Tanga is a sweaty city on the Indian Ocean midway between Dar es Salaam and Mombasa. Unlike all the other sweaty African cities out there, Tanga is close to the site of Matt Summers, who was my best friend in Kenya and a Williams graduate. We spent the first day of Eid in his village at one of his colleague’s house watching kung-fu movies while our hosts finished their prayers. Thursday we left for Tanga in search of Indian food.
In Tanga I met Peter, a German doctor who has taken a liking to Peace Corps Volunteers and lets us stay at his house when we’re in town. His house is close to the ocean, a big draw for me, and at about 4:00 in the afternoon Matt and I reckoned the sun was no longer a danger and ventured out to the beach. Most beaches are populated by a handful of teenage boys working out and playing soccer, but most Africans tend to avoid the water and so I was surprised to find several hundred people of all ages swimming around. I stayed in for about half an hour and tried to teach a teenager named Omary rotary breathing.
About an hour after we returned Peter came home. He also had just come from the ocean and commented on the number of people. It was not just several hundred in the water, however; he estimated some 10 000 people dressed up in their nicest clothes and came to look out at the water. Matt and I went back out to have a look, but by then it was dark and everyone was leaving. The atmosphere was like the aftermath of a baseball game. I don’t know what the significance of this gathering was.
The Indian food was delicious.
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