Dhow

Today we went on a traditional dhow sailboat to an island off the headland where Tofo sits. Dhows require very impressive mastery of winds, sails and tides, something which the skipper Alfonso achieved very well. John the young guide took us to Isla dos Porcos (Pig Island) which is known in the marketing as ‘Survivor Island’ to give it an overly-dramatic edge. It’s low season and it seems in general visitor numbers to Tofo have been adversely affected by some negative police behaviour and increased corruption over the last decade. The tour organisers seem to be struggling for business so we were happy to sign up for one.

On Pig Island we looked around the school and clinic and made a half-arsed attempt to climb coconut trees. The chief’s family cooked up what can only be described as a sumptuous feast of squid, crab, chicken, rice, pasta, chips and the traditional dish of matapa, made from young cassava leaves. The alcohol also flowed liberally including a delicious cocktail of pineapple gin, coconut water and lychee flavoured Fanta.

This was a perfect full stomach on which to go snorkelling, which we proceeded to do. The habitat was a mixture of seagrass and quite damaged reef, but the fish life was good and there were lots of very pretty starfish. Seeing Moorish Idols is always very nice indeed. With flamingos and dolphins also spotted from the dhow, it was a good day on the fauna front.

The evening was interesting when we wound up having a beer with a South African with views that should definitely be classed as racist. He objected to the presence of a mosque and a Turkish community (who he also joked about not washing) when he had visited Finsbury Park because apparently visitors don’t want to be presented with that non-British culture and clustering in such a way can lead to apartheid. Our remarks about London’s diversity being what we most like about it, and that Finsbury Park sounds like a great slice of modern British culture, fell on some of the deafest ears I’ve ever encountered, as did the counter argument about how a Turkish tourist might feel when stumbling upon the South African hub of Putney. His rhetoric was one tiny step away from that pathetic but common insinuation that areas of the UK are being taken over by Muslim ghettos where non-Muslims fear to tread.

Tim is a very placid character and was a good modifying influence for such a conversation, which saved me from losing my rag. We parted ways surprisingly amicably despite having to endure further views on the hygiene practices of ‘natives’ in Africa. Truly despicable views which I seem to periodically attract in various corners of the world.