Lovely in Zanzibar- wish you were here!

The Island’s Heyday of Photos and Postcards

Many of you know that Zanzibar harbored a world-class port city in the 19^th century, with a flourishing commercial center, prosperous trading and financing base, cosmopolitan nexus of foreign and local interests, and colorful commingling of cultures, complexions, and notable characters. But did you know that it also catalyzed a spate of innovative, artistic, and successful photography enterprises? The two are not unconnected. I recently wrote about the 19^th-century emergence of photography and alluded to a second blog post on Zanzibar’s own special chapter. Here it is.  

We can give initial credit to Sayyid Barghash for bringing a taste for the new to his 1870-1888 reign. It might seem like this was in the ordinary course, especially when we, as modern citizens, continue to absorb new tech from landlines to faxes to emails to smart phones to AI. However, Sayyida Salme’s bracing experience of Western Europe lets us better understand the very long tradition of Arab and indigenous cultures that came before. As she recounts:

Had I, for example, been born and raised in Constantinople or Cairo, where European culture made inroads long ago, I may not have found such a stark contrast between Occident and Orient. … Should fate ever destine another Mohammedan from Constantinople or Cairo to be transplanted to Europe under the same circumstances as me, she would not even remotely be subjected to the same upheaval I have had to undergo. Had I not, until then, still been wearing the clothes of my great ancestors from a thousand years ago and used my five fingers as natural knives and forks. (Letters, p. 31-32)

Sultan Barghash opened Zanzibar to modernity in ways that mirror the wonders Sultan Qaboos – from the same royal family – wrought three generations later in Oman. Unlike Qaboos, Barghash needed more than one try to reach the throne. When Barghash’s first attempt ended in spectacular failure,[1] he was banished from Zanzibar and sent to Bombay under house arrest, where the British could conveniently cultivate his British connections and sensibilities.[2] In this way, Barghash got to know modern-age marvels such as piped water, sewage systems, paved roads, street lighting, and postage stamps, all of which he brought to Stone Town not long after his half-brother Sultan Madjid died at age 36.[3] Barghash’s penchant for innovation continued with electricity, elevators, printing presses,[4] and more throughout his rule.

We might think the quick embrace of cameras was only a Western phenomenon, but Zanzibar was a European destination, commercial and colonial. When photography started trending in Europe, it also caught on in Zanzibar. With a new Sultan modeling a love of technology and introducing key infrastructure upgrades, along with thriving commerce, it is perhaps no surprise that the island became a camera mecca.

This lets me highlight two people who came to appreciate this long before I did – and indeed spurred my appreciation: Hielke van der Wijk (www.omanisilver.com) and Torrence Royer (www.zanzibarhistory.org). Both have devoted much of their lives to collections of the time, not only taking an ardent interest in the artefacts, but also in the historical context that comes with them and the stories that they tell.

Every time I open the super-sized pages of Hielke’s “Volume 1C: Photos and postcards related to Oman & East Africa” – and still cannot believe he gave me a copy of this limited edition – I am astonished at what he has been able to collect and catalogue, and what there is to see and know about photography in that place and time. I do not have room to say much more here, but you can peruse the fullness of his Zanzibari collection at this link on his website:  Oman virtual Museum documents a collection of antiques from Oman and Zanzibar. You can also delve into some of Torrence’s extensive collection at this link on his website: Historic Photographers.[5]

According to Hielke, the early photographers that set up shop in Zanzibar “tended to have Indian/Portuguese roots and typically came from Goa via Aden to Zanzibar” (logical moves, given the monsoon-based trade triangle of sailing ships). Often family affairs, he describes three of the best-known today:

A.C. Gomes and Sons, started by the Goan father in Yemen in 1868 where he was appointed Yemen Government Photographer of Fortifications, migrated to Zanzibar in the early 1870s where he operated opposite the Stone Town Post Office, continued by his son P.F. Gomes and then grandsons E. Gomes (Dar Es Salaam) and G. Gomes (Stone Town).

Coutinho Brothers, J.B. and Felix of Indian/Portuguese origin likely from Goa, started in the early 1870s, later also Dar Es Salaam around 1890. J.B. partnered with Gomes for a while from 1890 to 1897.

Pereira de Lord, started as a reporter for the Times of Bombay and later came to Zanzibar, where he worked with his brother A.R.P. de Lord in the late 1890s/early 1900s, also specialized in printing and plates and films. Stamping some his photographs with “Photo Artist, Zanzibar,” he clearly considered himself an artist – and, according to Torrence, the de Lords were the most prolific photographers in Zanzibar’s history.

This early photographic work depicted both places and people, including royal portraits of the Sultans, even as early as Madjid.  Despite cultural and religious norms against idolatry, Ibadi and other forms of Islam came to accept the respectful and practical use of cameras, later also for government documents and the promotion of tourism. Travel being the lifeblood of Zanzibar, this growing popularity of photographs fed right into the emergence of postcards. Zanzibar’s photo industry – set on a scenic island with constant comings and goings – was extremely well-positioned to ride the global postcard wave in the decades before and after the millennium.[6]  

I asked Torrence Royer why he thought photography had such a heyday in Zanzibar’s turn-of-the-century. He speculated on six factors that may have influenced the local rise – quoting him:

• The influx of South Asian migrants to East Africa, some who were somewhat familiar with photography. People who were industrious and clearly talented.

• The availability of cameras and film. Wealthy Zanzibaris, especially the royal family, had long imported "modern" luxuries like mirrors, clocks, and telescopes. I think they must also have imported cameras.

• The early "Market" that developed for photos from Zanzibar in the wider world. Dr. John Kirk (arrived Zanzibar in 1866), was an inveterate photographer, and British newspapers of the day often printed his images. A.C. Gomes also did business in the 1890’s with Italian and French newspapers, for them to print his photos.

• The trade crossroad that was old Zanzibar transited thousands of people every year, lots of potential customers there. Also, the reliable sea-trade routes allowed early Zanzibar photographers to send out black and white film negatives (as they all were at that time) to be "colorized" in Europe. These color images could then be sold at a higher price.  

• The patronage of the Zanzibar Sultans, and later the British-run government, both … eager to document their works.

• A final, coincidental factor, that may have been a financial boost to Zanzibar photography studios, was the development of photo-passports. The British began enforcing a new requirement in 1915 that required anyone transiting Zanzibar to have a passport that included a photograph. Many of these passport photos were made in Zanzibar.

Today, TripAdvisor has more than 46,000 photos posted on Zanzibar, iStock carries more than 32,000, and Shutterstock offers more than twice that at over 66,000, just to name a few points of reference. Vivid turquoise and azure abound, but I may have to visit Zanzibar to find high-quality cards. What I see online today is, IMHO, more chintzy than classy – hardly the postcard artistry of yore (and that is not unique to Zanzibar). It seems that the occasional Sayyida Salme/Emily Ruete postcard may also be found on the streets of Stone Town, but perhaps not always the prettiest.

More interesting, I find, is what is happening in Oman with the royal family. It is when I scroll qabooosy (three o’s) on Instagram that I am struck by how far we have come. Today, photography is very much the medium, and the media machine is an indispensable part of the message. Four generations after Sayyida Salme’s father (who was never photographed or even drawn in his lifetime), we can scroll endlessly to images of Sultan Haitham, his wife HH Sayyida Ahad, and his two sons, including the crown prince – and also images of former Sultan Qaboos – at work, polished and poised, as they carry out their official duties and represent their country with ease and grace. Practical and respectful, photography has its place in the Sultanate now more than ever. That is, unless you are one of the Sultan’s two daughters, in which case there are absolutely no photos of you to be found online anywhere.[7] 

Let history surprise you, let her story inspire you – let her authentic voice speak to you.

Andrea Emily Stumpf, September 5, 2025

Photo credit:  From Hielke van der Wijk's collection; Zanzibar panorama seen from the sea by Gomes & Sons (1906).

[1] Sayyida Salme gave us the thriller version of this failed coup attempt against Sultan Madjid in her chapter “My Mother’s Death; a Palace Revolution.” (Memoirs, p. 170-87)

[2] Convenient for both the British and Barghash. Sultan Qaboos, too, benefited from British tutelage and exposure. He was educated in Suffolk and then matriculated from the Royal Military Academy in Sandhurst, followed by a stint in the British Army, before returning to Oman in 1966. These British ties were critical to the overthrow of his father, Sayyid Said bin Taimur, in 1970. How history rhymes!

[3] While Barghash brought innovations to Zanzibar starting in 1870, Qaboos did not start lifting Oman out of poverty and antiquity until 1970. The fact that Oman’s modernizing breakthrough came exactly a century later underscores how economic prosperity in the two countries has flipped since that time. After Sayyid Said bin Sultan died in 1856, it was Zanzibar that was paying subsidies to Oman (at least for a while). Now Oman is a high-income country, while Zanzibar (no longer a country) is in the lower middle-income range. Today’s oil and gas are yesterday’s cloves.

[4] More at P. Sadgrove, “The Press, Engine of a Mini-Renaissance, Zanzibar (1860-1920)” in History of Printing and Publishing in the Languages and Countries of the Middle East. Journal of Semitic Studies (2005). Also available on www.academia.edu.

[5] Torrence Royer has given most of his collection to the Smithsonian. Some of his collection also went to the Library of Congress Africana Historic Postcard Collection, which currently holds 1300 postcards, a dozen or so of Zanzibar. In response to my query, the Africana staff stated that the items it had received were in the process of being digitized, but gave no timeline. About this Collection | Africana Historic Postcard Collection | Digital Collections | Library of Congress The Oman Studies Centre is currently working on a collection of early postcards from Muscat, using as a model the limited edition book The Early Postcards of Zanzibar by P.C. Evans (2005).

[6] You can still find postcard lovers – more than 800 thousand of them – at Postcrossing.

[7] Their choice or not? I have no way of knowing, but do recall that Sayyida Salme and her sibling Princesses were also kept from the public eye. As Sayyida Salme wrote in her chapter on "Status of Women in the Orient": What causes an Arab woman to appear more helpless and somewhat less entitled is simply the fact that she lives a withdrawn life. This is the custom for all Muslim (and also many non-Muslim) peoples of the Orient, and the higher a woman’s social rank, the more stringently she must abide by these restrictions. She may be seen by only her father, son, uncle, nephew, and all her slaves. If she needs to appear before an unfamiliar man, or even speak with him, then the religion requires that she cover her head and body, especially part of her face, her chin and neck, and her ankles. As long as she obeys this rule, she is entirely free to move around during the day and can walk unrestricted on the streets. However, since such coverings are so unpleasant and disfiguring, high-ranking women avoid going out by day and frequently enough envy the Bedouin women who forsake these requirements. If such a Bedouin woman is asked whether she is embarrassed to go out without the required coverings, she will respond: "Such rules are only for the rich, they were not created for poor women!” (Memoirs, pp. 108-09)