(*swahili translation for space)

So its that time again. 

I want to write about a thousand things and end up writing nothing. 

I take notes and talk about it with other people. and when I start writing it, I ask myself for whom and who is reading it. 

Well I will just use it as a personal Pensieve / Denkarium for those of you who know. 


Its 9 months down and sometimes it feels like forever and sometimes it feels like yesterday, since I’ve been here. But one thing is pretty clear. That I have found my place.

Or at least, I know where I want to build up a new space for myself. 

For now. 

In the last months I have been occupied with applying for jobs, researching work opportunities and different business ideas. Spend time with people who have gone through a similar story like mine. same same but different. 

Heard success stories, challenges, frustration and people who changed their minds completely or chose a different paths. 

Me myself, I had some small opportunities, to teach one of the colonizers languages, volunteer in different schools and coordinate a big ass destination wedding. 

All this was super fun and kept me eating, but wont really sustain my stay in this country of never ending chapati corners. 

So what I really need is a job which is ready to pay the 3000 USD working- and residency-visa.  Which no employer is willing to invest in the current times of this countries changing situation. Which brings me to my primary problem. I still need a job. Its a cycle and I wont stop trying to find a way to achieve my goals. Even when it takes longer than I might have thought. 

Wakanda wasn’t build in a year.

And at this point I want to shout out to my friends and family who have always been the most supportive people in my world. I am super blessed to have the most loving tribe.

But today I want to write and think about something else. 

So yes this has been a bureaucracy rollercoaster up and down and will probably never end. I just have to learn how to deal with the downs. 

But much more intensive is the ride which has come alongside of all this visa and permit loops. 

So the main reason I am having difficulties managing, is that I have a colonizers passport. Which on paper doesn’t make me a citizen of Tanzania, even though I am born here. 

All of this because of a piece of paper wrapped up in a bordeaux hardcover.

And yes I am talking out of a very privileged position and will never compare my completely self chosen situation to any other in document searching person. But for now, please bear with me, cause this is my story and it still comes with my emotions. 

So, I am a Tanzanian born, with no Tanzanian passport. 

I am a german passport holder. A black women. 

In my previous post of Nimefika and Nyumbani I write about how i have arrived and found myself a home. 

Now this very same place kind of tells me that i can’t build myself a base here cause i don’t have the necessary papers.  

Thinking of home and identity has accompanied me a lot lately. 

We move in the discourses of modern nomads or global nomads, people seeking detachment from particular geographical locations and the idea of territorial belonging

At the same time in search of someplace our soul finds rest. 

I mean a lot of us know how it is to live in a place where the majority of people don’t want us there. Where most of the times we are not welcomed. Like our physical presence scares them. We know how it is to always stick out of the mass and never completely blend in physically. 

Some of us just have the wish not to attract attention cause we are constantly othered. 

Just to fit in. 

To fit in. 


In a world that looks just like you. 

If this world would be as monotone as we think. 

But it is as diverse as we are.

In the other world. 

So here we go again. 

Finding a space where our soul finds rest. 

Now the same people who seem to be like you, are also pointing out your otherness. 

So I have a lot of thoughts on this constantly being othered in different ways, and yes again, out of a privileged position. 

And from a view where also privilege has to be translated different in contexts. To a point where I stopped feeling guilty about the privilege I have. 

Instead of me writing my thoughts on it in an other three pages, please friends, fam, and silent stalkers, lets have a conversation about it. 

I want to read your view on it. 

Don’t be shy. Comment, write me an email, text or send me smoke signals so I can have more views on it and reflect and check my privilege. 

I am also thinking of doing a live session with my friends. 

So please show some virtuell love. 

Last but not least, one of my most favorite spaces besides Vino in Dar, is Nafasi Art Space. Check out the wonderful people who create some wonderful work in a wonderful space. 

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