Oceans & Zanzibari Men

This is one of the common beach scenes here in Zanzibar - made for cameras.
What I find funny/sad is this:

Just about the same scene, but now with a child playing happily in the water by a sewage pipe. It is the bump of cement tiles behind the girl that marks the pipe. There is no political statement I am trying to make; just the observation that I edited the sewage bit out without even thinking about it.

On another note, at this precise moment, I find Zanzibar to be socially exhausting. I smile too much in a culture of demure women and, I guess, cheerless foreigners. People follow me to talk with me, and openly cite my smile as the reason. Case in point, a guy on his bike changed directions to follow me to this beach, engaging me in useless conversation, and is now apparently waiting silently nearby for me to finish what I am doing. I did nothing except have a happy thought in his general vicinity to earn this attention. This one isn't even a salesman. Other times that I am overwhelmed by this culture is when everyone who sees me offers and expects a minimum of two greetings. That is actually every minute on the street, but sometimes it strikes me more acutely. In a whole other category of socially wearing interactions, I have managed to earn myself three thoroughly unwelcome and anti-elicited marriage proposals/ expressions of nuptial intent. It makes me miss China's unapologetic, quiet stares, not to mention the taboos that made me, as an absurdly tall woman, completely undatable. But I do love the lime-soaked corn on the cob and fresh coconuts here, and the learning process is fun for the most part. As I started writing about this whole topic, my mind was unhappily focused on things that really don't dominate my mind most of the time. Most of the time I am enjoying myself so thoroughly that the exuberance in my smile has the opportunity to get me into trouble.

Most useful phrase of the day: hapana, bwana.

= no, mister.