DAR ES SALAAM, Nov. 30 -- THERE was a time when a weekend in Dar es Salaam, Arusha or Moshi felt like an eccentric colonial radio broadcast drifting into real life.

Youd hear the muezzin calling the faithful, church bells giving their Sunday best, and then, floating from behind a hedge or bougainvillea wall, the unmistakable thwack of leather on willow.

A tennis ball sliced through coastal humidity, the polite applause of well-behaved spectators ringing out like theyd each been issued a handbook on courtesy.

Somewhere, a snooker cue clicked with the precision of a man who had trained for twenty years purely to look nonchalant.

If you listened carefully, you might even catch the faint ping of a golf ball being chased across the kind of...