Dar es Salaam Diary

Not sure if it’s the humidity or the fact that dinner out is often greasy bits of roast meat and fried banana eaten entirely with one’s hands, but living in this country is not good for my skin. However, having gotten over most of my painful adolescent self-consciousness, I was finally convinced that my occasional acne is not necessarily the first thing people notice when they look at me. Well, there goes that milestone of self-actualization.

Acne is apparently another novelty here in Tanzania, and my recent bout of bad skin has been the subject of vocal concern of more than one of my acquaintances. The other day neighbor insisted that I should go to a doctor to get “that stuff” checked out and my manager at work suggested that I might have “malaria of the face.” Sigh.