Experience Mafia Island life as it was in the 80s

There is one landing strip on Mafia Island and it starts almost where the Indian Ocean ends. For a split of a second it feels like the plane is about to land on water but changes its mind in the following seconds and chooses the ground instead.

On the roof of the small airport building MAFIA AIRPORT is written in capital letters with white paint and assures you that it is not some crooked Italian joke, you are actually on the island that shares its name with Italian groups of gangsters. But Mafia is quite the opposite of all criminal connotations.

The name Mafia may derive from Swahili words “mahali pa afya” – a “healthy dwelling place” or from the Arabic word “morfiyeh” which means “group” or “archipelago”.

The Swahili words capture the spirit on Mafia quite well. The main island along with the smaller surrounding islands form an archipelago that is in tune with the sound of ocean waves and the leaves of the coconut trees. Quite unlike Zanzibar, Mafia Island has avoided large scale tourism and stayed in sync with the life of fishing, cash crop farming of cashew nuts and coconuts and subsistence farming.

When Mafians compare their island to Zanzibar many say that visiting Mafia today is like visiting Zanzibar 30 years ago. Before all the tourists arrived.

Some will look at a tourist in disbelief and seem to want to ask “But why are you here? Were the tickets to Zanzibar sold out?” But Mafia is not just a substitute to the archipelago further north, but a welcoming society with a unique environment and history.

Most of the southern half and part of the north-east of the island is a part of Mafia Island Marine Park, a protected nature park of mangrove forests, coral reefs, lagoons and sea-grass beds. Mafia has been branded as a bit of a divers’ paradise with azure blue water in between islands of mangrove forest. The risk of your feet getting lost in the water is very little. The water is transparent and hides nothing.

The Marine Park was established by the government of Tanzania, however, while it preserves the coastal ecology, fishermen complain that it restricts their fishing and hinders them from making a better living.

Although it all may sound very romantic, Mafia Island is also one of the least developed parts of Tanzania. The first tarmac road running from the main town Kilindoni to the primary touristic area around the village Utende was constructed two years ago by a Chinese contractor. Now it cuts through the interior of the island, runs past thin grazing cows on open green fields. The black and linear tarmac almost looks like a misplaced element next to the green wilderness, and the empty bus stops with proper metal signs picturing a cartoonish bus almost look like a joke. The zebra crossings along the road are broad and shiny white, but there can be several minutes between the passing of a motorcycle or a bus.

At the end of the tarmac road in the village, Utende, a shop keeper expresses his concerns that the tarmac road is just the beginning. He thinks development can be for the best of all, but it must be done in a way that does not ruin the traditions of the people and without the use of too much tarmac and cement. It can be done with more respect and care for the traditional styles and methods, he believes.

The traditions and the history of Mafia Island go far back, writes the British anthropologist Pat Caplan. The island was one of the trading hubs from around the 12th century in the rise of Muslim city-states until the arrival of the Portuguese in 1498.

Eventually the Omani Arabs won control over the isles in the Indian Ocean and ruled Mafia from the seat of the Sultan of Zanzibar. Under the German colonisation of Tanganyika, Mafia became part of the mainland and instead of being tied to the other islands, it was now bound to Dar es Salaam. Today Mafia remains a part of the Tanzanian mainland.

The history still shows when you walk on Mafia’s sand, narrow pathways or ride a bicycle on the tarmac (or off-road if you are not afraid of a little sand and dust). All over the island the coconut trees stand as gracious storytellers. The plantations were started many hundred years ago by Omani Arabs, and when the Germans arrived they told every male to plant one tree. Coconut farming is still an important source of income to islanders, but as a guest you can enjoy a fresh dafu or walk along the stems on deserted beaches.

Because Mafia is peaceful. You can go for a stroll along on the beaches next to the mangrove forest long after sunset and watch an army of craps in their busiest hour, constructing endless holes in the sand until the tides swallow them, in the light of the moon. Or you can roam the backwater in a wooden boat, look at the green islands from a distance and think about how people have roamed the waters centuries before you.

It is that space for thoughts that Mafia Island gives you, it puts everything into perspective for a while and suddenly you may find yourself agreeing with the shop owner; you don’t really need the tarmac road at all. And that is the point where the word “development” becomes a little fishy and you get the ambivalent feeling of being one of those tourists that build the tarmac road. Indirectly.

And then, sitting there under the coconut tree as the day leaves and the night comes, you realise that Mafia has learnt you a great deal about tourism and nature and sensitivity.