Simai Faki Simai

Mr Simai Faki Simai is a taxi driver extraordinaire. In the hour it took for him to drive us from Stone Town to the east coast of Zanzibar he managed to give us a full briefing on the island’s political history, a run down on its agricultural industry and for good measure throw in some juicy gossip about organised crime – mostly run by Italians according to him.
By the time we got to Paje we felt we had known him for years, so we were relieved when he said our hotel was “very good”.
It turned out he was only being polite. When he arrived to pick us up after our four-day chill out by the Indian Ocean, he whispered: “how was your hotel?”
“Not so good,” shrugged Nigel.
“Yes, yes,” responded Simai cheerfully. “It is bad hotel, you would have much better staying at the Beach Bungalows next door. This one has too many Italians, sometimes they wear nothing on the beaches.
“We have to hide our eyes,” he ended with a flourish and a grin.
“But why didn’t you tell us it was bad?” I asked, somewhat surprised at his reticence, given that he had told us everything about his island, his family and a few other things beside.
“You told me I had a reservation,” he said sadly, “I thought it was too late to change it.”
And he was right. We were mugged for 360 dollars for four nights accommodation as soon as checked in, so we were forced to stay put, stranded in the midst of a gaggle of noisy beach bunnies, served by staff who couldn’t care less and kept awake by DJ Marvin Gaye Junior. Great name, terrible play list.
But the surrounding scenery more than compensated for the shortcomings of our “funky” beach resort.
The East coast of Zanzibar is so beautiful it stunned me into silence. There are no adjectives to describe the shades of blue in the sea, colour that is alive. The sand is white, so white it burns your eyes and nature’s final flourish are the tall palm trees which fringe the coast and provide a modicum of shade in the midday sunshine.
But even beauty palls after a while and we were mightily relieved to return to the calm oasis of the Abuso Inn in Stone Town.
As we headed into the town, the island’s only fire engine went screaming past us.
“By the time it is filled with water, it is always too late,” said Simai solemnly. “I wonder where it is going?”
The Paje Beach Bungalows, we later discovered. Five minutes after we left our hotel, next door to the bungalows, they caught fire and were razed to the ground.
As we headed out for our final morning coffee before leaving Zanzibar, Simai appeared from nowhere.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” he said breathlessly. “Thank you for coming to our island, and I hope to see you again soon.”
And thank you Simai, for showing us your beautiful island. And for the green coconut milk. It really does “clean out your kidneys”.