After my father left for Europe to look for work, following his resignation from the president’s office, my mother and I went first to Lake Manyara and then joined Neville on his excavations on Mafia island. Two letters survive from this period:
Vicky and I have been here for three days now having flown over by a small charter plane on Tuesday. Neville and co digging about 6 miles from the main village Kinandoni, but because of the bad roads – at some places we have to go along the beach – this journey takes 3/4 of an hour. It is delightfully beautiful, very coastal with masses of coconuts and white sandy beaches. We face west to get lovely sunsets and warm evenings. In reality it is quite cold about 60 Fahrenheit at night.
We are in small huts made of coconut fronds arranged along a 10 foot high cliff, almost on the beach, Neville, then us, then Lucy Quimby – a young American student, and then Hugh Cecil of illustrious ancestry in that order. We’re working on a mediaeval Islamic site and at present excavating a house.
A certain amount of fascinating pieces have been revealed today, including several whole dishes out of a deep latrine pit, beads, spindle whorls and coins are also frequently found. The three mosques already excavated, several test pits dug out at various places, to see what comes to light.
Archaeologists at work!
Vicky is being really very good, plays about on the beach, swims, goggles and chats (and how!) to people. Tomorrow we’re going to Kinandoni to fetch £100 for wages – hope we aren’t waylaid – and to order a boat for an expedition on Sunday to neighbouring island. It is all too out-of-this-world to be believed, I never thought I’d be in such a place in camp again.
On leaving she wrote:
We eventually got off on the Wednesday three days late as East African couldn’t take the dog and then I was coming by dhow but decided against it, then by air charter but the dog ran away and spent half a day in the bush with his lady love. When he eventually did come rushing back the tide was so high the Land Rover couldn’t cross the creek and so we missed the charter. We then decided to go by the Bonanza, a little coaster that was due to sail at 4 am, but then that was delayed till the next tide and we eventually arrived in Dar on Thursday after a very rough trip . Luckily we had pills and V and I were in a tiny children’s cabin off the captain’s, who was sharing with another man and no bathroom except through the cabin.
I loved being in Mafia – it is just my sort of place like Kilwa, Mtwara and Mikindani, and the people nice and the work fascinating. It was beautiful too, a lovely shore and a sandspit populated with hundreds of birds, and sea breaking and turning over all the time. I nearly drowned myself goggling, panicked – rather stupid of me – but managed to get ashore. I never thought I’d do such a thing.
Neville is a delightful companion and friend and very good with Vicky who settled down very well to an existence which did not kowtow to her every wish. Did I tell you we found a treasure trove of several hundred copper coins of a Sultan of Kilwa of about 1250 AD in a pot buried in the sand outside one of the mosques. It was a very lucky discovery and by great luck I happened to be there at the time.
A fitting end to her time in Tanzania.
In 2023, on a visit to Tanzania, Ross and I decided to go to Mafia to see what remains of the dig. It appears (now) but I was not aware at the time, that the weather and tides have washed away much of the Kisimani site, so Ross and I were directed to Juani Kua site on the nearby Chole Island. I think this is where Mum was talking about going on her day trip.
Nevertheless we found a number of remains – graves, an old palace, and five mosques on the site, which was thought to be an old resort/spa area for the wealthy traders. We are pleased that the graves are more or less as they were, with an old mihrab and water tank intact; there is also a 10th century loo, long-drop style, part of a bath house complex. The whole site is being heavily restored, which I suppose is a good thing.
The mihrab (right), old graves and a water tank, restored
Travels with my mother 