Back on Ilha. This is the hapless employee of Silverio Nauaito, Museum Director and friend of ours.

Our nightguard Antonio with his children at his house in Makoni, near Ponta Fugo, where cars don't reach.

Antonio on his elaborate bed. Did he cycle with that on the back all the way from civilisation? Probably.


When we got back from Zanzibar, we began preparation for the Investor enquiry we received out of the blue. They wanted our top 4 recommendations for unexplored beaches in our area. We researched the pretty village of Lunga, from which I saw a lovely looking beach across the bay. It turned out to be the home of our nightguard Antonio, from where he cycles for hours to reach us. He was delighted we were interested in coming. To get there, we took the 4x4 down a path for walkers only, clearly no cars had been there. Antonio told me last night, that when his son sees a car now he says, 'Is that Sr Rory's car?'.

In some bar.
This is the door to the only untouristy place we found in Zanzibar. In truth, we didn't really like Zanzibar. The hassle handed out to tourists from the port in Dar to the spice sellers in the streets on the island, it was cynical, aggressive and very persistent and made walking down the road like running the gauntlet. But this restaurant was sweet and was a stronghold of veiled women. It had one dish, these little meat kebabs with a mystery spicy sauce, it was gorgeous and to our surprise didn't wreck our intestine.

Zanzibar's doors are easily the best thing about the place. The brass points jagging menacingly out of the door panels are to fend off war elephants that were brought in to terrorise and attack Zanzibaris.

I bought my sister Camilla a picture of a Zanzibari door in the artshop inside the fort.

Their fort is conspicuously not European like Ilha's fort. It seems to have more in common with Maputo's which is way past Ilha, 6 hours flying south.

Zanzibari style seems to ramble and go off on tangents like a walk through a very interesting attic. Years of trade and cultural exchange between Europe, Asia and Africa means Chinese, Indian and British influences combine.

At breakfast.

It's early November '06 and we headed to Zanzibar to see how they had converted a similar impoverished trade post on the East Africa spice route into a renowned tourism destination. We got a chance to relax of course. This is a restaurant on top of the Emerson and Green hotel. The tiny rooftop holds 30 guests, who sit on cushions in a circle and are fed and serenaded.

This just about sums up the way Joana and I spent hours of time. Bouncing over potholes with Jaime at the wheel, braced in the back of a car with no air conditioning, peanut shells under the brake pedal, Brazilian rap on the stereo. A day at the office!

This is the old jetty on Ilha, which used to be the grandest entrance, welcoming all Ilha's produce and seafarers, leading them up to the Governor's palace and square. Now boys encourage you along the lace-thin, perilous metal joists to the storehouse at the very end, a vantage point for the view Ilha visitors saw upon arrival.