NEW OFFICE BEARERS ELECTED FOR S.I.D TANZANIA

The Society for International Development (SID) Tanzania Chapter on Saturday 18th June 2011 elected new office bearers for its chapter.

Mahmoud Thabit Kombo, pic coursey, Issa Michuzi

Mahmoud Thabit Kombo has been appointed chapter’s President while Richard Kasesela will serve as Vice-President. June Warioba becomes the chapter’s Secretary General, Muhidin Issa Michuzi, Programs Officer and Yasmin Said Chali is Treasurer.

Blogger Issa Michuzi

The following were elected members of the Executive Council: Ally Masoud (Kipanya), John Ulanga, Fatma Alloo, Salma Moulid and Chambi Chachage.
SID Tanzania is one of chapters of SID International and acts as an independent platform organisation, bringing together policy makers, academics, NGOs, the private sector, journalists and others to drive forward the development debate in Tanzania, and subsequently influencing the policy discussion.
Ambassador Juma Mwapachu, Vice President of SID’s Global Governing Council, said: "We are thrilled to have such thoughtful and knowledgeable members to lead SID Tanzania during this challenging period."
“We need to provide a forum for individuals and institutions that are seeking long-term solutions to issues such as good governance, food security and agriculture and gender in development to name a few” he added.

Tanzania and developing countries need better infrastructure...
(Pic courtsey Full Shangwe blog)

On his appointment, the in-coming President thanked members for the honor to serve SID Tanzania. “More than ever, we need the kind of forum that SID provides for enhanced collaboration, informed debate, and a steady focus on learning and innovation. I look forward to working in these areas with other members.”
“My colleagues and I are committed to broadening the dialogue on crucial development issues and promoting effective economic growth for our people” said Kombo.

An advert in London's underground station to attract tourists in Kenya. Jambo means hello in Swahili...Jambo means business too. Pic by F Macha

Mr. Kombo succeeds His Lordship Chief Justice, Mohammed Chande Othman.
Founded in 1957, SID is an international association of individuals and organizations concerned with sustainable economic, social and political development. SID has over 3,000 individual and institutional members in 125 countries and over 65 local chapters worldwide, including in Tanzania.

The SID meeting in progress

For more information on SID Tanzania, contact:
June Warioba,
Tel: 0782/0655 004436
Email: sidtanzania@gmail.com
sidtanzania@yahoo.com

WAR ON MALARIA ON SPORAH SHOW

Recently youth idol Bongo Fleva artist Diamond from Tanzania made a small tour in the UK. Diamond's tour was produced by Urban Pulse Creative Media in Reading.

The aim was not the usual showbiz of Africans trying to make it in the West but raise awareness and funds to combat Malaria ....
Here organisers of the gig chat with Sporah TV show this Monday.

A DIFFERENT WORLD CUP...

Call it soccer, call it mpira, be it footsie or the "beautiful game" as the great Pele said. This year's championship in South Africa has a totally different feel. Not just for the noisy trumpets, the Vuvuzela (which remind one of thousand bee swarms)... Someone was saying because of the beleaguered continent; this is God's blessing. History. This is Africa's turn.

Many African players are now international stars making the sport more interesting; from Nkwako Kanu to Didier Drogba and Samuel Eto'o. Of course past world cup finals have featured African players but they have been in European and Latin American cities; nothing strange, a formality, almost. I think we have to thank Nelson Mandela; his aura , what his whole struggle represents. Rainbow colours...
MALIBUYEEEEE....!

MEET JAMAICAN PAINTER AKIWALI WALTERS

I first met Akiwali Walters at the Cologne railway station, Germany in 1987.
He and I hit it off immediately; he soon created a colourful mural for my stage performance which I used for many, many years.


Akiwali's famous painting " Drink"

Akiwali is a human factory, forever chuckling, your typical art troubadour; creating pictures as he moves, exhibiting them alone or with bands, musicians, poets, other artists, you name it. He goes everywhere: villages, towns, huge cities, schools, festivals, streets, concert halls, living rooms, by the river side, on bus stations, hippy camps, etc.
He has stories from all over the globe Japan, Ghana, Spain, UK...
Although this painter travels, sells and exhibits, he always goes back to Jamaica.
"Mih luv Jamaica..."
Is his motto...
Like the poet icon Mutabaruka, this Rasta believes in restoring your energy and creativity by keeping in touch with one's preferred surroundings. No wonder his spirits are always high, cheerful, vibrant,thoughtful, proud, original.
Check his paintings here

CHINUA ACHEBE : 50 YEARS SINCE FIRST NOVEL

..."Things fall apart;
The centre cannot hold
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”

With this quote from "Second Coming" by the Nobel Prize winning poet, William Butler Yeats,, Things Fall Apart, the first novel of Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe was published in 1958.
50 years ago.
When I was a sixteen year old back at Ilboru Secondary School that historical book was one of the few (the very first few) to have a profound impact on me. Mainly because we had a great teacher, Mama Victoria Chitepo exiled from Zimbabwe -who opened our eyes to literature, other parts of the world and what Achebe was trying to say. The story of Obi Okonkwo a village wrestler with a strong character who crumbles during the coming of the Europeans in Nigerian society really fascinated us.
I recall some of the more funny classmates like Albert Kanuya, a natural gifted comic (nowadays a consultant publishing editor in Dar es Salaam and still a humorous gentleman) jostling with Amalinze the Cat, one of the characters in the novel. We seemed to live in the book. It was like a real place for us.
When you are a teenager you just gulp, swallow and take in knowledge. When made possible (like it was thru Mama Chitepo) you have real, good fun.



...Playing music with classmates ( also great fans of Achebe's novels at the time) middle Rashid Othman and the late Mike Kiwelu in 1972. Pic by Emmanuel Yuda.

I was struggling to learn the guitar to express myself. My late father an extremely skilled musician had inspired and encouraged me (he and my mother recorded few songs at the same time Achebe was writing the said novel, in Mombasa, Kenya).
Yes.
I eventually read more writers dealing with similar themes and by late 1970's was working as a reporter and columnist. Come 1980’s now in my twenties I was composing music, writing songs and performing professionally with Sayari Band.
In 1985 I read Ngugi wa Thiong’o the Kenyan writer commenting about the ongoing Live Aid concert in London in 1985. He questioned whether charity was a solution to Africa's problems...
I had similar thoughts so I was suddenly inspired.
We were touring in Scandinavia with Sayari when I began writing “Song of Ethiopia.” I performed the song at a concert in Stockholm in memory of 100 years since the infamous Berlin Conference chaired by Emperor Otto Von Bismarck of Germany. It was this conference that initiated the scramble for Africa and colonialism in 1884.
Only now do I realise how Ngugi’s interview and Achebe’s "Things Fall Apart" indirectly influenced my lyrics. The sense of history, the fallacy of neo colonialism.
In 2000 I recorded “Song of Ethiopia” in Constipation.
This week a conference on Achebe’s novel fifty years anniversary is on at Brunei Gallery, SOAS in London. Kadija George is part of the organising which will feature various writers who like myself got touched by this eminent Nigerian.

FROM THE BOILING PAN INTO THE FIRE...

This month (of June) the respected broadcaster and writer Darcus Howe, impressed me with a short piece regarding teenage murders in his London’s The Voice, column (“Vex in the City”).
Giving an example of his recent holiday in the Caribbean he broadens the subject by citing youth killings in Trinidad, Barbados and Jamaica. As he returns to the UK headlines scream the same chilling problem(29 murderers so far in 6 months). YOUTH MURDERS ARE A GLOBAL PROBLEM, he reminds us.
“The Caribbean, Latin America and Africa have produced a mass of young men who have taken to killing each other like ducks to water…They are casualties of an increasingly globalised world that offers them nothing but a disconnection from values of the generation that preceded them.”
In other words values that we of past generations learnt (and still, luckily upheld) are out of reach with this feuding, green generation. Of course throughout history young men have had fights. But this is different. Children are scared. Parents are worried...in the old days there was honour, kids used fists; you defeat me, i accept; today it is about cemeteries. No winners.
Bad vibes. Full stop.

But what are the values that Darcus Howe is talking about?
Humility, respect, good manners; which youngsters learn via respective parents, religion, school and community education.
Today the young see (and have) more possibilities, opportunities and information yet lack stability (broken families); broken politics and role models some who are themselves, broken celebrities. Celebrities with ragged egos, drug addict entertainers, arrogant entertainers some so stupid that they happily pass their rubbish to these eager hero worshipping youngsters.
Remember the young fella with a hood, hanging pants and a sulk playing his loud music on his mobile phone in the bus which irritates you but you (impontently) cannot do anything? Not because you are scared of him (a baby) but of the law, the consequences of, lack of citizen's power, common sense...
One such "hanging pants" confessed to me. When he listens to rap music it (sometimes) makes him feel like ripping someone’s head off. In other words: Inspired Aggression. Negative Energy. Some of today's Pop Music has become substitute to that essential basic education. For good manners, good behaviour, etiquette, respect.
And hence.
You stare at me, I stab you.
You give me bad looks, I stab you and END your life.
You step on my foot, I KILL you.
That is one story.

The other is Aserma Dawitt.
A promising 15 year old school girl from Eritrea, in East Africa, killed in London beginning of June. Arsema was living with her mother and two siblings, having fled the fires of war in her homeland to find solace, peace, education and a possible future in Europe, but met her death in a lift of her flat(pictured above). Arsema was a remarkable student who went to church, devotedly. Ironically, it was in the same church that she met her 21 year old, killer who became obsessed with her.
The mother of the deceased criticised the police for not protecting her victim after informing them of the threats.
There are thousands stories to tell.
Loads.

Latest: Nkwazi's Thought Provoking Blog

Mhhh...
An interesting writer with alot to say about present African society.
I have just been reading his blog and find it extremely thoughtful and interesting. Ideas, views, thoughts and nail biting political analysis. Nkwazi Nkuzi Mhango calls his blog Free Thinking.

Some of you might have read his articles in This Day.
Check him out. You might learn a thing or two.
My favourite take on this guy's work is the balance between good language and catchy content.

Meet Gloria Mutahanamilwa and...

...Burning Zeal: a trait that assures Results…



One afternoon in 1983, I recall strolling down the hot, scorching, sunny streets of Dar es Salaam with Kassim Magati, piano player and composer of Sunburst (the first band to have popularised the contagious Kitoto rhythm). We were talking about the hell and rough times of living in the Third World.
“You have to have a burning zeal to keep on going in Africa…”
He quipped suddenly, chuckling, wiping the streaming sweat from his face.
I remember a lot about this guy but I will never forget his key phrase:
Burning Zeal.
I find those words a living formula even after Kassim passed away prematurely in 1994 while working in Botswana. Burning Zeal is a key signature, a rhythm, tempo, insignia that may be applied to any individual lighting the fire to improve lives, better the world, refresh buttons. Just like our blogging guest today; 35 year old, Gloria Mutahanamilwa. This unassuming, articulate, intelligent lady, lives in London where she is in the last stages of her Masters degree in media studies at the East London University.
So then, folks.
Meet Gloria.


A name that means honour, exaltation, worth of praise, adoration, worship, splendour (glory of a king’s reign), radiant beauty, extreme happiness, triumph, pleasure…
Why blog this mother of two? To answer that let us not forget to mention Gloria’s husband, Mr. Bakari Mnkondo. Not many males will “allow” a young wife to leave home in Africa; abandon two boys (aged six and two) and go overseas for a while. Gloria says of the remarkable Bakari: “He lets me rove and be creative…”
Behind every successful man there is a woman; behind every successful woman there is, equally, a good guy. So the saying goes.

For ten years Gloria Mutahanamilwa was nursing a dream.
Having finished her studies (high school, journalism) then compulsory one year national military service; and having worked in various newspaper (and stringed for Voice of America radio), in between winning Woman Sports reporter of the year award (1996); she began travelling worldwide in 1997 and was bothered by one thing.
Where is Tanzania?
“ Every time I introduced myself coming from this huge East African country, people would ask stupidly…Tasmania? Where is this Tasmania? It annoyed me that nobody knew Tanzania…”
But, let us ask ourselves. What is the purpose of publicising countries?
Why go to India? Why China? Great Wall? Why London or Jamaica? Dance to reggae? Cuba? Smoke cigars, listen to Castro? Why Brazil? Watch football, dance to Samba, and experience the carnival? People go to countries they have heard about and eventually fall in love with them. Gloria says Tanzania has so much to offer but is unknown.

Her dream to make Tanzania known burned her continuously for the next decade until she bumped into Jane Hughes (another remarkable lady) organising the Welsh Conwy Food Festival in October 2007.
Creating a vision needs a Burning Zeal…
“We are not USA or Japan. People do not know us. We need to publicise ourselves. Tanzania is not just Mount Kilimanjaro and Zanzibar. Not all foreigners want to come to Tanzania to see animals or climb mountains. Some want to eat or buy products. I usually go to Zanzibar to eat at Forodhani. Everyone has differing interests when they go somwhere…”

And how shall this be achieved?
“We need to sell the image of Buy Tanzania. Just like they have the Buy British slogan. We have a lot to show. We cannot rely on charity and begging.”
To win something, however, one has to knock doors…
For months Gloria made calls to ministries, companies, members of parliament, and you know what? No-one offered to help. Only two Tanzanian MP’s responded (Abdulkarim Shah of Mafia region) and Philip Marmo (currently Minister for Good Governance in President’s Office); who showed moral support. The rest never responded or gave positive comments. One Ministry official actually asked Gloria:
“Why not use the money you are spending phoning me up to buy yourself a shirt?”
Gloria responded that she wasn’t interested in a shirt but make Tanzania part of this international festival.
In the end she had to rely on herself, her family and a circle of friends.
Family love is very crucial in lighting these fires…
Gloria says she spent £4,800 which all came from her dear family and a list of friends and well wishers who we shall list below.
Her sister Jessica Mutahanamilwa travelled all the way from the USA a week before the Conwy event to give support. “The festival must happen…she kept encouraging,” Gloria recalls harrowing moments of despair, when she was even considering giving up.
A friend in need, is a friend, indeed…

Welsh band at the festival poses with Abu Faraji and Jessica (Gloria's sister). Pic by Gloria.
There were people with a heart. Like the Othman family. Saidi Yakubu Othman, blogged Gloria’s efforts long before the task was even known, going there, taking photos, and highlighting it.
Saidi Othman, designed her website, free of charge. It took a month, but it was worth it. One of the key phrases in the Gloria’s website is this statement about Tanzanian tradition:
HOSPITALITY IS CONSIDERED OF GREAT IMPORTANCE. EVEN IF ONE IS NOT HUNGRY TO REFUSE TO EAT WOULD BE AN INSULT…

Uli Kyusa leads a traditional South Tanzanian dance (Tunogele) played by Sam Mbogo drummers. Behind her, Justina Ngolle struts her thing while Gloria (far back waves a flag). (Pic by Jessica Mutahanamilwa).
And the Group of Twenty Five. These great 25 darlings travelled with Gloria to Conwy on October 27th and 28th. They helped with transport (Kora the unselfish driver), rent, logistics but most important, making food.
Zainab Makasala; Uli Kyusa from London, Justina Ngolle from High Wycombe, all cooked; while Sam Mbogo Troupe provided traditional drumming (ngoma) music.
Mrs. Rahma Rajab Nzeri spoke of Tanzania’s food etiquette at the festival. Plus others who helped in miscellaneous ways: Aunt Aggy,Ciddy Kikenya and Beatrice.
Not forgeting : Mwanaidi Mlolwa (of Tanzania Fisheries),Mr. Sumari and Asia Kizza- Mtambalike who travelled to Tanzania for resources.
Abu Faraji of TZUK.NETwas present throughout, including highlighting the festival on his website. According to Gloria two distinct individuals Abu Faraji and Mrs Rahma Rajab-Nzeri, gave a very important contribution that ensured the Tanzania Food and Culture 2007 happening.
Sylvester Chacha was a handy man; available for any DIY stuff.
Doctor Khoza from Hastings did not attend but offered some very unique advice…
Success stories.
Every consistent effort brings Rewards.
Gloria says they had only 20 Tanzanian flags to give away. Many people including children were keen to have those flags but were disappointed by their unavailability. So next time, give more flags to Gloria, Tanzanian Government.
There was the interesting story of the MBUZI.

Literally, mbuzi, (check picture above of Justina Ngolle with two eager fans); means, goat. But in Swahili, mbuzi, is not just an animal but also a gadget used to grate the coconut in so many tropical recipes. This act of grating coconut (to extract the milk) attracted the attention of many festival attendees.
IT was a success...
Gloria says they have been invited again next year( the festival will be on 25th and 26th Oct, 2008) ; hopefully there will be more support from higher quarters and sponsors.
Speaking about Gloria Mutahanamilwa, events organiser, Jane Hughes who has been living in Wales for three decades, says:
“Gloria is wonderful, dynamic, and enthusiastic. She is just the kind of person I was looking for…”
The said festival, by the way, won the Best Welsh Community Events Award this year.

Gloria being interviewed by a UK television crew.
(Pic by Jessica Mutahanamilwa)..

A Saturday Afternoon with Mariam...

This Weekend's Profile

Mariam has that "rare something" that photographers love. She does not have to pose or prepare for the shot.


Mariam's body, eyes, vibes, countenance, rhythm, manner and moods...all sink, swim and dance with the camera. She doesn't have to do anything. It is all there given to her by nature's creation. Light and shadows are her mates.



Mariam does not have to dress too much (it is like those folks who do not have to speak too much to prove they are right) She has that "hard to find" magic you see in the clouds; in a glass of milk, in dew, in trees, in your happiest hour; in someone's infectious jokes that make you laugh.
Something.
Do you remember the song?


And....

Mariam hails from Uganda, in East Africa surrounded by Lake Victoria. It is no wonder this place is called the pearl of Africa. A pearl is a unique gem.

African Youths visit UK

You know what?
They came.
Brought by the British Council.
Youths on a study tour.
I met them at Ramsay Hall, University of London, Thursday 23rd August, 2007.
British Council has always been at the forefront of education across the world. While still a young reporter in the 1970’s I used to benefit a lot reading global newspapers, borrowing rare- to- find film documentaries and even audio cassettes from the British Council Library in Dar Es Salaam. BC has always been an invaluable source of information, free of charge, clean, decent, accessible.

You know what?

You hardly see this angle living in the UK, however, it is those overseas, those studying (and struggling) who benefit. Historically, this world wide knowledge house was began in 1934 to propagate British values in a neutral sense. Just to give you an idea. You find BC in 233 cities and towns through 109 countries. It was awarded the Communications and Humanity Prize in 2005.
So they came.
They visited London.

I received a phone call from the African Community Partnerships (in New Cross, South London) to entertain with live music and poetry. Usual expectations. Prepare a few songs pluck in my guitar, get my Djembe drumming ready. A gig to entertain young people between 16 to 24. I had a repertoire of World Music songs plus rap tunes which I would drum along with fellow musician Gwang, of Kitoto Band. But….

You know what?
I was in for a shock.
It has become a worry.
Young people in hanging trousers, panties and bums peeping out; hoods, moods and attitudes. To entertain them is an uphill task, I am always doing it in schools and prisons. I have witnessed teachers being called the four letter word. I have seen teachers in tears. I have heard teachers wishing they had more powers…
My audience this evening was however, from Nigeria and Tanzania.
No sooner was I settled then these guys and girls were saying hello, shaking hands, asking to have a drum to accompany them, very communicative.

Hamis Kassim, (dancer-dramatist-singer), myself Blogger, Farida M. Ashu (stand-up comic), Michael Dalali(photographer),Sanyu the singer, dancer and poet (partly hidden) and footballer, Omary Wahabi.

They were so easy going; cheerful, so different from youths growing in the so called developed world. It was an eye opener. We spent hours singing, playing and dancing. Each of them had a specific talent. Here were dancers, dramatists, stand-up comics, poets. By the end of that Thursday evening in August, one thing slithered up my mind.
These might have been unusual, free spirited entertainers…but…
Young people are fun.

The news we consume of attitudes, guns, gangs, drugs, rebelliousness, knives and such negative stuff is only a small part of the equation. And something else. Youths from Africa can teach all of us, especially the youth here, in the Diaspora and Rich World, a thing or two. Fun, humility, respect, hope and what else? That being young is still the most beautiful thing… Not something we look at with exasperation, trepidation and fear each time we see hoods, sulky faces, hanging trousers, peeping knickers and smell whiffs of Ganja and skunk.





Felista Rugambwa or as she is known, Sanyu, from Tanzania recites her poem entitled "Africa"....

The two stand-up Nigerian comedians and storytellers, Stephen Oguntayinbo and Farida M. Ashu mesmerised everyone with their funny tales.

18 year old budding footballer, Omary Wahabi, told his audience how young people make their own balls out of recycled paper and rubbish. He has high hopes both for himself and Tanzania's Taifa Stars who are currently second to Senegal in Group 7 of the Africa Cup championships due to finalise in Ghana, January 2008.

London youths were represented through the creative and unassuming Jesse, who also presented a short play with his mates and benefited from the mutual educational exchange .

Plus some of the adults who had to see it all going according to plan.

Gerson Oloo (right) Director of African Community Partnership flanked by DJ and engineer, Eric Ochola, both from Kenya.

Musician and percussionist Gwang (Grenada) who accompanied me under the banner of Kitoto band.

Last but not least, to document the occassion through photos and video, Sam Jenkins from Kenya.

...BEFORE MANDELA THERE WAS MWALIMU NYERERE

A PHOTO FROM THE PAST
Nyerere in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil, June 1991...
Mwalimu Nyerere flanked by assistants, officials and bodyguards asking Freddy Macha about  life in Brazil. Pic by Vantoen Perreira...

When we speak of great Africans and role models, an image of a smiling Nelson Mandela with those troubled but noble, yet kind shining eyes, comes to mind. Nelson Mandela is the chap that everyone wants to take a photo with. Twenty six years in jail for sticking his tongue at racial hatred, then stepping out of jail, waving a hand, smiling, saluting the world, forgiving…
Before Nelson Mandela there was Julius Kambarage Nyerere.
But who is Nyerere?
Many do not recognise the name. Known in his time as "Mwalimu", which means teacher in Swahili, Nyerere was born in 1922 and while still at Makerere University, Uganda, at the tender age of 21, started an association for the improvement of Africans. Those were colonial days. Two years passed. He wrote an essay: “The Freedom of Women.”
His father, a tribal chief, had 22 wives. It was part of the “idea of moving towards freedom theoretically,” he told Dr. Ikaweba Bunting of the Internationalist magazine in one of his last major interviews in 1999.
On July 7th, 1954, Mwalimu Nyerere formed TANU which led Tanzania to independence. Here the idea of using Swahili as a unifying language was hatched and fundamental in keeping the peace as there are more than hundred tribes and languages in Tanzania. “The only tribalism that exists in Tanzania is teasing each other.” Nyerere would say in one of his speeches, decades later. Between all this he found time to translate two works of William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar and Merchants of Venice) to Swahili.

Yoruba's Talking Drums

Father and Son,
Busy on stage.
Father and Son playing the Doum Doum... Most of us know it as the West African “talking drum.”
Father and Son are Yoruba speaking.
Yoruba the language of Nigeria.
The language of the music called Afro Beat which the flamboyant musician Fela Kuti made so famous.
Father starts to teach the crowd a song...the song is easy. The Yoruba section of the audience, jubilantly, joins in. It is a count. I am told later it is a numbers songs called Iyeyewa. One to ten . Eni! Eji! Eta! Enrii! Anrun! Efaa! Ejee! Ejo! Eson! Ewaa!
As we chant the numbers Father and Son rumble on with their talking drums. The crowd loves it. After a while Father says his 9 year old Son will teach us a Yoruba song. The crowd is really grooving...
Now Father says Son will sing. Son says hello to the crowd. Crowd loves it. Son plays the Doum Doum.
Again.
Tell me.
What is a “Doum Doum”?
Before the mobile phone came, Africans had talking drums. They were means of communication. This is, seriously speaking, classical music...
A while passes and I am talking to the Son. His name is Ayanlakin...so proud of his drum and the guidance of dad, Mr. Ayan Ayandosu.

…and it got me thinking.

Where do you see Fathers and Sons celebrating life together these days? What with the current trend of our un-guided (and mis-guided) young males, not so pretty, large, menacing hoods, scowling (but innocent) faces, trousers hanging down thighs as if ready to do a pooh, (a big s...), any second...thinking it is heroic!
So far as we speak Nineteen young people killed by other young people in the UK, this year.
Sons need Fathers. To be a good man, a son needs his dad.
And there is nothing better than what i saw.
Where was this?
Barking. At the market by the railway station. East London.
Friday 17th August, 2007. You might have missed them but here they are.
If you want to hear good talking drums and are thinking of where to get one. You could hire Mr. Ayan Ayandosu and his son Ayanlakin. Phone (+44) 7956-482148.
Or (+44) 7960-877447.

I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

TEARS FOR DARFUR...

London, Thursday, 21st, June 2007.
The hall is quiet.
The only sound is music. Music is food. Except?
Apart from the ongoing music we are being confronted with gloomy slides. Wailing women. Dead children. Dead camels and cows. Burnt houses. Withered men. Displacement. Corpses. Non-fictitious horror.
The morbid and inhuman face of Darfur.
You can hear him playing different instruments, saying nothing; the photographs speak loud and clear. This is the work of Ahmed Rahman a gifted musician from Sudan. See him in action, above, photo taken by Anne Marie Biscombe.Rahman was part of a whole array of writers and artists invited to perform at the Human Rights Centre in East London on this special Thursday in June put together by Jennifer Langer of Exiled Writers Ink! An organisation of refugee and immigrant writers. Her own family was expunged by the Nazis during the Second World War.

He was driving while Texting!

let us talk about cell phones and mobile phones and driving...

I am in a bus.
A few minutes ago I boarded this huge monster in Dar es Salaam. Dar Es Salaam, the commercial capital of Tanzania means “harbour of peace” in Arabic.
I remember how touts invaded us as we rolled towards the bus station with suitcases and bags. It was something resembling safari ants attacking a fresh carcass of meat. These guys get a cut (“baksheesh”) as long as they get more riders. There are so many buses to choose and so the touts help sorting out the traveller’s mind.
And it is not just touts. Numerous guys sell you ice cream, sweets, cashew nuts, magazines even novels by the famous British author, James Hadley Chase. Now these Chase books are another interesting “globalisation” wonder. Today you don’t find Chase novels in Europe anymore. But a company based in India is publishing and shipping them to Africa. Once in London I was fishing around a second hand bookshop and the owner quipped:
“Used James Hadley Chase books? As soon as they come they are gone. They never last. It is mostly Africans who buy them…”
“Why don’t they print them anymore?”
“I don’t know.”
James Hadley Chase novels were popular back in the 1970’s. Chase (real name Rene Brabazon Raymond) who died in 1985 is a gripping writer who holds you through brilliantly plotted fast moving heart churning crime stories.
His books are plenty at these bus stations…
Cut to a few hours later.
The bus is speeding. Not only speeding, the driver is overtaking anywhere, be it a corner or a dangerous hill. I am thinking this might be my last day. In rich countries it is recommended that drivers rest after every two hours. Ours has gone non-stop for at least five.
The longest resting time is hardly more than three minutes.
I am especially sympathetic to the women who have it worse. We halt at some village. Men stroll out and piss by the road. The few ladies who manage a quick pee have to physically run to whatever available acacia bushes. But the shrubs are hardly large enough to give them any privacy. That is not the problem, however.
The impatient driver is already blowing the horn his itching foot on the accelerator pedal.
Meaning, the rumbling vehicle is never switched off. Smell of diesel and engine oil becomes part of our travelling oxygen. And then comes the theme of this story.
Somewhere along the route going at eighty kilometres per hour, the driver decides to send a text message.
His eyes dart between the road and his deftly held cell phone. I am thinking, here I am, in a sprinting bus wearing no seat belt my life in the hands of a lunatic who doesn’t care whether we will crash or not. Funny how, despite the lack of crucial safety seat belts nobody in the bus seems worried at all. It is as though, were death to occur, it would be acceptable and expected. And that is what I found to be appalling and sad about our contemporary African psyche. People have come to accept the saga of death. The macabre, sombre, morbid , grim nature of this saga is shocking. It reminded me of the expression you hear in Kiswahili all the time in Tanzania:
Watu wanamalizika kama nzi siku hizi!
(people are dying like flies nowadays)
That people are dying and death is common in a peaceful country (not Afghanistan or Iraq) is extraordinary. This is supposed to be a land re-known for never having fought any major war since the Maji Maji rebellion of 1905-1907!
A hundred years of peace…in a continent filled regular civil strife.
On a journey from Arusha to Dar Es Salaam I luckily find “Royal Buses” the only bus company with safety seat belts. It costs double the price. Not only is Royal comfortable (with air-condition, self contained toilets and music), it’s driver observes speed limits, the attendants are friendly and free drinks, offered. Despite complaints of regular users that Royal’s toilets are not as clean as they used to be (stank of urine) and that drinks are few; “Royal” is the only bus with foreign passengers and tourists. Around the country low income folk moan this particular fleet travels too slow; their “fees are too high.”
Meaning to be safe in Africa you must have money!
Grave yards have become part of the Tanzanian landscape and within that scenario the accepted outlook on life. Recently East African statistics tell us life expectancy (including that of Kenya) has dropped to 44 years for males and 46 for females while Ugandans have risen to 52 years. In an era of progress, where people communicate faster and eat better, life should also be better. In the old days our ancestors, who walked and drank sugar cane juice instead of Fanta and bottled beer lived longer. My great grand father Abraham Macha died aged 95 years old in 1935. He had 52 children. Those were the days with no speeding buses, petrol stations, chicken and chips with chemical filled tomato ketch-up.
Those were the days of our ancestors …they had certain fundamental secrets, that we need digging and exhuming.

-Abridged from the Tanzanian Guardian March, 2007.
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