Englewood Library Artist’s Reception: My Africa Photos from Susan M. Sipprelle on Vimeo.

Their Eyes Are Watching:  People and Animals of Kenya and Tanzania

Artist Reception

Friday, March 12, 2010

Englewood Public Library

5:30 to 7:00 p.m.

Sue’s photos, Carrie’s food and Dwight’s wine

Hope you can make it!

My photo, Masai Dancers, has been selected for the Women’s Work 23rd Annual Fine Arts Show in Woodstock, Illinois.  It will be on display from March 1 until April 30.

Two of my photographs — one from Coney Island and one from Africa — have been chosen for the Art Center of Northern New Jersey’s Bergen County juried exhibition. They will be on display from Feb. 7 until March 1 .

Opening reception:  Sunday, February 7 from 2 to 4 p.m., 250 Center St., New Milford, NJ

Their Eyes Are Watching:  People and Animals of Kenya and Tanzania

As of October 9, my Africa photos will be on display at Frame It Yourself in Westwood, New Jersey.

For any of my readers who are interested — I’ be giving a talk and slide show next Tuesday, May 12:

THEIR EYES ARE WATCHING:  PEOPLE AND ANIMALS OF KENYA AND TANZANIA

2 p.m., Tuesday, May 12

Englewood Public Library, 31 Engle Street, Englewood, New Jersey

201-568-2215

When Cara and I returned to our resort, we joined the rest of the family at the pool.  Later, we all took a stroll along the beach.

At the beach, Dwight made a new friend, who tried to talk him into buying some African trinkets or paintings.   The rest of the family generally gives imploring hawkers short shrift, but not Dwight, who is willing to engage in a buy-sell discussion with anyone, anywhere, at any time about almost anything.

Tyler and Troy kicked around a soccer ball

and attracted the attention of a very jazzed-up Maasai.

The girls made an unwise decision to have their hands hennaed.  Sarah, the local henna artist, used a clumsy brush to apply some kind of thick ink that looked like gloppy chocolate pudding.  The girls did not end up with the delicate, intricate patterns they expected, but gooey figures that took days to get rid of and made us all laugh every time we looked at them!

When we returned to our rooms to get ready for dinner, we ran into a miserable Moses traipsing along in front of several of the hotel staff carrying baskets.  The new and inexperienced resort crew had jumbled up the guests’ clothes in the laundry.  Moses and his entourage were trying to straighten out the confusion and return various articles of clothing to their proper owners.

We opened our laundry packages and found a couple of shirts that didn’t belong to us.

I know where that goes,” Moses said, when we held up a little girl’s tee shirt, as if he had already handled a complaint about its disappearance.  Morosely, he pointed to a pair of women’s striped panties in one of the baskets to find out if they belonged to any of the females in our family.

In the few days we’d been at the resort, the luster of Moses’s job had been stripped away for him, it was plain to see.  His smiles were gone and his long kaftan didn’t seem as white or crisp as when we first arrived.  We couldn’t help but feel that he wouldn’t be sorry to see us go on the morrow.

The next morning, we were up and out — we flew from Zanzibar to Dar Es Salaam (the capital of Tanzania) back to Dubai and then on to JFK and home. Here’s the tired and rumpled gang waiting at JFK baggage claim.  The entire trip home took us almost exactly 30 hours door-to-door.

Wrapping up our family trip to Africa, which included our safari adventures in Kenya and Tanzania and the last few days at the beach resort in Zanzibar — the entire trip was SENSATIONAL,FANTASTIC, UNFORGETTABLE.

I had such wanderlust at the end of our spectacular journey that I was ready to throw over my domestic responsibilities back in the United Sates. I suggested several times (to no avail, obviously!) that the big kids should head home to finish the school year, while Dwight, Lynne and I continued on around the world . . .

I was ready to keep going and keep shooting!

Photo by Clare Sipprelle

I stitched together three photos that I shot at a Masai village into a panorama and had it developed at Cone Editions Press in Vermont.  The founder and owner, Jon Cone, asked if he could use my photo in the company’s booth at the Society for Photographic Educator trade show that was held in Texas at the end of March!

Here’s a couple of photos showing my Masai Dancers photo in Cone’s booth:

Back to sightseeing — On the morning of January 1, 2009, we took a small van from our resort back to Stone Town, not far from the airport.

Stone Town, designated a World Heritage site by UNESCO in 2000, was once the center of Zanzibar’s trade in slaves and spices.  We met our guide Mbwana near the Anglican Christ Church Cathedral.

In 1860 alone, 25,000 slaves were transported to Zanzibar out of Africa’s interior. About 8,000 slaves were exported, 4,000 put to work in Stone Town and 12,000 sent to work on Zanzibar’s plantations.  By 1873, however, Zanzibar’s sultan had put an end to the island’s slave trade, in response to the efforts of British missionaries, including Dr. Livingstone.

Who knew the explorer Dr. Livingstone (of I presume fame) played a huge role in stopping Zanzibar’s slave trade?

We followed Mbwana into the church, appalled by the low ceilings of the two slave chambers and narrow window slits that barely allowed in any light or fresh air.

Outside the church, we could see a mosque nearby.  Mbwana pointed out the juxtaposition as an example of modern day Zanzibar’s religious tolerance.

Regardless, almost everyone in Zanzibar today is Muslim.  The U.S. Department of State says that 99 percent of the island’s one million residents are Muslims.  Mbwana and others that we asked while we were there gave answers ranging from 85 to 95 percent. Almost all women and girls in Zanzibar wear long dresses and head scarves–no shorts or short skirts.  Cara and I had to be much more sensitive about taking people’s pictures in Zanzibar than we had been previously on this trip.

We walked from the church to Stone Town’s marketplace.  Hard to stop shooting photos of everything and everyone.

This woman pushed a wheelbarrow full of bloody horns,

and this man shoved a huge swordfish, bent into a u-shape, in his cart along the street.

Once we got inside the fish and meat market, the stench was overwhelming.  I gave Lynne a hand wipe to hold over her nose to prevent her from gagging.

Outside, where the fruits, vegetables and spices were sold, the air was much fresher.

In the past, Zanzibar was the world’s largest grower and seller of many spices, but after its government  began experimenting with socialism in the 1970s, other regions overtook Zanzibar in the spice trade.   Now, tourism is Zanzibar’s largest source of revenue, but few natives of Zanzibar find jobs in the tourist industry. Most people in Zanzibar still earn only about one dollar a day.

I have too many photos of colorful, exotic Stone Town to post on my blog! Not only did our group tour continue all morning, but Cara and I remained behind in the afternoon to take more pictures.

Look for a Zanzibar photo essay on my Web site by April 1.

All seven of us met at the resort’s breakfast buffet, then went for a swim in the wonderfully warm, aquamarine Indian Ocean.  Dwight took Troy and Lynne snorkeling, and I headed off to check my e-mails (wow!) and get some exercise.  We were all eager to MOVE after so many hours and days of traveling and sitting during game drives.

I stopped back at our room and discovered that our little fridge hadn’t been re-stocked.  Anticipating that we would need more bottled water and Diet Coke after everyone worked out and the day heated up, I called the front desk and asked to have more drinks brought to our room.  The man who answered the phone at the front desk seemed a bit confused by my request, but we managed to communicate, and he said that some drinks would be brought to our room shortly.  I gathered up some laundry and marked the paper up with what I was sending to be washed.

I opened the door at the sound of a knock and found a sleepy-looking Moses standing there in his gleaming white caftan, carrying a tray of waters and Diet Cokes.

“I’m sorry, Moses,” I said.  “I thought the front desk would send a waiter, not bother you to bring us drinks.”

“I’m the only one who has a key to the pantry,” he answered, a bit grumpily.

“Well, I am sorry,” I repeated and meant it, although I did wonder a) Were we the only guests who had ever asked to have their fridge re-stocked? and b) What happened to the “I’m here for you 24/7 attitude” that Moses had shown the prior day?

“It’s no trouble,” Moses answered, although clearly he didn’t mean it.

“Thank you,” I said, left it at that, and he departed.

I followed him out in search of the resort’s fitness/spa area with lap pool, which should have been easier to locate than it was.  Most of the resort’s staff didn’t speak much English, which wouldn’t have been a problem, if there had been any signs showing the way.

Eventually, I found the fitness/spa area.  It looked lavish and luxurious, but there was no one at the desk.   I called out hello a couple of times and a woman appeared.  I asked to use the lap pool, and she looked mystified, told me to follow her, and she would find out about the lap pool.  She found a spa manager (?) taking count (?) in a storage closet well-stocked with towels and linens.  I could see the deserted and inviting lap pool from the hall where we stood.

The manager explained to me very politely and at some length that only spa guests could use the lap pool.  I decided not to press the point, although, clearly, I was the only guest in the entire spa.

I walked back to the resort’s central pool and swam 50 laps, dodging some young French kids who were playing with a ball.  We were the only Americans at the resort while we visited — everyone else seemed to be European.  The large number of children in our family and our general high energy level stood out, and I would venture a guess, not favorably.

After my swim, I found most of the rest of the family on the beach.  The girls and I decided to check out the resort’s gift shop.  We were hoping to buy some new colorful clothes (anything but khaki safari clothes) to wear for the New Year’s Eve celebration that night.

Back to the front desk.  Again our request caused some confusion, but it was sorted out and a woman detached herself from the group of staff that continually hovered behind the front desk.

“The shop is closed, but I’ll open it for you,” she said, and we followed her to the elegant resort shop.  It smelled heavenly.  The aroma of spices from Zanzibar — cloves, cinnamon, cardamon — filled the shop.  We tried on and chose some bright skirts and tops and brought them to the woman at the counter, expecting to charge our purchases to our room.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you’ll have to pay cash and the register is locked right now.  Also, I don’t have the key.  Only the shop manager has the key.”

Hmm.  Maybe she could have told us about the shop’s limitations a littler sooner.  We were beginning to figure out how new this resort actually was!  We arranged to return later in the day with money.

We spent a happy afternoon swimming both in the ocean and the pool, playing Scrabble and taking a stroll along the beach.  The tide went way out in the afternoon, exposing the coral reef Dwight and the kids had snorkeled over in the morning.  We could see fishermen spearing octopi from their dhows — rough, primitive dugouts — but I didn’t have my camera with me.  I took this picture a couple of days later.

Remarkably, the shop manager met us in the late afternoon, so that we were able to complete our purchases.

Here we are, all dressed up in our festive attire:

and the boys, who obviously copied our blue theme, and who also, obviously, should have applied suntan lotion more liberally.

We had a fantastic and exotic New Year’s Eve, dining and talking in the warm night air, under the stars.

Once we’d seen in the start of 2009, the girls danced their way back to our rooms.  Happy New Year!