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Next to us a couple of white men sat down, who I think were Italians. One was in cargo shorts and a white t-shirt, had manicured dreads, a knitted cap with traditional African colors, and tattoos on her arms. The other woman was wearing a tight black dress that only covered one shoulder, black fishnet stockings, and black high heels.Before we finished our first beer, I saw the man with the stockings woman put his hand in her lap, rub her inner thigh, and reach into her crotch on multiple occasions.
There were two bars, a pool table, a soccer game being projected on a large screen, and lots of tables and chairs.These women were all very beautiful and had light skin, but some were sickly thin. ” And he clearly didn’t—when he first came back from the guesthouse he was ignoring his new female friend. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was pointing to her, pointing to him, and nodding—it was clear he was trying to arrange for his friend to be her second client for the night.Supposedly these women pull in 100,000 Tshs per night, which is a typical monthly Tanzanian salary. But I would bet the condom usage is low and the rate of violence is high.She knew an awful lot about how the rooms in the guesthouse look, and stories about various women that were there (including one lesbian).She told us how she makes juice and ice cream and has two children sell it for her on the street in Dar es Salaam.We also watched the expats and visiting foreigners and an older white man with a young Tanzanian woman while we enjoyed our navrattan korma and veg biryani.
After dinner we walked down the road to Q Bar, which is notorious in the neighborhood for being sleazy. said the place is packed with sex workers, so she wanted me to go check it out.
I bought her a beer and asked her a slew of questions in true field research style. She told us she comes there often but lives close by and sleeps at her own place.
She has a 7 year old son but is only 24 years old herself.
And with Skype connections being so bad lately, even keeping in close contact with Ken has been a challenge.
I was talking to an expat colleague who, after living in East Africa for 3 years, still feels like she’s in la-la land.
I feel like I’m living in a different life over here.