I’ve Never Canceled a Flight Until I met Zanzibar

It’s been quiet on my end! But for good reason, I promise. First, I’ve launched my travel coaching mini business with my first wonderful client, Kellyn from MN. Kellyn wants to solo travel for 6+ months and is looking for a little guidance. I’m beyond happy to be working with her and support her dreams. If this is something you’re interested in I have more information here: https://www.solo-han.com/copy-of-your-turn

It’s been over three weeks since I left Africa for Indonesia and I’ve been contemplating how I’ll write this blog post; what’s ready to be shared and what is still processing. The thing about this blog is that I made a promise to myself to be honest and true to my readers, I know a lot of you as genuine and open minded people. Just like anything in life, some experiences I have are deeply personal and go unshared. Maybe you’d get them out of me after decades of friendship and a couple of beers. Most of my experiences are easy to write about within weeks, even days after they happen. And some experiences are a part of a greater story that I know is just too ripe to put out in this moment.  Zanzibar falls into the latter category. The idea of writing a book someday has been on my mind for over a year now. Somehow all of my adventures and the people I’m meeting around the world are connected and they’re giving me a story that I’m smack in the middle of as I write this. For now I am going to share what is ready to be shared and the rest will follow with time. 

I had no expectations for Zanzibar but even if I did, the 20 days I spent here would stomp them flat. I spent three and a half weeks on the mainland of Tanzania. After the humbling experience of Kilimanjaro, roughing it in the Serengeti, volunteering at an orphanage and staying alone on a farm I was ready to let loose and be a 26 year old backpacker. Zanzibar was the perfect place for this. At this point I hadn’t stayed at a single hostel since I’ve been to Tanzania and I was ready to meet some people my age. I knew nothing about Zanzibar before taking the ferry over from Dar Es Salaam other than the fact that it’s an island off the coast of Eastern Africa, Freddy Mercury was born here, and it has very blue water. What I didn’t know was that Zanzibar attracts an abundance of solo female travelers. I actually saw more western girls backpacking than western men in Zanzibar. This was a first. The women come here for many reasons, but one reason that was made clear to me quickly is: the local men. 

I’ve never been in a place where the locals interact with the travelers as much as Zanzibar. In Swahili, white people are called “munzungos” this isn’t considered a derogatory word and is used loosely by everyone. Apparently the word originated by meaning “lost person”; describing the western foreigners that visited Zanzibar back in the day. The locals and the munzungos are side by side, constantly. Which creates a very welcoming and safe vibe. But there is a difference between a genuine local and someone who is known as a “beach boy”. Calling a local a beach boy is a very offensive thing in Zanzibar. Beach boys are men from Tanzania, usually the mainland, that come to Zanzibar to walk up and down the beach, look good and flirt with the munzungo girls. They develop a relationship with one girl while she is in Zanzibar for a short time. Months after the girl goes back to her home country they’ll reach out to her about a car accident, a sick grandmother or a robbery and ask for money. If they have four munzungo girlfriends a month, and each unknowing girl sends $100, these guys can make a living off of this arrangement. Life can be difficult in Africa and I’m not judging how people make their money but I learned to stay far away from the cute boys with nice smiles that walk up and down the beach. Another red flag about these guys is that they’re usually very touchy, persistent, quite annoying and will probably tell you they love you within a 20 minute conversation. Beach boys can be found around the touristy places that I avoided. Luckily, my experience with the locals made Zanzibar feel like home. I can thank the intuition I’ve been growing for years of traveling for this one. 

I took a ferry from Dar Es Salaam to Stone Town and kissed the mainland of Africa goodbye. My first moments in stone town were very frustrating. Not only did I have my backpack but I was still carrying everything from Kilimanjaro in a duffel bag that was begging to be shipped home. Before I got on the boat this nice man that was wearing the uniform of the ticket office offered to carry my duffel for me. It was so big and heavy I thanked him for being so kind to help me. I should have known that in the end he would ask for a tip, and then a higher tip, and an even higher tip after the 10 minutes he carried my bag onto the ferry for me. On the ferry the woman behind me put her very dirty bare feet on my armrest but the midwestern in me wouldn’t let me ask her to move. I had to wait 45 minutes for my duffel to come off the boat and be placed on the wet ground of the dock while everyone pushed and ran for their bags like The Hunger Games. When I got off the boat I made sure that I said no to anyone offering to carry my things. Drunk local men constantly calling after me, I was fighting to keep my middle finger wrapped around the strap of my bag. I stubbornly stomped 1.5 miles through the port and up a hill to my hostel, drenched in sweat by the time I arrived and annoyed by anyone who tried to help me. It’s not always rainbows, smiles and butterflies. Especially in port cities like Stone Town.

I stayed in a female only dorm room in Z Life Hostel and absolutely lucked out with my roommates. Lilli, a grad student from Germany that will be living in Zanzibar for 6 months researching waste management (I caught her on her first few days in Zanzibar) and Ida, a Danish mental health counselor that has been solo backpacking in East Africa for months. The three of us became travel buddies instantly and found ourselves an hour south away from Stone Town in a small fishing village called Kizimkazi. We shared a three bed room for a couple of nights at Mawingu Lodge enjoying the peace and quiet that comes with this little beach town. We did crafts, got massages, went snorkeling and chatted the days away. There was such a difference between Kizimakazi and Stone Town and it was this sweet little spot in the south that began to steal my heart for Zanzibar.

Zanzibar is special for many reasons but one is the incredible distance the tide moves back. Every day the tide moves back almost a mile. What’s left behind are beautiful sea shells and little critters that live in the tide pools. In the evenings we could see the fisherman come back with the tide and lug the giant tuna fish they caught onto the beach. The sunsets made my jaw drop. Kizimkazi is high on my recommendation list. 

Our next stop on the south of Zanzibar tour is Paje, just a few hours east of Kizimkazi, Paje is known for its beaches and wind, a destination for kite surfers from around the world. We took a “daladala” or public bus to Paje from Kizimkazi. If you can read my handwriting this is a little page from my journal about the daladala ride to Paje. 

We got to Paje and I knew that I had one week left before my flight to Indonesia. I was ready to soak up every moment I could in Zanzibar before it was time to move on. What I couldn’t predict is the hold Zanzibar would have on me and that one week in Paje would turn into almost four. It all started with a kite surfing instructor at a hostel bar that had the biggest smile I’ve ever seen in my life named Jazi. 

Okay. Let’s talk boys. I’ve been avoiding the subject because, well, I’ve been avoiding the subject (boys). My travels are not focused around finding my true love or looking for someone to share my U.S citizenship with. Of course I’ve met many attractive, kind, smart, and adventurous men on my travels and from time to time (very rarely to be honest) I give them a chance to enjoy a little traveling fling together while were in the same place at the same time but I make it clear to them that I’m on a mission to backpack the world and no man can stop me. There have been a few broken hearts because of this… including my own. But most of the time I’m only looking to form friendships where things can’t get too complicated. As cliche as it is, I truly believe that what’s meant to be will be. If I’m meant to be with someone I met while traveling then I will be, maybe when the time is right. Things always come back around. Plus, being single is like sprinkles on the cake when it comes to solo travel. I have more freedom and no one’s feelings are hurt when I don’t look at my phone for five days because I’m too focused on learning how to surf in Sri Lanka or I lost service as I ride a motorbike through northern Vietnam.

I met Jazi on my first night in Paje but it took a few days for me to really fall for him. I’ll explain my first night meeting Jazi… bear with me, I know this is a long blog post. Thanks for being my journal #2. Ida, Lilli and I decided that we would have a good old fashioned girls night out. Paje is known for its music and djs and we wanted to dance. After meeting Jazi and his two friends Ishi and DJ Pandah (more on him later) at my favorite hostel in Paje Your Zanzibar Place, we piled into Pandah’s car and they brought us to a place with local music. Afrobeats and Amapiano played. This is the kind of music that anyone can dance to but the locals are professionals. I’ve never seen better dancing in my life than I saw in Paje. And that’s what people do when they go Paje: dance. You can be completely sober and have a fun night simply dancing (as I do most times… drinking and solo traveling don’t always go hand in hand). Always happy and always moving. And man did we dance. It was obvious that Jazi and I hit it off right away but the big thing I already liked about him at this point was that he wasn’t trying to impress me, he just wanted to have a good time with the rest of us. We danced with the local people that just finished their jobs throughout the city and came here to let loose. It’s clear that Ida, Lilli and I are not from here but we were welcomed nonetheless. 

After the local dancing we moved to a different establishment, B4, that had a DJ mixing techno and old school Swahili music. It was magic. But not the music you dance with someone to. The music was so good that hours passed by like minutes and the next thing I knew the DJ was announcing his last song. The crowd wouldn’t let the DJ go though. One more song turned into ten more songs and we were all loving it. But it was around this point in the night that I became annoyed. This obviously over intoxicated local man (let’s call him “ADM” Annoying Drunk Man) would not take the hint that I didn’t want to dance with him. Too many times I had to look him in the eyes and say “no I don’t want to dance” but he wouldn’t stop trying. Jazi was off the dance floor at this time but he must’ve noticed this going on because he goes up to ADM and tells him in Swahili “leave her alone she doesn’t want to dance, this is your first warning”.  Jazi walks away. What does ADM do? He comes up to me again, this time trying to take my hands and pull me to him. Jazi comes out of nowhere and holds up the number “2”. ADM backs off. The DJ finishes his last song and right before it ends and the lights turn off I feel someone’s hands pull me from my waist, I turn around to see it’s ADM, AGAIN, and before I could even say something to him that starts with the letter ‘f’, he’s on the ground with Jazi’s fist above his face. Jazi is calmly telling him “I don’t want to hit you but I gave you three warnings. She doesn’t want to dance with you”. Turns out Jazi isn’t just a kitesurfing instructor, he’s a boxing instructor as well. I was thankful for this but took it as my sign to leave before things could escalate. This is not a situation I wanted to be a part of. My mom says nothing good happens after 1am. 

Lilli, Ida and I walked on the beach back to the hostel. The moon was almost full and the tide was far back but you could hear waves crashing from a mile away. I was ready for bed until I realized that Jazi had my sandals. I wanted to take them off while we were dancing and he wouldn’t let me hide them in a bush like I normally do because he was afraid someone would steal them. They were strapped to the belt loop of his pants. I never asked for his contact and didn’t know if I’d see him again. I liked Jazi, but at this point I liked my sandals even more. We arrive at the hostel and there he is, my sandals in hand and he asks if we can talk. We sit on two beach chairs and he apologizes if he scared me at the club. I thank him for helping me and then I find myself asking more questions. 

Jazi was born and raised in Dar Es Salaam. He went to public school when he was little and then began private school at the age of 10. He has two younger sisters. When Jazi was 15 his dad died in a horrible motorcycle accident. Jazi, his mom and his sisters mourned for months, barely eating, wondering how they would get by without the man of the family. Jazi explained something I knew only a little bit about: the structure of families in Africa. They’re very traditional. The father works and provides for his wife and children. They depend on him for food and shelter. When Jazi’s dad died he took it upon himself to be the man of the household. He dropped out of school at 16 and began working for $2 a day. Eventually this turned into $10 a day, $20 a day and $30 a day. He’s done everything from being a dishwasher to a cook, mechanic, taxi driver, tour guide and construction worker. He opened up a restaurant only to have to close it after it got completely robbed by a homeless family he let sleep inside for a night. He picked up kite surfing and realized he’s pretty good at it. He entered competitions and won them. He traveled all around Africa competing until he became an instructor. He opened up a clothing store in Dar Es Salaam and gave the store and its profits to his younger sister. He spends six months of the year in Zanzibar giving private windsurfing lessons and sends his earnings back to his mom. He has dreams to open his own kite surf shop and travel the world. He taught himself English and reads finance and business books. He explained to me that he’s not in Zanzibar for girls or dirty business. He’s here for his sport and his future goals. He’s focused and dedicated. But he gave me my sandals in exchange for my phone number. We said good night. I wondered where home was for him in Paje as he walked down the beach and then I went to my bunk and slept like how ADM would’ve ended up if he picked a fight with Jazi. 

The next day Lilli had to go back to Stone Town and Ida went to the north to visit a friend. We said our goodbyes, which, again, are never easy. Jazi asked me if I’d come to the bungalow lodge Maisha Matamu next door to my hostel to hang out, this is where he recruits his kite surfing clients. He introduced me to the staff and this became my daily spot for the entirety of my time in Paje. This is also where I met the most fun, down to earth and easy going pair of best friends: Ani and Marina from Germany. Jazi, Ani, Marina and I spent the week together exploring the area, hanging out with our local friends, helping Jazi with his business, walking to our favorite coffee shop every day, exercising in the evenings together, playing games and repeating the next day. We had dinner at our friend’s house, all the guys went to the market, got the food, cooked everything and even cleaned up after… they wouldn’t let us lift a finger. I was taking mini Swahili lessons with one of the bartenders at my hostel and I was picking up the language so easily. Us girls called ourselves the “little chickies” and Jazi was our “big chickie”. We just followed him around and had an amazing time in Paje. 

We’d go to DJ Pandah’s sets around Paje and it was so fun to support him because a) he’s amazing and b) he’s like a local celebrity which made me feel pretty cool when I got to go behind the DJ booth with him. Pandah means “up” in Swahili. I mentioned the Massai, a semi-nomadic ethnic group in Tanzania, in my previous blog post. I talked about how the government is pushing the Massai away from their homes in the bush om the mainland to the coast and all the way on Zanzibar to make room for hunting property that is being bought by large foreign companies for tourism. The Massai are new to this area. They’re not raised to live in a place like Zanzibar. They have to adjust their culture, language, and entire way of life to survive here. And on top of that, the local Swahili people are not very welcoming of the Massai. They tend to be left out, not always, but a lot of times you see them separate from everyone else. Even at the parties, clubs, and DJs the Massai keep to themselves because of the tension from the Swahili guys. Pandah has one song called “Kama Massai”. Pandah is Swahili, and the song means “jump like a Massai”. I love when he plays this song because the Massai have a moment of spotlight as they jump to this song, which is a part of their traditional Massai dance. 

It was a few days before my flight when Ani, Marina and Jazi began to convince me to cancel my flight to Indonesia. Ani and Marina have been to Zanzibar three times now and they were talking about buying some property here to stay long term. Jazi and I were really enjoying each other’s company, and we’d daydream about opening a kite surfing/yoga studio on the beach (maybe even offer boxing lessons too). I had been talking with the owner of Maisha Matamu who said that I could teach yoga at his hotel to make some money for a few months if I’d like. I was even considering looking at an apartment to rent for a bit. But I already paid for my flight to Indonesia and I couldn't decide if this was the right time for me to make a long term stop in my travels. I looked into whether it was possible to get a refund for my flight and the only way it would be feasible was if I had a doctor’s note or evidence of a natural disaster that disrupted travel. I didn’t have either of these and it felt too complicated to fake one so I asked Ani, Marina and Jazi to enjoy my last few days on the island with me. That evening  we went to a restaurant that had a pool right on the beach, my first time using a pool in Paje, I was the only one who jumped in…. Two days later, the day before my flight, I woke up with a bacterial infection along with a double ear infection. It was so bad that Jazi had to take me to the hospital. 

I needed an antibiotic drip. This was my first hospital experience in Africa. I was very concerned but was reassured over and over again that many tourists use this clinic, it’s clean and safe. It just didn’t live up to my western standards…. Or even come close, putting it nicely. Jazi investigated and talked to the owner of the restaurant to find out that pool hadn’t been treated for almost 9 months. They will need to take all of the water out and replace it. I knew I’d be okay to fly after a set of antibiotics but the doctor handed me a “not fit to fly” document. Suddenly it hit me that I can use this to cancel my flight and stay in Zanzibar for as long as I want to. Which I did. 

I stayed in Zanzibar with no flight out and no plan on leaving. I was open to settling here for a bit. I had a community, I could walk down the street or into the city center and see familiar faces that genuinely cared about me. This is what made Paje so special. It’s how welcoming the community is. They treated me as if I’d been living there for years. I was working on my own goals while Jazi worked on his, he was gaining a lot of momentum with his kite surfing, Ani and Marina were touring properties, everything was going well. I’d go to Mr. Kahawa to meet with my travel coaching client and I was getting very excited about where this could lead me. Occasionally I’d check the price of flights to Indonesia because my original plan was to spend October and November there. I was walking on this thin rope of continuing my travels to Indonesia and beyond or spending a few months in Zanzibar, settling a bit, making some money, and seeing where things would go with Jazi. My mind changed everyday but I just told myself to be patient, the right answer will come. I was really falling in love with Paje, but I made it clear to Jazi that I could leave at any point. 

One of my favorite days in Paje was also the most heartbreaking day in Paje. The forecast predicted perfect wind conditions and Jazi was literally jumping up and down, and of course, dancing with excitement. The tide stretched back that morning and I went out with my camera to take some photos for Jazi that he can use to market his business. I loved this. I could do this everyday, and it was so easy to stand knee deep in the water capturing photos of the kite surfers as they flew past me. Suddenly the wind picked up and huge black clouds rolled in. We booked it for the shore and everyone that was surfing hid under shelter and Miahsa Matamu. They played our favorite music, we danced and drank hot lemon tea as we waited for the rain to stop.

When it cleared up I went for a long run down the beach. Everything was calm and the sand was hard enough to run on after the rain. I looked to my right to see Jazi kitesurfing right next to me. It didn’t take him long to get back out there after the storm. I kept going down the beach and when Jazi turned around I thought long and hard about what is best for me right now. This is usually a time where I would call my dad for advice. Should I stay here in Paje or continue what I started, to solo travel the world? What’s your suggestion? What would you do if you were me? I tried so hard to think of what he’d say and it crushed me when I couldn’t muster up my own version of his advice. I decided to go the silent route. Just sit. No thoughts. Then it became clear to me, I need to finish what I started. I’m backpacking the world and this is my time to do it. I have momentum and excitement for the places I haven’t seen. Something will come out of this journey but for now I have to keep going. Jazi and I already talked about this and I knew he would understand. I pulled out my phone and bought a plane ticket to Bali. Paje will always be here. It doesn’t need to be a goodbye forever. This isn’t my only chance to fall in love with a place and slow down. Maybe it will be in Indonesia? Australia? New Zealand? Thailand? Costa Rica? Even Minnesota? That time will come when it’s right. 

I was ready to break the news to Jazi. I went to Maisha Matamu to look for him. I asked around and no one knew where he was. I walked to the bungalow he was staying in and found him face down in the bed with the lights off. Just 30 minutes before he had his giant smile on as he surfed past me on the beach. I slowly approached him and asked what’s wrong. He was so sad that I had to physically help him sit up. He told me his kite ripped. A huge post-storm gust of wind picked up and completely tore the kite while he was going back down the beach after he saw me. This is his only kite. His only way of making money right now while he’s on a contract with the hotel in Paje until February. He called his mom to see if she had any of the money he sent her left over and she didn’t have it. A new kite is $500, over 1 million Tanzanian shillings, Jazi had $200 to his name at this point. He was absolutely devastated. He had clients lined up for the next few weeks. He’d have to go back to Dar Es Salaam to do mechanical work again. It will take months to make enough money for a new kite doing this. He’ll miss another season. Everything is set back. 

We talked through every scenario for a while trying to come to a solution but only reached dead ends. I asked Jazi if I could take him to get some dinner because he hadn’t eaten all day. I still haven’t told him I’m leaving in four days for Bali. I got him his favorite meal and had to basically force him to eat, he was too sad to do anything. My heart was breaking for him. I was putting myself in his shoes and knowing that if something like this happened to me I would be able to get a new kite the next day. I wouldn’t have to worry about how I am going to eat or where I will sleep or how I will continue my goals for a better life. I knew I could give him the $300. My budget is tight but I can be fine staying in a cheaper hostel or cooking for myself for a while to make up for it. Finally, as clear as day, I could hear my dad say “just give him the money Han”.

Jazi agreed to my offer only if I’d make a contract for him to sign that says he’ll pay me back over time. Jazi will reimburse me in small amounts over the next year or two. Getting the money back isn’t that big of a deal to me, but it shows Jazi’s honor and I respect that. I told him that I will be leaving for Indonesia. I could see his heart break again but at the same time he encouraged me to go. I hated telling him this after what happened with his kite but I didn’t have another choice. Marina and Ani supported my decision as well and we got to enjoy our last bit of time together. Marina and Ani eventually went back to Germany but they already have plans to go to Zanzibar again come January. I see them moving there and that makes me so happy. 

So many goodbyes, hugs, well wishes, and a few tears later I was on a flight to Indonesia. My stomach hurt in the way it does when your heart is broken the entire 36 hours of travel but I had to keep reminding myself to be strong, there’s a reason for all of this. Keep following that voice inside of me that tells me when it’s time to go. Whether I make it back to Tanzania again or not, I will remember this time as some of the most joyful moments of my life. 

 If you’ve read this far I’ll share some thoughts from Ani that she sent us after she was back in Germany. She was experiencing the shock that comes with leaving the western world and returning back to it.

“I dont even know how to put my thoughts in words, because what comes up to my mind are thoughts like:

What is the differenche between a donkey and a Porsche?

Why do Massai miss their homes so much and I dont?

Why do we have netflix?

Who said that we have to study?

Why do we pay money for brands/ clothes?

Is this system even real or just a construction to make us work like ants?

Why do we think we need apartments?

Is independence something we should aim for?

Why dont I know my neighbours names?

Who invented a 5 day week?

Is efficiency something we should want?

Do people in Tanzania even realize that

"pole pole" and "hakuna matata" is an affirmation and Tiktok is full of "affirm this and that and it will come true" and tanzanians dont even mean to be

"spiritual" by aying it. They just say it and mean it and feel it.

What is this all around us?

What do we eat? What do we produce?

Why did people invent Fanta and Cola to give us cancer?

Why do we stress each other and ourselves knowing that this causes depression, heart attacks and cancer?

What are we doing and what do we really need?

What is "nothing" and what is "everything"? I mean we got a roof over our heads and a tv. Okay cool. I even think about our cats here in Europe and in Zanzibar. Your cats live in a flat. Their whole life. No social life, no wild life, No trees, no bones to chew on. They are not even able to chew food properly. This western world makes us disabled beings. We think we are so much ahead of everything and we all oversee that everything we do is so backwards…

And what do we do? You have your air purifier and we tell Alexa to play rain sound. We basically destroy ourselves with air polution and in return we buy gadgets to balance out what we do to ourselves? We pay for yoga classes and sound baths to calm our nervous system? You remember the day when it was raining and Jazi just went into the water to feel himself and the environment and to meditate? For free? What do we even do here? We are kept in a vicious circle of constant destruction. We are constantly going back and forth and back and forth until we all go crazy and dont know what to do but take pills against anxiety and being overwhelmed. WTF is this? We are sitting in our offices, damaging our backs, our asses, our knees. Our toilets are built to damage our guts because its not the position we should shit. We think its achievement to have smart phones and to be able to write mails? Chat GPT is an achievement so we let machines do the work so our brain stimulation is totally gonna be gone? What is the outcome gonna be after all that?

Where is this society going? It's going so far that powerful people like P Diddy dont feel excitement anymore. They dont feel appreciation, they dont feel thankfulness, they dont feel love.

They just dont feel at all and they end up doing horrible things because the normal life is boring to them. So what is this what we are doing here?

Yesterday I talked to a friend who went to the gym and she told be that her trainer wanted to check her weight for workout purposes. And she said that she is scared to step ona scale because the number would depress her. This girl is trained!!! And I am just like

"oh lord girl, what did this society do to you? Why did they brainwash you?

And why are you not able to see that your thoughts are not affecting anybody but your own soul"

My mum always says "I'd rather buy my cheap beer from the supermarket and drink it on a blanket in a park than being in a fancy hotel with a stunning view with champagne in my hand with the wrong people" Because what is the sense of our existence? Its community.

And again. Why do Massai wanna go back to the bush? Where they have no running water? No electricity?

Because they are having an amazing community, trust, love and they live in tune with nature.

Not everything has to make sense and we forget that because we are kept in the cycle of efficiency.”