Some grumble about the space taken up by assorted vendors on Dar’s crumbling pavements or the apparent disarray of the city’s myriad street stalls, but how can you not be grateful for all the goods and services that are at your fingertips in every part of the city? Whether it’s an icy cold bottle of water thrust through your window in traffic, that Arsenal sticker you have always wanted or your bicycle tyre repaired in minutes, Dar’s thriving street trade can provide.
Archive for August, 2010
The sweet, sticky heat makes my clothes stick to my skin. I am damp to the touch, dripping with the unavoidable refuse of my art. Yes, I am an artist my friend, although you may not think so. How else can you explain what I do? I walk the town like a vagabond of the vanguard, a viscous fluid in the arteries of Bongo streets, providing for your every need.
All it takes is a single look, you know the one, while you inch along in the snaking foleni hoping for some form of respite, and you pleadingly glance out your half-rolled down window, I see the yearning in your eyes. Before you even know what it is that you desire, I will be there, with karanga na maji and perhaps a cigarette or two. I will provide. You take what I offer with subtle contempt, annoyed that I know you better than yourself, but alas, what is an artist to do?
Excerpt from ‘I am machinga’ by Hafiz Juma