Madrassa Day in Pemba

Pemba. We’re sitting in the one air-conditioned office at the Ministry of Finance in Chake Chake, the office reserved for the Officer in Charge. We have an appointment to meet Maua, the acting officer in charge, who is handling Bakari’s responsibility while he’s in the UK getting an advanced degree. Maua agreed to take us to Micheweni today to introduce Stephen to the District Commissioner and the people in Kiuyu Mbuyuni. But Maua is not here. On Friday she told me she would be here to go with us. Instead we are meeting with Mr. Hamdou, who is the Deputy, I think.

We actually just saw Hamdou. We stopped by MoFEA on Friday morning and chatted with him. That’s when he invited us to attend the Madrassa Day celebration in Wete on Saturday morning. The day was a celebration of achievement for madrasa students throughout Pemba; Hamdou was the master of ceremonies and the Wete DC was the guest of honor. The ceremony itself was kind of boring, although Hamdou has a nice way about him and, had I spoken Swahili and known any of the kids there, I probably would have found him charming. Hasina came with us. When I went to the IdC house to get Stephen, I told her we were off to Wete for Madrassa Day celebrations. Hasina is incredibly devout and at the mere mention of madrassa, she perked up, so I invited her along.

Wete seems almost as big as Chake and certainly as interesting. The roads are not paved for the most part, and it has a sleepier, more laid back and less grimy quality of a real small town. Not a place where people land, not a nexus. People are going about their business – the internal business of living: business, education, food, school supplies; very few noticeable tourist shops; lots of open space. The market building is similar to the one I saw in Tabora – light green with the word “market” in the same lettering from the 20s.

We got there an hour into the ceremony and immediately, someone asked or a young man volunteered his seat for me. Then the young man next to me – all in crisp white shirts and dark trousers – turned and asked for a bottle of water for the mzungu. Very polite kids. The girls were behind them, also in crisp white head tunic things and black skirts.

I took pictures throughout the ceremony, trying to catch the kids as they were handed their gift – a school bag, mostly with a goofy cartoon picture from Disney or some such place – but it was hard where I was sitting to get a good shot. I was too much of a distraction with my camera, though. The kids and I were making too much of a commotion, and elicited a stern glance from one of the authorities. Chastened, we snapped back to attention. The ceremony droned on, kids being called by name, one after the other, coming up to get their book bags and quietly returning to their places. Finally, after about 45 minutes, Stephen, Hasina and I left.

We drove home quickly, stopping to pick up a few hitchhikers on the way – and then again when Hasina spied her sister waiting for a dala dala on the side of the road.