The Wayward Press

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[the-waywardpress]

On the day of the Dar es Salaam Derby, the city cleaves into two distinct clans. People don either Simba SC's famous red and white or Yanga's yellow and green. Street corners sprout flagpoles carrying the teams’ logos, marking a neighbourhood's affiliation. Cars fly banners signaling their drivers’ allegiance. The flag with the majestic lion is Simba; the torch superimposed on a map of Africa is Yanga. On match day, there is no such thing in Dar as a neutral.

[the-waywardpress]

@Mgahawa

For the past few weeks, this blog has been less prolific than normal. This is partly to do with the fact that during that time I have been producing and hosting a news review show called @Mgahawa that airs every Sunday at 1.30pm on the regional channel East Africa Television. Here is a sneak peak of one of our episodes:

In due course, I'll get back to posting here more regularly but until then please tune in to @Mgahawa and let us know what you think.

For more highlights from previous episodes, please go here: http://www.youtube.com/user/snapfilmskenya

[the-waywardpress]

NEWS ANALYSIS: The President, Mining and The Rise of Populism

         By Omar Mohammed

In late February, President Jakaya Kikwete of Tanzania gave a speech to mining sector stakeholders that caused a mighty uproar in the press. Speaking at Dar es Salaam’s Kilimanjaro Hyatt Hotel to launch the Presidential Award on the Extractive Industry Corporate Social Responsibility and Empowerment (CSRE) programme, the president was quoted as saying, ‘it’s disappointing to see some mining investors want to benefit alone… leaving the government and surrounding communities with nothing.’

According to published reports, President Kikwete told industry attendees that the lack of apparent benefits to local communities is a problem that, ‘triggers endless conflicts...between investors and residents living around the mining areas.’

‘If companies pay taxes that are due to the state… they will have good relations with the government,’ he added. In a tone that was described by one newspaper as ‘serious,’ he called for the creation of better linkages between the industry and other economic activities in the country. He said he was baffled by reports that mining companies choose to import goods from abroad that can be easily found in the country. “People… ask, “what do we get in return? Our gold is taken, companies have tax holidays and exemptions, [yet] they don’t even buy our goods or support us economically,”’ he said.

The speech and its perceived critical tone, especially, was unexpected. Reading the coverage, one would have been forgiven for mistaking the president’s comments for the kind of rhetoric usually associated with activists campaigning against perceived misdeeds by the mining sector. Mr. Kikwete was not only co-opting their message but in many ways he sounded like he was channeling their anger.

Meanwhile, the way the story unfolded in the media showed how narratives about the sector evolve and enter the public discourse. It began with the president giving what the media interpreted as a critical speech about the industry, which was then echoed by an incendiary press who amplified it to their readers who will, with complaints to public officials, in turn reinforce the anti-mining sector arguments. The storyline seemed to subscribe to the now familiar trope of “foreign investors unbridled in their plundering of our resources while local communities benefit little from what is rightfully theirs.” That’s the narrative that dominated Tanzania’s newspapers and airwaves.

However, in the media coverage that followed, conspicuous in their absence were voices from the mining sector explaining or offering an alternative perspective. But a couple of weeks after the President's speech, the industry body, the Tanzania Chamber of Minerals and Energy, granted me an e-mail interview, presenting a different narrative to the one carried in the press earlier in the month. 

Mining and its contributions to the economy

The chamber strongly disputed what they termed as an ‘outdated characterisation’ of the industry, arguing that mining is ‘driving socio-economic development both in Tanzania and across the African continent.’ While they disagreed with the media’s spin, saying that reading the speech in its entirety would show how supportive of the sector President Kikwete is, they were also quick to emphasize what they believe are significant contributions mining brings to Tanzania’s economy. 

On the issue of taxes, for instance, TCME points out that their members paid over US$150 million (Tsh 250 billion) in taxes in 2010 alone. Furthermore, they argue, ‘total taxation from the life cycle of the five main producing companies in Tanzania are estimated to reach almost US$3.5 billion in total.’ 

As to the question of whether there exists linkages between the sector and the country’s overall economy, TCME calls attention to the activities of one of its biggest member, African Barrick Gold (ABG). The chamber says ABG currently employs 9,200 people whose wages amount to US$148 million, a chunk of which, they argue, drives spending in the local economy. 

In 2009, for example, the chamber argues, ‘through employment, taxes, royalties, and local procurement, roughly 70% of African Barrick Gold’s revenue was retained in the Tanzanian economy.’ They also point to ABG’s community development spending, which, they say, through its ‘Maendeleo Fund’ ‘provides US$10 million annually…to support communities [surrounding] the mining areas.’ In addition to this, TCME claims that ABG, ‘spent more than a half a billion dollars purchasing goods and services in 2010 of which 59% were made in Tanzania.’ All this, they say, demonstrates just how ingrained in the economy modern mining firms are.

If these figures are indeed true, why is it then that the mining sector is a target of so much suspicion and vitriol? 

'Mining firms need to do better'

Some industry observers complain that the absence of easily available information about the sector has created a perception, justifiable or not, that mining companies are too secretive, which then feeds into the idea that they have something to hide.

‘Secrecy surrounding financials and taxes in the mining sector exacerbate the views expressed by the President,’ says Zitto Kabwe MP (Chadema – Kigoma North), the Deputy Leader of the Opposition in Parliament and the Shadow Minister of Finance.

His colleague, January Makamba MP (CCM - Bumbuli), the Chairman of the Parliamentary Committee on Energy and Minerals, shares this view and says that at the moment, ‘the asymmetry of information favour[s] these companies.’ Both parliamentarians agree that when it comes down to it, Tanzanians simply want to see their country get a fair share from their natural resources. 

‘These figures are indeed impressive,’ says Mr. Makamba, commenting on the TCME numbers, before adding, ‘but only if we do not consider what could be possible.’ For example, he points out that in 2010, the mining sector contributed 2.8 percent to Tanzania’s GDP and employed about 14,000 people. However, Mohammed Enterprises, a local family owned company that deals with manufacturing and distribution of goods and services, among other things, and a relatively small business compared to the majority of mining companies operating in the country, reportedly contributes 3 percent to GDP and employs about 24,000 people. Therefore, in Mr. Makamba’s view, ‘the extractive industries [need to be] a little bit more integrated into the broader economy.’

When looking at the sector’s tax contribution, Mr. Kabwe argues that this too could be improved. ‘Taking the proportion of the taxes companies are paying to total export of minerals, you will realize that the government receives peanut[s], around 13% only,’ he says. Furthermore, Mr. Kabwe argues that most of the taxes mining companies pay do not originate from the companies but come out of employees’ pay cheques. ‘It is true that mining companies pay various taxes. However, most of these…are originating not from companies, but, for example, [from] employees’ [Pay As You Earn] taxes and companies are simply collecting agents,’ he says. 

Semkae Kilonzo, Coordinator at Policy Forum, an umbrella civil society organisation with a networked membership of over 100 NGOs in Tanzania, says that doubts about mining companies’ contribution to the economy stem from a perceived lack of transparency. On the TCME figures, Mr. Kilonzo argues that, ‘these are aggregated figures, and by their very nature, [are] open to contestation as they are not easily verifiable,’ adding, ‘it is difficult to tell whether a country is getting a fair deal or not.’

Just like Mr. Kabwe, Mr. Kilonzo insists that the way to remove doubts about the sector is to make all payments and contracts public. ‘Secrecy creates public discontent and mistrust of mining companies of which populist leaders are compelled to react to.’ Consequently, without an open and honest dialogue, ‘that discontent is bound to continue,’ argues Mr. Kilonzo. 

Politics versus Economics

But the chamber says it wants to hear from those critical of the sector and is interested in listening to what they have to say. ‘We want to be able to engage in a dialogue that will help us to better understand the concerns and needs of our stakeholders,’ they say. 

At the moment, though, that conversation is struggling to take place. It seems like the politics of mining, and the extractive industries in general, are drowning out any sensible and dispassionate look at the economics of the industry. 

One political analyst, who spoke on condition of anonymity so he could comment candidly on the issue, says one should not ignore the recent flurry over oil and gas explorations in the country in looking at the broader debate over the extractive industries. ‘The anti-mining sentiment is in anticipation of the negotiations and contracts that will be issued once the liquid natural gas exploitation begins,’ he says, before adding, ‘people don’t want to get screwed over again, like they believe they were with the mining sector.’ 

So, it appears that, once again an economic debate finds itself taking a backseat to political tactics. ‘Perhaps the President is hedging, anticipating a long but losing battle with the various parties that will be involved regarding oil and gas,’ says the analyst.

For his part, Mr. Makamba suggests that while politicians are justified in responding to the general public’s sentiments that Tanzania should get more from these investments, they need to be careful they don’t veer too far into populism, which in the end could stifle ways in which the government and the sector can work together for mutual benefit. ‘I think that the characterisation that mining investors “want to benefit alone” may be a bit harsh,’ he says.

Mr. Makamba urges people to put things in perspective. ‘It is common to hear people and politicians complain that we have abundant natural resources but we are still poor, that we have “sold” our country away, and so forth. But the fact is that we have explored only about 15 percent of our potential mineral resources.  You can’t have minerals under the surface and claim to be rich.’ 

At the same time, it is unclear whether mining companies appreciate the political dynamics at play in the country. Tanzania, after all, is a former socialist country and that spirit and its accompanying suspicion of private enterprise still retains a powerful hold on the country’s politics.  

TCME are at pains to explain how the industry and the government need to work together to make sure the benefits of mining are clearly understood by all. But observers argue that the sector needs to be more proactive and open in articulating what its contributions to the economy are. 

‘As a social democrat I share some of the views expressed by “wananchi” but leaders must inform people that [a] market economy that cares for the poor is possible,’ Zitto Kabwe says. He argues that transparency in payment of royalties and taxes would go a long way towards ameliorating the negative perceptions the public holds over the industry. ‘Once people see real benefits of [the] mining sector, they will definitely change their minds.’

(Photo: President Jakaya Kikwete speaking at the launch of the Presidential Award on the Extractive Industry Corporate Social Responsibility and Empowerment (CSRE) on 29th February 2012. via Habari) 

A version of this article appeared in The Citizen

[the-waywardpress]

Which April, Kanumba?

      By Erick Kabendera

The news of Steve Kanumba's sudden death seemed like a fictitious scene from a horror movie; you see a character dying but your instincts remind you that it's just a movie and that the actor is still alive in actual life.

Unfortunately, the case of Kanumba is different; he is dead. And such a bitter truth may take a long time for the family and fans of the actor to come to terms with the fact that the young man who worked so hard to achieve success in his acting career had his life cut short before his full potential could be realized.

I rarely interact with local actors. But last month I found myself in the company of Mr. Kanumba, arguably this country's most charming actor. As the news of his untimely death reached me today, it made me remember a scene which led to that first encounter with him a few weeks.

His childhood friend, Bongo Flava artist Haji Nurah told him a journalist wanted to see him, and he agreed, and chose our meeting to take place at Sinza Vatican one chilly Friday evening.

Upon arriving there, we drove through a small path and finally parked in front of a moderately luxurious house where three cars, a Lexus and two others, were parked.

“They are all Kanumba's,” Nurah slowly whispered.

We were invited into the living room, which was neatly decorated with silver ornaments and white painted walls and well placed curtains with a comfortable sofa set. The elegant space gave an impression one sees reflected in the perfectionism that characterised his movies, his fans tell me.

After waiting for ten minutes, a young man emerged from a room in shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. His face bared a sad smile and he seemed slightly unsettled.

The night before, he had had a slight car accident and a fight with his girlfriend. He chose not reveal who the lady was.

From what I read in gossip newspapers about how people of Mr. Kanumba's caliber enjoy Dar es Salaam's night life, especially on weekends, I was slightly surprised to find him indoors. He said that the previous night's complications had made him switch off his mobile phones. As I scanned the room, it probably also moved him to take a few sips from one of the empty whisky bottles we saw lying on a dining table and sleep.

Before I was officially introduced to him, he politely told me how he was frustrated with fame but was struggling to cope with the reality that it was something he couldn't escape.

He said that most texts he received on a daily basis were from people begging for money and those he encountered at social gatherings would unjustifiably ask for a free drink even if he was meeting them for the first time. 

“It is frustrating,” he said gloomily and added, “It is something I have recently learnt to control otherwise I will not make any headway as an actor if I choose to dish out money to everyone.”

One of the tactics he was employing in order to stay away from such people was to remain indoors or travel. He told me of some lucrative acting deals he had secured in Accra, Ghana and Lagos, Nigeria.

I asked him what he thought his increasing base of supporters would feel now that he has decided to estrange himself from them?

“No”, he responded. He told me that he had recently bought a Blackberry so he can stay connected with his fans on social media.

I must confess that I wasn't a keen supporter of his movies or of other African actors before I met him but two hours into our conversation I started feeling guilty about my dismissive attitude to such movies, that they were of low quality and started to realize that this type of thinking does a disservice to ambitious young Tanzanians like him.

I apologized to him but he brushed it off and said I wasn't alone; most people he had met felt the same, that local movies were unprofessional and their content lacked substance. He went on to suggest that it was upon those in the industry to prove their critics wrong.

But he sounded grateful of what he had achieved, not only materially but he felt that he had made the Tanzanian film industry more respectable.

When he ventured into acting a few years ago, he never expected life would turn out as successfully as it had. After all, he said, he started acting when most people viewed the profession as meant for people who had failed in life and that there was very little hope for most actors and actresses.

We talked until about 8pm when his brother, whom he lived with, hinted that a mechanic who had been repairing his bruised Lexus had brought the car and was demanding Tsh 700,000. This is when I realised that we had yet to talk about why I had asked for a meeting with him.

As we were winding down our conversation, he told me that he was jealous that his friend  Haji Nurah had managed to juggle studies and music and had finally earned his degree in Information Technology.

“I must also go back to school soon,” he said.

As he walked me out he asked me if we could get together after my forthcoming trip abroad. I nodded in agreement and proposed that we meet the first week of April.

When I returned nearly a week ago, I planned to call him on Saturday, to ask him if we could get together on Monday for drinks. That was before the news of his untimely death announced itself on social media.

Erick Kabendera is a freelance journalist with The Times of London and Africa Confidential. He has written for The (British) Independent, The (Tanzania) Guardian and The Citizen. He lives and works in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.

(Photo: The late Steve Kanumba. Via Jestina George)

[the-waywardpress]

TEDxDar 2011: The Review

My article on last November's TEDxDAR and the global phenomenon of TED is now up over at VijanaFM. Here is a little teaser: 

In 2009, to open TED up even more, the 'principals' introduced a new concept: TEDx. These events, while still retaining the spirit of a TED conference, would be independently organized. “It wasn’t clear at all that it would work,” Chris Anderson, the curator of TED, who bought it from Mr. Wurman in 2002 for his non-profit organization The Sapling Foundation, told The New York Times. “How do you avoid damaging the TED brand? Can you package TED in a box?”, he asked.

Rather than damage the brand, the introduction of TEDx has globalised it. Since 2009, there have been thousands of TEDx events across the globe. In East Africa, there was TEDxKibera two years ago and every three Saturdays a month, at TEDxCinemaNairobi, attendees watch TEDTalks on a big screen and discuss what they’ve seen.  

And in 2010, TEDx came to Dar es Salaam.

The inaugural TEDxDAR proved a hit. The theme of 'What Would Nyerere Do?' resonated with attendees and provoked wide-ranging discussions in the blogosphere. But this year’s TEDxDAR is when the event truly came to its own.

To read more, please go here. 

(Photo: The National Theatre stage as it looked during the 2011 TEDxDAR event. By Rosie Marie)

[the-waywardpress]

Hi there, thanks for this wonderful post. I am an American who has lived in Tanzania for a total of 6 months and I deeply love this "imaginary notion" of the nation of Tanzania, because of the memories I formed there, the friends I love, and the cultural identity that was in part shaped by Nyerere's efforts through the Ministry of Youth and Culture and Radio Tanzania Dar-es-Salaam. I am currently raising money to digitize and publicize the Radio Tanzania archives. I'd love to connect with you m

Thanks for reading. You can get in touch via email, oa.mohammed [at] gmail [dot] com. 

[the-waywardpress]

Tanzania at 50

As we get closer to 9th of December, the day that will mark Tanzania's semi-centennial, I have been thinking a lot about the nature of patriotism and what it means to be a nationalist. What does love of country mean? Why should one feel pride at being an accidental part of an abstraction? And finally, what does it mean to belong to this 'thing' called Tanzania? 

The more I reflect on these questions, the more I find myself going back to the English writer George Orwell's seminal piece, 'Notes on Nationalism'. Orwell published the essay while his country was in the midst of the second World War. It was a time of great moral crises and, as is usually the case in those moments in history, one cannot help but think deeply about what it means to be part of a side. And for Orwell, defining what it means to be British and be part of Britain, was one crucial way of grappling with the uncertain times of his age. He wrote:

[Nationalism is] the habit of identifying oneself with a single nation or other unit, placing it beyond good and evil and recognising no other duty than that of advancing its interests. Nationalism is not to be confused with patriotism. Both words are normally used in so vague a way that any definition is liable to be challenged, but one must draw a distinction between them, since two different and even opposing ideas are involved. By ‘patriotism’ I mean devotion to a particular place and a particular way of life, which one believes to be the best in the world but has no wish to force on other people. 

I have always found it uncomfortable to root my sense of identity with the mythical narrative of a nation. And yes, I am suggesting that the concept of a nation is always imagined and is fueled and made vivid by myths. I have tended to define myself in patriotic terms, as Orwell conceived it, finding expression of who I am in individual expressions of identity, styles of being and a very personal sense of existence. This sense of who I am has roots, I believe, in a vaguely Tanzanian, but not exclusive to it, sensibility of 'Upwani'.

What does this mean? For me the Tanzanian 'Upwani' identity can be found in its food, language, music and general style of being. When I lived in Britain, whenever I would say to friends that I missed 'Tanzania' what that meant to me was I yearned for the comfort of 'chapati na njegere', 'halwa', 'Taarab', the particular lilt of Kiswahili that can only be found amongst the Pwani peoples, its playfulness and its almost always flirtatious pitch. This is what defines my Tanzanian-ness. And I forever will love and feel devoted to this sense of being Tanzanian.

My sense of patriotism does not mean that I see no value in a country having its sense of collective nationalism, a unifying vision of what it means to be a part of it. Right now, our country finds itself at a moment of transition and great uncertainty. Our politics lacks a sense of direction or grand ideological vision anchoring us forward. Our leaders seem to be making it up as they go along. Our knowledge of our history is fragmented and rooted in skewed nostalgic visions of the past. Our cultural identity is confused, informed more by foreign forms than any sense of a local aesthetic. To be a contemporary Tanzanian at the moment is to be a person of great potential unclear about what the future holds for him.

But I feel that we have hit a critical mass. What form this awareness will take is still unclear to me. What I am certain about is on Friday, the 9th of December, as we rightly celebrate this momentous day, let us take a moment and reflect on what is Tanzania and what it means to be a part of this nation. The answer to this question will be a crucial first step towards shaping our country's next fifty years.

(Photo: PRESIDENT Jakaya Kikwete hands the Uhuru Torch to the Chief of Defence Forces  General Davies Mwamunyange, in Dar es Salaam on Thursday. General Mwamunyange will in turn give the torch to a team of soldiers who will hoist it atop Mount Kilimanjaro in a replay of a similar exercise that took place 50 years ago when Tanzania Mainland gained independence. By State House via the Daily News)

[the-waywardpress]

Kumbikumbi, Kisamvu and Lazy Journalism

By Edgar Masatu

                         On Monday the 28th of November, John Maratu reporting for ITV (Tanzania) evening news, as always in his flamboyant signature italic voice, reported that an unnamed supplier had failed to deliver food aid to a district in Mara as per the said supplier's contract with the Government of Tanzania. He alleged that due to failure of delivery by the supplier, the intended recipient had resorted to eating Ugali, Kisamvu and Kumbikumbi. The report featured a local authority official who conceded that the supplier had been tasked to deliver 4 tonnes and had so far had only managed to send 2 tonnes.

I must at this point declare that I am a huge fan of both Kisamvu and Kumbikumbi. In fact, at the moment, I am struggling to secure a supplier who can reliably deliver this wonderful delicacy to in Dar es Salaam.

Kisamvu, and indeed Kumbikumbi, are, to the best of my knowledge, part of the Lakezone palette, and, actually, Tanzania in general. Suggesting that they are only used as a fall-back position is both a fallacy and lazy journalism. 

In my opinion, the story should have focused on why the supplier had failed to deliver the contracted food aid. Furthermore, Mr. Maratu should have not only interogate the causality of this but also investigate why the district could not feed itself from the get go, the future implications and may be even speculate on plausible solutions.

But Mr. Maratu did none of those things. Instead he resorted to simplistic generalizations that not only insulted the people of Mara but made him look like a fool. It was a sad day for television journalism.

Edgar Masatu is a Tanzanian Political Scientist and Marketing Communications Consultant, with a major thing for Liverpool FC, Writing and the Arts.

(Photo: Kisamvu in a silver bowl, via FashionDesign-Liphi)

[the-waywardpress]

TEDxDAR: The Afternoon Edition

It was a mixture of big ideas, personal narratives and activism.

What is your big idea, asked January Makamba, the Bumbuli CCM member of parliament. 'Mine is SAMENESS', Mr. Makamba told the audience at TEDxDAR. 

What did he mean?

Tanzania has a young and growing population. However, the country is becoming increasingly divided along class lines. Data tell us that a typical Tanzanian is a 17 year old young woman who lives in the rural areas. Zawadi, as Mr. Makamba named her, is most likely a farmer, under-educated, doesn't own a mobile phone, walks everywhere, will marry at 19 to a man who is at least 5 years older, have a baby at 19.5.

But how many in the audience can identify with Zawadi, asked Mr. Makamba. Not many.

A typical TEDxDAR attendee lives in an urban setting. Vanessa, as Mr. Makamba called her, is guaranteed a university education, probably drives her own car, has multiple mobile phones, will likely work a non-farm job, will get married at 23 to a man at least two years older, have a first child at 23.5.

Majority of Tanzanians are more like Zawadi than they are like Vanessa. And trends suggest that Vanessa will continue to get richer while Zawadi is becoming poorer.

That is the state of the way we live now. 

Mr. Makamba then asked another question: How possible is it for Zawadi to get to Vanessa's level? And, in the larger scheme of things, is that even desirable?

'My presentation has been about consumption,' declared Mr. Makamba (You can find a copy of the presentation here). At the core of his talk lies this question: how can we achieve economic development for Zawadi and others like her without exhausting our resources? After all, the elevation of her standard of living will mean an increase in her consumption power. She will need more energy (electricity, fuel), water, food, demand a better education and all the luxuries currently enjoyed by the Vanessa's of this world. What will happen when the poor 80% come to enjoy similar lifestyles of the rich 20%? Will it be sustainable? Can we achieve economic development without exhausting our resources? Will SAMENESS actually destroy us?

This is the profound ethical question that Mr. January Makamba posed at TEDxDAR. Zinjanthropus's spirit connects us all. It is what makes us all, despite our diversity, the same. But to return to that original state of SAMENESS, we may destroy ourselves. Food for thought the audience will do well to ponder.

Creativity is subversive

'[We are] the only country in the world that believes you increase education by reducing books.' This sobering conclusion about the state of Tanzania's educational system was delivered by Mr. Richard Mabala, a writer and former teacher. In a sustained critique that was interrupted several times by raucous applause, he bemoaned what he termed the death of the imagination in our public schools.

'We all start with creativity,' he said. Unfortunately, the way children are taught in this country stifles creativity rather than cultivate it. Sciences are deemed to be worthier endeavors than the arts. But for Mr. Mabala, 'how can you imagine a new science, if you don't have imagination?'

Schools are not the only ones undervaluing the creative arts, Mr. Mabala said. Parents, too, tend to look at literature, for example, as a less valuable pursuit. Mr. Mabala related an anecdote to illustrate this point. He once met a guy at a bar who was familiar with his work. The gentleman, while an admirer, complained that Mr. Mabala's books were too expensive and kept asking for a discount all the while buying him one beer after another. 

Furthermore, children are forced to conform to what, he called, 'the tyranny of the message.' The question of what is it good for dogs young people whenever they attempt to do things that go against the grain. Education is viewed entirely in Utilitarian terms, suggested Mr. Mabala. 'The beauty of storytelling, [for example] the beauty of language is unfortunately reduced to the simplistic of 'what we learn' from stories,' he said.

The root of this creative stagnation, Mr. Mabala argued, can be traced back to this proclamation by the late Mwalimu Nyerere's: 'Education is the transmission of knowledge and skills from one generation to the next.' This is a conservative intellectual worldview that rewards conformism and punishes creativity, said Mr. Mabala.

Mr. Mabala also touched on the issue of language. Teaching kids in a language they don't understand kills of creativity, he said. Having a primary education taught in Kiswahili and then change the mode of instruction to English at secondary level is unnecessarily confusing. 'Japan do not study in English but they are one of the leaders in technology,' said Mr. Mabala.

Mr. Mabala was preaching to the choir and he certainly got them singing. But his talk lacked any big idea to change the status quo. His suggestion that we abolish schools and replace them with community center was unrealistic and lacked the seriousness the subject demanded.

Following Mr. Mabala were two personal narratives that demonstrated the sense of what is possible through perseverance and dogged determination.

'Better to be a pilot than the pretty attendant'

Susan Mashibe, challenged stereotypes of what a woman can aspire to in the aviation industry. 'I once saw off my parents  who [were] flying to Dar es Salaam. I was sad and it was then than I thought if I became a pilot they will never leave me,' she said.  

At 19, Miss Mashibe got her opportunity and travelled to the US to pursue her ambition. For her it was always 'better to be a pilot than the pretty attendant.' However, Miss Mashibe struggled. Her English was poor to the extent that she was compelled to take a leave of absence from her classes to better improve her language skills (an interesting counterpoint to Mr. Mabala's insistence to have the mode of instruction in schools be in Kiswahili). While learning English, Miss Mashibe also studied aircraft maintenance. She became an engineer. It was her work as a aircraft maintenance engineer that came to finance her flight training.

Upon graduating, she was ready to start a career as an airline pilot. But the 9/11 attacks sent the US aviation industry into a tailspin and in the process curtailed her dream. Rather than wait, she came back to Tanzania and founded TanJet, a corporate aviation firm and Kilimanjaro Aviation Logistic Center, which processes clearances for private jets throughout Africa. Her companies contribute over half a billion Tshs in corporate taxes.

But she hasn't stopped there. A very active philanthropist, Miss Mashibe mentors and also sponsors her old school.

Recently, she was chosen to be a World Economic Forum Young Global Leader and in August, The East African named Miss Mashibe one of its 43 most influential women in the region. 

The story of Miss Mashibe is compelling in the Tanzanian context in its unabashed promotion of private sector success. At a time of continuing Nyerere nostalgia and a clamoring for the golden days of Ujamaa, this was refreshing and, yes, inspiring.  

The romanticisation of Nyerere also took a hit in John Stephen Akhwari's talk. The former marathoner's personal story of his life as a sportsman in 1960s-70s Tanzania conjured up a vivid narrative of life in that era. The Mikocheni Report does a good job of summarizing his talk: 

[Mr.] Akwari...finished a marathon in spite of his injuries during the 1968 Olympics. [Asked by reporters why he continued running even though he was hurt] he said, 'My country did not send me to Mexico to start the race. They sent me to finish it." Just about anyone can start a race and anyone can be a winner. But to finish the world's most difficult footrace on principle, with a torn up knee? That's a whole other level of grit. We just don't make them like this anymore*.

His life makes for a good story, but I realized that the first few statements sum it up completely: one of 16 children, he was sent to school because he hated herding cattle and simply wouldn't. Stubborn kid. Look where it got him: a lifetime of sports, comptition, and the kind of feat that reminds us that once upon a time being an Olympian required something that no amount of sport science can help you with.

One little anecdote from Mr. Akhwari stood out for me. Here is VijanaFM recounting of it: 

One of the startling stories [Mr. Akhwari] told us was that he won a check for $1000 for a competition held in Greece. Upon return to Tanzania he had a photo shoot with the then Minister of Sports & Cultural affairs where he held up the check in front of the camera. As soon as the photo shoot was over the Minister grabbed the check and told John to visit him the next day. John out of respect did not make a fuss and decided to return the next day. The minister refused to return the check and even after repeated attempts at talking to the Minister himself and through others he was unsuccessful ,the money disappeared.

This was in 1963, two years after independence. So for all those out there going on about the golden age of Tanzania, it turns out that the good old days, weren't, really. 

The last two talks came from activists. Leila Sheikh, a researcher and self-proclaimed feminist. discussed the issue of sex workers in Tanzania. The theologian and journalist Evans Rubaru provided a forceful critique of the mining industry. Taha Jiwaji over at VijanaFM has a concise write-up of their presentations.

The day ended with a lovely performance by the legendary Taarab Singer, Bi Kidude. Accompanied by the Bagamoyo-based guitarist Ashimba, Bi Kidude delivered wonderful acoustic versions of her famous tunes. The Zanzibari Diva treated the audience to her classic love songs: 'Muhogo wa Jangombe', and  'Ya Laiti'. Singing in Kiswahili and Arabic, Bi Kidude injected a quintessential 'Uswahili' note to TEDxDAR, a glorious way to finish what was a riveting day.

We started the day wondering about who killed Zinjanthropus and we left thinking how were going to resurrect him. Or at the very least save Homo Sapiens.

(Illustration by www.feverpicture.com.au for TEDxDAR)

[the-waywardpress]

TEDxDAR 2011: The Morning Edition

I am here at the newly refurbished National Museum where the 2011 TEDxDAR event is taking place. The choice of location is apt. A national museum is after all the place where one's history is preserved, to remind us of whence we came and to inform those who will come after us of a legacy we would leave for them. 

It is on that note that Nadeem Juma, the host of TEDxDAR, introduces this year's theme.

“Who Killed Zinjanthropus?” 

Zinjanthropus – a fossil of early man discovered in Tanzania – is a useful metaphor. As Tanzania is celebrating it's semi-centennial, it is an opportune time to examine our present t and come to foresee where we might be heading. As Nadeem puts it: what is a modern Tanzania, what's the difference between modernity and development? And what is the intersection? 

The proceedings began with a call to action from Kathleen Bomani, one of the organizers. Miss Bomani, speaking all the way from Philadelphia, challenged the Tanzanians sitting on this impressive new theatre here at the National Museum, to work on collaborating with their brothers and sisters in the diaspora. The potential for transformative change lives there, she suggested. 

And from that came the first talk by Roland Valckenborg. Mr. Valckenborg, the founder of 'I Love Windpower - Tanzania',  argued that as energy consumers we are responsible for killing Zinjanthropus. Man's addiction to electricity is straining our natural resources and has led to an inevitable energy crisis. And unless we rethink our approach, we are going to run out of energy within fifty years, argued Mr. Valckenborg.

But there are solutions available to us: alternative energy. 'We need to exploit all these alternative energy sources to the maximum', says Mr. Valckenborg. At some point, we are going to have incorporate alternative energy sources in our attempts to solve the energy crisis.

And Wind Energy is one potential. He gave the example of the Malawian, William Kamkwamba, who using freely available raw materials (scrap metal, etc) was able to create a wind turbine for his village from where they were able to get electricity.

'We are energy junkies', he declared.

Tanzania has opportunities on wind energy, he went on. It starts with us, looking for alternative energy solutions in our daily lives. The onus is on us all.

So here is a question: will increasing demand for energy lead to innovative solutions to the energy crises in this country?

Following Mr. Valckenborg was Mr. Erasto Mpemba, a scientist. Mr. Mpemba became famous for observing the phenomenon that warmer things freeze quicker than cold ones. This phenomenon has come to be known as the 'Mpemba Effect'.

Mr. Mpemba full-filled the theme "story-telling" recounting how he discovered this phenomenon. At his secondary school, Mr. Mpemba and his classmates used to freeze milk-cubes. One day, he came back from playing football and his milk cubes froze faster than his friend's. Why? Mr. Mpemba wondered. He remembered that he had boiled his milk while his friend had freezed his cold.

This curious development, seemed to challenge Newton's law. While Mr. Mpemba's teachers did not take him seriously, later a certain Dr. Denis Osborne did. Mr. Mpemba asked this physicist from the University of Dar es Salaam about his observation. His curiosity piqued, Dr. Osborne later performed an experiment and in 1969, he and Mr. Mpemba wrote up their results. Hence, the Mpemba effect entered science's lexicon. 

The first two talks revealed an insight of how change comes about: through self-reflection, perpetual curiosity and the need to look seriously at what is happening around us. The potential for change tends to exist closer to home, if only we allow ourselves to be open to the possibilities discoverable in our world.

The musician Msafiri Zawose's talk provided an important perspective on the centrality of culture in building up a nation. 'A country without culture, is a country that is not free,' he says. He reminded us that there was a time in this country where people knew each others' origins through their cultural signifiers. Msafiri, whose music is reflective of his Kigogo culture, inherited this tradition from his father, Hukwe Zawose, himself a prominent musician. 

Msafiri, one of the few contemporary artists in Tanzania working within a traditional aesthetic, points out that it is important for local artists to incorporate their traditions into their music. Traditional music, is struggling, Msafiri says. One wonders why Bongo Flava is yet to truly develop what could be a fascinating dynamic between the traditional and the contemporary. A clash between the highly technological Bongo Flava and the mostly instrumental traditional music could forge the definitive music of this generation. In this could emerge a musical tradition that connects the present with what came before, and define a future, fresh aesthetic of what Tanzanian music could be.

And before departing the stage, Msafiri, with his wonderful Ilimba, injects a quiet blue note into proceedings, reminding us of the aching beauty of our country's music.

With that, we completed TEDxDAR 2011's morning edition.

[the-waywardpress]

My Life As an Up-Country Blogger

By Ben Taylor

I came across a story recently of two young British missionaries working in Kenya in the 1920s who went to visit some friends in a remote rural mission. A month before their trip, they sent a telegram to their friends in the mission station, explaining when they were coming. They got no reply, but set off anyway. 

As they passed through the final town before the mission station, the manager of the local post office came running to them, handed them an envelope and asked if it could be delivered to the mission. They agreed, of course, and carried on with their journey. Only when they reached the mission did they discover that the envelop contained the very telegram that they had sent a whole month earlier. 

Times and technologies change, but a twenty-first century version of this same problem remains. A Dar-based colleague sent me an important email last week with a large file attached. Too large, it turned out, to be downloaded in Njombe, despite several hours of trying spread over two days. Too large to be downloaded in Iringa, too, where I had a brief overnight stop on my way to Dar. It was only when I reached Dar, and met up with the very person who had sent this email, that I was able to get a reliable enough connection to download this attachment. He might as well have delivered it by hand. 

Njombe is around ten hours' drive from Dar es Salaam. The fibre-optics haven't yet reached us and the mobile networks are stuck obstinately on 2G. If I want to check what's happening and what people are saying online (the sustenance of any blogger), the morning and the evening are the only times each day when the internet connection is reliably quick enough to do so. So I try to get in early and I usually leave late. It's not a recipe for a happy family life (though the 5-minute commute helps).

And I've become a master at managing internet connectivity, so as to avoid downloading more data than absolutely necessary. Software updates are put on hold until my next trip to Dar, as are any videos or podcasts I'm interested in. Work that requires a good connection is done at the weekend or on public holidays. Blogposts are written offline, then copied-and-pasted into place. Emails are read first on my phone and larger ones with attachments are only downloaded to the computer if needed. I rarely visit blog websites, but use a great piece of software (FeedDemon) to access just the text. When browsing, I never close a page that I might possibly need to open again later. For some reason twitter works much better via mobile internet than on TTCL. Cloud computing is pie in the sky. 

There are good days and bad days. A good day is when the power is off, demand drops and the few offices in town with generators (including ours) reap the benefits. A bad day is when both our fixed-line and mobile internet connections are down at the same time. 

Yet just as that colonial era telegram network, though slow and temperamental, represented a vital lifeline for the remote mission station, so our internet connection represents for us an invaluable connection to the world outside Njombe.

We're too far away to join the circuit of workshops, meetings, launches and reviews that make up the regular diet (literally – the buffet lunches at such meetings are legendary) of many Dar-based NGO staff. To be honest, that's mostly a good thing. Less time spent in such meetings means more for "real" work. But those meetings can be useful for who you can chat to during the coffee breaks and the snatched conversations before running to the next workshop. We miss out on that, so we miss out on the chance to tell people what we're working on or share an interesting  piece of research we've come across. There's a danger that out of sight really does mean out of mind, that people will forget us.  

Our blog is our coffee break replacement. What we might otherwise have shared with a potential partner (or donor) organisation over a buffet lunch at Movenpick or Ubungo Plaza, we can put on the blog instead. We're no longer quite so out of sight. And if we can throw in some insight gained from having spent more time in the field and less attending workshops, all the better. 

We're told the fibre-optics are on their way, supported by the very visible evidence of roadside trenches. And surely one of the mobile networks will soon deliver a 3G connection to the capital of Tanzania's newest region. In the meantime, we don't have much option but to stick with the late finishes, careful browsing and even the occasional hand-delivered emails. 

(Photo: A wet Njombe Bus Station. By Nina Lupembe via Panoramio)

[the-waywardpress]

Radicals at the Hill

               The Ugandan academic Mahmood Mamdani caused a stir a few months ago when he suggested in a speech that African academics are in danger of turning into career consultants with no discernible intellectual expertise. Professor Mamdani bemoaned what he termed the 'NGO-ization of the university' that has created an intellectual environment bereft of original thought and has instead reduced academic research into 'corporate-style power point presentations.' He did not stop there. He charged that, '[a]cademics read less and less. A chorus of buzz words have taken the place of lively debate,' he said.

Professor Mamdani paints a bleak picture of university life in Africa. His is a vision of barren assembly lines geared to meet the demands of employment markets and foreign academics looking for 'raw' data for their research. It is a less than encouraging portrait for the future of ideas in the continent.

Of course it was never always this way. Back in the 1960s and '70s, Africa lay claim to some impressive centers of learning. As Lydia Polgreen points out in this New York Times piece, 'post-colonial Africa had few institutions as venerable and fully developed as its universities.' She goes on:

The University of Ibadan in southwest Nigeria, the intellectual home of the Nobel laureate writer Wole Soyinka, was regarded in 1960 as one of the best universities in the Commonwealth. Makerere University [where Professor Mamdani currently teaches] in Uganda was considered the Harvard of Africa, and it trained a whole generation of postcolonial leaders, including Julius Nyerere of Tanzania.

In Tanzania, the University of Dar es Salaam (UDSM) also boasted a sterling reputation, attracting some of the best and brightest from the rest of Africa and beyond. It was while teaching at UDSM that Walter Rodney, the Guyanese historian, wrote his seminal work, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa. Sam Nujoma, the revolutionary leader and first President of Namibia was a student. Yoweri Musuveni, the current President of Uganda, was educated at UDSM too. In post-independence Tanzania, the campus, located on a hill overlooking the city, was a place alive with ideas.

This moment in the history of Mlimani, as it is popularly known, is recalled with illuminating vividness by Karim Hirji and other alumni of the university, in Cheche, a collection of essays about a magazine that in many ways came to reflect the tumultuous radicalism of its age. This eponymously titled book, part memoir, part political philosophy, part history, becomes more than the sum of its parts. Cheche is a book about young people trying to shape a better future, and in the process it tells a story of a nation.

The Era of Global Turbulence

Cheche covers the period between the late 60s and early 70s. This was a time of profound global convulsions. The cold war was at its peak. European cities were gripped by student riots and counter-cultural protests. In America, the anti-Vietnam War movement was gaining momentum and eventually brought down a president. Meanwhile, in 1967, at his ruling party's conference, President Julius Kambarage Nyerere delivered his blue-print of how he was going to  build Tanzania into a socialist state.

UDSM came to represent the country's central battleground on these issues. Hirji, who edits the collection and contributes the bulk of the pieces in Cheche, captures this milieu in his opening essay, 'An Era of Global Turbulence':

Inspired...by the global climate of activism, a small number of students came to adopt a militantly leftist political orientation...What was occuring at university campuses across the world in that era manifested itself in Tanzania, but with its own local features. Befitting a university, the Hill became a battle field of competing ideas.

The competing factions in this fight involved what Hirji calls the pro-Western and pro-capitalist forces against those who advocated for a more socialist and anti-imperialist future for Tanzania.

Socialist organisations at Mlimani, TANU's Youth League (TYL) UDSM chapter and the University Student African Revolutionary Front (USARF), felt that they needed a platform that would coherently articulate their intellectual worldview. To this end, they conceived of a magazine they named Cheche, the Kiswahili word for spark, after a Marxist newspaper edited by Lenin in Bolshevik Russia. An editorial team made up of Karim Hirji, Henry Mapolu and Zakia Meghji was formed to spearhead this effort.

'A Spark is Kindled'

When the first issue of Cheche was published, contributors included Walter Rodney, Franz Fanon, and Yoweri Museveni. As compelling as the roster of writers was, not everyone was impressed. The first issue of Cheche rattled some high placed feathers. As Hirji recalls, 'reactions from the State House and the bulk of the political establishment are...uniformly unflattering.'

In the mélange of post-independence's battle of ideas, conservatives and leftists weren't the only players around. The ruling class, too, paid close attention to what was happening at Mlimani.

It is within this background that President Julius Nyerere visited the campus in February, 1970. To the dismay of the leftists, during a two-hour Q & A session with the student body, he delivered a mighty rebuke to the self-declared radicals. In the memory of Hirji:

[I]n many of his answers...he takes the Hill radicals to task. He openly ridicules the [TANU Youth League], for their "silly and immature" questions...As the session proceeds, the university community witnesses us getting a sound political thrashing from the highest authority in the nation...It is a dismal day for radicalism at the Hill.

This apparent fracturing, between the idealism of the student movement, on the one hand, and the pragmatic posture of the ruling establishment embodied in the figure of Mwalimu himself, on the other, is one of the key revelations of this book. It would seem that for a lot of the radicals, the rhetoric of reform emanating from Mwalimu's government was a gulf apart from its actions. 

One of those skeptics was Yoweri Museveni. In an essay that appeared in the second issue of Cheche, included in this collection with a title 'Activism at the Hill', Museveni proclaimed Tanzania's image of a reformist government an exaggeration. He did not stop there:

'[Y]ou get the image of level headedness regarding socialism, anti-imperialism and Pan-Africanism. You get the impression that the government leaders, ministers, top civil servants and party officials are devoted cadres with a high level political consciousness. You get the impression [of] Tanzania where so much is supposed to happen. All such impressions, I have since discovered, are exaggerated.'

Hirji, while an avid admirer, also doubted Mwalimu's resolve to implement reform. He wrote in his journal:

Mwalimu is a brilliant idealist dwelling in utter confusion and utopian expectations. Whether he is aware of it or not, effectively, he is entrenching neo-colonialism in Tanzania

Harsh words, indeed. This is not the view of Mwalimu that exists in the public imagination. For a lot of us, Mwalimu was a figure of universal veneration. But in Cheche a more complicated picture emerges. Three years after the so-called Arusha declaration, many in the left saw President Nyerere as failing to live up to its principles, a criticism he would've found most stinging. 

Student activism

While the reality of life during Ujamaa is increasingly disappearing from Tanzania's collective psyche, in Cheche it is documented with illuminating specificity. Zakia Meghji's piece, 'Sisterly Activism', is a fascinating evocation of the times. For example, here is Miss Meghji recalling a time she spent living with villagers to better understand how Ujamaa worked: 

One thing I immediately saw was the subordinate position of women. Women and young girls did most of the work both in the farms and at home...Women cultivated and prepared food while men stayed under the baobab tree chewing tobacco and talking of trivial things...Our meals comprised [of] ugali and vegetables cooked by village women. Each day we sat and gave a summary of what had occurred. Each one of us shared his/her experience. 

What also became clear for Miss Meghji during this experience is the emerging disconnect between the educated, of which she was one, and those she calls 'her brothers and sisters on the other side [who] hardly made ends meet and lacked all basic amenities.' While Ujamaa was conceived to mitigate class differences, this goal was already failing as early as the 1970s.

This emerging gulf also seemed to permeate the way the educated class thought of the 'masses.' George G. Hajivayanis, in his essay 'Night Shift Comrades' tells a story of when he and his comrades found themselves surrounded by men 'wielding machetes with fire coming out of their ears.' Apparently, while volunteering in a construction project in Mwenge, a Dar es Salaam suburb, they suggested that the mosque the men were building did not have the same urgency as building homes for people living in slums. This view infuriated their hosts. The experience taught him a valuable lesson. 'All in all, that day we learned one thing -- religion is indeed the opium of the poor,' he says.

Hirji too is susceptible to this type of condescension. For him those students who did not share in his socialist worldview were only interested in the 'rapid elevation of their social status.' Being children of peasants and workers, this background inflicted [them] with 'elitist (petty bourgeois) mentality.' It appears that for Mr. Hirji and Mr. Hajivayanis, those that reject socialism only do so because of selfish interests and religious delusions. This almost fanatical faith in socialism does not appear to be accepting of alternative intellectual positions. One is either on the side of the angels, the socialists, or the 'wabepari' and ignorant masses. 

However, in spite of this ideological narrow-mindedness, the strengths of this collection exists in its stories. Henry Mapolu's 'On Producing A Student Magazine' is an invaluable historical account of how publishing was like in the middle of the 20th century. In Christopher Liundi's 'Revisiting Cheche', the reader will find a wonderfully written piece about the eventual fate of the magazine. And Karim Hirji's closing essays, 'Socialism Yesterday', 'Contemporary Capitalism' and 'Socialism Tomorrow', provide a provoking intellectual challenge to Tanzanians.

But above all, the value of Cheche lies in its tales of young idealists, who grappled with big ideas and carried with them hopes and dreams of transforming a nation. And in the midst of that, the book captures a moment of Tanzania's early history that is instructive, as it is enlightening, of where we find ourselves as a nation.

(Image: The front cover of Cheche: Reminisces of a Radical Magazine edited by Karim Hirji and published by Mkuki na Nyota Publishers) 

[the-waywardpress]

On Mohamed Sabodo and National Housing Corporation's Controversial Tenant's Survey

By Paulsen Mrina

In a recent letter published in the English daily, The Citizen, the businessman Mohamed Sabodo articulated a rather disappointing stance, arguing for the boycotting of the ongoing National Housing Corporation (NHC) tenants' survey. It should be said that Mr. Sabodo is a patriot, one who has worked to support transparency in Tanzania and give voice to the voiceless amongst us. However, his position on the NHC tenants' survey takes a completely different turn on what Mr. Sabodo seemed to stand for all along: good governance and proper utilization of our national resources for the well-being of its entire people. Allow me to respond to the individual issues raised in in the letter, and I hope I will come by explaining why for the first time I am convinced that Mr. Sabodo is wrong, and grossly so.

Disclosing Wealth

As a provider of ‘affordable’ housing, NHC needs to understand the socioeconomic and demographic nature of its tenants. This should allow NHC to plan and track its activities accurately. National Census and/or Demographic and Household Surveys (DHS) could have been sufficient should they have been more frequent and allowed for tenancy status in their questionnaires. This means that NHC does not possess neither socioeconomic nor demographic information on its tenants. 

It should be remembered that NHC is a public institution, set up to provide a service to all Tanzanians. As part of government, having information about people you are trying to serve is a must. After all, how can you claim to want to utilize public resources to provide affordable housing while not knowing whether your citizens even need the service, and if they do, whether the service you are trying to provide is reaching the intended? 

The questions raised in the questionnaire – ethnic group, sources of income, children’s schooling, assets ownership, mode of transportation, education status, economic activity, etc – are important indicators of individual and household wealth, and eventually, their ability to afford certain rents. It is common practice everywhere else to demand such information, especially when providing subsidized housing. Government resources are limited, and you need to be able to provide whatever amount that is available efficiently, and to be able to account for it. This can only be done once you have this information about your current, and most importantly, prospective tenants. 

Case in point: In the USA, landlords are required by law to check credit history and criminal records of each prospective tenant prior to letting. Municipals, which control affordable housing units, perform similar socioeconomic and criminal background checks before holding a lottery for available units to qualified individuals.

It will be understandable if Mr. Sabodo's key protest was on the ethnic group question. And it seems that’s where his boycott emanates from. However, if one supports disclosure of MPs and senior civil servants' wealth, then in principle one should support similar disclosures by each and every citizen interested in consuming publicly subsidized resources. But if Mr. Sabodo's protest does indeed emanate from the part of the survey that asks tenants to disclose their ethnicity, then he may have a case to make. As of today, disclosing ethnic, religious and tribal information is still barred from the national censuses and demographic surveys of any kind. Such information in the hands of unscrupulous individuals could easily lead to discrimination.

However, to me, as an economist, such information is very important to understand the nature of social structures, and for NHC as landlord, to understand the nature of its clients. Whether we like it or not, it is a widely acceptable phenomenon that Tanzania’s wealth lines lie starkly between ethnic groups, with very thin gray areas. This has led to many groundless theories, and tensions, on the nature of income and wealth distribution in our country. Having such information would provide opinion makers with evidence in their theories and policy makers with tools to make informed decisions about the distribution of national resources. The outcome depends on our ability to process truth, and navigate our way forward. Logical tensions are not always bad as a logical solution could always be formulated. Unsubstantiated ones are lethal, always.

Mr. Sabodo's stance on disclosing of personal information highlights the skeptical nature of all Tanzanians when it comes to information and transparency about their civic duties. First, we are a nation that is uncomfortable about revealing personal information when formulating public decisions. We are very comfortable with the status quo to an extent that we have developed a pathological fear of information. Our biggest fear is that truthful information will shatter what we believe, or to put it better, what we want to believe, and minimize our opportunities to gain from insufficient information. This is reflected everywhere in our system where people are hiding/avoiding information in order to avoid civic obligations, or do so to have an upper hand over the insufficiently informed. 

NHC Inefficiencies

The rest of the issues raised by Mr. Sabodo about inefficiencies within NHC are true, and I support him on this. NHC ought to do much much better given its asset base and public support. However, the way Mr. Sabodo posited his position on most of the other issues NHC grapples with is rather simplistic, and honestly, not constructive.

Here is why. 

The rent money is enough for salaries:  NHC needs to operate commercially in order to fulfill its obligations of providing affordable housing to all. Just being able to generate enough money for salaries is not a sustainable business model, and will fall into becoming a burden to the government in the likes of Air Tanzania and TANESCO. And this will be unfair to the rest of the taxpayers who don’t get to enjoy affordable housing that is heavily subsidized by their taxes.

Housing intended for the middle class taken up by the rich: Even current houses are ‘believed’ to be occupied mostly by wealthy individuals. Let the survey inform us on this.

NHC staff living in NHC flats own properties in Mbezi, Kimara etc: Two wrongs don’t make a right. The survey is for all tenants, staff included. We should be careful not to start discriminating for once we start, we are in a slippery slope.

The rent is MORE compared to the economy of the country and of the tenants: Yes, the rent is high, but it is justified. The available housing units are not sufficient to satisfy the ever increasing demand for housing. We need to build more. And as for the point of whether the rent is too high for existing tenants to afford, here is a question for Mr. Sabodo to answer: where did he get that information from? Isn't finding out such information the whole point of this survey, to establish exactly whether NHC tenants are able to afford its units? 

List NHC at DSE: This is a very good idea on its own. But doing so just to control embezzlement of funds from NHC is a bit simplistic, and somehow defeats the purpose.

Mr. Sabodo's suggestions of questions to include in the survey are better put on the NHC housing application forms for prospective tenants than the current survey. 

Now I should say that I am not in a good position to judge the quality of the survey – there are just too many criterias to look into – and I have not seen the full questionnaire, or followed on the process.  However, I think it is a good start by NHC to start getting its act together. 

So, what are the issues?

First of all, we should understand that there are two issues at play here. One is the issue of availability and affordability of housing especially in urban areas like Dar es Salaam. Second, is the issue of public housing, and with it comes the behemoth that is NHC.

Housing Situation

The matter is really simple to explain: demand-supply disequilibrium. With a population of over 4.5m and growing, Dar es Salaam is facing some serious shortage of housing, and the situation does not show any signs of improving anytime soon. It is estimated that the urban population will equal rural population in Tanzania by 2025. Do the math. 

The supply of serviced plots for both residential and commercial uses is too little compared to the current demand, let alone future demand. This point brings in the whole issue of urban planning and zoning regulations into question. Dar es Salaam, like many other urban centers in Tanzania, has been left to grow at its own pace and style. There are no town plans and very few planned and serviced areas that will allow them to enjoy ridiculously high premiums. This situation has created a housing bubble in cities such as Dar es Salaam. Luckily, this is not a bubble to be scared of, as it is justified by demand-supply fundamentals. However, we can only hope the supply catches up, and the housing policy addresses the issue of affordable housing, or the suffering is set to continue in the foreseeable future.

On Public Housing and NHC

Public housing is meant to plug the gap where the market cannot provide. That is, public housing should be in the business of providing affordable housing to all people who are left out by the market. This is as far as the public should commit itself to subsidizing housing; otherwise, it will be unfair to the rest of the population that is not enjoying that subsidy. How that is best done is a whole new debate on its own that is better reserved for another time.

NHC, like TANESCO, is another sleeping giant laden with inefficiencies and politicking. It is a trillion shilling company that is not realizing a pinch of its potential. I can start listing its problems but we all know them. In a nutshell, NHC is a behemoth that is not cashing on its assets and market position. NHC needs to start operating commercially, at least for now, in order to build up an ability to perform its core obligation – providing affordable housing. Management and operational restructuring are crucial, and urgently needed. But I will argue for RENT restructuring. 

Once NHC has established the nature of its core tenants, it will have to adjust the rents accordingly. In my view, NHC needs to raise the rents to market levels. For example, a high end apartment in Upanga should cost a high end apartment rent charged by private landlords in Upanga. This should be done across the board in all its housing units across the country. 

Now, to accommodate for low income individuals, the study should work to help quantify the demand for affordable housing units in different neighborhoods. In this case, NHC, in collaboration with municipal councils, should device an affordable housing policy in which each multiple housing unit should have a provision for affordable units, in return for favorable fiscal treatments. These units will then be allocated based on demonstrated need.

This simple restructuring will provide NHC with liquidity and bankability status to expand its operations across all income classes. At some point, NHC could easily spin out its high-end and commercial businesses to a public offering, and keep the subsidized middle and low income units. Now this is redistribution of income at its finest.

NHC should operate as a business

In my opinion, the government should not be in the business of providing housing. I believe simple regulations and right incentives are enough to deal with the current housing woes. Better urban planning and zoning enforcement, supply side incentives and a robust affordable housing policy should go a long way to solve the current housing issue quite sustainably. 

As for NHC, as it stands today, it is useless, and I will support a complete dismantling of the organization and sell of all its assets. I doubt that we have enough political will to reform the behemoth. Likewise, using national resources to subsidize the lifestyle of the few is simply unconstitutional, and should not be entertained. So, either we give up the notion of public housing, or make a serious attempt to run NHC commercially and make sure to subsidize only those who really need the support.

(Photo: National Housing Council's buildings along Nyerere Road in Dar es Salaam. By Pernille Bærendtsen of Dunia ni Duara)

[the-waywardpress]

The Sinking of MV Spice Islander and The Crisis in Tanzanian Journalism

In the early hours of September 11th, as night turned into early morning, a ferryboat traveling to Pemba capsized and sank off the coast of Unguja killing over 200 people in the process. The boat in question, the MV Spice Islander, began its journey in Dar es Salaam where according to Reuters,

[I]t was loaded with passengers, motor vehicles, bags of food and cement and other building materials...When it reached Zanzibar, also known as Unguja, it took on more passengers and cargo for the trip to the archipelago's smaller island of Pemba.”

By the time the Spice Islander departed Unguja port at 10pm, it was reportedly carrying 1200 passengers, almost twice it's official capacity of 600.

Kassim Abdalah, one of 619 rescued survivors, in his harrowing account of what happened, would later tell The Guardian that he started noticing something was wrong immediately after they left the port:

'[M]ost of us...were not comfortable with the condition of the ship…the vessel was tilting, something that worried many passengers, including me.'

But their journey continued regardless. As they started to pass the infamously treacherous waters of Nungwi Bay, things began to go horribly wrong:

“It seemed as if the ship was sinking…fear and tension gripped most passengers on board...[t]he situation worsened...after one of the ship’s engines stalled.”

The captain urged calm, assuring his passengers that he can get them to Pemba safely. Soon after, however, the second engine shut down. Water started pouring into the boat, causing panic:

“The ship had started to sink, slowly. Every passenger prayed to God for some miracle…to save our lives. There was nothing we could do except to pray,” Mr. Abdalah said. “It reached a point when almost half of the ship was covered with water…it is at this point when many children and infants died, as adults, like me, struggled to save our lives.”

Less than an hour later, the MV Spice Islander was completely underwater. It is the worst maritime tragedy to have ever hit Zanzibar.

‘Instead of mourning with the rest of Tanzania, they are playing silly music’

A lot has been said and written about the alleged negligence and regulatory and moral laxity that lead to the sinking of MV Spice Islander. But what also became clear during the hours immediately after the news broke was the media’s outright failure and/or inability, may be even unwillingness, to report on the story. In the first twelve hours of the tragedy, the press were nowhere to be seen or heard. Here is one blogger's experience reflecting the frustration many felt at the time:

“Like many people in Tanzania, I spent much of Saturday flicking between TV channels desperate for breaking news on the tragic events taking place in Zanzibar. I struggled. All I could find was imported soap operas, music videos, discussions on sporting issues, and eventually, live broadcasts of Miss Tanzania…There is almost nothing on any Tanzanian TV channel about the tragedy.”

Radio did not fare any better. For most of Saturday, almost all national radio stations proceeded with regularly scheduled programming. It was an eerie feeling. On the one hand one was aware that something awful was happening. Yet, for the majority of the broadcast media, theirs was a posture of business as usual.

The Tanzanian press has justifiably been lauded for being vociferous in reporting matters of public interest. In a recent, much discussed, essay by the award-winning novelist M.G. Vassanji, he actually points to this reality as a sign of the country's maturity.

This claim may be true of the print media. But the non-coverage of the story in the first twelve hours of the MV Spice Islander’s sinking suggests that while the Tanzanian press is adept at reacting to events, they are nevertheless impotent at reporting quickly changing, complicated, rolling breaking news. At a moment of great confusion, the press were seemingly paralysed, unsure of what do, and in the process they failed to serve their primary obligation of keeping the public informed.

Entertain, inform, educate

In the mid-1990s, when the Tanzanian airwaves opened up to private actors, the resulting competition in the media market space came with the expectation that this would mean increased diversity of choice for the audience, particularly in news. After all, it heralded the era of 'rukhsa', where audiences were going to be able to freely select their sources of news. 

However, a decade and a half-later, this has not been borne out. A close look at the daily programming of the five television networks (ITV, Channel 10, TBC 1, Star TV, EATV) and five radio stations (Radio One, EA Radio, Clouds FM, TBC Taifa, Radio Free Africa) with national reach, points to a severe lack of sustained investment in news divisions. On any given day, the Tanzanian airwaves are full of mostly entertainment programmes and talk shows. Yes, most of these stations do broadcast at least one news show a day. But what goes on air tends to be the bare minimum of 'he said, she said' type of reporting.

It is entirely understandable why this type of programming proliferates: it is cheap and relatively easy to produce. In-depth reporting and investigative journalism, the type that can respond to complex, fast developing stories, is expensive and difficult to execute. And the broadcast media's apparent lack of investment in news is unlikely to bring this practice of journalism to Tanzania's airwaves anytime soon. Hence, when big stories such as the sinking of the MV Spice Islander, or the Gongo la Mboto explosions earlier this year, where the response was similarly inept, it is unsurprising that the reaction is one of bamboozled incompetence.

At the moment, the broadcast media looks to be more interested in acting as vehicles for advertising revenue with programming an afterthought to that primary endeavor. Investing in news as a media product that in itself can generate revenue is beyond the thinking of most of our media houses. Sadly, at a time when Africa, in general, and East Africa in particular, are subjects of great interest from foreign investors, this is a sorely missed business opportunity. 

Social Media's challenge to traditional journalism

In this vacuum, a new set of players has emerged. In the last few years Tanzania has seen the rise of bloggers, online journalists and social mediaists challenge traditional journalism's stranglehold of the media space. Their tendency to offer a view that is partisan and oppositional has resonated deeply and widely, and at a time of deep mistrust of institutions, platforms such as JamiiForums have been able to come across as much more credible than the mainstream press. And in instances of the latter's failures, as in during the ferryboat tragedy, social media has proven to be an invaluable source of information.

JamiiForums, relying on its ever-growing band of citizen journalists, was one of the first media organizations to break the news of MV Spice Islander's sinking. And as the day progressed, when no mainstream broadcasting organization was reporting on the story, many turned to social media. To a very large extent, social media sources filled that news gap. For example, Ismail Jussa, the Zanzibar House Representative (CUF - Stone Town) used Facebook often to relay information garnered from senior government officials to the public. Similarly, the freelance journalist Salma Said was also excellent at employing both her Facebook page and her blog Zanzibar Yetu to report on what was happening. This, plus a legion of tweeples providing updates via Twitter served as informative sources of news as the mainstream press were struggling to report on the story (For more on Twitter's coverage, please see J. Nambiza Tungaraza's useful summary). 

But social media is not without its critics. Ben Taylor, of Daraja, pointed out some rather serious inaccuracies that spread in the twittersphere in the morning of the tragedy. He went on to suggest that this is 'clear evidence of social media's biggest weakness: unreliability and inaccuracy.' He then concluded:

"This blog has said it before and will say it again, until and unless we social media enthusiasts find a way of improving our record when it comes to accuracy, we cannot expect to be taken seriously as a news source."

Mr. Taylor is right. However, he overlooks a crucial point. While inaccuracy of reporting would challenge the credibility of social media as a news source, it is also worth pointing out that thinking of it as a definitive source for news is mistaken to begin with. As any serious journalist would attest, one should always treat sources with a healthy degree of skepticism, social media ones included. What the emergence of these new platforms can do is augment the reporting of traditional media. And if Tanzania's broadcast media had engaged social media on that basis, they could've vastly improved their coverage of the MV Spice Island's sinking. Yet their near silence revealed them to be incapable and unserious, and in the process they failed to serve the public good.  

[the-waywardpress]

If what is quoted by George Orwell about Journalism holds water, then, PR is universal set, contains all the information which is accessible to the public... does it make sense to you?

Hi. Interesting question. I think Orwell's point is, journalism, at its most idealistic, aims to reveal while PR is geared towards propagation. Perhaps, that's the distinction he is creating between the two.

[the-waywardpress]

How the David Jairo Story Unfolded

It began like a scene from a political thriller. 

In the middle of the budget debate for the ministry of Energy and Minerals, Beatrice Shellukindo, the CCM member of parliament from Kilindi, stood up in dramatic fashion and read from a supposedly leaked 'memo.' Her colleagues in the chamber waited with bated breath at what she was going to disclose. As she proceeded to read from the document, she revealed details of how the permanent secretary, Mr. David Jairo, was trying to direct public funds to 'facilitate' the passage of his ministry's budget. While the nature of this facilitation remained unclear, Mrs. Shelukindo seemed to imply that some underhanded tactics were being employed.

That was enough to send the chamber into a frenzy. And it was bipartisan frenzy too, with MPs from all political stripes condemning the PS. Soon after, it became clear that, unless the issue was addressed, the ministry's budget was not going to pass. Prime Minister Mizengo Pinda and the government, facing the prospect of an embarrassing defeat, asked the Speaker to postpone the vote and, addressing the allegations against Mr. Jairo, declared: "I wanted to take immediate action to fire him but the only hinderance is that he is a presidential appointee."

A few days later, Chief Secretary Philemon Luhanjo announced that Mr. Jairo would be suspended, with pay, and that he had instructed a team led by the Controller and Auditor General (CAG) to investigate the fraud allegations leveled against him. "Any further decision will depend on the outcome of the investigations," Mr. Luhanjo told reporters. 

"He is going back to the office today"

The CAG probe took longer than the ten days assigned to it. But a month later, Mr. Luhanjo addressed reporters once again: “For this matter, the PS will not be provided with a notice or charge sheet…he is going back to the office today,” said the Chief Secretary.

Apparently, the CAG found that the Tshs578m (not the Tshs1bn quoted by Mrs. Shelukindo) collected was not for 'bribing' MPs as alleged but it 'was used for payment of per diems, sitting allowances and [the] hiring of conference hall for officers who were in Dodoma during tabling of the ministry’s budget estimates,” Mr. Luhanjo pointed out. He went on to say that the Public Service Management Act of 2002 afforded him the power to order the PS back to his office.

And so he did.

But the Chief Secretary wasn't finished. He directed his ire at public servants who he claimed leaked government secrets and promised another investigation that will aim to identify and discipline the leakers. 

Meanwhile, the next day Mr. David Jairo returned to work to a hero's welcome. Mwananchi reported that employees at the ministry were heard singing,

"Baba, baba, baba huyooo, karibu baba, karibu baba, umeshinda vita karibu nyumbani."

(Father, father, father there you are, welcome [back] father, welcome [back] father, you won the fight, welcome home)

Some civil society activists expressed 'shock' and 'dismay' at the decision. However, Dr Benson Bana, a political scientist at the University of Dar es Salaam, told The Citizen that the entire incident should serve as a lesson to parliamentarians:  

He said it was not fair for lawmakers to accuse government officials of corruption without having watertight proof, and challenged Mrs Shellukindo to apologise to the Prime Minister, Parliament, Mr Jairo and the public.

But MPs were not appeased by CAG's conclusions and decided to form their own committee to investigate the matter:

[The] National Assembly has unanimously resolved to form a Parliamentary select-committee to probe the Chief Secretary (CS), Philemon Luhanjo, for meddling in affairs of the House...The Deputy Speaker, Mr Job Ndugai, maintained here on Wednesday that the Legislature is an important pillar of the state which should be accorded its due respect by other organs including the Executive. ''We respect the government under President Jakaya Kikwete and we can't stand aside while the Parliament and Prime Minister Mizengo Pinda are being snubbed,'' Mr Ndugai said.

The papers' view

Reactions by some newspaper editorials reflected the increasingly polarizing turn of this debate. The Kiswahili weekly Rai identified the villain in this saga and they were not shy to point out why. They wrote, 'Shelukindo Adhibiwe, Kalidanganya Bunge' (Shelukindo [should be] reprimanded, [she] lied to Bunge). It goes on to say,

Mbunge wa Kilindi (CCM), Beatrice Shelukindo ni mwongo na kakomalia taarifa za uwongo na uzushi na kwahiyo kalidanganya Bunge.

(The member of parliament from Kilindi (CCM), Beatrice Shelukindo is a liar and [based her argument] on false information and rumors which means she lied to parliament) 

Others viewed Mr. Luhanjo's decision as an insult. 'Hili la Luhanjo ni dharau kwa wabunge' (This from Luhanjo is disrespectful to parliamentarians), said Tanzania Daima while Majira argued for the anti-graft authorities to get involved, 'TAKUKURU nayo imchunguze Jairo' (PCCB should investigate Jairo). Nipashe took a more temperate tone advising readers to take a wait-and-see approach, 'Tunasubiri kamati teule ya Bunge kwa shauku (We await Bunge's special committee with interest).

The President intervenes

 The next day, seemingly out of nowhere, this little tidbit of news broke on Twitter. From Jamii Forums 

The Guardian reported that,

President Jakaya Kikwete has nullified the reinstatement of Energy and Minerals ministry permanent secretary David Jairo, pending parliamentary team’s probe into the use of funds he requisitioned.

The president’s move was announced in the National Assembly yesterday by Prime Minister Mizengo Pinda, during the weekly Premier’s question time.

Responding to a question from the leader of the Official Opposition, Freeman Mbowe (Chadema Hai), suggesting that Jairo remain on suspension until the parliamentary probe team formed on Wednesday completes its work, Pinda said: “The President has already taken the decision.”

So, first the PM threatens to fire Mr. Jairo, then the Chief Secretary suspends him but a month later, re-instates him only for the President to suspend him again. To say that this was not a shining moment for the Kikwete administration would be an understatement. 

What the story tells us about Tanzanian political journalism

Despite the amount of column inches, airtime and commentary invested, for Pernille Bærendtsen over at Dunia ni Duara, the reporting on this story left her with a lot more questions than answers.

A closer look at the coverage bears this out. There was a lot of 'he said/she said' style of reporting but not enough fact-checking of the claims and counter-claims being bandied about. For example, how credible is the 'memo' at the centre of the charges against Mr. Jairo? Not a lot of journalists chose to test the veracity of the letter or the allegations carried therein. Furthermore, why did the Prime Minister feel confident enough to declare Mr. Jairo persona non grata before any investigation had been carried out and what did he think of the CAG's conclusions?

The reaction of the PM and State House appeared to contradict each other, with the former seemingly convinced of the guilt of Mr. Jairo while the latter were quick to exenorate him. Does this mean that there is a rift between the office of the President and Mr. Pinda? If so, what is the nature of this disagreement?

Perhaps, it was simply a public relations blunder on the part of the government and a lack of communication between the two offices. But this begs the question: why is the government struggling to effectively communicate its message to the public and how does this affect how it governs?

These are just some of the questions left unanswered and the angles that are yet to be explored by political reporters during the coverage of this story.

The incident may have created an image of a dysfunctioning government at the highest possible levels. But Tanzanian journalism did not distinguish itself either. When faced with competing narratives, political journalists failed to report to readers what the truth was, leaving them confused and begging for answers. 

(Photo: Permanent Secretary being greeted by colleagues at the ministry of Energy and Minerals after being re-institated to his post on Wednesday, August 24th, 2011. By Issa Michuzi)

[the-waywardpress]

Art and the Creative Process

I recently had the opportunity to sit down with the Tanzanian artist Lotus Menezes and talk with her about her work and upcoming exhibition 'By the Stroke of a Brush.' Whenever I speak with artists, I am always curious to find out about their process, how they go about creating their art. Here was Lotus' response to that question:

Okay, I don’t do many sketches so I don’t start off with an idea and then a sketch and then onto the canvas. I go straight to the canvas...What I do is I look at the painting or the picture for a very long time. And then what I do is I start outlining it. I sketch very briefly and then I just start painting immediately.

I use thick brush strokes when painting [and] I just go at it and attack the canvas aggressively. So its very thick brush strokes, and if there is a mistake then I will pile on more paint.

Sometimes paintings change, like for example I have one called ‘Zanzibar Monsoon’ showing a man walking down a narrow street. It’s mainly blue hues and its very textured. With that painting I started [it] ages ago and I just had ochre and I was trying to paint – I cant remember what – probably a woman I think, something, it was very abstract. And then after a while I decided to paint this scene. It’s a very well known scene in Zanzibar– its a postcard and there’s lots of rain and there’s a guy that you can barely see and he’s walking into the perspective of the painting. And for that I use very thick brushes. I’m very lazy when it comes to cleaning my brushes so sometimes I pile on the paint and cleaning becomes a very arduous task.

I never consider a painting finished, even when it is signed. [One piece] , 'Salsa in Dar,' for example, contains a flamenco dancer and she’s got her arms up in the air and it’s a really crimson background. I don’t feel like she’s finished. Maybe some time later I will pick up the brush and make a change here or there. But the paintings are never finished for me.

So that’s the process so to speak– no sketching, I go straight onto the canvas and then build on it over time.

You can read the rest of our conversation here

(Photo: 'Zanzibar Monsoon' by Lotus Menezes)