Chwaka was an idyllic holiday spot for many families in Zanzibar. There were several old buildings that could be rented if you were lucky. It was a well known fact that if you worked for the government, there was a better opportunity to rent a government bungalow in Chwaka. One was called Norwegian Bungalow and the other was the Sultan’s Bungalow. TheSultan’s Bungalow was generally rented by the Nuns of St. Joseph’s Convent School . If they were not there it was usually rented out to British expatriates. The Norwegian Bungalow was a two storied building but access to the lower portion was out of bounds. There was yet another building which was called “Madman’s Bungalow.” Further down was the“Karimjee Bungalow.” The Carvalho family in Zanzibar was the only family I know who usually set up a gigantic tent that could have accommodated half the population of Zanzibar , but this tent was exclusively for the Carvalho clan that was a mini-population in itself.
Generally, a number of families got together and holidayed in Chwaka. It was a holiday that most of the children looked forward to because it had an ash textured sandy beach and it was like walking on silk. The warm clear ocean was a delight to swim in and the waves were gentle even in bad weather. Sharks had not discovered this part of the ocean, or perhaps holiday makers were plain lucky. The journey to Chwaka was generally undertaken by rented “lorries” and this fostered a sense of togetherness and it was always a place to sing all the popular songs so that the world outside would know that we were on our way to some place special and that we were having a great time.
‘Tisrios’(baby clams) were plentiful, and all the kids took a great delight in turning the sand over to catch them. They were then kept in a large bucket filled with sea water. After an hour or so, it became necessary to remove all the Tisrios because during this time, they would open and spit out the sand that they had ingested while looking out for food in their natural habitat. If this was not done, the soup would taste grainy and this was not what anybody wanted. The tisrios were then boiled and the children helped to scoop out the tiny little bodies into another pan. They were then prepared into a delightful clear soup or made into “chilli fry.”
In the evenings the families got together and recited the Rosary, after which it was time to sing familiar songs in the light of “Petromax Lanterns.”
Chwaka Crabs were generally brought in by local fishermen during the day. These crabs were very large, and depending on the time of the month they could either be full of “flesh” or disappointingly empty. It was believed that the moon had something to do with this. Apparently we were not the only ones who relished crabs. Crabs were only bought if they were capable of walking or if their limbs showed any movement. Dead crabs were held in suspicion for bacteria in dead crabs could cause the runs. It was not easy for the crab to walk after being removed from the “pakacha” since the two very large claws were often tied so that there would not hurt anyone. In this case, if the crab’s legs showed some sign of life, they were selected.
A large cauldron of hot water was then made to boil, and the crabs were dumped unceremoniously into it. As soon as the crabs were half boiled they were removed and placed in dishes to cool. The transformation that took place was quite stunning. Before the crabs were boiled they were dark brown. When they came out boiled they looked a bright red. The ladies then got together and prepared the spices for a curry. When this was done, the crabs which by now had been cleaned by removing the outer shell and the lungs and anything that looked suspiciously inedible, they were then placed into the spicy curry to cook for a few minutes. The smell of crab curry would attract all of us to the kitchen, and the cooks would have a hard time trying to get rid of us who always had ambitious appetites. It was then immediately suggested that grace before meals be said, and then have the crab curry and rice distributed to everybody. There was always enough for all. For those groups who knew the cook who serviced the guests at the Sultan’s Bungalow, the cook was sometimes hired to prepare the crabs his way. Basically, after the crabs were boiled, and the outer shell was removed, it was then washed clean and kept to accommodate the picking of flesh from the rest of the crab. A few choice spices were added to the crab meat that was collected and then it was sprinkled over with bread crumbs. The prepared crabs were then placed in an oven until the crumbs turned brown.
Full stomachs usually invite sleep and before long all the children and the old folk slept on the floor on makeshift mattresses with a lot of giggling until sleep descended like a thief in the night. Mosquito nets were always used and this made sleeping a lot more comfortable particularly with the gentle sea breezes from the Indian Ocean blowing one’s eyelids closed.
AN ADDENDUM TO CHWAKA CRABS.
In 1987, I visited Zanzibar and was kindly invited by Caesar DeGoa and other friends to go to Chwaka to do some Crab fishing. I jumped at the idea since I wanted to recall old memories of the many good times we had there while we were growing up.
I had been away from Zanzibar for close to twenty years and much had changed in this once very beautiful island. Most houses in the stone town looked very neglected and showed years of decay. Some houses had actually come down for lack of maintenance but the town seemed as though it had frozen in time. There was no visible change and so I felt very much as though I had never left home.
Our trip to Chwaka had to be undertaken late in the evening. Caesar managed to rent the “Sultan’s Bungalow.” I was excited about this because, for the first time, I would be entering a place which was once the preserve of our British friends. The journey to Chwaka was not an easy one. The roads were full of potholes, and Caesar, who knew the roads better than most, skilfully avoided the potholes that were sometimes deep and hazardous to cars.
We finally got to Chwaka and it appeared as pristine as when I had last visited it twenty or more years ago. The Bungalows were not renovated and stood out as relics of the past. The Sultan’s Bungalow did not appear to be endowed with crystal chandeliers as I had imagined when I was growing up. In fact the only thing that it had that was different from the Norwegian Bungalow was that it had a tub in the bathroom.
We waited until eight in the night before we embarked on our Chwaka Crab fishing expedition. The tide had just begun to come in. A “Petromax Lamp” was lit and pumped until it turned as bright as a 60 watt bulb. To two long poles were attached a couple of burlap bags which were to be held by two of our fishermen. One person was to hold a contraption that looked like a giant pair of pliers that was flattened at the claw end. This, in essence, was all the equipment that was needed.
The guy with the Petromax Lamp walked ahead as we waded in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean as far as our knees. The sea was as clear as glass. Suddenly, the guy with the Lamp stopped like a spotter dog, and pointed to a large crab that froze because of the intensity of the bright light. The guy with the giant pliers then swung into action. He gently placed the piers under the crab, shut the claws on it, lifted it out of the water and dropped it into the burlap bags just behind him. This was not simple as it seemed because enough pressure was to be exercised so that the shell of the crab was kept intact. After an hour of fishing, we had caught close to eighty large crabs and the concern was that the crabs on top of the burlap bags would exert too much weight on he crabs lower down. It was time to return to the Bungalow to let the crabs out of the bags so that they could remain alive. The crabs were put into the tub and quite a few of them started running around the tub. Those that were not able to were promptly taken out to a large pot of hot boiling water and boiled right away so that the decomposition, if any, would stop right away. They had to be reasonably parboiled.
Early the following morning, the crabs were divided equally among the fishermen and we undertook our journey to town. I was very happy for the experience and owe my thanks to Caesar to whom Zanzibar would always be home. It was quite easy to tell why.
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