ZANZIBAR: AN online magazine has been doing the rounds lately, beating the drums about our beautiful, spiced islands of Zanzibar as if it has just discovered a crime scene behind a coconut tree.
The claim is that Maasai-looking beach boys are allegedly running what it calls “love scams” against unsuspecting foreign women.
According to this little travelling gospel of suspicion, the fellows’ charm, flatter, promise the moon, borrow the stars and after securing a soft landing in the heart, begin requesting money with the confidence of a bank manager. The script, we are told, is familiar: “I am sick.” “I lost my phone.” “My mother needs help.” “My cow is sick.” “I need money.” The visitor returns home, but the requests continue.
The phone gets lost again. The sickness returns like a bad soap opera. And the cow, poor creature, remains permanently unwell, emotionally complicated and financially demanding.
Now, whether this story is entirely true, partly true, exaggerated, recycled, imported, embroidered, badly translated or cooked in the kitchen of a bored online editor hunting for Friday clicks, I honestly do not care. What I care about is the bigger question: where in the world are such actions an exception?
Which tourist destination on this planet has never had a sweet talker, a conman, a fake lover, a false promise, a small-time fraudster or a professional heart mechanic operating somewhere near the beach, the bar, the hotel lobby, the airport taxi rank or these days, the internet? Let us not behave as if Zenji has invented emotional fraud. The world has had love scams long before the first tourist discovered sunscreen. They happen in Europe.
They happen in Asia. They happen in America. They happen in online dating apps from London to Lagos, from Rome to Rio, from Dubai to Durban. The only difference is that when it happens elsewhere, it is called romance fraud, online deception or modern loneliness meeting digital mischief. But when Zanzibar is mentioned, suddenly it becomes a tourism crisis, a cultural scandal and a warning label slapped on the forehead of the Spice Islands like expired sunscreen.
That, my friends, is where one begins to smell something stronger than cloves and not in a good way. To me, this has all the markings of a smear campaign recently launched, or at least happily amplified, by rivals who know Zanzibar remains dangerously attractive.
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And why would they not worry? The Spice Island continues to sit in the Indian Ocean like a jewel that refuses to apologise for shining. Its beaches are still soft, white and forever inviting. Its sea still carries that impossible blue. Stone Town still whispers history through carved doors and narrow lanes. Its food still tastes like the ocean shook hands with Arabia, India and Africa in one pot. Its sunsets still make even the most serious visitor forget the password to their office email and start calling Monday “a suggestion.”
So, what better way to make a potential tourist pause before booking than to dress up an old global problem in fresh island clothes and whisper: “Careful, Zanzibar is full of love scammers”? Nice try. But because we know our watani wa jadi well, we should not lose sleep. Let the rivals toss sand; Zanzibar will simply shake its sandals and continue walking.
They know Zanzibar sells. They know the beaches sell. They know the culture sells. They even know Zanzibar has no Ebola… They know the word “Zanzibar” alone can make a traveller in a cold European town begin checking flights before finishing breakfast.
So, when direct competition fails, the old trick is to throw a little mud into the ocean and hope the water looks dirty. Unfortunately, mud has a very poor swimming record. Unfortunately for them, the Indian Ocean is much bigger than that. Still, let us be clear before someone misquotes us between bites of mishkaki. Nobody is saying that fraud cannot happen in Zanzibar.
Nobody is saying that every person operating on a beach is an angel with a tourism licence and a clean heart. Like any destination that attracts people, money, emotion and opportunity, Zanzibar will have its share of clever fellows, lazy fellows, honest fellows, hungry fellows and fellows who should have been closely supervised by their grandmothers much earlier in life.
That is normal human behaviour. It is not a national identity. What we reject is the lazy attempt to brand these lovely islands of cloves and hospitality as if they are the headquarters of global romance fraud. Please. Such scams were not born in Visiwa vya marashi ya karafuu smile even if a few opportunists, drifters, performers, impostors or online cupids occasionally try to borrow the island’s beauty for their private mischief.
The truth is that Zanzibar’s real story is not one of scams. It is the story of a people who have hosted travellers for centuries, long before some of today’s loud critics learnt how to pronounce “Mwanakwerekwe” without twisting their tongues into tourist knots. It is a place where visitors come for the ocean and leave with memories. It is a place where most tourism workers wake up early, work hard, smile honestly and earn their living with dignity.
And that is why we must defend it not blindly, not foolishly, not with both hands covering our ears, but firmly and honestly. Because tourism is reputation. Once a destination’s name is carelessly dragged through the mud, the damage does not fall on the imaginary scammer alone. It falls on the honest guide.
It falls on the hotel worker. It falls on the boatman. It falls on the spice farmer. It falls on the woman selling kangas. It falls on the young man who has learnt three foreign languages so that he can feed his family honestly. It falls on the entire ecosystem of people who have nothing to do with anyone’s sick cow, lost phone or WhatsApp romance conducted with a cracked screen and dangerous confidence.
So yes, because it is Friday, let us laugh at the story first. Let us laugh at the permanently sick cow, which by now deserves either a veterinarian, a fundraiser or its own reality show. Let us laugh at the phone that disappears more often than a politician’s promise after elections.
Let us laugh at the dramatic beach Romeo who can locate a European heart from ten metres away but cannot locate his own charger, national ID or steady plan for life. But after laughing, let us also be serious. If there are fraudsters, deal with them. If there are impostors harassing tourists, remove them from the blue economy.
If there are unlicensed operators damaging the destination, regulate them. If visitors are being exploited, protect them. If there are visitors exploiting locals, confront them too.
Responsible tourism must protect both guests and hosts. Hospitality should not mean gullibility, and friendship should not become a business model with hidden charges. Zanzibar’s beauty should never be used as a hiding place for bad behaviour, whether the bad actor is local or foreign. Let us not accept cheap propaganda dressed as concern. Zanzibar is not perfect.
No destination is. Even paradise has a few mosquitoes, a few loud uncles and one or two characters who should never be left alone with a tourist’s trust or wallet. But it remains one of the finest, most appealing and most unforgettable tourism destinations on the East African coast.
And if some rival voices are losing sleep over that, perhaps they should improve their own beaches, train their own guides and season their own food properly instead of trying to spoil ours. Happy Friday and please, before you send money to a sick cow, at least ask for the cow’s full name.