After a week of volunteer training in Dar es Salaam, we were headed to Zanzibar. The ferry was crowded and we sat huddled together, listening to the sound of the rain pelting against the windows and the hum of people speaking Swahili around us. It had been raining all week, but it wasn’t like the steady, gentle Canadian rain we were used to. This rain started and stopped in an instant, and it fell so hard it sometimes hurt my skin. It was just another reminder of how far we were from home. It was dark when the ferry docked in Stonetown. We piled into a small truck with our backpacks and headed towards what would be our home for the next ten weeks. We were five new acquaintances, Canadians thrown together in a strange country
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