She arrived in Tanzania three months ago to work in a dance bar, and looks over her shoulder warily as she tells a fellow-Nepali her name.
Slim, and dressed in a short black dress with golden sequins, she had stood out among the 12 other young Nepali women on stage. She was shimmering and radiant, her eye makeup smoky giving her a seductive look, long black tresses flailing with every pirouette.
She has many admirers in the audience, made up mostly of Indian Tanzanians and Africans. The regulars adorn her with garlands and a fake crown after the performance. That is her only tip.
The Nepali dancers perform to musical hits from back home like ‘Simple Simple Kanchiko Dimple Basne Gala’, ‘Chyangba oh Chyangba’ and ‘Musu Musu Hasi Deuna’, and the songs have become popular even in the dance bars here.
Nepalis in the audience get nostalgic for home, but their consciences are seared by the presence of these vulnerable young women driven so far away from home to seek jobs here in Tanzania. The women say they were forced to migrate because of the lack of opportunities back home, they get a three month advance and appear happy enough with their earnings.
Some Nepalis in the audience feel it is wrong. But another says: “Who am I to make judgments saying it is wrong or right just because it makes me sad to look at fellow Nepalis?”
At immigration in New Delhi and Mumbai, Nepali women are singled out for special scrutiny because many of them have poor documentation. “There are more than 50 Nepali girls going to Africa every month,” one Indian immigration official told this reporter in Mumbai recently. “If you are a Nepali, do something for them.”
For bar-hopping Africans and Indians in Dar es Salaam, ‘Nepal’ has now become synonymous with ‘dancing girl’. The Nepali word ‘kanchhi’ is part of the vocabulary of Dar es Salaam’s nightlife.
