The first time a man asked to marry me: a tale from Tanzania

I once laid on a hammock in Pemba

A tropical island off the coast of Tanzania.

An almost deserted island of white sand

And sorrowful turquoise oceans, a no man’s land.

A complete silence, a somber stillness

An isolation so lonely amongst the flowers of hibiscus

Storms brewing overhead, gray clouds of power

Above white beaches and an infinite bright blue ocean.

I once laid in between green coconut trees 

A book in my hands, my heart heavy

No human in sight for miles

An uncomfortable stillness and tropical skies.

I could hear my every thought.

Heart broken for grand reasons, 

Heart in love for even greater passions.

The world had come to an end.

In my silent, desolate mind,

The silence was so great I wanted to go blind

Blind to the truth and blind to my life

Life that felt like a big sharp knife. 

In my silent, desolate beach

Of tropical fish and turquoise waters

Green trees and gorgeous pink corals

The world was so still I wanted to scream and screech.

But my heart was so heavy,

And my mind was so dreary,

That I surrendered to the silence, 

Weakness in my soul, I succumbed to compliance. 

So I laid on a hammock in Pemba,

Expecting the world to envelop me whole. 

But, a strange, quiet voice behind me said « Jambo »,

My tired eyes turned to the voice in the shadow.

A boy, a farmer, long legs and bright, irregular teeth.

Electric eyes inspecting my uncovered body.

« Jambo », I said, unsettled yet intrigued,

Finally, a little noise, a disruption I needed.

Tall and mysterious, he showed himself curious.

« My name is Abasi. »

I remained silent, much too aware of my bare legs.

« My name is Abasi. »

« My name is Eda. »

We remained, me lying, him standing. 

He pointed to my book.

« School. », he said.

« No, story », I corrected. 

He stood disconcerted. 

He approached, sweat on his skin, 

Stared at the paper so foreign. 

Then, he started talking.

Talking fast and willingly,

With such important things to tell me,

A foreign, silent girl found on a tropical beach so empty. 

I didn’t understand, the words went by quickly,

I found myself confused, bewildered and queerly.

I first thought he was speaking Swahili,

Until I heard words of English, « Abasi me », « Pemba me ».

Seeing me alert and bewildered, book on my chest,

My eyes of great confusion on his eyes of great interest, 

He stopped, inspected and asked. 

« Me, Tanzania. You? »

« Turkey », I replied.

« Africa? », he asked.

« Asia. And Europe », I corrected, myself questioned.

« Outside », he observed.

My young mind was tired, and he tired me more.

He spoke and spoke and stopped, asking if I understood.

All I could understand were long stretches of incomprehensible chatter, 

Dealing with, I’m sure, topics of matter.

He approached once more, closer,

And asked, « Are you teacher? »

I said no, tired to continue the conversation further.

He didn’t see me, and continued the blabber.

He then spoke a lot, and I heard familiar words,

Such as « Father », « Goat », and « Home ».

I tried to follow the rapid words, 

And understood a vague story of an islander life. 

At some point, I know he said « Eda, you are home ».

I looked at him confused, and he asked: « Yes? »

My frankly tired brain craved silence now, 

This confusing boy depleting my energy somehow. 

I said « Yes » to his insistent « Yes? »,

Bored of the distraction, no longer earnest,

A quick yes to whatever it was he said,

So that I could go back to the calm, lonely sadness.

He heard the « Yes », his eyes sparkled

He started speaking Swahili, I prayed for my discharge

And he finally said « Goodbye », 

As I said mine, relieved of the boy’s departure.

Yet, unsettlingly, before he left, he said « Marry! ».

I stared confusedly.

But he left, 

And I felt the familiar numbness of depression once again.

The next day, once again,

I was completely alone in the Indian Ocean.

I stayed in an isolated bungalow on a deserted tropical island, 

The only presences a far-away village and the man who tended the bungalow. 

Again, I laid on my hammock. 

Life felt like it was ending, still in my numb shock. 

This time, I had no book. 

Nothing felt worth it.

So I stared a tired stare to the vast, empty ocean,

Feeling my dark void on a bright heavenly beach.

The desolate, all-encompassing silence was interrupted.

I heard the sound of a goat and light footsteps behind me.

The boy was back, tall and thin, 

Holding a black goat by its hand.

My numb, depressed shock turned into an alert, confused shock. 

He smiled at me, said « Eda ».

I remained silent, too impatient to deal with the Swahili mixed fast English, 

Took a deep sigh and watched the imbalanced goat.

He said, « Father ».

I said, « No Father here».

He looked at me.

« Umri », he said.

« Sixteen years old », I said.

He stared confusedly.

I showed my hands, putting ten fingers up, then six.

« Sixteen ». 

He said, « Husband? »

I laughed a tired laugh, replied « No husband. »

He smiled, still holding the goat. 

I stared an impatient stare, ununderstanding.

He said, over and over, « Marry ».

I remained silent, exasperated of the incomprehension.

The man who tended the bungalow saw me from afar.

Me lying in a bikini on a hammock, 

A tall, young farmer and a goat, intently talking to me,

Me watching.

He came, started speaking Swahili.

Me on my hammock, him and the boy arguing.

He told him to leave.

Abasi contested, spoke his fast, outraged Swahili.

The man got impatient, slightly raised his voice, 

As if Abasi had spoken insane words. 

« Go, go », he said, a certain threat in his tone.

Abasi left.

I asked the man what had happened.

He apologized for the disturbance.

I went back to my thoughts, alone again.

But a whisper appeared once more from behind my tree.

No goat this time, Abasi came to converse some more.

« You will teach English », he said. 

« Wife. », he said.

I looked at him in grand stupefaction. 

« Eda marry Abasi! », he claimed. 

I saw an intelligence in his eyes. 

His fast speaking, rapid thoughts, big ideas I didn’t understand

His sparkling eyes showed a cleverness I couldn’t seize.

However, I did not want to marry him.

I was too sad to marry him.

I was also too young to marry him.

The goat he brought did give him an advantage, though.

He was so sure we were getting married.

Maybe because he saw me so immodest in my bikini?

Maybe because I said « Yes » to his proposal in an attempt to brush him off. 

But maybe I had said that accidental « Yes » for a reason.

What if I were a wife of a Tanzanian villager on a tropical island?

I would tend goats and swim and fish, 

I would live a silent life on a silent island. 

My skin would burn, I would probably get skin damage.

I would forget everything about life, 

I would spend days like a mermaid in this tropical paradise. 

I would never understand a word of Abasi’s fast speech, 

His beloved wife tending his goats on the empty beach.

My sadness would have no significance in this world, 

It was a sadness that belonged to the West.

A European sadness of some sort.

A despair of cold romance and separation.

Here, my sadness would not belong.

It would not be compatible with this universe.

It would simply vanish,

And my life would be confined to this beach.

I’d never leave this far-away, empty island. 

Abasi had told me he never left. 

So I’d spend a silent lifetime with the sea

The sea, the sun, the goats and Abasi.

The sun.

Well, I didn’t want to get skin cancer.

And I didn’t want to marry Abasi. 

He was too old for me. He was 20. 

And there’s a certain power dynamic which comes with age difference.

I told him, « No. »

He said, « Yes. »

I said, « Goodbye. »

He said, « No. »

I said, « Goodbye. »,

He remained silent. 

I laid back in my hammock

And pursued my reading.

He left, silent as a ghost.

I watched him walk slowly back to his village.

He found one of his goats on the beach.

He stopped next to the blue ocean, took the goat by the hand, and disappeared into the tropical trees. 

Now, when a boy disappoints me, 

I remember Abasi, 

Who only needed a sad face and brown hair on me,

To ask my hand to marry.