An Insider's Guide to Nungwi: What the Dhow Builder Wants You to Know
Hassan Omar builds dhows on Nungwi Beach. He's been doing it for thirty years, apprenticing under his father and grandfather before him. He works in the open-air yard where the village meets the sand, using hand tools that his grandfather would recognize.
The tourists walk past his workshop every day. Most take a photo and keep moving. A few stop. We talked during his lunch break — rice, fish, and strong chai — while his apprentice sanded a hull behind us.
Thirty years of building boats on this beach. What's changed most about Nungwi?
Hassan: The tourists. When I was young, Nungwi was a fishing village. Everyone fished. Everyone built boats. We knew every family. Now half the beachfront is hotels and the village is behind them.
I don't resent it. Tourism brought money. My children went to school because of tourism. But the balance shifted. The beach used to belong to the fishermen. Now it belongs to... everyone. Or no one.
What should tourists know about your work?
Hassan: That it's not decoration. These boats are working vessels. Fishermen use them every day. The dhow I'm building now will carry eight men to the fishing grounds and bring back tuna, octopus, kingfish. It will last 15-20 years.
Everything is hand-cut. We use mango wood for the hull and mangrove poles for the frame. Coconut fiber for caulking — we hammer it into the seams with a special tool. No nails in the traditional method, though we use some now.
Tourists see the workshop and think "museum." It's not. It's a factory. We build 4-5 boats a year and every one goes to a fisherman.
What bothers you about how tourists act in Nungwi?
Hassan: (long pause) The sunscreen. I know that sounds strange. But the chemical sunscreen that washes off into the water — it kills the reef. The reef feeds the fish. The fish feed us. I watch tourists apply it and swim and I know the reef is getting worse.
Use the ones that don't damage coral. Or wear a shirt in the water. The reef at Mnemba — that's our livelihood. When it dies, the fish die, and then the fishermen have nothing.
What about the dress code?
Hassan: Zanzibar is Muslim. We grew up modest. The beach is fine — we understand tourists swim in bikinis. But when people walk through the village — past the mosque, past the school, past our homes — in beach clothes, it's uncomfortable for our families.
A kanga (sarong) over your swimsuit when you leave the beach. That's all we ask. TZS 5,000-10,000 at any village shop. It's a beautiful fabric — you'll want to take it home anyway.
Where do you eat in Nungwi?
Hassan: Not the tourist restaurants. The local cafes near the mosque serve pilau rice, biryani, and grilled fish for TZS 3,000-5,000 (~$1.20-2). Mama Salma's place near the football pitch does the best octopus curry in Nungwi. TZS 4,000. Tourists don't know about it because it's not on Google.
For seafood, buy directly from the fishermen at the beach in the afternoon and cook it yourself if you have a guesthouse kitchen. A whole fish: TZS 5,000-10,000 ($2-4). Lobster (when in season): TZS 15,000-25,000 ($6-10).
The beach BBQ vendors are good too — the ones near the lighthouse. But negotiate. The first price they quote is the tourist price.
What should tourists actually do in Nungwi?
Hassan: Slow down. Nungwi is small. You can walk the whole village in an hour. But people rush to the beach, rush to the tours, rush to the sunset, rush to the bar. They miss the village.
Walk through the village in the morning. Say "Shikamoo" to the elders (it's a sign of respect, and they'll love it). Watch the fishermen unload their catch. Visit the school — they welcome visitors, and the children practice their English with you.
And watch a dhow launch. When we finish a boat, we launch it from the beach. The whole village helps push it into the water. It's a celebration. If you're here on the right day, ask to join. Nobody will say no.
The turtle sanctuary — what do you think of it?
Hassan: Mnarani is good. Real conservation. The turtles they release survive — I see them in the water when I fish. Before the sanctuary, injured turtles just died on the beach.
The swimming-with-turtles part is... fine. It brings money for the conservation. Just don't chase the turtles. Let them come to you.
What about the nightlife? Does it bother the village?
Hassan: The music is loud. Some nights it comes into our homes. The older people complain. The younger people work at the bars, so they don't complain as much.
I think... it's part of Nungwi now. The bars bring jobs. The jobs keep young people here instead of going to Dar es Salaam. It's a trade-off. Everything in Nungwi is a trade-off between the village and the beach.
The sunset dhow cruises — are they on traditional dhows?
Hassan: (laughing) Some are. Some are motorboats with a decorative sail they put up for photos. If you want a real dhow experience, ask for a sailing dhow — no motor. It's slower, quieter, and you can hear the water against the hull.
The best dhow sunset is free: sit on the beach at 6PM and watch the working dhows come back from fishing. They tack across the sunset. Nobody's performing. They're just coming home.
Final message for tourists?
Hassan: We want you here. Tourism feeds our families. But we also want you to see us — not just our beach. The boat I'm building, the mosque our grandfathers built, the school our children attend. Nungwi is not a resort. It's a village that happens to have an extraordinary beach.
Spend one morning in the village. Buy a kanga. Eat at a local cafe. Say Shikamoo to an elder. You'll see a different Nungwi. And you'll like it more.
Hassan Omar works at the dhow building yard on Nungwi's main beach, visible from the coastal path between the lighthouse and the village center. No appointment needed — walk up, watch, and ask questions. Tip appreciated but not expected.
