For two years of my life, I was blessed to have the chance to live on what I believe must be one of the most beautiful places on this earth. I will miss it for the rest of my life.
I moved there immediately after getting married - for two years we lived in paradise.
On Sunday afternoons we would drive past little villages of mud huts - where people had none of the luxuries we are used to but who seem so much more content - and find our way to different parts of the Island, where we lazed on empty beaches - no tourists, no sounds except those of the nature all around us - until sunset.
Weekdays evenings were often spent at Forodhani, which is the part of stone town on the water right in front of the old Omani Fort, the Sultan's palace, and the House of Wonders - so named because it was the tallest building in East Africa at the time it was built. There, in the evening vendors with their little barbecues sell things like grilled jumbo prawns, octopus, and mushkaki (grilled beef cubes) and sugar cane juice flavored with lime and ginger. Low budget tourists - backpackers - gather there to eat along with the Island's residents. There was also a proper restaurant there that served the best lemon tart - topped with a drizzle of passion fruit sauce - that I have ever had.
- Palace and House of Wonders - Stone Town
My oldest son was born one year after we moved there - though I had to fly to Nairobi for the actual delivery. So for the next year it was me and the only man I had ever loved and our beautiful baby boy. For two years I thought I was loved, my life was great, and I had a wonderful future that could only get brighter.
Unfortunately, like all dreams, it ended, and I woke up to reality.