The Kenyan Connection: Restreating in Zanzibar

“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” –Jesus, Matt 6:34

I’ve told quite a few now about how I found my new favorite place in the whole wide world in Zanzibar. The beaches were beautiful, the food zesty with fresh grown spices, the history rich and interesting, the architecture refreshingly simple and different, and on top of all this I’m still asking, what made it such a special place?

Our YAV group is given the opportunity to go on retreat two times during our year, and this was our first and proclaimed “most spectacular” retreat. It was good timing for our group. Half of us teach and were gearing up for the rest of the school year, and the other half were coming off of the Christmas holiday also looking back and looking forward. There wasn’t a lot of structure to our retreat. I think our site-coordinator, the lovely Rev Phyllis Byrd-Ochilo, knew that the island kind of forbade it, sort of an unspoken rule made by the flow of things there.

I thought I would have a chance to sort everything out in my head while I was so removed from everything (there wasn’t even any electricity on the island to distract me). The deadlines for applying to programs for next year are fast approaching, my first four months in Kenya went extraordinarily fleeting - though I know I changed somehow? And then there was my immediate future of going back into teaching: a profession I find extremely humbling and still somewhat intimidating. All these things were roaming around in my head, which doesn’t know where it belongs. Half of it is back home and half is still here trying to process how it was I came to be here and not there…and…

I think my expectations were a little over-zealous for this type of trip. The waves on the ocean and the solitude you might feel while floating freely on it don’t help put things in order, but rather help you to be at peace amidst that disorder. I eventually felt at ease that I wasn’t going to figure it out, but that in the moment, my job was to appreciate the accumulation of events that led me exactly to this place. Then my job was to trust that this force that led me would somehow mysteriously continue to do so. We’ll call it my hammock epiphany. It seems simple, but I do need reminders about life being largely beyond my control. And so: I rested, and I’m learning to trust.

As to the question about the island being kind of a magical place for me, I think it was (added to the above) the hospitality of the people. Sure, it’s largely a touristy place, but there’s something genuine in their greetings. The only Kiswahili they think foreigners will understand is, “Jambo. Karibu. Hakuna Matata,” which means (if you need the translation), “Hi, welcome, have no worries.” Though cheesy, there was truth there. I didn’t really have any worries. I felt free and safe on the island. The minute we stepped off the ferry, many were there to greet us and walk us to our hostel at no charge. We made fast friends with locals that we ate and danced with, and were sad to leave by the end of our trip. When you rode on the crowded public transit, people passed you their baby to hold onto so that they could find a seat. If someone was eating fresh plums, they offered you one. We walked around at night through the winding streets without a flashlight and knew somehow we would come out on the other side right where we needed to be. Slowly throughout the course of these two days that turned into four because we couldn’t leave, the hospitality of the people, and the freedom that it creates, got under our skin. There was an unspoken agreement that this place was to be appreciated and revered, and that we could all stand aside in that glow together. We didn’t feel like big tourists by the end, but felt part of the place-free to BE, and to be happy.

Inwardly, I’m still freaking about whether or not I should go to seminary next year, if I should put if off for other things, if my relationships will be the same or different when I get back, how much I know I’ll already miss Kenya when I’m home, etc… and part of me still wishes I would have gotten some resolution on those issues. But I did get clarity that it will come together when it needs to. What I want to walk into the new year with is a simple appreciation for getting this far and gratitude for the present in which the future will become clear. I have at least that much faith.