What Happens In Dar…
I woke up outside, next to my tent, not in it. I was, however, on my mattress, so that situation must have been the result of a certain amount of consideration. What was obviously not considered was that I would wake up in a swarm of mosquitos.
Mikadi was abandoned. All over there was evidence of the previous night’s merriment. The remains of bonfires smouldered on the beach. Bottles littered the camp. My fellow travellers too were scattered around the place, some in tents, some around the bar. The dance floor and stereo system remained. I sat on the beach and put together the events of the previous night. Anders joined me there, we watched the sea. The calm after the storm.
The previous night had started, like so many nights before, lightly, with a dinner on the beach with friends. Grand. I had decided to take the night as it came.
As the sun set the camp was filled with locals in the mood for a party. Peter and Winnie, a British/Kenyan DJ and jazz duo started playing a great live set along with a Spanish trumpeter. A white banner was strung up between some coconut trees with a light in the sand behind it. People danced casting shadows and silhouettes on the banner, which was fairly entertaining to watch.
I spent a few hours moving from bonfire to bonfire catching up with the different groups of guests. There was a drum circle around the fire where my car had been earlier. There were also a few locals with guitars playing along. In the bar I found Heidi, an Irish lass I had met a few days before. She was at the bar with a guy called Michael, and apparently it was his birthday. From there things got a little out of hand. They had some leftover Jagermeisters which they were more than happy to share.
The staff at Mikadi were by now well into the mood. I remember dancing with the girl from the bar, who was usually like stone. Here she was laughing and smiling and having a good time. The Jagermeisters kept coming. Anders believed that Ski Instructor > Writer when it came to drinking. And I was determined to prove him wrong. Which was a bad idea (in retrospect). After that things became a bit of a blur.
In the morning I put the night together. It was such a blur, but I remember it being so strange. Orthodox muslims had dinner meters away from skinny dipping europeans. Many danced. Others drank. But I think it was a good night overall.
Before the party I had locked everything I had away in the boot of my car. I thought I was being terribly clever, or I would have been if I hadn’t put the key in my pocket, which is now buried in the sand or at the bottom of the ocean. I’ll never know. So Anders helped me turn the lock with a multitool. After that we had breakfast, and planned a trip to Zanzibar…