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The Tanzanian customs man was impressed by the luxury motorboat. Boats of all sizes came and went from Bagamoyo Harbour, from leaking dhows to cargo ships, but the cruiser, with its sleek modern lines, polished chrome fittings and impressive array of radar and radio masts, was a thing of beauty. It was registered in Zanzibar, he saw from the writing on the stern. It had to be owned by an Arab.
He was right.
‘]ambo,’ the Arab said as he stepped onto the dock
‘Habari,’ the customs officer replied.’ You are coming from Zanzibar?’ he continued in Swahili.
‘Yes. I have some very sad duties to perform here. Two of my most trusted workers are returning home,’ the Arab explained. ‘Come aboard, fetch them now;’ he said to two African men in the uniforms of bell hops from a hotel in town.
