My last memories of Africa were from twenty years ago.
This time, I was in city I had never been to, a city alive with
the hustle and bustle of
street vendors, the smell of "vitumbwas" frying in the
evening and the constant honking of ceaseless traffic.
People
take great pride in bringing home a guest, and preparations for
meals are made with much anticipation and a genuine sense of enjoyment.
My first night, a little before 6am, I was awakened by an unusual
sound - the Azan, or call to prayer.
It didn't take long before I became accustomed to the daily routine
of the city.
How I miss the warmth of Dar-es-salaam today....brrrrrrrrrrr.
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