Running into my teacher
Tanzania, June 1984
Dar es Salaam sprawled endlessly, dirty and flat. I walked the streets until dawn without finding a place to stay. Eventually, I reached the city centre and walked around a corner where I collided with a young man.
I assumed I had found a fellow traveller as he was wearing a rucksack and asked him if he knew a place to stay.
He was a teacher from Denmark and his name was Jens. It was his last night in Dar es Salam. He was staying in a flat belonging to the Red Cross, saying there would be room for me after he’d gone.
He was based at the Tvind school in Denmark and currently worked on projects in the frontline states around South Africa, intended to help the countries retain economic independence from the Apartheid regime. Ten locals from each frontline state came to Tvind for a year to study alongside Europeans and the entire group would spend a second year back in Africa to continue their education and work. I was interested in this school and the work it did.
“Take a look at it,” Jens said: “Maybe you decide to join?”
Strange, really, because I had heard quite a bit about the Tvind school but I had to come to Africa to find out more. Before he bade me farewell, Jens gave me the address of the school in Ulfborg and we agreed to meet up in October when we would both be back home.
I did not know it then, but that was the start of my education.
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Denni