resilience and transformation: slavery in Zanzibar

In the context of this coursework, the lenses of resilience and transformation are employed to frame the ways in which the people of Zanzibar historically and contemporarily respond to the pressures of globalization.  As new ideas, cultures, power structures, and people manifest on the islands, these perspectives contextualize the ways in which change is embraced, moderated, and rejected. The history of slavery in Zanzibar traces the arc of expanding economies and empires, is intertwined with modern conceptions of ethnicity and indigeneity, and illustrates the ways in which both societies and perceptions of abstract constructs utilize resilience and transformation in the process of change.

Despite rich soils and favorable environmental conditions, much of the land mass on both Pemba and Unjuga remained minimally developed until the early 19th century, when the Sultan of Zanzibar commandeered land to build 45 spice plantations.  Thousands of slaves were imported to perform the labor-intensive tasks of the spice farms, to run the households of the Arab aristocracy, and to live as concubines for the powerful men of the island. By controlling labor and manipulating the relationships developed with merchants and traders, these plantations proved extremely profitable. 

Where economics might dictate that the output, and thereby the profit, from each slave be maximized through any means of incentivization possible, in this part of East Africa it seems that  slaves were not treated as harshly, nor worked as relentlessly as is evidenced in other plantation economies in the U.S. south or the West Indies.  This may be a result of the stipulations of Islamic law, which require slaves to be treated with a level of humanity, or of the importance of large kinship groups in the appropriation of power in East African societies.  Here it seems that the institutions of religion and culture were to some degree resilient against the otherwise highly transformative power of the shifting economy. 

Spurred in part by grisly travel accounts of missionaries like David Livingstone (the complexities of whose relationship to the abolition of slavery would require another blog unto itself), the British abolished slavery within it’s bloated borders in the late 19th century.  This represented a huge shift in the economic viability and control of labor on the plantations.  Landowners and the aristocracy resisted this change, unwilling to discard the financial and hegemonic authority implicit in slave ownership.  This is evidenced by the continuation and growth of the slave trade in Zanzibar after 1897. New methods of concealment for transport and holding of slaves were conceived.  Further, the end of formal legal slavery in East Africa cannot truly be seen as an absolute transformation from slaves to equal citizens. As Fredrick Cooper discusses in From Slaves to Squatters: Plantation Labor and Agriculture in Zanzibar and Coastal Kenya, there was significant resistance on the part of the British (those very architects of this change) to releasing the control of labor.  Systems and laws were put in place to attempt to mitigate against the suddenly-free will of ex-slaves, though this population proved resilient to most of them, to the deep frustration of the Empire. 

Not only did the people of Zanzibar express qualities of resilience to and transformation from the institution of slavery, but the presence of slavery on the island has equally transformed conceptions of ethnicity and power for Zanzibari people.  Slaves were acquired from the mainland, as prisoners of tribal wars, as individuals sold in dire circumstances, and as victims of kidnapping.  Their backgrounds, linguistically, geographically, and ethnically were therefore quite diverse, and as these individuals were folded into households, experiencing some level of vertical integration into Zanzibari society, a dynamic element was introduced.  At the same time that ethnic and racial mingling was occurring in the upper tier of society, ethnic and racial separations were being reified on the other end of the spectrum.  

communication and ambiguity in kanga

happiness of the home is understanding

The kanga is a bright traditional cloth, worn and utilized predominantly by  women in East Africa.  Earliest production of kanga dates to the late 19th century, and the popularization of the cloth is linked to a complex set of understandings and associations. Generally, the motifs and patterns of the kanga are rooted in the floral and geometric icons traditional to Arab and Islamic ornamentation, though equally important to the patterns are the jina, or phrases inscribed on the cloth. These phrases seem to be used by women to convey messages that they cannot speak, about themselves, to one another, and about the world.

On a side street by the Portuguese Fort in Stone Town, I asked a woman who was selling kanga to help me identify one that might be appropriate as a gift for my mother. Between her small vocabulary in English, and my small vocabulary in Swahili she located one cloth that used the word mama, though I could not make out its meaning. She indicated that I should pick one that I liked, as then my mother would also like it. This answer seemed simple, obvious in fact, but should have been what I expected. As an outside, it is almost presumptuous to pry at the deeper cultural significance of this form of expression, which relies on the unspoken word within a social group. Kangas represent aethetic and utility, boldness and ambiguity, signals tacit yet explicit. For an outsider, perhaps it is enough to appreciate the beauty of the kanga on the streets and the people of Zanzibar, and to know that the subtleties of their meaning may remain concealed. 

The above photograph is from an exhibit about the metaphor and beauty in kanga at the Beit-al-Ajaib, a museum in the former a palace of Sultan Barghash bin Said, in Stone Town.  

shajara 25.06

Bahari ya Hindi kutoka Beit al Ajaid 

Leo asubuhi, sisi tulijifunza architecture ya Zanzibar katika darasa wa profesa Blier.  Nyumba za Stone Town wanalijenga wa mawe. Baadaye, wanalikuenda Beit al Aljaid, nyumba za Sultan Bargash. Nyumba hii ni kubwa, na mrefu sana.  Nilijenga karibu bahari na bandari. Sisi tulitembelea "Portuguese Fort" pia. 

World Map

World Map is a highly interactive, open source mapping platform, which allows users at any level to create, manipulate, and collaborate using spacial representations of data from diverse sources.  Bridging a gap between intensive GIS software and consumer level mapping options, World Map allows users to create visualizations of data as small as a neighborhood block, or zoom out to the entire globe.  One of the most appealing features of World Map is the ease with which users can collaborate, and by accessing data from disparate sources, unexpected correlations may be drawn. 

In the above maps of Kenya and Tanzania, data is displayed from three unique sources detailing ecological subclimates, organizations advocating health services, and population data. In the first, terrestrial ecoregions are classified.  Along the coast of Kenya and Tanzania the green band indicates coastal mosaic forest, and the magenta blips along the seaward perimeter denote East African mangroves. Moving to inland Kenya, the peach section marks Northern acacia-commiphora bushland and thickets, while the orange inland section in Tanzania is the slightly wetter Souther acacia-commiphora bushland and thicket ecoregion.  This data tells us that the stretch of the Swahili coast from Kenya to Tanzania is ecologically similar, yet as we move into the hinterlands the terrain becomes unique.  This information could be useful for researchers in agriculture, disease control, or conservation. 

The second map marks the locations for organizations that promote health and well-being.  In individual cities marked, like Dar Es Salaam or Nairobi, a list of organizations and details about their mission, services, and contact information is easily found.  This representation seems to show more cities and towns with available services in Kenya than in Tanzania, though it would be worth further exploration on this point. While this map is not as useful in visual representation, it is a useful repository of information and could be paired with other data about the demand for services in specific areas, disease outbreak data, or population information.  

The third figure shows population data and country growth rate from the 2010 World Census.  Darker colored regions had a higher rate of growth, Kenya with 2.89%, Tanzania with 2.17%.  Drilling down on the countries, we can also see that life expectancy in Kenya is 61.8 years, and 52.5 in Tanzania, and that infant mortality rates are higher in Tanzania.  The Tanzanian population is growing more slowly than the Kenyan population, and this data points to the possible relationship between growth rate, infant mortality, and life span. Information about population size and growth is important to urban planners, agricultural and economic researchers, advocates for social programming, and others. 

shajara 24.06

Leo, nilisoma kila siku. Madarasa yetu wanahitaji kusoma sana, lakini ni nzuri sana na ninapenda.  Wakati huo huo, ninahitaji kukuta kazi kwa sababu nitamaliza chuo kikuu lini ninarudi Marekani. Sijui ninataka kazi wapi, na sijui ninataka kufanya nini.  Hili ni shaka, kweli. Lakini, niliona kazi katika chuo kikuu cha KAUST.  Rafiki yangu, alikufanya kazi katika chuo kikuu hiki, na aliniambia ni nafasi nzuri. Nitapeleka resume yangu juma hili. 

neighborhood mapping

This building, the Malindi House, is located not far from the shoreline and the Stone Town ferry terminal in a neighborhood of the same name (though the direction and nature of the relationship between the two is unknown to me).  The word in Swahili means holes or drains, and could reference the proximity to the sea. 

The facade is a rough, white material resembling the plaster made of crushed seashells historically used by builders in this region.  As a large, multi-story edifice made of permanent materials, this structure conveys both prosperity of the financier, and the stability of whatever personal or professional venture was to take place within.  Three large, red wooden doors are symmetrically aligned along the side facing an open square and a mosque, and are set several feet above street level to mitigate flooding.  The doors, while of impressive size, are not ornately carved and decorated in the fashion that conveyed the wealth and cosmopolitan style of the Zanzibari elite.  Indeed, the style of the building is quite incongruous among the characteristic Arab-influenced architecture of old Stone Town.  The linear symmetry of the top story, and geometric ornamentations are evocative of art deco, though the date on the building, 1940, falls about a decade after the period in which this style was most in vogue.  Shuttered windows at the top may indicate a desire for personal or professional privacy.

Whatever the motivation behind the construction, it seems clear that this building is still in use, as it has been maintained.  The exterior is brilliantly white, unblemished and structurally intact, all of which are challenges pitted against the constant decaying effects of the seaside environment. 

eating local

nutmeg

lychee

For the last several years, I’ve been interested in where food comes from, and have found Boston to be a ripe (food pun. ha.) environment for local foods. That said, there are just some things you can only get in the tropics, and the last two weeks in Zanzibar have featured an orgy of mango, avocado, and a half-dozen kinds of bananas. I am fostering deep affections for fruits I know I will have to leave behind, but like finding love at summer camp, sometimes you just can’t help the way you feel.  Don’t worry, custard apple, I’ll write to you.

On Monday we toured a community spice farm, and I was really taken with the real live, leaf and vine versions of the seasonings lining our collective cabinets. I was surprised to find that both vanilla beans and peppercorns grow on thick vines, and that nutmeg is a soft, chalky seed before drying.  Spice production represents about 20% of the economy of Zanzibar, and has historical significance in the development of trade on the island. 

shajara 20.06

Jana, wanafunzi wa State University of Zanzibar walikuja kwa darasa wa kiswahili. Tulisafair ya sokoni baada ya darasa. Tuliangalia vitu mbalimbali. Watunda--tikiti, machungua, mapapai, na embe, na nanasi. Nilijufunza ndzidi mbivu za pukusa, hizi ni kukula, na ndizi mbivu na mbichi, hizi ni kupika. 

Tuliangalia samaki wengi changu, macombe, mzia, yodari, na hono.  Fatima alionyesha mchicha na mboga nyingine.  Ningependa kununua mboga kupika katika Rumaisa juma hili. 

on Swahili identity

The Swahili people historically occupied a strip of the coast of East Africa, extending through Somalia, Kenya, Tanzania, Zanzibar, and Mozambique.  The etymology of the word Swahili, from an arabic term for coastal, not-so-subtly hints at both the importance of the shore, and the influence of non-African forces. Indeed, the position and geography of this place have shaped the language, ethnicity, faith, and population living here, but Swahili identity is wonderfully, at times mystifyingly, more complex than an address. 

The language is rooted in Bantu, as are the vast majority of African languages, and heavily influenced by Arabic.  Along with some archeological evidence of Persian colonies dating back to the  first century BCE, the ties of language bolster Swahili origin lore as a people linked as much to the Middle East as to Africa.  Impacting faith along with language, ties to the Arabian Peninsula brought Islam to the Swahili coast, though the movement of both language and religion is not as immediate as the beaching of a ship of newcomers. Each process was slow, yet pervasive, and has far reaching implications in the identity of the Swahili people.  

This section of the coast, while favored with reliable wind patterns that enable trade, lacks the navigable coastal rivers of West Africa.  As trade grew across the Indian Ocean, so did the port cities of the Swahili Coast and the role of the Swahili people in international trade. The Swahili adroitly functioned as brokers and negotiators, positioned between the hinterlands of the interior, and the exotic ports of India, the Arabian Peninsula, China, and beyond.  The economic ties of trade between these nationalities and ethnic groups were often strategically strengthened through absorption into familial groups by way of marriage.  Adding to multiple colonizations, these tactical unions contributed to the cosmopolitan ethnic makeup of the Swahili.  It is worth noting that not all people participated in or benefitted equally from trade, nor were all families interwoven with brides from abroad.  In large part, the role of the trader was played by more recent Arab immigrants, with the native population fulfilling subsidiary roles.  The Swahili people were concurrently ethnically mixing, and racially divided.  In the places where these divides exist most starkly (which people own land or slaves, who holds authority in governance, faith, or economy?) the question of Swahili identity becomes muddled and incredibly complex.      

The identity of the Swahili people seems to be marked by liminality.  Geographically, the population exists on a perch of land between the continent and the sea, where the role as trader means negotiations between each without membership in either.  The perceived importance of Shirazi ancestry points to an uneasy balance of Africanness and non-Africanness  (this locus of identity made only thornier by the slave trade).  John Middleton further characterizes the people as marked by the consistency of change.  Rulers, linguistics, economics, and ethos have been quite fluid.  These historical complexities manifest as real and present ambiguities for those who self-identify as Waswahili. 

finding a kiswahili voice

Off and on since primary school I've taken French. Despite perhaps 7 years of formal instruction in the language, when I go to Paris I am so hesitant to speak.  I dread le subjonctif, and false cognates seem to lurk around every corner. I lie awake envisioning the shame of attempting a conversation, only to have the frustrated local respond in English. Yet after 3 scant days of Swahili class, I navigated a successful trip to the market in Kiswahili. Yes, it's a baby step. Yes, I sounded like a mzungu with a mouth full of marbles. Yes I gave a number of sheepish shrugs, but I did not feel judged. Perhaps it's the immersive instruction, or more welcoming culture, or my maturation as a student, but the small success left me wanting to learn more.  Not to avoid judgement, but to have a more authentic interaction, and I'm thrilled to have 5 more weeks to get to that place. 

considering mobile technology in public health

Dr. Marc Mitchell, pediatrician and lecturer of international public health, founded D-Tree, a nonprofit whose mission is to provide healthcare to individuals in outlying regions of the developing world, where access is challenging.  The organization provides mobile technology administered via cell phone to standardize clinical processes and elevate the level of care. The program provides an electronic decision tree to community-based healthcare providers, allowing them to enter patient data, navigate through symptoms, and arrive at a diagnosis including course of action specific to the individual. This system replaces paper-based protocols and, according to Dr. Mitchell’s data, provides more accurate diagnoses without protracting examinations. 

In a number of ways, the creation of these electronic records will allow healthcare providers to ensure that preventative care, like vaccinations, are provided at the correct age/weight/season to maximize efficacy. Patterns of illness and infection on the individual, community, and national level may be tracked and accessed remotely for research. There is a scarcity of trained individuals in many such communities, and if this algorithm minimizes provider errors, it can certainly save lives.  

While the technology provides a near-immediate solution at low cost, it might be best used as a temporary solution while healthcare providers are trained in earnest.  To my mind, the people of a community will always be its greatest asset, and in them the investments of time and funds are best spent. Technology changes, fails, becomes obsolete.  Transferring knowledge to a person instills value, both functional and intrinsic, to the individual and the community, and incorporates indigenous knowledge with prevailing western methodologies. 

   

defining resilience and transformation

I'm fascinated by words that concurrently hold multiple, occasionally contrary definitions.  Rather than produce discord, the intersection of meanings can deepen understanding, and resonate more authentically in the tricky description of big, multifaceted scenarios or emotions.*  The themes of this coursework in Zanzibar are meant to be framed through the lenses of resilience and transformation.  Resilience is one of these wonderfully complex terms, as it may mean flexibility, strength, or that rare combination of both (think: Mikhail Baryshnikov.)  In surveying the environmental, political, and cultural influences on Zanzibari life, I hope to discover where flexibility has allowed for the appropriation of change, where strength has held steadfast against it, and what unique harmony between the two has emerged.  

Transformation, then, is the response to and process through which these changes continue to occur. Adaptation and metamorphosis are the biological analogs, though these terms may be too passive to reflect on choice, and the human element.  Are the changes to a culture/place/people as linear and irreversible as the caterpillar becoming the butterfly, or cyclical and constant as the shifting states of matter?  

Finally, while the connotations of each of these terms creep toward the positive, neither cries out a value judgement, and I aspire to a similarly objective approach over the coming weeks. 

*One of my favorite examples is the word abandon, which used as a verb means to renounce, but used as a noun conjures an irrational desire to hold something for eternity.  When used to describe love and loss, the bittersweet ache of a doomed affair, I love the richness of both definitions intertwining.