it in me to do laundry for the rest of the night, so I stuffed all my clothes into a large cloth sack and headed out to my motorbike, Juma. I set the sack on the back end of the bike, then wrapped a bungee chord tightly around it a couple of times. I headed toward my friend Matt’s house, where he has use of a washer and dryer. The trip to his place takes about half an hour. I wove in and out of traffic, smiling at some people, ignoring others as the usual shouts of “Hey, Mzungu!” or “Wewe, Mchina!” came my way. At Matt’s I took off my helmet and threw my leg over the bike. Then I reached to get my clothes. I grasped the air. I reached again. I looked up. They were gone. So was the chord. I thought of the long ride I’d just taken, the smoky dusk air as night fell, and impossibility of relocating that bag. “Hey, that just means you have an excuse to buy a new wardrobe!” Matt offered me in consolation when I walked in empty-handed.
A couple of weeks later I was surviving on the few items of clothing I’d managed to hold on to. They were, of course, the frumpy ones, the hole-y ones, the ones that don’t fit quite right and therefore never make it onto my body and then into the dirty-clothes pile. It was time to go to Mr. Price. Mr. Price is Tanzania’s version of Target. They have the hip new clothes produced en masse at reduced quality and reduced price, bright graphic tees and color-coordinated rows of tanks, jeans and outerwear in a store with fluorescent lighting. I made away with a large bag of clothes that I shoved into the faded red-and-yellow backpack that has facilitated my nomadic lifestyle in Dar es Salaam.
The next day I went to the driving range with Wren. I drove along the coast on Toure Drive, felt the walls of my heart constrict as the blue waves rolled into shore under impossible piles of great white clouds. I bought a mango from a man on the street who wheeled a bicycle carrying a sisal basket full of fresh fruit. I chatted on the phone with my dad about his approaching visit to Tanzania. It strikes me now how normal the day seemed, how sure I was that the plans I made would carve through time and not the other way around. That evening was exciting: the grand opening of our friend CJ’s Subway restaurant. Satisfied by an Italian BMT and a macadamia nut cookie, I drove Linda home on the bike, grabbed my backpack still bulging with my Pr. Price purchases, and set off for my own bed. “Be safe,” Linda called after me.
At the intersection of Ali Hassan Mwinyi Road and Haile Selassie I had to decide which way to go home. I chose to go via the quiet and curvy United Nations Road instead of the busy main road Kawawa. I remember thinking to myself, “this way will be safer.” A few rain drops fell on the visor of my helmet, and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. The roads were mostly empty that Sunday night. I passed darkened buildings that sat like hunched giants with their backs turned against me. The road curved ahead. I swung around the bend, and it was sudden: there were bright lights and searing pain and I was upside-down in the air, my hands still clutching the handles of my bike and I felt like I was flying and I thought how strange it was, and then I was on my back, and simultaneously I couldn’t feel my leg and yet it felt like it was being ripped apart, and my neck was resting against the curb of the sidewalk and my arms were wet at my side in a cool puddle of freshly fallen rain.
When I looked at my right leg it wasn’t my own, but some monster’s, swollen and deformed. I didn’t have any feeling from the knee down, and my leg lay there limp, unable to move. Within seconds my thigh was twice its normal size and looked strangely bent as if I was seeing it through a curved magnifying glass that distorted the object beneath it. I noticed that one of my leather sandals had come off in the crash. I wondered where it was. Then the rush of pain. I could hear my voice escape my throat like the wail of an animal. Would saying “no, please no,”–begging it to the night and the road and then the faces soon crowded above me–somehow reverse time and fly me back through the air and onto the bike and before the sickening crunch of metal against metal and flesh and bone? It didn’t. Hands removed my helmet from my head and untangled the straps of my backpack from around my shoulders, then pulled it from beneath me. That’s when I felt my spine resting against the hard ground and realized that if not for the full bag of soft clothes in my backpack necessitated by the loss of my underwear, I might not have been alive at all.
Someone was telling me I would be okay. Asking me, could I move. Hands were touching me, pulling at me. For a while they debated what to do. “We will take you to the hospital,” someone said. I screamed as they lifted me into the backseat of a car. Pole sana, pole sana. Very sorry, very sorry. In the car I clutched the headrest of the seat. I pleaded to be taken to the hospital, stated the obvious: it hurts, it hurts. I could see the dark profile of a woman in the driver’s seat and hear the whimpering of children from beside her. “We are taking you to the hospital, we are almost there. You will be alright,” she said. “Who can we call? Do you have any numbers? Do you have any friends?”
At the hospital they pulled me from the car. I saw the face of an Indian man, realized it was his voice that had first comforted me in English as I lay in the road. They wheeled me inside to a dirty room. Women whose faces I don’t remember looked down at me, laughed as I tried in Kiswahili to say what happened and begged for medicine to ease the pain. “Stop screaming,” they said calmly, with hints of derision in their tired voices. In a stretcher near me I saw a man staring at the ceiling in silence. His legs were bloody and mangled. I looked away and tried to be quiet. Someone came in carrying rusty metal shelving. They shoved it under my leg to stabilize it. That’s when I must have passed out from the pain.
When I came to, Wren, Anand, Lydia and Mohamed were standing around me. They held my hands and comforted me, even managed to make me laugh. Everything felt like it would be okay because they were there. They told me I was to be taken to a different hospital. The man on the stretcher with the bloody legs was still there next to me, quiet, but now his eyes were closed. The haughty nurses had long since left us alone. I was glad to be going. Linda rode with me in the ambulance while Wren and Anand went in a taxi. In the new hospital we waited, I’m not sure for what. Doctors came and went, looking down at me with solemn but calm faces that I could not read. I asked Wren to pray with me; he murmured an Islamic prayer and I felt the presence of God, who goes by many names but ultimately is, regardless of what we say, think, or understand of it–and we do a lot of the first two but so little of the third, or at least that’s what I remember thinking at the time.
An African doctor with white hair and small, kind eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses arrived. He had a deep, tonal voice that could have gone well with the Blues but instead sang me to peace. Any fear that lingered with me was absorbed by his hands and the low, sure sound as he spoke. Dr. Faya told me the news: I had broken my femur, tibia, and fibula. He wasn’t sure if I’d injured any internal organs, or other bones, but we’d deal with that after fixing the obvious problems. We were going in to surgery. I called my father before they wheeled me in to the operating room. I would later learn I was in surgery for five and a half hours, and had six blood transfusions. My tibia and fibula were crushed in several places and my femur was broken cleanly in two, the pieces of bone running parallel to each other for almost two inches. The doctor worried for my leg and for my life due to the fact that I was in shock, hemorrhaging, and losing massive quantities of blood when I came in. Later, I would have a second surgery to repair a break in my patella that they’d missed the first time around, and struggle to overcome a pulmonary embolism, a clot in my lung that resulted from the massive trauma to the bones in my leg. But those things said, the worst was behind me.
to visit Rebecca’s blog go HERE
Absence makes the heart grow fonder. For those of us who live away from the hustle and bustle of Dar-es-salaam, or anywhere else that we may call home, we constantly look forward to the day we step on home soil. I, like many other Tanzanian youth, left home years ago to pursue a higher education, with the aim of coming back home and helping my country and continent. It is the sense of patriotism that inspires us to want to make a difference somehow in some way. But how realistic are we being? The more I am away from home, the more I wonder, can we actually solve the problems that our continent is facing? How many of us will actually go back to make that difference and how many of us, will stay afar, because we feel our contribution won’t make an impact?
When you live abroad, especially in North America and Europe, the media constantly reminds you of the problems facing Africa, particularly, disease, poverty and bad governance. This is also the case living at home; you cannot escape from the reality of these issues. Whatever the case, when you start thinking of solutions, you consequently find yourself limiting your solutions to these sorts of issues, telling yourself, I must find a cure for HIV/AIDS, I must find a way to help the poor, I must be a leader…but is this it? Why aren’t we challenging ourselves to think more broader, to explore solutions for challenges we may not see and do not hear about in the media?
For instance, Africa, as you may know, the continent that contributes least to greenhouse gas emissions, is the continent that will suffer the most as a result of climate change. Living in America, I hear a lot about creating a green economy, creating green jobs and exploring ways to consume and produce in a sustainable manner. But back home, this is not something you hear much about. Also, when we think about the deforestation that takes place in Africa, how many of us understand the impact it poses on our present and future? The same goes for the loss of biodiversity and our water system… why are we not talking about these things in the mainstream media as much as we should?
Is it because we think poverty, disease and bad governance are more important than the impact of climate change, deforestation and so forth? Are they all not interconnected? When are we going to realize this interconnectedness and challenge ourselves to address some of these problems in a multi-faceted manner by realizing that addressing one of these issues impacts all of the other issues?
But now let’s be realistic, as leaders of tomorrow, when I personally think about this interconnectedness, I first feel inspired to make a difference, but immediately after, I feel overwhelmed and disempowered. I know like many Tanzanians and Africans out there, we all feel like we need to do something. But the problems seem so grand and so complex, so I ask myself, how can I make any kind of difference? But then I realize that there are ways that each of us can contribute, but we each have to find our own way. The question is, how do you find your own way without getting discouraged by the enormity of the challenges facing our people and our home?
When Africa calls (and Africa has been calling since we gained independence in the 1960s), how are we going to respond?
That’s the question.
Source: vijanafm.blogspot.com
Author: Khairoon Abbas
Project/Proposal Summary:
This DFID-sponsored project will build the technical and institutional capacity of Tanzania’s judicial and police sectors, ensuring that law enforcement bodies are more accountable and transparent to the public, and better prepared to implement anti-corruption reform programs. The project will also include components to strengthen civil society’s public awareness, advocacy and watchdog activities in the anti-corruption field, support for the mass media in investigative reporting on corruption issues, and promote joint anti-corruption programs between civil society organizations and government institutions.
Position Summary:
MSI seeks an experienced judicial sector specialist, with strong anti-corruption credentials, to manage and supervise all project activities, staff, and partners and have overall responsibility for the successful performance of the Project.
Responsibilities:
• Manage, provide technical advice, and monitor all program components and assure that the overall program is meeting proposed objectives and targets.
• Provide senior technical assistance to Tanzanian judicial and police institutions on issues of strengthening their institutional capabilities, procedures and coordination with other Tanzanian government institutions that have responsibilities for anti-corruption functions.
• Serve as the senior anti-corruption specialist for the project and as the principal liaison with Tanzanian counterparts in government, the donor, and non-governmental institutions in country.
• Supervise and coordinate the work of local program staff: conduct regular staff meetings to discuss project status, facilitate sharing of information among staff members, provide guidance to direct staff members activities, monitor performance and conduct annual performance evaluation, authorize business trips, and review and sign off on timesheets and leave requests.
• Supervise and coordinate the work of subcontractors, consultants and grantees: review work plans, monthly and quarterly status and annual reports, financial reports, and deliverables.
• Supervise and monitor Grants Program: participate in proposal evaluation process and provide comments, review reports and deliverables, conduct meetings with grantees to discuss project implementation status, attend some activities conducted by grantees.
• Contribute to preparing work plans, monitoring and evaluations plans, and submit them to the donor after MSI/US approval. Prepare and submit to the donor reports and other administrative information as required, ensuring compliance with donor reporting requirements on progress related to the program’s results package.
• Provide primary interface for the project with the donor and Tanzanian partner groups and government authorities. Coordinate program activities with other donor programs.
• Consult with MSI/US on making decisions related to program activities, contractors, local staff, the donor, etc.
• Report to MSI/US on major technical, managerial and financial issues related to the project.
• Provide support to short-term consultants missions in Tanzania.
• Maintain daily communication with the Technical Director at MSI/US to report and consult on all issues related to the program implementation. All deliverables and major decisions on the program are subject to approval by MSI/US.
Qualifications:
• Experience promoting anti-corruption reforms in a development setting and skilled in suggesting appropriate models from other countries – especially related to judicial and police sector accountability and transparency initiatives;
• Prior experience managing international donor-funded projects, particularly DFID and USAID, required;
• Experience working with civil society advocacy organizations to keep anti-corruption issues high on the public agenda;
• Directly relevant regional, cultural, and developmental experience;
• English fluency required.
Only candidates who have been selected for an interview will be contacted. No phone calls, please.
TO APPLY: VISIT MSI Worldwide
Andres asked me a question on where one can study Kiswahili (Swahili).
In Dar, to study Kiswahili, the two good places i know are
TUKI- the University of Dar Es Salaam Kiswahili Institute that’s located at the University. They mostly deal with people that are taking Kiswahili as part of their studies or profession, but am sure they have teachers that take on individuals to teach as private.
The other one is Tanzania Swahili Langage school. Their school is located at Mikocheni, about 500m from shoppers plaza. For directions visit http://www.tanzaniaswahili.or.tz/locations.html
Their site is: http://www.tanzaniaswahili.or.tz/
Hope this helps.
~Kai
This is a post from March 9, 2010.
Thinking along the lines of Sauti za Busara this coming month i thought a post about Zanzibar would be just the thing for this time.
Happy Reading  !!
This Friday, My friends and I escaped the busy and hectic life of Dar, to Zanzibar for the weekend of relaxation and quietness. We started the day by wondering on the streets of Stone Town, hassled by touts left right and center. We rushed to a restaurant (Archipelago) not very far from the ferry, i would say a max ten minute walk. We had breakfast there, scrambled eggs with toast–well prepared and tasty and fruit juice of the day ( a must try if you are ever in Znz).
We left the restaurant( and kept our luggage at the restaurant, for free), and began wondering around the city with its narrow streets and old Arabic buildings, stopping here and there to look at things we may like to buy. Stopped at Post office, while my friend mailed her post cards back home, i sat down on a bench trying to cool off the heat and sweat from the sun. It was very humid and hot. We would stop every five to ten minutes to take a break in a shop or hotel from the heat, cool down and try a drink. It didn’t help much that there was no power in the whole town. Streets were noisy with generator’s noise and dirty with burning fuel. 
Our next break for air and bathroom call at Dhow Palace Hotel, we tried their spice Tea. It was the highlight of my day. Well spiced and tasted great. It was a pity i didn’t ask for the recipe but i did manage to buy Zanzibar tea spices in one of the street shops.
My friend wanted to have a spa treatment. We left Dhow Palace in pursuit of the spa (Mrembo–which translates to beautiful in Swahili) that we saw the add for at Archipelago. 2-3 stops to asks for directions (its on Cathedral Street) we arrived at the spa. They welcomed us with natural herbs tea….while they were getting set for ‘singo’ massage which she was going to have and i, pedicure and threading.
After an hour, my friend came out of the massage very happy. She said, i quote ‘it was one of the best massages i have ever done’. The masseuse was a Zanzibarian blind woman, who..by the praises from my friend, knew her business pretty well.
I would not say the same thing for pedicure and threading as i thought they were quite ordinary, nothing exceptional. We left the spa for more wondering on the streets. Walked by the new Forodhani Park gardens which looked green, well kept, clean followed by house of wonders and the old fort. 
Back at the restaurant, we ordered a late lunch which came with a baby squid starter  that my friend totally loved. She ordered it twice . Thats how much she liked it. Dessert was a sticky date pudding.  We had lots of food! In the evening we took a taxi out of town to our hotel, “Shooting Star”. It was quiet full of foreigners in pairs, either honeymooning or anniversaring or whatever.They had generators so we didn’t have any problems with charging our phone batteries or laptops. On Sunday night, the hotel has a sea food buffet. Delicious. The hotel is adjacent to Zamani Kempinski. At lunch time, we left our hotel to wonder around the Kempinski, take a look at the hotel and had 5 star treatment lunch by the beach.
And on Sunday, we came back to the normal busy life of Dar again.
and why bicycles are better than other modes of transportation
Few weeks ago i received an email from my friend Gene, telling me about an American girl who is working on a project trying to save music archives of Radio Tanzania (read older posts for more info).
I was intrigued and inspired by her project, and the efforts she was making to save the archives. I thought i could do my bit by publishing her story in my blog, and featuring it in Life In Dar Facebook page.
My curiosity did not end there!
I decided to follow her on twitter and Facebook, and got interested to know more and read her blog.
I do not regret it
Rebecca is an exceptional writer. Her stories draw you into her life…her journey, her experience, her trials in living in a foreign land–Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.
Rebecca Corey
I thought it would be interesting for other readers and visitors of Dar to learn from them. Rebecca stories are full of adventures, good and bad that will leave you wanting for more.
So each week, I will be featuring one of Rebecca’s stories in the blog, and hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did.
Here is Rebecca’s short bio.
Hi! My name is Rebecca Corey. From September 2009 – March 2010, I was a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar and Kiva Fellow in Tanzania. I spent much of 2010 and 2011 recovering from a motorbike accident I had in Tanzania. From September – December 2011, I was a Kiva Fellow in New Orleans, USA. Now, I am returning to Tanzania to work on the digitization of the Radio Tanzania Archives (please visit TanzaniaHeritageProject.org for more information). This blog is home to my reflections, photography, poems, and short stories.
Course objective
The general objective of the study programme is the education of environmental specialists with ample knowledge of (1) the concepts and issues associated with environmental pollution, (2) the detection and quantification of environmental contamination, (3) the possible impact of environmental pollutants on the ecosystems and biota, together with the current techniques for risk assessment, and (4) the available technologies for the prevention and remediation of environmental pollution and the way they are designed and applied in practice.
Course structure
The study programme is structured around the following topics:
-basic study of non-polluted environments;
-sources and causes of environmental pollution;
-methodologies for the detection and analysis of environmental pollution;
-environmental toxicology and risk assessment, both in the eco-toxicological and human toxicological field;
-prevention and sanitation of environmental pollution;
-clean technology;
-treatment of waste.
Target group
The main target group are students from developing countries who are professionally concerned with the environment, e.g. staff members of governmental institutions, universities and NGOs. People interested in environmental problems in an international context, who have acquired adequate prior education, are welcome as well.
Career prospects
Graduates of the ICP ‘Environmental Sanitation’ assume highly varying professional duties in domains that deal with prevention and sanitation of environmental pollution. This can vary from appointments in governmental institutions and NGOs, teaching assignments and/or scientific research at universities or functions of environmental experts in industries and consultancy services.
Summarizing
The study programme integrates various scientific disciplines such as chemistry, biochemistry, biology, ecology, microbiology, toxicology, technology and applied engineering sciences. As such, C.ES&T offers one of the world’s most comprehensive study programmes in the field of environmental sanitation.
For eligibility and Admission Criteria visit their website here
Countries eligible from Africa are: Benin, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Cameroon, DR Congo, Ethiopia, Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Ivory Coast, Kenya, Madagascar, Malawi, Mali, Morocco, Mozambique, Nigeria, Rwanda, Senegal, South Africa, Tanzania, Togo, Tunisia, Uganda, Zambia, Zimbabwe
Dear friends,
Have you ever heard music so beautiful and so alive that you just had to get up and dance? Two years ago, I was lucky enough to stumble upon the Radio Tanzania Dar-es-Salaam archives and found a priceless collection of East African music forgotten by the world for decades. More than 100,000 hours of unique music are sitting on reel-to-reel tapes in danger of being lost forever. For the past few months I’ve been fundraising on the crowd funding platform Kick starter. Now I have a month left, and still about $10,000 I need to raise to make the project a reality!
Here is a quick summary of what I want to do: I want to revive these archives by digitizing them, making them available for online downloads, producing a “Best of Radio Tanzania” CD, and tracking down the musicians whose music is stored in the archives to interview and record them performing. As you know, I’ve lived in Tanzania twice, for a summer in 2007, and for six months in 2009 – 2010, so I know some Kiswahili and I have lots of contacts in Tanzania. I’ve made arrangements with the Tanzania Broadcasting Corporation to set up a workshop to train Tanzanians to help digitize the archives and permanently preserve them for posterity’s sake.
In order to accomplish this project, I am turning to friends, family, and music-lovers around the world. Like I said, I’ve created a Kick starter campaign. To support the Radio Tanzania project, all you have to do is make a secure donation via the Kick starter website. To sweeten the deal, I’m offering a bunch of awesome rewards for people who pitch in. For example, if you make a $25 pledge, you’ll get you a Radio Tanzania mix CD with 21 of the best songs from the archives! For $100, you can get a Radio Tanzania t-shirt, the mixed CD, digital downloads, and more. Here’s the link to the Kickstarter page!
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2013567015/radio-tanzania-reviving-the-forgotten-archives/comments
We also have a website (www.tanzaniaheritageproject.org), a Facebook page (www.facebook.com/radiotanzania), and a Twitter feed (www.twitter.com/radiotanzania). Because of Kickstarter guidelines, if we don’t raise the full $13,000 in the next ONE month, we don’t get a dime. We’re depending on people to spread the word and share this project with their networks! Even if you can’t donate now, telling a few friends would really help our cause.
Thank you so much for your time in reading this letter. If you have any questions or comments, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I hope you all are well and I wish you all good things for 2012! Also, I’ll be in Tanzania for six weeks getting this project off the ground starting on Monday. If you email me your mailing address, I’ll send you a postcard (writing real letters is my New Year’s resolution).
Asante sana (thank you very much),
Rebecca
Radio Tanzania
–
Rebecca Elizabeth Yeong Ae Corey
Skype: rebecca.e.corey
www.rebeccacorey.wordpress.com
Sauti za Busara festival is around the corner, and you will have the good mind to book for hotels and other necessary living arrangements in advance if you plan to attend this vibrating and most talked of event of the year in Zanzibar.
This year, the festival is scheduled to take place from the 8-12 of February, at Ngome Kongwe (Old Fort) grounds.
Theres going to be a number of performing artists from different countries in Africa.
Bi Kidude, the Zanzibari legend singer
Make a point not to miss it if you are around the block.
for more information visit their website here
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