I really enjoyed reading this. You have linked your memories with this collective vacuum most expatriates seem to be living in. Very intimate reading.
First published in the The Friday Times
In Search of Dadi’s Home
There are a number of peeling houses in Dar es Salam that remind me of my dadi’s home. Perhaps they are the creations of nostalgic Indians who landed on East African shores, trying to recreate the homes they had left behind. Perhaps it was the British time in Tanzania that is responsible for the particular architecture. No matter who created those houses I know that once they too were homes of dadis and nanis, full of leafy courtyards and intimate whisperings. I have seen similar constructions dotting the coastline in Ghana, outside Accra. Infact, I imagine that there was once a whole syndicate of such homes weaved across the world, sprinkling unlimited magic through generations of childhoods.
And what wonderful childhoods they were that began from such homes. I imagine that these homes were never-ending…
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