The Detectives of Shangani - The Mystery of the Lost Rubies

chapter one

School Holidays

“What things always chase each other but never overtake one another?” Bakari asked Omari, shouting above the school bell, its high-pitched Triiiiiiing sound echoing though the alleyways of stone Town. Loud laughter and noisy chatter followed the bell’s chime as the children flowed out from the school gate filling the narrow streets. It was the last day of school and the beginning of a long holiday. The chatter was alive with shrieks, and squeals of excitement. Bakari and Omari had completed Form One and had done well in their exams. Form Two sounded terrifying for the fourteen-year-olds but that was a worry for another day. Bakari was in high spirits and did not wait for an answer but tagged Omari and shouted, “Race you to the sugarcane stand!”

They were out of breath as they reached the stand. “Two big mugs please,” Bakari gasped to the vendor standing behind the juice machine, ready to take orders. The hot afternoon sun and the high humidity made them perspire. Usually, they would rush home after school so they could freshen up for their afternoon madrassah. Today, however, they could take as long as they wanted to get home. The afternoon madrassah, where children learnt to read the Quran and Arabic, was closed for two weeks.

“Do you know the answer or not?” Bakari quizzed a distracted Omari who was more interested in watching the man fluidly squeeze the sugarcane flesh than answer Bakari’s riddle. The vendor pushed two long sugarcanes through the machine, turning the wheel effortlessly, flexing his biceps. The cane was squeezed to a pulp, letting out juice into a standing jug at the other end of the machine. When the jug became full, he poured the juice into two mugs and added ice-cubes. “The answer is wheels of a car,” Bakari said.

More students came to buy the sweet juice. The boys sat down and took their time to relish the drink.

“A long holiday, to chill on the beach, swim, snorkel, and eat plenty of changu fish,” Omari said dreamily. He felt as though a burden had been taken off his shoulders. “Holidays make me feel like I could fly,” he said, spreading out his arms as if he was about to take off. Bakari laughed at his friend’s enthusiasm, he rubbed his lips as he took the last sip. Feeling refreshed, they continued down the winding alleys of the ancient Stone Town, a UNESCO heritage site, savouring their freedom.

Like the rest of the town the houses in the narrow passageways lined up closely facing each other. Outside every house was a cement bench. This is where the Zanzibaris sat anytime of the day to take a break from their chores and catch up with the neighbourhood gossip. At the bottom of some of the buildings were shops that sold sweets, clothes, paan, bread, soft drinks, mandazi, tumbua, and many other things.

As they walked towards their homes, Mr. Barretto, the owner of one of the shops nearby called them, “Aha! I see two happy boys today.” To celebrate their first day of school holidays he handed them a sweet and a Big-G, the chewing gum they liked. The boys thanked him. “You must join us for swimming Mr. Barretto,” Omari suggested. “Join you? I will race you in swimming and will win too!” he teased.

Mr. Barretto was a kind and friendly man. His silvery white hair, perfectly brushed back and thick square-framed glasses on his tanned skin revealed his Goan background. Only a handful of Goan families were left in Zanzibar having arrived from India in the late 18th Century. The small island still had a fusion of cultures left from the time of the Portuguese explorers to the Omani Sultanate, the Indian merchants to the Persians. These foreign settlers merged with the native Bantu populations.

The two friends were next-door neighbours in an area called Shangani and had grown up together. Bakari’s bedroom window was only a metre away from Omari’s. There were times they would stand near their windows and talk to each other. Days when it was raining, they would both stretch out their hands to see who could bear the beating of the rain for longer. The rain would pitter-patter loudly on the corrugated tin roofs and sound like music to the boys’ ears. The water would cover the narrow paths and reach their ankles. The two boys would challenge each other to ride a bicycle in the constricted alley and see who could outdo the other before the deep water would throw them off balance. They would then go and sip a soda in Mr. Barretto’s shop.

They were always on the lookout for an adventure. The year before a girl had gone missing and the local community had believed that she had been seized by a jinn while she was out playing during Maghrib. This is the time that the Zanzibaris believe the jinn come out to bother and pester humans. Then they investigated and discovered that the little girl’s brother had taken her to her aunt’s house without informing the parents, where both of them had fallen asleep.

One of their favourite games to play in the narrow streets was hide and seek. All the children of Shangani gathered together to play, in the morning and at night. In the late afternoon, they often went to Forodhani Gardens where all the boys of Stone Town gathered to jump off the edge into the azure Indian Ocean waters and swim. The boys tried to outdo each other in their jumps and dives. They ran from the side and somersaulted in the air, landing with huge splashes. A crowd often gathered to watch the boys’ performance. If a jump was really outstanding, applause broke out. This encouraged the boys to keep competing until they received the loudest whistles and shouts of praise.

As the sky started turning a golden red, and the call for the evening prayer was heard, the children would stop playing and get ready to leave to go home or pray in the nearby mosques. Stone Town had numerous mosques and when the adhaan was called the echoes could be heard in every corner. The streets filled with men dressed in kanzus, loose white robes flowing from the neck to the ankles, and kofias to cover their heads. It was rare to see any man entering the mosque without this traditional dress.

After the prayer, many people headed home to their families to eat supper. Others went to the Forodhani Gardens to enjoy food from the many street sellers. With the light of their kerosene lanterns, they sold almost any food, from octopus and squid to Zanzibar Pizza and mishkaki with chips and the favourite Zanzibar Mix, which contained fried cassava strips, with bajias and potato balls, served with hot cassava soup and mishkaki.

Bakari and Omari went to the Garden to eat Zanzibar Mix. They washed it down with sugarcane juice, which was far more popular than any soft drink. The boys lazily headed back and stopped every now and then to greet friends or relatives. They sat outside Mr. Barretto’s shop before going home, sipping away at Azam’s new pomegranate soda. Bakari had a new riddle to challenge Omari with, he asked, “There was a green house. Inside the green house, there was a white house. Inside the white house, there was a red house. Inside the red house, there were many babies. What is it?” They asked Mr. Barretto the riddle and he shook his head.“i don’t know the answer,” he said. It’s too late at night for me to think. When you figure it out, you let me know,” he joked.

Omari was more attentive this time to the riddle and it took him a few seconds to figure out the answer, “Watermelon!” he shouted with glee, happy that he had solved a new riddle so quickly. “Wait until I give you my riddle to solve!” he teased Bakari, “it will take you over a month!”

By the time they reached home, the sky had turned into a black carpet with twinkling stars and a glowing moon. Bakari laughed at Omari’s boastful statement and replied, “It’s a challenge for tomorrow then!”

chapter two

Bibi Fatuma

The next day, Bakari had just arrived home from a dip in the sea when his parents gave him good news. “Bibi Fatuma will be visiting us in two days time,” Bakari’s mother announced. “Hooray!” he jumped about, ecstatic. “This is a surprise!” He wondered why his grandmother had not informed them about her visit as she normally did, usually a whole month or two before arriving. Bakari was a good weaver and had learnt the skill from his mother. He wove mats and bags as a present for his Bibi Fatuma. Usually, it took him over a month to complete one project. “Now I won’t even be able to weave her something nice,” he complained. he was however, overjoyed and brushed aside all his thoughts about why she had not informed them earlier. He only thought of how he was going to make a nice present in time.

“Ohhhhhhh!” he said, “This means my holiday is going to get even better!” He did a small twirl across the room bumping into Omari as he entered, making his parents laugh. His grandmother always stayed at her beach house and would invite Bakari and his family to spend time there, she called the house ‘Bayt-el-Jameel’, which meant beautiful house; it was a perfect name.

Bibi Fatuma allowed Bakari to invite any of his friends over if he wished. This time Omari would be coming a lot as his parents had travelled to Dar es Salaam for a week and he had prefered to stay in Zanzibar with his aunt.

Bakari called Bibi Fatuma his favourite grandmother although technically she was not his actual grandmother. When explaining the relationship to Omari he started by saying, “Bibi Fatuma is my paternal granduncle’s wife,” Omari would just shake his head. It sounded too complicated to figure it out. Bakari teased, “Yes Omari, and my paternal granduncle’s wife’s niece’s daughter...” Omari chased Bakari before he could go on any further. “I don’t want to know about your paternal granduncle’s wife’s niece’s daughter!” Omari said, and they both burst out laughing.

Bakari loved to talk about his Bibi Fatuma, “Her father’s great uncle was from the lineage of the first Arab ruler of Zanzibar, sultan Seyyid Said, who ruled from 1804 to 1856 and made Zanzibar the seat of government in 1840.” Omari knew this sentence by heart. He had heard it many times from Bakari. He mimed Bakari and they both ended up chuckling. Bakari’s father, Musa, had told them,“Bibi Fatuma has some of the Sultan’s characteristics. Just like him, she is tall in stature and her face expresses kindness and justice. Just like him, she is regarded as a model for justice.” The boys had heard Bakari’s father narrate the story of the Sultan many times. He told them about one of the Sultan’s buildings which he called ‘Bayt-el-Mtoni’ or ‘House of the Stream’. “It was a grand palace, one of the largest palaces built in Zanzibar during his reign, and housed more than a thousand people.”

The day approached when Bibi Fatuma was to arrive. Bakari went with his father to make preparations that the required groceries and vegetables to be delivered. Normally, since she usually announced her arrival at least a month before, the preparations were done slowly and leisurely but this time things had to move at a faster pace. She visited them at least once a year, sometimes even twice. The grandfather clock that was tucked in a corner of the room caught Bakari’s father’s attention as he noticed a film of dust on its face. “That clock needs to be wound,” he said loudly to himself. It was his way of making a mental note as he was responsible for the maintenance of the clock.

On the day of his aunt’s arrival, Bakari’s parents went to pick her up from the airport by taxi. They couldn’t get her normal driver at such short notice. They were however, equally excited to have her come and visit them. Bakari’s father had given Bakari and Omari the task of overseeing the cleaning and finishing any last minute chores.

Bakari had been eager to go to the airport but also wanted his beloved Bibi to come home to a clean house. Her house, Bayt- el-Jameel, was huge and known as an Omani-style rest-house. it resembled the Sultan Seyyid’s ‘Bayt-el-Mtoni,’ Bakari’s father had told them about. While Bayt-el-Jameel was much smaller, it was nonetheless just as intricate. The house consisted of an audience chamber decorated with long mirrors; the floor was paved with marble slabs. Large pillars and archways were the main features on the windowless ground floor. The living quarters were based on the upper floor accessible from the audience chamber. It was a magnificent house although Bibi Fatuma had told them, “You should have seen this place in its days of glory. It was filled in splendour, nothing compared to how it is today.” In the rear courtyard, there was a block of domed Persian baths that were still in use, unlike in other houses that had become ruins. There was a mosque built at the end of the house, for use by the family.

Bibi Fatuma had also maintained the garden very well. It was still lush, serene, and visited by many birds. Some of the archways in the garden were chipped, revealing the decades they had stood there. She had also let peacocks, ducks, fowls, and even a few gazelles occupy the gardens. There were three gardeners who maintained it while she was away. Bakari and Omari had completed the chores they had been given and everything was ready for Bibi Fatuma’s arrival. They did a final round of the house checking on the maids and were satisfied that the work was done.

in the garden, Bakari jumped into the hammock placed under a tree. It made for a perfect afternoon nap. The rope that held it high had become loose and could not hold his weight. Plonk! The hammock fell to the ground, Bakari going with it! “Ouch! This hammock could have killed me,” Bakari moaned in exaggeration. “Oh, poor hammock!” teased Omari, “I hope you didn’t hurt it with your weight!” The boys laughed and Bakari chased Omari around the garden. Omari ran towards the tree house and stopped at the trunk. Bibi Fatuma had told the boys the story of the tree house. She said that the tree house at Bayt-el-Jameel was one of a kind in Zanzibar. This was because her father used to have many foreign visitors due to his business. On one occasion, an English gentleman had seen Bibi Fatuma playing with her dolls indoors and remarked that with such a beautiful garden, she should be playing there instead. So he suggested her father build a playhouse in the branches of the biggest tree. “We should go and relax in the tree house later,” he said, catching his breath. “Sounds like a good plan to me,” replied Bakari, “After I catch you!” he said charging towards Omari. When the boys finished chasing each other they lay on the grass to recover.