Stone town, David Bowie, Communism

Stone town is a bit like the maze (or labyrinth if you will) that confronts a young Jennifer Connolley in the classic 1986 movie 'Labyrinth'. By which I in no way mean to suggest that the locals resemble Jim Henson creations* but rather that its narrow, winding alleys - which would be easy enough to get lost in - are very dynamic. Wooden shutters set into the stone walls of each street open and close throughout the day, meaning the shops inside can appear or vanish in about the same time it takes to realise a wrong turn and backtrack. My early attempts at constructing a mental map of the place... 'past the pharmacy,turn left at the tea shop...' were completely useless and I spent quite a bit of my first week wandering around lost and cursing David Bowie.

Still, its a very friendly and beautiful place to be lost in. You can walk down a tiny dingy alley, past the rusting carcass of a old car (how on earth did it get down such a narrow street?), climb over a pile of rubble and suddenly find yourself in front of a set of beautiful carved wooden doors opening into an immaculate marble-floored cafe. Which makes it a bit like going to most bars in Melbourne.

In addition to the Arabic, Indian and Portugese influences around there are still little reminders of the islands 1964 revolution and its communist sympathies, from the Childrens playground at the waterfront that plays Chinese nursery rhymes throughout the day to the Mao Tse-tung Football Field (Mao being a well known soccer afficionado). I even had a young guy ask me yesterday why I would choose to come to Zanzibar instead of pursuing my medical training in the USSR. (I didn't have the heart to tell him that the place no longer exists).

I was reminded of these ties again yesterday when a group of Cuban doctors and medical educators arrived at the opthalmology department as part of their hospital tour (Cuba is responsible for much of the undergraduate training here). Unfortunately, at that precise moment, Dr Ji was in a back room underneath a desk trying to fix his computer. This left me as

the only person in a busy clinic sporting a white coat. Naturally the Cubans took me for the man in charge and lined up to shake my hand and ask me questions about the facilities. I was so confused, I went with it.

*What are you, some sort of racist?