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The wheels on the bus don’t go round and round


April 21, 2012. I’m on my way to Kilwa Masoko to see the ancient ruins of Kilwa Kisani. Our bus has broken down. So I’m enjoying what might now be my favorite pastime: waiting.
And while I’m waiting I’m beginning to wonder about Tanzanians. Throughout my trip I’ve always liked to chat with the locals – on the bus, in the shops, waiting whereever. But here every youngish man I exchange more than five sentences with seems compelled to ask whether I’d like to have sex with him and is very surprised that the answer is No.
Why? My friend Luke would probably rave about how wonderfully open Africans [sic] are in their sexuality. I find it disconcerting; disgusting if those guys want to jump me just because I’m a single white female. Whatever happened to chemistry?
So now I’m not only waiting for the bus but also to get back to Dar where – as far as youngish Tanzanian men are concerned – my fiance is.

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