Googl 'Uhuru Street, Pernille', and you'll know where I enjoyed to move around while in Dar es Salaam.
Now, e-x-a-c-t-e-l-y six months later, I've unpacked what I packed on February 28th in Dar es Salaam. My father and brother opening the rusty padlocks with the necessary tools, not believing their own eyes when the kangas, kikois and vitenge made it out into the open.
Asking why.
Asking what the point really was to buy half of Uhuru Street.
My modest father putting on a sarcastic face by the idea of the attention the colourful vitenge, turned into men's shirts, would create in rural Denmark.
Apparently, now after seven washing machine loads, it is clear that I have an unstoppable fetich for African fabric.
