Funzi: a working vacation?

Disclaimer: The formatting on this post is screwed up, but I can't figure out why or how to fix it so I'm posting anyway! 

After a week alone in Shirazi, I was ready to move on to another site to continue my research. The island of Funzi. I boarded a small boat in the nearby village of Bodo with my Funzi host mother, Mima. Mima spoke excellent English and even acted as my translator for interviews.

We arrived on the island in the early evening and dropped off my bags, the heaviest of which Mima simply positioned on her head to carry. Amazing; they do this with huge water containers, firewood, everything.

My Funzi room. Very nice, especially in comparison to Shirazi. Still no electricity, but...cement floor, iron sheets, chairs…it felt like a resort.

Well in front of my home

Mima took me to visit Grace, the other student living in Funzi. Grace’s host mother prepared us delicious chai and chatted with Mima while Grace discussed our village experiences.

Funzi food was incredible. I mean, Shirazi had fish…but where Shirazi fish are guppies, Funzi fish are more like salmon. Legitimate fillets, served with coconut rice and covered with a creamy orange coconut sauce. And breakfast? Some mandazi, of course, but everyday Mima’s sister made us big omelets full of vegetables. One day she concocted some sort of chapati/pancake hybrid, which was actually really delicious. 

Nashamba, Mima's sister and excellent chef

Mima was so kind and accommodating, and I could tell she was trying to create some American-type things to make me feel at home.

I wish I could have spent more time in Funzi; three days just wasn’t enough. Our last day on the island, Grace and I were able to swim, and in the mornings we could run on the beach. Our mothers were helicopter parents, escorting us to the bathroom…but it’s nice to have a mom away from home!

Pictures don't do it justice

Oh, and my research went well here. That's what's important, right? Funzi is home to two resorts that see a lot of traffic from European tourists. They pass through the village market on tours from time to time; I received some strange looks as a sat among the villagers wearing a muumuu, holding a notebook, and stuttering in Kiswahili.