Photo courtesy: Duniasikuzote — Wikimedia Commons
When I lived in Dar es Salaam, there were often shortages due to factory equipment breaking down or a lack of foreign exchange to import certain goods.
After nine months of abstinence, there’d be Kenyan cheese in the shops for a couple of weeks; or someone warned we should stock up on matches or toilet paper because parts for a broken piece of machinery would take months to arrive.
None of these inconveniences bothered me because the important “stuff” was always available. Africans carried live lobsters to restaurants to sell; the fish market displayed rows of the day’s catch; the vegetable markets were full of fresh, snappy vegetables.
Nothing I buy in North America ever matches the freshness of Tanzania’s produce available back then.