My Tanzanian "Boyfriend"

I often joke about my Tanzanian "boyfriend." I first met him while waiting for the boys at the taxi stand to head to Dragonaires. The handshake was long and not wanting to misinterpret cultural greetings I let him hold it for a few minutes, after which I tried to squirm out of the firm grasp he had on my right hand. Commenting on the fact that we had mutual friends, he asked to borrow my phone and I obliged. He called himself...ingenious way of obtaining my number.

The first bit of conversation was seemingly normal. He asked the usual questions: Where are you from? What are you doing in Tanzania? Why did you come here? What do you hope to get out of the experience? When he offered a room in his house to me, I started to Zacharia asked for my hand in marriage, claiming that white English girls are of a purer character than their African counterparts. I was taken aback, offended even, by his statement of hatred for "stupid African women" and his assumption that because I'm mzungu I have money and a good education. His lack of respect for African women, Tanzanian women in particular, left me speechless.

After our first conversation he called me on a daily basis, multiple times each day even. I ignored all of his calls but my subtle rejection was obviously not a strong enough social cue. He would find me as a walked to work and scold me for not keeping in touch with him. Was I sick? If I did not answer the phone how was he to know that I was not. He would ask for money or work, neither of which I would give him.

Yesterday Little Mango was introduced. He found us as we were heading to town. Keeping my hand in his for many minutes, I had to struggle a little to remove it. Later I asked E about him and the stories poured out. Antidotes about his alcoholism, his drug problem, the mess he has created for his family, the lack of respect for women.

Needless to say, I don't think it's going anywhere.