Big Girls Paradise

When I need a break, I always hibernate in some place where I hardly know a soul. This way, I can have time with myself without too much distraction. Not that I am antisocial, but once in a while, I like indulging in my own company and that of strangers, and this is how I pick up new connections while at the same time having a conversation with myself. I found myself in Arusha, and for once in this instance, there was electricity. Every time I have been there, there has been a day-long blackout, which appears to be the norm, since no one here seems to be bothered by it.


As the day continued, I decided it would be a good idea if I go to some place and decompress over a glass of milk. Yes, milk, as Biko would agree that not all real men drink whisky. I turn to my good pal Google and search for a nice chill spot in Arusha. As the list pops up, one name catches my eye: "Le Patio". I guess it got my attention because it was French Who doesn’t love French? The creator must have spent some extra time on their women, but in no way before the catfight starts am I saying other women aren’t beautiful. A minute later, I find myself sitting at the bar, and believe you me, the waitress is a white girl with excellent customer service. I order a glass of milk and enjoy it while listening to some slow classical music blaring from the speakers. The music is so good it almost gets me emotional, but I remember then that real men aren’t emotional, are they?


As I continue decompressing and enjoying the music, the crowd keeps getting bigger and by midnight the place is packed. Have you been to a place where you feel like a minority? This crowd made me feel that way, as there were so many whites and very few of us Negros. Most Negros who were here had accompanied the big white women who for once seemed like they had found their way home. Having lived outside Africa, I could understand them. This is one place where we don’t judge you by the size of your waist, nor do we measure your intellect with how many pounds you weigh. In fact, here, the bigger you are, the better for you because we count it as a sign of blessing.


As the night continues, the music kept changing from blues to now club music, and the dance floor is filled to capacity with everyone trying to outdo each other. You might mistake it for the popular show "Who Can Dance ", only that Paula Abdul is missing. I am so impressed by the DJ that for once he hasn’t played any Diamond tracks. Not that I have issues with him, but I guess other artists deserve their music to be heard too. I approach the DJ, express my gratitude for his playlist, and as generous as I can be, I offer to buy him milk. He says he doesn’t partake in it and that he will only take a soda. I distrust people who don’t take milk, but that is a story for another day.


It’s 2am and at this point, I have decompressed enough. I have also had too much milk and I decide to head out and call it a night. As I head out, I find myself thinking, I guess some day too we will find an answer to Whitney’s question, "Where do Broken Hearts Go, and do they Find their Way Home?" Since tonight I figured out where big girls go and find their home.



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