He swam lazily around for a good ten minutes, until the sun finally started disappearing behind the main building of Eden Beach Lodge. Then he stood up and waded back towards the beach. Once there he shook the excess water out of his hair, picked up his tee shirt, and started back towards the hotel. A relaxing afternoon for you, Richard my friend, I thought as I watched him walk up the slope of the beach. Some of the guests who had been lazing around the front of the hotel were now finishing their drinks and collecting their belongings. They were going back to their rooms to prepare for the evening and so was Richard. He made a beeline for his room, opened the door and disappeared inside. I sat up cross-legged on the towel and took a few photographs of the room.
Ten minutes passed with no movement from Richard. There was a steady warm breeze coming off the sea and suddenly I felt thirsty and hungry. I needed to go back to my hotel for a shower and some food before deciding what to do later on. After such a long day travelling, I was feeling surprisingly awake and full of energy. The sleep on the flight from Cape Town to Dar Es Salaam had done me good. I took a slow walk back down the beach in the fading light, my ankles in the warm ocean. I felt cheerful and slightly overwhelmed as I walked past the various lodges and the water sports centre on my left. The grimy building that was next door to my hotel was drawing a crowd early. There were red and blue lights shining through its arched windows and a steady beat coming from a sound system. Inside I could make out a mixture of black and white patrons drinking beer from brown bottles and dancing. Eventually I arrived at the beach area in front of the restaurant of my hotel. I could no longer hear the music from the place next door and the beach was empty. I wrapped the camera in my towel and dumped it on the beach with my tee shirt. The sea was now a bluish grey in the fading light and I walked out until I was waist high in it. I sunk down in the water until it covered my shoulders. It was still unbelievably warm and the powder fine sand squeaked under my feet.
I turned around and took a look at my accommodation. The lights on the pathways and in the rooms were glowing yellow and the palm trees swayed in the breeze. The backdrop to the scene was the burning red of the setting sun.
‘Paradise,’ I said quietly, ‘fucking paradise.’ The breeze was cooler as I stepped out of the sea and collected my belongings. I made my way up the slope of the beach and onto the pathway that lead past the restaurant and to my bungalow. The Masai security guard I had seen earlier was still in his position and we gave each other the thumbs up as I opened my room and turned on the lights.
Feeling ravenous I took another cold shower and changed into some fresh clothes. I checked my emails before heading to the restaurant. There was nothing of importance. I noticed some mosquitoes in the room and having had malaria three times during the war, I decided to spray some repellent on my exposed skin. It was still early when I left the room. Some of the guests were sitting on the verandahs of their bungalows. I was greeted by the head waiter as I arrived at the restaurant. He was a stern looking tall man in a white shirt with a black bow tie.
“Good evening,” I said, “table for one please.”
“This way please sir,” he said, leading me through the tables to the beach side of the open air thatch building. The lighting was mellow and soft music played through hidden speakers. I sat down and looked out through the palms towards the sea on my right. The moon had come up and had turned the surface of the water silver. The waiter returned with a menu as a family of five arrived. There were three young children who were misbehaving and consequently being scolded by their parents who spoke German. I ordered a bottle of mineral water and browsed the menu as the waiter went off to collect my order. The heat of the day had dehydrated me and I knew I needed some water before trying the beer. I decided to go for the prawn cocktail followed by a main course of Thai green prawn curry. I placed my order when the waiter returned with the water. It was ice cold and droplets of condensation were forming on the outside of the plastic bottle. I poured and drank a full litre, keeping the remainder for later. Other people started arriving and taking their tables as I sat. The stern-looking head waiter appeared again from the closed kitchen area and approached me.
“Your order will take about half an hour to prepare sir, perhaps you would like to go to the bar? I will call you when it is ready.”
“Sure, that sounds fine,” I said, and he motioned behind me.
I turned and saw where he was pointing. Again, it was a thatch structure set in the trees near the beach, about thirty metres from where I sat. My thirst for water now quenched I made my way across the sand through the darkness towards the building. It was a beach bar set in the sand with rough hewn bar stools and wooden chairs and tables around the perimeter. A string of coloured lights circled the thatch above on the inside and the design was such that the patrons could see the ocean through the shelves of bottles as they sat. Underneath the thick hardwood bar were refrigerators that were screened by grass mats and on either side were tall glass door drink coolers. There was no one there except a young black man in his early twenties who was sitting on a stool behind the bar fast asleep. His head leaning against a drink cooler. I sat on the stool directly in front of him and rapped my knuckles on the wooden surface. Instantly he sat bolt upright with wide confused eyes.
“Ahhh!! Sorry sir! I am sleeping! Very sorry sir!” he cried, jumping to his feet.
“No problem,” I said, “tell me young man, what is the best beer in Zanzibar?”
“The best beer in Zanzibar sir? The best one is Safari. Can I get you one sir?” he asked cheerfully.
“Please do,” I replied. A good beer it was too. A perfect balance of sweet and bitter served ice cold. It tingled as it went down my throat and was gone in thirty seconds.
“You were right,” I said, “that was a very good beer. I’ll have another one please.”
“Hakuna matata!” he replied happily. The two of us got talking as I sat waiting for my dinner. His English was not as good as the rest of the staff I had met at the hotel but his youthful enthusiasm and good humour were refreshing and I hadn't spoken to a lot of people recently. I enjoyed his company. We sat in limited conversation for a good twenty five minutes until the head waiter arrived informing me that my dinner was ready. I made my way back to the now busy dining area and sat down. The starter and main course were superb and were washed down with another Safari beer. Afterwards I sat and smoked a cigarette gazing out onto the rippling silver of the sea and checking out the other guests. To my left at the far end of the dining area were the two women I had seen earlier from my room. They were red faced and flushed from the sun. They still wore their sarongs.
They were looking in my direction and our eyes met briefly after which they giggled like teenagers and carried on with their hushed conversation and their drinks. Oh dear, I thought. As I finished my smoke, the head waiter came with the tab and asked if there was anything else I would be needing. I told him no, thanked him for the dinner and signed the bill. It was 7.30pm and I needed to make a decision on my next move. There was nothing else for it. I would have to take a moonlit walk up the beach and do some snooping around Richard’s hotel. I was still thirsty and I decided I would have one more beer at the bar before leaving. Feeling relaxed and full, I took the short walk across the sand back to the bar area. It was still deserted except for the young bar man who was awake this time and pleased to see me.
“Safari, boss?” He asked with a smile.
“Why not?” I replied.
Chapter Ten - An accidental meeting
I pulled up a bar stool and sat as the freezing green bottle was handed to me. The young man was now in a talkative mood and asked in his limited English if I would like some music.
“Carry on,” I said. He rummaged in a folder of CDs and asked if liked reggae. He was obviously the person who had been playing the music I had heard earlier in the afternoon.
“Sure, no problem,” I said. The music fitted the scene perfectly and I sat contentedly sipping
my beer gazing out through the back of the bar at the sea. To my left I could see the crowd in the dining area was thinning out as people made their way back to their rooms. A few minutes passed and I was halfway through the beer when I noticed a dark figure walking down the beach behind the bar. I took no notice of this until I saw the person turn left as if to come towards the bar. For a while I couldn't make out any features except that whoever it was, was very tall. Then I noticed the glint of the spectacles. Time suddenly slowed down and my mouth went dry. No fucking way! I thought. This cannot be happening! But it did happen and my worst fears were realised in a split second. The tall figure of Richard Lewer-Allen ducked under the thatch to my left and walked into the very bar where I sat alone. He was still casually dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tee shirt, his face slightly red from the sun. He nodded in greeting, bright eyed and smiling as he pulled up a bar stool a metre and a half from me and sat down.
“How are you doing?” he said, “I see you’ve discovered Safari, it’s a great beer.”
“It’s excellent,” I replied.
“You from UK?” he asked casually.
“Yup” I said, “just on a bit of a holiday”
“Me too, this place, Paje, it’s the best beach in Zanzibar without a doubt. I come here quite often.”
My mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour. How could I have allowed this to happen? This was way out of my brief and constituted a major fuck up on my part. Richard turned to the barman.
“Robson, how are you!?” He asked. “Ah Mr Richard, welcome back Mr Richard!” Came the barman's reply.
This was turning into a nightmare. The two were obviously friends from a previous visit and knew each other well. They laughed as they shook hands vigorously over the bar. What the fuck are you going to do now Green? I thought. How are you going to explain this? I sat in stony silence and sipped the beer while the turmoil in my brain continued.
“Robson, please can I have an ice cold Safari, and perhaps another for the gentleman here?” Richard said with a smile.
“Cheers, thank you,” I said.
The drinks were delivered as the reggae played on. The very person I had been watching and following across the world for the past week leant forward and offered his hand.
“Richard Lewer-Allen, pleased to meet you,” he said.
“Jason Green,” I replied as I shook his hand. “Likewise.” I told myself there was absolutely nothing I could do in the situation. I couldn't just walk away and hope that he would forget my face by the next day. No. I would have to play it cool and behave like any other tourist on holiday. He clearly hadn't recognised me and was quite happy to sit and have a beer with me. I would just have to go with the flow and relax. It was too late for anything else. Again he turned to me,
“You staying here?” he asked.
“Yup, just got in today.”
“I’m staying up there at the Beach Lodge but I usually come down here in the evenings. Don't like the bar up there. No music.” He was in a chatty mood.
“You say you come here quite often?” I enquired.
“Yeah about three times a year, it’s really good.”
“That's for sure” I said as I sipped the beer.
I realised that although this was totally unprofessional and completely out of my brief, it just might work in my favour if I played my cards right. I might be able to get an insight as to what my friend young Richard was up to. How he was able to afford it all.
“Where in England are you from?” he asked.
“I'm in London. I work in insurance,” I replied, not lying. “Been through a divorce so I decided to take a break and get away from the cold.”
“I hear you mate! I’m in London too,” he said, “I run a sports shop.” I know Richard, I know quite a lot about you. He downed his beer and slammed the empty bottle onto the bar surface.
“Robson my friend!” He said loudly in a posh accent, “let’s have another round please. We are very thirsty here!”
“Hakuna matata Mr Richard!” replied the young barman and swiftly delivered the order. At that moment the two women who had been looking at me from across the restaurant walked in. They were both smiling at Richard's boisterous request and they took two bar stools to our left.
“Good evening,” they both said in what sounded like a Dutch accent. My new friend Richard and I greeted them in unison as they made their orders. Richard turned to face me again, smiling. He raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘look what the cat dragged in!’ I smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, now totally accepting my fate. Everything had changed. I was no longer in control of the situation. Just relax and go with it Green, I thought, there's nothing you can do now so just try and enjoy yourself.
“How long are you here for?” Richard asked.
“Oh I’m here for about ten days, might extend it though. The thought of going back to London isn’t really appealing to me at the moment”
“No, I hear you, definitely not, better off here for sure,” he said.
“And you Richard, how long are you here for?” I asked, knowing full well.
“Umm, I'll be here for about a week I think. Then it’s back to the cess pit!”
The barman was busy mixing brightly coloured cocktails for the women to our left. Richard turned and glanced at them briefly.
“Robson, can you turn the music up a little bit please?” he asked. The barman obliged and Richard began drumming the beat on the bar counter with his fingers. He seemed relaxed and happy as far as I could see. I sat there facing him nodding to the beat softly. What the fuck have you got yourself into now Green? I thought. Our conversation went on, and we spoke about our respective accommodation and the quality of the food. We spoke about the island in general and he told me about the capital Stone Town with all its narrow streets and bazaars. He was lively and enthusiastic in his descriptions and I found myself enjoying talking to him. My worries about the accidental meeting were fading as the beer flowed and I resigned myself to the fact that there was nothing I could do. It was as if we were just two buddies having a drink and catching up.
The two women started making conversation with us. “Are you both staying here at Paje Village Hotel?” one of them asked. I knew from the strong accent that they were from Holland.
“I’m staying up the beach at another hotel, but Jason is staying here,” Richard replied. He turned in his seat so he faced the bar and could talk to myself and them more easily. They both stood up with their cocktails and leant over to shake our hands and introduce themselves. “I am Ineke and this is Helen. How do you do?Nice to meet you.” We shook hands with each of them and introduced ourselves. They were all smiles and giggles although they were in their late thirties or early forties.
“Are you girls here with family in Zanzibar or is it just the two of you?” Richard asked, making polite conversation.
“No it’s just us two friends on holiday here, enjoying the beach and the sunshine.” was the reply. I sat as the small talk continued. The volume of the music rose steadily as time passed and the scene started resembling a party. Although I joined in the conversation at times, I couldn't help thinking what Gareth Lewer-Allen would think if he could have seen me at the time. The two women were getting through quite a few cocktails and were starting to get quite drunk when Richard came up with a bright suggestion,
“Robson, I think we should have a round of shooters. Let’s make it four sambucas please.” he turned to me for approval.
“Sure, why not?” I said with a resigned shrug and a smile.
“What is sambuca please?” Helen asked between giggles. She was the darker of the two.
“Sambuca is a very sweet liquorice drink, good for parties. You’ll love it!” Richard said, tapping out the beat of the music on the bar top.
“Great, let’s try one!” The women said in unison. The drinks were delivered in shot glasses and handed to each of us.
“You have to drink it in one go,” Richard said to
the girls before raising his glass. “Cheers everyone, here's to Paje Beach!” he said triumphantly. The girls and I all reached forward and clinked our glasses together and downed the strong sickly sweet liquor. It burned my throat. Both of the girls coughed and winced in pain as the drink went down.
“Oh my god that is so strong!” said Ineke, the blonder of the two. But the alcohol was working overtime now and the jokes and laughter got louder and louder. The revelry continued for a good hour or so. More than once I caught the darker haired Helen looking at me with a smile and a glint in her eye. It turned out, through the conversation, that Ineke had recently divorced and had decided to take a holiday to get over it. A story which was very similar the one I had told Richard. Her best friend Helen had come along for support. Both of them came from Rotterdam and worked as systems analysts. More beer, cocktails, and sambuca flowed until the two girls turned to each other and huddled in secret conversation. Then they both turned and faced Richard and myself.
“Helen and I are enjoying ourselves very much. Would you like to dance perhaps?”
I knew that Dutch girls were pretty straight forward but this was the last thing I needed. Jesus Christ Green, what the fuck.
“Sure!” Richard said enthusiastically and jumped to his feet. “Come on Jason!” He said bleary eyed, “lets boogie!”
“No, really, I don't think so,” I said laughing at the ridiculous scene I had got myself into. “I’m not much of a dancer honestly.” The darker woman, Helen, who had been staring at me, was having none of it. She came over to me briskly, grabbed my left arm and pulled me out onto the sand in the middle of the bar where Richard and Ineke were already dancing. It was all smiles, happiness and laughter as we danced. The two women were more than tipsy and thoroughly enjoying themselves. Richard was dancing away awkwardly with his tall lanky frame. He kept smiling at me and winking as if to say, “hey buddy, looks like we are gonna pull tonight!” For me it was the incredibly bizarre situation that I had found myself in at the time. There I was, on a beach in Zanzibar, having an absolute ball, getting drunk, dancing with two Dutch women and the son of the man who was paying me £1000 a day to do it! It was absolutely outrageous but there was nothing for it. I joined the party.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 16
