The detective motioned to two of his men and without a word they grabbed me, one by each arm.
“You, madam, are going to a side room.”
Gripping me tightly, I was walked down a long, narrow corridor, at the bottom of which was a door with bars. Sick with anticipation, I willed them to keep walking on. They stopped, and one unlocked the door. With a rough shove, the other pushed me inside. It was a cell...
No-one said a word to me. I wondered how many times this had happened before, and cursed myself once more for having travelled alone. No-one knew where I was…I hadn’t used email for over a week, and hadn’t placed a single call to Europe in over a month and a half. My parents were used to these trips of mine, as were my friends. I’d chosen to travel incognito and now I was paying the price.
As I sat on the hard wooden bench, sticky and dehydrated from the heat and hot air blowing my way, I forced myself to face the unfortunate facts. However it had happened, I was in trouble. Zanzibar was semi-autonomous from Tanzania. There was no way – even if I could borrow the money for another boat ticket – that the authorities would let me leave without my passport. And all I had on me now was close to $20...
