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  • Romanticising and unromanticising life in Dar es Salaam

    Romanticising and unromanticising life in Dar es Salaam

    Earlier this year, I was in bed sick for the second time in a month. Another case of tonsilitis. This one was so severe that I had an emergency doctor visit at midnight on a weekend. I didn’t eat for a week. Several times during that week, I found myself longing for home, Dar es Salaam. I have gotten tired of existing in the hamster wheel, an accurate description of my life as of that point in time. In Berlin, I have to worry about getting the same illness multiple times every winter, affording rent, getting a job to sustain an existence, numerous bureaucratic subplots that never seem to go away and much more. I started to romanticise Dar once again.

    Wavuvi Kempu, by me. Taken in August 2023

    In Dar, I wouldn’t have to worry about rent even without a job and I could realistically own my own house with sizeable flower and vegetable gardens in a couple of years on a decent-ish income. I would have to learn how to drive and get a car, but that’s fine: I could get a remote job, so I don’t have to deal with traffic regularly. I would have easier access to Swahili literature again and get to see the ocean every day. And if I were to have a kid, I would have enough support without having to send them to a Kita.

    “What am I even doing here?” is what I’ve been asking myself for the last two years. I can’t find the jobs I want (or get interviews). I walk into certain cafes in the city and get stared down like I don’t belong there and have people clutch their ugly bags the moment I pass by (these two things happened to me in March at a cafe on Chausseestraße). I hate the months-long winter and negative temperatures.

    I came to Germany 9 years ago at twenty years old. I was a skinny girl from Dar with dark pink kids’ glasses because they’re what fit my tiny head. I was on the fence about staying here long, but over the years, I’ve come to identify with certain things, especially the degree of freedom that I have here as opposed to what I had or could have had in Tanzania. That’s one thing that makes all this difficult. Do I really want to lose my independence? Do I want to be questioned about not going to church every Sunday? Do I want to receive messages every few weeks from people I barely know asking for wedding and send-off contributions?

    Do I really really want to live in Dar?

    I guess I don’t, actually, and right now it feels like no amount of money or job would change that. I like the idea of being there but not actually living there. I like the thought of staying there just long enough to be able to capture the essence of the society that has changed so much since I left and the cultures within it, for my writing, because I long to write more about home. Long enough could mean a lifetime, but when I think of spending that lifetime experiencing the mundane, the physical, mental and political exhaustion, the extremely normalised misogyny, I reconsider.

    A confession

    To me, Dar was never more than the ocean, critical observations of hustle culture and a constant longing for freedom. I grew up in the suburbs of Dar es Salaam in gated homes, as many others in Tanzania do, but we left the house only for school, family functions, and to play with our cousins or the one or two friends who all lived within walking distance from our home. I wasn’t allowed to go out. I had to teach myself restaurant etiquette when I was 18 while hanging out with friends in places I wasn’t allowed to be. I had to lie to my mom about where I was to calm her down, even when it was bright outside. With the exception of my high school prom night which was at a fancy restaurant in the city centre, I have never experienced night life in Dar. I have never been to brunch in Dar, which I think would be really cool, actually, because Tanzanian food is top-tier. I have been to one wedding in my conscious life when I was 12 years old. I spent most of my free time at home, where there was no shortage of things to get lost in and worlds to imagine.

    For someone who barely lived in the city, I romanticise Dar quite a lot: brunch at overpriced cafes, trips to Zanzibar, the occasional soiree. In reality, I would have to rebuild my social life because most of my friends have left the country. How do I explain to people that I’m not religious anymore? One would be surprised how much of an issue this is in a “secular” country. Being the ever-opinionated person that I am, I would surely regularly find myself in arguments with people about everything: politics, gender roles, entertainment, etc. Now, the discussion would be cut short by saying that I’m too Europeanised, which is stupid because I was always like this, and believing in gender equality and other progressive ideas is not European ffs. My extended family would tell you how I used to argue with them in our WhatsApp chat like I was paid to do it.

    The thing is, there are many reasonably-priced cafes in Berlin that I can walk into without feeling uncomfortable. And that’s the major difference I’m observing: many of the issues I’ve faced here can just be ignored or worked around, but in Dar, I would be demonised if I ever spoke against religion or if I chose to dress or act a certain way that doesn’t align with so-called “African values”, and the list goes on. Society is more involved in the individual’s life in Tanzania, and that bothers me to my core.

    What I, and you who’ve been romanticising home, need is a break from the hamster wheel. Get a one-way ticket during the harsh winter and spend a few months at home in holiday mode: enjoying great food, proper beaches, the warm weather and visiting family just long enough to stay within the guest label. I’m convinced that a 2-month trip back home would heal me. So here’s to me hoping to post an article or several from Dar es Salaam sometime in the coming year. For now, I’ll stay put in the chaos of Berlin.

    But nothing is ever certain, is it?

  • Looking for Home

    Looking for Home

    “So the days, the last days, blow about in memory, hazy, autumnal, all alike as leaves.” (Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Truman Capote)

    I finally watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s!

    (It is important to point out that I did not enjoy the depiction of Mr. Yunioshi. That was weirdly racist and quite painful to watch. But it’s good that significant improvements have been made in film industries worldwide and nothing of that kind would pass today.)

    I am very happy that the film’s ending was very different from the book, yet it still managed to capture the essence of Holly’s character. I found myself relating to Holly a lot more when she talked about not belonging anywhere. I am a young woman trying to figure out life and every day the world lets me know that I’m not where I’m supposed to be. It’s a strange thing to think about or even tell people especially if it’s friends you’ve had in the place you’ve been in for a while. Two years is a long time to be somewhere, but I am very detached from Bremen. Even stranger, twenty years is a very long time, but I am also detached from Dar es Salaam.

    From July to December I found comfort in Bonn while I was doing my internship. It was a feeling that I had never experienced before and it made me scared and sleepless on some nights. I couldn’t bear knowing that I got attached to a place and I felt safe and too comfortable in it, because I knew that I had to leave after a while. Luckily, my feelings have gotten bruised and crushed a lot over the last two years so it wasn’t very difficult to detach myself from Bonn. When the time to leave came, I didn’t feel sad at all. I knew I was sad, but I just didn’t feel it.

    The best thing about Bonn was that no one really knew me there, just like how no one in New York knew who Holly Golightly really was. I had many friends, mostly fellow interns, from work who, like me, were just passing by for a few months, but other than that I was completely alone. I could go home after work and detach myself from everything and everyone, something I could never do in Bremen while living on campus.

    What I’m trying to explain is, I don’t feel like I belong anywhere (and at times I try to avoid that feeling) for a reason. I found the reason in the film, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, when Holly sang Moon River by her window (beautiful scene!).

    ♪“Two drifters, off to see the world
    There’s such a lot of world to see
    We’re after the same rainbow’s end, waitin’ ’round the bend
    My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me”    ♪

    There’s such a lot of world to see. This is keeps me awake at night. To be frank, I’m not much of a traveler, but I absolutely hate the thought of being somewhere for a long time. We live in a time when we can go anywhere, at least on paper, so why not take advantage of that and live an extraordinary life? I want to move and move and move until I find my own Tiffany’s.

    “I don’t want to own anything until I know I’ve found the place where me and things belong together.”

    Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (Truman Capote)

    On the last day of my internship I walked out of the UN premises some time in the afternoon. It was a sad day, because most people were away for the holidays. I walked slowly to where my bike was parked, which happened to not be at my usual spot. I stood there thinking of going for one last cycle by the Rhine behind the UN and Deutsche Welle buildings, but I shrugged it off because I decided that cycles by the Rhine belonged to a beautiful memory of Fall when I went to see Joker with my friends and we enjoyed one of the last sunny days of 2019 by the river.

    By the Rhine, early October 2019

    I would like to keep thinking that in Bonn the sun always shines on golden leaves and bright green grass, even when it’s dark and cold in the Winter, and that all my Bonn friends are seated somewhere by the Rhine, drinking wine and talking while I’m still trying to find my way there through Google Maps, because I’m always late to these things.

    With friends by the Rhine near UN Campus, Bonn, early October 2019

    “Anyway, home is where you feel at home. I’m still looking.”

    Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany’s (Truman Capote)
  • My Dearest Dar

    My Dearest Dar

    In the evening the sun goes down behind the palm trees, slowly, like how the noises change. You won’t know how it went from hearing cacophonies from the streets to the sound of Bongo Flava blasting on speakers not far from where you sleep. If you’re still in the city center sunset will be the time when cars start excessively honking at one another. The smell of used fished oil is usually the same everywhere. I guess somehow the entire city decided to use similar oil brands. Walking along the Kivukoni Front I can’t ever help but overhear the many discussions going on among the vendors. Most times it’s about the latest government scandal to hit the news stands. Sometimes it’s about Ali Kiba and Diamond just after one of them releases a new music video. Other times it’s arguments between Yanga FC and Simba FC hardcore fans and these ones usually happen on Monday morning at the cobbler’s booth which also happens to serve coffee.

    As I sat in the cold at the Schonëbeck station in November 2017 I realized how my world had changed in just three months. I remember going back home in August after spending a month in the US. I felt so angry when I got out of the plane. In my head I thought, “in comparison to JFK this looks like something out of an apocalyptic movie.” It was shock coming from having to face intense heat and watching “Tanzanians being Tanzanians”. It all started in Doha when I was waiting for the last of three flights back home. I sat at the airport with a big white pillow on my lap trying to distract myself from all the eyes that were looking at me and the fact that at that moment I realized how loud we Tanzanians could be. What annoyed me the most was that some Tanzanians there were complaining about something in a way that made it look like we’re all like that. It was government taxes, flights, heat, and I was silently complaining to my subconscious about them complaining about stuff.

    So I saw my mum and dad at the airport, they were all happy to see me. I could see it in their eyes, they were excited to hear stories from New York and I had plenty all leading down to ‘Tanzania needs to get its act together!’ Why were we so awful at just everything? I spent the entire drive back home trying to avoid talking because I was so frustrated that after we get out of the car I would have to live without air conditioning for another month until I come to Germany. It was probably 30 something Celsius, who cares anyway, and this was supposed to be some sort of “winter” or the end of it, (HashtagTropicalClimate).

    In that month I couldn’t get anywhere around the city without something to wipe my face every 2 minutes. It’s just hot and the worst thing is that most of the Tanzanian public doesn’t allow us to dress according to the weather. If we did that we would be beaten by “angry” men in the streets and humiliated on every gossip newspaper in circulation. That’s just Tanzania for you.

    However, in that month, I came to realize how I love my city so much. I wouldn’t say I genuinely love my entire country so much because honestly, I’ve only been to three cities in the 20 years of living there. In August, after seeing a different side of the world for the first time I was now able to view Dar es Salaam from a new angle. The fact is Dar es Salaam isn’t the best there is, there are better things out there, but its uniqueness is what makes it special, what makes it home to 5 million people. There’s just something nostalgic about the strong smell of the Indian Ocean’s saltiness as you walk by the Hyatt Regency every morning to work or to catch a city bus at the main bus stop. Dar es Salaam might seem like this typical African city with thousands of street vendors among 5 million people living in a fully heated oven, most of us without air conditioning. But the beauty in all of it lies in the feeling of belonging to something that is greater than me as an individual; the struggle that the name ‘Dar es Salaam’ embodies in the eyes of the 50 million people in other parts of the country. Like every other country, Tanzania also has that place where people go in the hopes of “making it” and finding peace in life. After all, it does mean ‘haven of peace’.

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    Jangwani, Dar es Salaam. Captured by @i_am_racker

  • A New Home

    Germany is an awesome place.

    I never really thought of being anywhere in Europe for college. I was so fixed on going to the US and thank God that never happened. I’ve been to the US only twice, the first time was awesome, I made friends and I saw places and I got on a roller coaster and that was cool because for some few seconds I seriously thought I was dying but then I realized I wasn’t so I was happy to have another chance at life. I’m hoping I don’t screw it up. The second time was a few days ago and it wasn’t so pleasant because I got to see a side of the US that I think most outsiders don’t get to see. I was very disappointed even though I know I shouldn’t be.

    The reason I’m able to write today that Germany is awesome is because I never paid attention to it at all apart from the few times in secondary school when we learned about the World Wars. And that was it. I didn’t know how modern Germans are like or how the cities are look or how cold it gets in the winter. So when I got here it was like growing up and subconsciously learning to call a place home. In the few months that I’ve been here I’ve grown to love the place and the best part is that I didn’t have a picture of what it’s like here so there was no room for disappointment. I think that’s the way to enjoy things in life, sometimes. If there’s a good school somewhere go study there not because you’ve been told how the place is or have seen filtered images of the place on the internet that set high expectations for you.

    I felt so much joy last weekend when my long trip from Chicago to Bremen ended. It felt like I was back home, for the first time I seriously considered Bremen my home. I had a good time in Chicago simply because I got to see a good friend. That’s the only part of the trip I choose to remember because the other one will make me say bad things about a famous airline many people love. I might write or say something about that some other day or year. For now, try to enjoy my not-so-good photography.

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    Brandenburg Gate, Berlin