Who said you don't need to know Indonesian in Zanzibar?

Some people don't always understand why I want to keep up the bit of Indonesian I know, when I live in a country where I don't actually know of any other Indonesian speakers.

Apart from the years of work it took to get the meager knowledge I have, and the fact that I could talk to lots of different folks and understand all those "tambal ban" signs in Java,

Look who's laughing now:

Fabric fragrance. But if you didn't know Indonesian, you'd just have to guess.

I got it for free, so I'm guessing the shopkeeper doesn't really know what it is.

Eat that, haters. My brain is slow to switch from Swahili to Indonesian when I'm trying to write, but at least I can read, and know how to use this pretty smell stuff, mothballs, and other imported goodies.

Ah I love languages! 

Remind me of that when my head is exploding from not understanding family tomorrow, okay? ;) and the next time I ask a patient if they have any problems with their door, when I mean to say back. :)

Swahili 101: You're like the shell of an old coconut :)

And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

Because apparently, when you put the shells of old coconuts in a fire, they blaze up all spectacularly. Or in Swahili terms, "they're happy even when they die".

So next time someone calls you a kifuu don't be offended. They're just complimenting you on how happy you are :)

Grating coconut, getting into the kifuu spirit.

It begins with Karibu Nyumbani (Welcome Home).

 Just before the new year chimed to ring in 2014, the biggest change in my life to date kicked in.

I'd lived a fairly ordinary life as a health professional in a small town not too far from the city in Australia, earnt a decent wage, had a reasonable life.

In 2013 I followed my love of helping people find comfortable shoes to Africa. Somehow I ended up running into the love of my life drinking ginger beer at a Rasta Bar on the beach in picturesque Nungwi, Zanzibar.

The next 6 months was a whirlwind of trying to pack up my life and job and sell my stuff while my boy was busy getting a roof ready for us to live under.

Finally after finishing up work in mid-December and a whirlwind of packing and culling that my parents are still trying to deal with, I took the 48 hour (including 10 hours wandering around Kuala Lumpur and 8 hours loitering around an Omani airport) trip from Brisbane to Zanzibar via KL and Muscat back to be with my man.

4 months on, there have been ups, downs and in-betweens. I'm never going to be Zanzibari, but I'll never be strictly Aussie again. But before I stop being amused by the antics of the little things in life here, which are surprisingly easy to get used to, I wanted this space to:

• bring together some of the little daily life tidbits that I just can't find in the phrasebooks
• remember this time of wonderment
• share with family and friends
• practice and share some Kiswahili
• ease some of the transition from career to housewife

I'm not an author by any means, but I hope you can join me on my journey to Becoming Aussiebarian.