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As the first Zanzibar International Film Festival came to an end, I had one pressure building up in me. Having watched almost all of the films that were put in for competition, Maangamizi sort of ran me crazy. And do you know why? I really admired one Tanzanian lady star, who also happened to be a Zanzibari for that matter. My admiration was neither because of her beauty or age. After all, the last question any journalist who has had the British standard of training knows very well the last question that one would ask a woman is about her age.
No wonder the issue that kept on nagging me was how the "old Zanzibari lady" had managed to team up so skillfully with an American and a fellow Tanzanian man from the Mainland, for that matter, to act so superbly in an English film. What was her level of education? How did she manage to break through the traditional Zanzibari head-to heels attire - buibui - for the screen? Could she have been in contact with the Zanzibari State House cultural advisor, who is so strict that he did not even allow me to take his photograph during an interview with Karibu Zanzibar on the buibui itself? What was the cultural impact on the local community of this old lady's appearance in this film, a product of an American-Tanzanian joint effort?
 
On three occasions I made an appointment to meet the lady without success. My contact, Ron Mulvihill, who happens to be one of the producers together with Martin Mhando (the Mainlander), seemed too slippery. It was, in fact, on the last day that I managed to visit Bibi Maangamizi - as Ron himself called her - in her own environment, away from the pressures of our crammed programmes and the screen.
So one afternoon, Ron, his wife Queenae, and I, had the exclusive chance of visiting film star Bibi Maangamizi in Zanzibar's shanty suburb area of Shaurimoyo. We had agreed to meet at 2:30 p.m. at the historic Old Fort, from where we would start our journey to her residence. I was at the Fort 20 minutes before the appointed time. Come 2:30, the Mulvihills were no where to be seen. They had sort of disappeared into the Mulvivalleys.
I knew they had gone to the East Coast in the morning but Ron had insisted on me being on time because they were leaving the following day. So, to me, this was a make-or-break day. I asked as many participants in the festival as possible at the Fort if they had seen Ron. Many knew him and just cooled my nerves by reminding me of the charms of the East Coast of Zanzibar. I personally had been there and on one night found myself spending hours enjoying the moonrise outside my cottage at Chakwa Bay Hotel, when normally what people enjoy is the sunset on the West Coast. I finally decided to buy myself a soft drink and occupy a strategic position from where I could see everybody coming in through the main entrance. My heart burst with joy when I saw Ron enter the Fort literally panting and anxiously looking around for me. Satisfied, I left my seat and walked towards him.
We're sorry Mr.Kaiza," he said, even before we could greet each other. We straight away went out of the Fort and entered in a van, which had a woman driver behind the wheel. And do you know who that driver happened to be? One London-based Zanzibari lady and family member of Zanzibar's famous photographer Jeverji. Ron was the co-driver, so to say, on our Bibi Maangamizi safari.
It did not take long before we left the tarred road on to a sandy one. Up, up we meandered until we reached a dead end. We now disembarked, wished out driver a good day and walked towards Bibi Maangamizi's home. As our vehicle was coming to a stand still, Shaurimoyo residents had already noticed the arrival of visitors. Apparently, we were not very far off from our destination. Then a group of people emerged from one house coming our way, all wearing broad smiles. Bibi Maangamizi was among them. To her, and most of her family members, I was the only stranger. Ron was quick to make the introduction shortly after he wanted to know whether I wanted to be called Kaiza or Felix. "All are my first names," I told him.
As we climbed stairs into the house I really felt honoured. Stepping past the door, we stepped into a room that was matted wall to wall. The mats were of different colour combinations. There was definitely no monotony whatsoever. Our reception was definitely better than the ones we hear about of presidents getting red carpet receptions. Ours was a super red carpet reception. No doubt about that. There could have been nothing better.
As we settled down, things started getting better. We had some soft drinks. The occasion was so entertaining that I did not even feel the absence of my favourite Tanzanian gin - the Konyagi. And if there was anybody among us who must have felt overwhelmed by the gentle treatment we received from the Bibi Maangamizi family - made up of her young sister, daughters and grand children - it must have been Queenae. It was an afternoon she got the treatment and attention of a typical Zanzibari bride.
There was a fascinating scene as female members of the family criss-crossed one another like white ants as they placed all dish courses before us. Finally water was brought, we cleaned our hands in turn starting with Queenae, Ron, me and then the members of the family. Bibi Maangamizi called us to the table. "Karibuni chakula," she said. And there we were. Occasionally she would stand up to make sure none of us skips a course. It was one of the few days in my life that I found myself taking tea, and on a hot afternoon for that matter. The treatment was too tempting for one to resist. After chakula water was passed around again, we were in for another treat.
A home made cake was presented to Ron. Then came Queenae's turn. She was adorned with one khanga piece giving her the Zanzibari bride head and shoulder gear. She was also presented with a home woven basket. Finally, Bibi Maangamizi presented both of them with a mat, locally called a mkeka.
While all this was going on I had time to ask Bibi Maangamizi some questions about her past, present and future. She told me her real name is Mwanajuma Ali Hassan. Way back in 1966 she joined a local cultural music troupe and had a chance to sing several Taarab tunes. Taarab is one of the most liked types of music along the Swahili coast. She had a go at some of the tunes. It was at this time her grandchildren realised some of the songs were popular, particularly along the neighbouring Kenyan coast in Mombasa.
So I asked her about the issue of intellectual property rights. Legally, she does not know what I am talking about. But economically, she regrets having spent her time working on something that virtually means nothing to her today but something that means a lot to others. She does not comprehend the arrangement. She did not even know that during the Film Festival there was a three-day workshop on Intellectual Property Rights.
How did she get into contact with this American couple of producer and scriptwriter and the Tanzanian film producer Martin Mhando? It was the Tanzania Media Women's Association (TAMWA) which convinced her to accept the offer way back in 1994 - the offer that made her leave her Shaurimoyo home in Unguja for Bagamoyo, on the Mainland.
Film making is an expensive undertaking. The project ran out of funds and she had to come back home while Ron went back to the United States. Theirs was a sad departure. "Then all of a sudden in 1997 I was told that European of yours is back in town." Ron is American but among the Swahili any white man is called "mzungu" - meaning European. She still plucked the courage and went on to do the final round.
Mwanajuma says she has never seen the gate of any formal school. How does she manage to act in an English film? "You see I have all along participated in the sensitization of the public through art. In cultural groups we had a chance to learn how to read and write. We also learnt a bit of English." She is fond of reading newspapers. While I was talking to her using my notebook and pen, Ron was busy using his video camera lens.
After all this we had to part. Bibi Maangamizi was very much concerned about our means of transport back to town. "We'll take a taxi," Ron assured her. The family escorted us - Bibi Maangamizi and her sister halfway to the main road. But before we parted Ron insisted on Bibi Maangamizi coming to the film festival closing ceremony in time and well dressed "because we don't know the judges' ruling on Maangamizi."
Said Queenae to Bibi Maangamizi: "Thank you very much. I wasn't expecting a gift like this." I found myself playing the role of interpreter. And Bibi Maangamizi responded with a broad smile.
Finally, we decided we would happily walk back to the Bwawani Hotel. And come evening, what happens during the closing ceremony? Maangamizi - The Ancient One - in which two women, one American and one African are summoned to the majestic heights of Kilimanjaro at the top most roof of Africa and are led by an ancient and mysterious ancestor on a primal journey of spiritual awakening, scoops the Best Feature Film Award. What a timely contribution to the promotion of the links between the United States and the dhow country.
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