Adeladius Makwega – Mbagala
April 23, 2026, On this day, Mwanakwetu leaves NMB Bank in Musoma. In his pocket is a brand-new bank card, freshly issued after replacing his perfectly intact old one. He is filled with great joy after being served by a pregnant woman named Hafsa Athumani—an experience that felt new and memorable in his life.
As he walks back to where he came from, he reflects on the staff at NMB Musoma. He remembers a young woman at counter number one, whom Hafsa had suggested should serve him. However, he declined, saying:
“Today I want to be served by the pregnant woman.”
Even though he preferred being served by the pregnant woman, his eyes had carefully observed the girl at counter number one. She was dark-skinned, tall, well-built, calm, and neatly braided. Her face strongly resembled his late mother, Doroth Mlemeta:
“Wow, this lady really looks like my late mother, Doroth Mlemeta.”
At that moment, memories of his late mother flood his mind—how life was when they were young, with his siblings Modestus, Michael, and Samweli.
Dear reader, remember that he is walking back on foot after being served at NMB. As he walks, he recalls an incident from 1985 when he was in third grade at Mkuranga Primary School in the Pwani Region.
“It was around Easter, similar to this April 23, 2026, though a different date. I suddenly fell ill and informed my mother, Doroth Mlemeta, who was a teacher at the school. She told me to go to the hospital with a friend. I returned to my class, where we were studying arithmetic, closed my notebooks, picked up my cloth bag, and asked my friend Shaha Uwanga to accompany me. He agreed, and we began our journey to the Mkuranga village dispensary.”
About Shaha Uwanga:
“‘Uwanga’ was actually a nickname; his real surname was Mohammed. He used to sell sweetened flour, similar to a snack called bwibwi. Every morning he would come to school selling it for cash, and by afternoon he would give it on credit, collecting payment the next day.
At that time, many Muslim children born in the 1970s were named ‘Shaha,’ influenced by a leader from Iran. Similarly, in Christianity, names like John Paul became popular during the time of Pope John Paul II.”
Mwanakwetu suggests readers can verify this by visiting Muslim cemeteries and noticing how frequently the name ‘Shaha’ appears.
That day, Mwanakwetu and Shaha walked to the village dispensary along a dusty road. The dispensary was located near the present-day Mkuranga District Council, close to a primary court.
Upon arrival, Shaha said:
“I’ve brought my fellow student, Kazimbaya Makwega. He is very sick and needs medicine.”
A man named Kuwaka entered the dispensary room, took a white container, and gave Mwanakwetu two tablets, making sure he swallowed them. Afterward, Shaha escorted him to the head teacher’s house before returning home.
Remember, Mwanakwetu is recalling this in 2026, but the event occurred in 1985 when he was a child.
When he reached home, he collapsed into deep sleep. Later, his mother woke him by sprinkling water on him and asked whether he had received medicine. He said yes—from Kuwaka—and added:
“He gave me two tablets, and ever since I left there, I’ve been extremely sleepy.”
His mother carried him to a nearby nurse/midwife’s house. The nurse cooled him down using water from a solar-powered refrigerator and tended to him. She later remarked:
“I went to Kisarawe to collect my salary. This Kuwaka could cause us serious trouble. The spirits of the Wapogoro will not accept the death of such a young child—they will torment us. He probably gave him sleeping pills. He is just a village guard—why is he administering medicine? From now on, I won’t leave him with the dispensary keys.”
The mother replied that Kuwaka was the trusted guard of both the dispensary and court, and removing him would be risky.
Eventually, Mwanakwetu recovered fully the next day.
Returning to April 23, 2026:
Later, Mwanakwetu sits somewhere with others watching (or intending to watch) a televised report by Judge Mohammed Othman Chande about events of October 29, 2025. One man present had lost his younger brother during those events. As the report plays, he becomes restless, repeatedly walking in and out, clearly distressed. Eventually, the TV is turned off out of consideration for him.
Mwanakwetu reflects deeply and questions whether the commission understands the pain of those affected.
Mwanakwetu’s message today:
He compares Judge Chande to Kuwaka—the village guard who overstepped his role by giving medicine. Just as Kuwaka acted beyond his authority, Mwanakwetu argues that the judge may have been assigned responsibilities beyond his proper role, leading to flawed outcomes.
He questions whether the investigation into the events of October 29, 2025 was conducted properly and whether it served justice for taxpayers and victims.
He concludes with a warning:
“Do you think the spirits of those who died will leave you in peace?”
He emphasizes that injustice, suffering, and unresolved grief can have lasting consequences—whether morally, spiritually, or socially. He warns against revenge and urges reflection, responsibility, and justice.
Closing message:
This article stands as a record for those who did not witness these events—both the story of Kuwaka in Mkuranga and the events surrounding Judge Chande’s report.
Mwanakwetu, are you there? Remember:
“They will not leave you in peace.”
Have a nice day.
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