THE EAST COAST 155 



was brought to a finale by what is known as the 

 HeUgoland Convention, and for the past twenty- 

 three years the coral isles of Zanzibar and Pemba 

 have been under the protection of that Imperial 

 Mistress who has stumbled on dictatorship of 

 half the world. 



That in brief is the history of Zanzibar. If 

 you would realize more fully the romance of its 

 past, go along N'Dia Kuu, the main thoroughfare 

 of the town, which extends from the Sultan's 

 Palace to the new British Agency at Muanzi 

 Moja. Here are offices of a German shipping 

 line, the Customs House, a noble old Arab 

 archway, the English Club, the residence of 

 Tippoo Tib — grand old African despot of the 

 slave-trading days — Italian and Belgian Consul- 

 ates, Cingalese shops, some of which bear 

 curiously familiar British names. Turn off into 

 Portuguese Street and you will find yourself in 

 a world of da Souzas. I should not like to say 

 just how many da Souzas there are in East 

 Africa. Zanzibar and Mombasa appear to be 

 full of them. They all sell exotic curios, or 

 scribble documents for an exotic Government, so 

 that one cannot classify them according to their 

 callings in life and gauge their numbers accord- 

 ingly. You may turn down alleyways, which 

 in benevolence only can be termed streets, and 

 at every corner some new wonder will thrust 

 itself on you. Glorious old carved doorways, 

 open bazaars full of ghee and carmadon seeds, 

 women clad in all the colours of the spectroscope, 

 beggars and curio vendors, carriers of water, 

 carriers of wood, merchant princes with old, 

 crippled legs astride of fast-trotting white 

 Zanzibar donkeys, children from Hind, fat 



