Note: This travelogue is a whole year and some months late, but what the hell? The journey remains important, the hacks relevant, the photography not shabby at all if I may say so myself ( and I do) 😎.
Travelling to Zanzibar, specifically during the film festival, had been a dream of mine for years! And most of my dreams wait to points where when they come true, they are lackluster and matter less; much much less. I was a little afraid of succeeding in going to Zanzibar. Part of me actually believed I would get an accident and die on the way there, not back. The way there. Because life does not just let you have great experiences without a catch.
Yet this time it did.
And the journey was full of beautiful surprises and just a little bit of life’s fuckery (because life is life). The dream came true and it didn’t mean anything less; it meant so much more that at the end I felt like I had gone on a sacred pilgrimage and found lost missing pieces of myself.
I went to Zanzibar specifically during ZIFF, running away from something and seeking something hopeful about my life. I’m glad to say, I found it. I found joy, and rediscovered my wanderlust; and in the films I watched, most notably Noem me Skollie (Call me Thief), I realized how deceptively simple the act of telling stories may seem, and yet how life saving and reviving it truly is.
More importantly I found courage while watching the stories of other people come to birth. I found courage to birth my own.