Deja Vu

[Story is multilingual, featuring Swahili, translations in endnotes]

It’s funny. Coincidental at best. In fact, I wasn’t expecting it to happen that way. It just did, and that’s when I believed what a friend always said – once you see it, it never goes away. It had seen it, and instead of going away, it became more apparent. Deja vu.

Travelling was at the core of my to-do list; Tanzania being one of my cherished destinations. I wasn’t sure it would be Zanzibar or Arusha. All I knew was a time I’d want to go see the beautiful Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. That had been the reason I wanted to go to Tanzania in the first place. One day, ice decorated the mountain’s peak, shining a bright reflection that dwarfed the cotton buds floating below. It was during my one of my connecting Nairobi – Malindi flights, and I had never imagined the mountain is visible when flying above Nairobi.

“I’d like to go there,” he told me, expressing desire to accomplish a longing, “I feel like I should live life more.” Of course. Who doesn’t want to live life? I didn’t say that. I asked where in Tanzania did he want to live life? I was seeing mountains, hiking, the Serengeti. Everything outdoors where sweat will out.

“Dar-es-salaam,” agreeing visibly, “there’re plenty pretty women there. Clubs won’t run dry.”

Okay. That’s a point. That place had the yellowest females I saw on video clips. Add that to minidresses and skirts, “I’m good to go. I mean, that will be the trip of a lifetime.” Working how I’d pitch the hiking thing. Zanzibar?

“In fact, if we can go to Zanzibar, our trip will be lit.” They have those Arab babes with Christian names. “I bet you know Shombe shombe[1].”

“No,” curiously squinting. As if he knows the word, but his memory is failing him. “Hao ni wagani?[2]”

“Yellow Yellow,” I said emphatically, envisioning their silken hair, rosy lips, and brown eyes – I loved those the most. “Wale wanakaa Arabs[3]. Halfcaste. Kuna wa buibui na wetu[4].” Smiling broadly.

“Oh!” He’d gotten it. The laughter that followed showed it all. “Niice! Asante[5]! It’s just what I wanted.”

I didn’t know. But it was the first. A few weeks later, Bela came to me, saying how she’d wanted to leave. Go somewhere where peace prevailed. “I’m tired of everything. A vacation will do,” pitching an idea. It felt like she was planting it in my head. Making me ask if she wanted to leave the country. That’s what she does when tunneling in turmoil. I didn’t ask that: I did something else.

“Where do you want to go?” appearing the active listener I was; flashing charisma.

“Tanzania.”

Me and Numa hadn’t left the country yet. We still were planning our trip, and I knew something was up. Someone’s gearing up. Numa must’ve told Bela, his girlfriend, about the random trip we casually setup.

“I was thinking Dar-es-salaam and Arusha. Those places are beautiful. The beach, food; I even looked up some local hotels,” extending her phone for visual attention, “they’re lovely. Good beds. Plus it’s safe.” What I saw was breathtaking. The waiters looked like models; hotels, five-star, and the prices looked something I could handle. How did she know though?

“You really did it.” Bela knew where to find Porsche places online. If she started a blog, her followers would thank a gem like her. “How long have you been searching?”

“Three days. And I even looked up some hiking places. There’s … um … udzu. Udzu-something. I can’t remember. But there are hiking trails, and mountains. It’s really nice. You’d love it too,” taking her phone and googling it. “Udzungwa Mountains National Park. Got it.”

Wow.

“Numa told me he would want to travel. Go to Tanzania. It’s just coincidence how time works.” Indeed. Coincidence. “Would you come along?” weighing what I’d say, yet, I didn’t know what to say. When we talked with Numa, it didn’t feel so apparent. Were we to travel that soon? I couldn’t figure.

“Take her out. She’ll love this,” persuaded Bela, talking about my girlfriend. “We went to Diani sometime back, and it was worth it. Trust me. she’ll love Tanzania.” Of course. I just didn’t have the memo. And my account was at three hundred thousand. Is that even enough?

“I guess,” responding to her suggestion. She would love it.

“As for me, I’m in love with this moment. I can’t express how much I dreamt of this. God! ‘Thank you! It’s just what I wanted” saying a little prayer with her stare at the heavens.

When I pitched the idea to Ndile, she didn’t have words. She hugged me, kissing me softly. It was like she suddenly transformed. We’d bought a red bulb for the bedroom and her skin appeared lighter under the light. God knows how that night went down.

And when we met with Numa, the next day after meeting Bela, he said it would be a great ride if we take a car, road-trip our way to the neighboring country. I agreed.

Clear glasses filled with colored liquid sat before me; cocktails. And it’s at that moment I realized the shoreline at Zanzibar is more than beautiful. It felt like I had taken a trip back in time. The tallest building I’d seen was four stories, and the air above, was natural; birds patrolling under the 3 pm sun. A string of boats hedging the shoreline, like fish eating from a vertical coral, and that view satisfied. Bela and Ndile sat by the pool, a few meters from where Numa and I had sat. On them colorful bikinis, their cocktails sitting right next to them.

We’d found a villa, at the end of a coral reef in one corner of Zanzibar’s shoreline. Everything before us; and the left was coconut trees, boats, and the endless blue.

“Zanzibar is beautiful,” savored Numa.

“Thank you! It’s just what I wanted,” thanking his idea in the first place. But then, why did all of us say ‘Thank You! It’s just what I wanted?’ Was it meant to be? Or mere coincidence? I still don’t know. All I know is I had a great time. No Cap!!

[1] Eng. Translation: Half-caste

[2]“ Who are those”

[3]“Those who look like Arabs.”

[4] “There are those with BuiBui (Islamic female gown) and those without are for us.”

[5] “Thank You!”