Zanzibar? you know about our Zanzibar?
Sure .. we made him, right?
You and me – all those days ago……
Tell me about the Zanzibar that we made. I don’t remember…
You don’t remember because you were high. High on the rhythm of the beast that filled your soul with a strange, mad music. A music that raced through your veins and rushed straight to your head. You wanted to carve out that music on the ground right then and there but you didnt know how. I said it was ok we would find a way… but you got all mad and pounded on the walls.. dont you remember ….and that music that was now playing madly in your head was driving you nuts as you tried to find some way of grounding it.. it kept stretching you till your taut nerves were ready to snap.. and suddenly in a violent, suspended moment, the horse reared up on his hind legs, wildly pawing the air, his nostrils flared in a magnificent display of defiance – he was untamed and wanted to stay that way… and you wanted to ride him, oh you wanted to ride him so bad – I could feel the tension in the air, your eyes shining with excitement, your arms poised, ready to fling themselves around his neck the first opportunity they got. It was superb, two absolutely wild spirits locked in a dangerous game, one wanting to break free and ride, and the other determined not to allow that… and then in a split second, he was gone, charging off into the darkening sky. He didn’t win, you didn’t lose. It was just that at that moment, it was not meant to be.
What happened then?
Then we waited. For him to come back. Waited for the heady high that you had experienced, and which I had watched. Waited for those mad moments, when you had wanted to ride him to the ends of the world, when you had wanted me to run away with you. And while we waited we worked on Zanzibar. Worked with a liberating energy that flowed freely from us, watching it grow and take shape under our nurturing hands, till it had begun to be like what we wanted it to be. We spent long hours, drunk on moonlight and wine, talking about wandering gypsies and runaway horses.
Did he come back?
He came back. As suddenly as he had gone. He was still as magnificent as ever, wild, untamed, proud – eyes blazing defiance. But something was different now. I noticed that you were not reacting to him the same way as before. His rhythm did nothing to your soul. There was no music that rushed to your head and your fists were no longer clenched. The tension was gone. It was almost like a terrible sadness had descended upon you and you had just let go. It was like sometime during those long hours when he had been away you had found a door and had slammed it shut. And suddenly nobody – not me, not Zanzibar, nobody could touch you anymore.