There is something about Dar; Language? Cuisine? Music?

What a month, hey? And what a city to spend it in. While I was eating my Fat Tuesday pancakes, a colleague teased me about improving the quality and price of the meals that I buy because it is the month of Ramadan, and he can no longer demand his share.

A pretty mundane interaction, right? Except it isn’t.

When I was a kid, I jumped into a public swimming pool with a handful of other kids only to watch everyone else we had found there exit the pool hurriedly. It was somewhere in South Africa before 1994. Lacking the direct experience of my parents who lived through the last of colonialism, I wasn’t prepared.

I thought everywhere was a bit like Dar: A mixed chopped salad, if not a melting pot.

Travel is a great teacher and over time I learned that oases of competent cultural co-existence are not all that common. Dar es Salaam comes with a bit of a story, like all good cities do. “Founded” by Majid Bin Said — if you are comfortable erasing the Africans who already lived there as was the fashion at the time— it has been used as an administrative centre by successive regimes.

I think the arc goes: Locals minding their business, Sultan of Zanzibar, German, British, Tanganyika, finally Tanzania... and maybe one day, the Southern State of the East African Federation and onwards to the United States of Afrika.

Read: Life in Dar es Salaam during Christmas holiday

Up until now, countless people and dozens of cultures have made their way here bringing religious and cultural diversity. This is not a clean and friendly history written by Disney, but somehow over a century and some change we have figured out how to make it work with a bit of grace given to us by Utu.

Considering what it took us to get here — tolerance is a form of sacrifice, of love — it would be unpatriotic of me not to revel in this kaleidoscope of languages and cuisine, music. Hedonism has such an unnecessarily bad rap, you know? In Kiswahili, one of the expressions for actively enjoying life translates into “eating life” — yes, thank you.

Perhaps this is why Professor Doctor Honourable Minister Palamagamba Kabudi told us at excessive length using excessively formal Kiswahili that Singeli music was going to be officially recognised and promoted as a unique Tanzanian cultural product.

It is a brilliant move to recognise and celebrate an art form that is homebrewed out of youth unemployment, world-class drumbeats, disruptive resistance humour, lasciviousness and illegal alcohol.

Definitely not a transparent grab for young urban votes during an election year via the co-optation of a popular genre of music, nope.

In Singeli I hear the offspring of mdundiko and other endangered native genres that have always contrasted with and inspired more “polished” forms like taarab.

After my last sinia of holy day pilau has been devoured, the coloured powder has been washed from my hair and the smell of Catholic incense clears the air in April, it will be my patriotic duty to find a dive bar and lose myself all hot and sweaty in fast songs with louche lyrics. Least I can do for the joie de vivre in the port of peace. See you there?

Elsie Eyakuze is an independent consultant and blogger for The Mikocheni Report; E-mail: [email protected]