17 November – Eid al Adha – The Feast of Sacrifice

Mtwara is a sleepy old town. It’s spread out over a square mile or two. We live in the relatively comfortable district of Shangani, we shop in the small district of Bema, which boasts banks (benki) and the Post Office (poste). We occasionally go to the poorer and more bustling area near the market (sokoni). We haven’t decided yet whether to buy two bicycles (baisikeli) yet. They would make our trips to the beach much quicker and there are parts of Mtwara that we have not explored yet because they are just a bit too far to walk. We’ll have to see if our bajeti (See! You’re getting the hang of it) can stand the cost.

Close to the fish market, looking out over the bay, are the old slave sheds, a decrepit reminder of inhuman practices. They formed the market place for a trade in African slaves with Arab states further north. This Swahili coastline has a number of such reminders, the best preserved being here in Mtwara and Mikandani. Our new friend, fellow tutor Aviti, has offered to take us on a short guided tour of the slave markets.

The Feast of Eid al Adha, commemorating the sacrifice made by Abraham when he offered his son to God, is observed here as a public holiday. The beef we were given yesterday is part of the Muslim tradition of charitable giving, sharing the slaughtered animal with family, friends and the needy. It causes me to reflect on the role of religion in this culture. I admit I had to do research to understand the roles of Ishmael and Isaac and have concluded that Abraham, being the Father of lslam, Judaism and Christianity, it doesn’t really matter. Certainly not here, anyway. Here, if you were to say, “Sorry, I’m an aetheist.” You would be thought of as quite strange.

I don’t believe you could find a greater ambassador for this country than the humble, well spoken, caring and hospitable man we met on the beach. He is perhaps sixty-five, quite fit, and wears a full, long white beard. He is staying in Mtwara with his son and grandchildren. His grandchildren love playing with him on the beach. His daughter, newly qualified from university, is to be married in their home town of Moishi, far in the north, on Christmas Day. He wants to return to make the arrangements, but mainly because he misses his wife. As he said, when you get to our (!) age, it is good to be with your wife. I agreed. He likes to meet people and to offer acts of generosity, as it might be God’s will that he needs my help at some point in the future. We should all prepare for these eventualities. It is this capacity to look passively on life’s vicissitudes and to trust in God which makes this such a religious country. I’ve no idea whether the old man is Muslim, Christian or Jew.