THE AZANIA AND TAMBAZA CONFLICT XXXVIII

 

Adeladius Makwega – DODOMA

 

At that time, the education system in Dar es Salaam was such that when you saw your relative attending a certain secondary school, you became very interested in studying at that same school. This situation made many students, when they got the chance to choose schools in their TSM 9 forms in Standard Seven, select the schools they liked.

 

My reader, remember that in the previous texts I also mentioned my aunt from Kariakoo Market, Salome Fidelis Makwega, who studied at Kisutu Secondary School, which was formerly known as Dar es Salaam Girls.

In our family, another woman also studied at this school, known as Bernadeth Makwega. This desire was not fulfilled by chance, but through passing Standard Seven.

 

After finishing at Kisutu, she got a job at the National Bank of Commerce (NBC). Remember, my reader, in the previous articles I mentioned this Bernadeth; on that day after the Tambaza and Jitegemee match at around one in the evening, I met her at the Temeke bus stand. She asked me, “You Tambaza students, what have you done there? Why is there chaos all over the city?”

 

I answered that we were coming from secondary school football competitions at the National Stadium, where chaos had broken out between Tambaza students and JKT soldiers, and the match had been disrupted.

At that point, my aunt Bernadeth Makwega and I boarded a “Chai Maharage” (the daladala of that time) to return to our home in Mbagala, house number seven.

 

My reader, remember that while I was at home waiting for the appeal, this aunt of mine Bernadeth told me: “My child, please go to Mombasa–Ukonga; there is ongoing work there. Go and check how the construction of my house is progressing, and when the builders need money, come and inform me at my workplace.”

 

“My child, you stay at home from morning until evening—what are you doing? Don’t end up starting to smoke marijuana.”

 

So this was a very wise decision. Mwanakwetu used to leave Mbagala at dawn and go to Mombasa–Ukonga every day, and in the evening return to Mbagala.

 

This was at the beginning of 1994, while my friends with whom I had studied in 3R1 had already entered Form Four (4R1). On the way, you meet your fellow students going to school; those who remember you greet you while asking:

 

“Bishop, how is your case—is it still not finished?”

You answer that we are still waiting for the appeal meeting date, but the documents have already been submitted.

 

Some Tambaza students had given me the nickname Cardinal, which is why many I met (who had not studied with me in stream R1) called me Bishop or Cardinal. But those from stream R1 called me by my full names, Adeladius Makwega.

 

On the way, there were also those who thought I was in Form Five. These needed explanations of what had happened to me.

 

“Hey, weren’t we all at Tambaza? You finished in 1993, right?”

Sometimes you answer yes to reduce unnecessary questions, realizing that the person remembers you but not your class.

 

“Are you waiting for results? Your exam was very difficult, but the Biology Practical was very easy. You were a science student, right?”

You answer yes.

 

“Well brother, we are going to school. Let us pray for each other to pass safely, because these new teachers are unpredictable; they expel people anyhow.”

 

At that point, you realize this one does not really remember you.

 

My daily journey from Mombasa–Ukonga to Mbagala took a long time, but it also kept me away from the street hangouts of Mbagala such as Mbagala Sabasaba at fundi Milusu’s place, later fundi Gervasi’s place, Agathon FC, Abuja FC, FC Tesema–Mkunguni, and Peace Boys Mbagala Kizuiani.

 

That was the daily life of Mwanakwetu.

In truth, many youths fall into bad behavior because they lack activities—the body has energy, but there is no work.

 

One day while I was at Mombasa–Ukonga, the builders needed money, so I had no choice but to go to NBC Old Posta.

 

In 1994, Mombasa–Ukonga was developing very rapidly. As I left the residential area, I met a young man I had studied with at Tambaza since Form One, known by the nickname Mohammed White.

 

At that time in the United States, there was a comedian actor in Family Matters, Jaleel Ahmad White (Steve Urkel).

 

Mohammed was given that name because he was light-skinned and liked to dress in “big mark” style like Steve Urkel.

He and several others had been expelled from Tambaza shortly after the school opened, suspected of being among those who gave Tambaza a bad reputation.

 

Later, Mohammed White appealed to the Dar es Salaam Regional Appeals Board and won, and was transferred to Mirambo–Tabora in mid-1993.

 

When he saw me, since he did not know my name but recognized my face as a Tambaza boy, he shouted loudly: “Hoyaa, Mudi White!”

I turned and saw him. He said, “I saw you, so I called out my own name—I knew you would turn.”

 

I asked him, “Why haven’t you gone to school?”

 

He explained that he had returned home because financial arrangements were not yet settled, but after a week he would go back to Tabora.

 

He asked me, “Why aren’t you in school?” I explained what had happened to me.

 

He said, “So you are that boy from Mbagala.” I told him yes.

He said, “Sorry brother, it will pass.”

 

I left him entering a food place for lunch (which I paid for), and I headed to the Mombasa–Ukonga bus stand.

 

When I arrived, I boarded a Dayana Clipper bus from Gongo la Mboto to Posta, which was very crowded. The conductor collected fares only from those near the door.

When we reached Mnazi Mmoja, many passengers got off, but I did not get a seat. As the bus was turning a corner near a building with a TOP CUP coffee advertisement, the conductor began collecting fares from those seated at the front.

 

“Everyone, pay your fares quickly!”

 

I took out money, and suddenly I saw Mr Mtera (the Headmaster of Tambaza at that time) seated with a woman—possibly his wife.

 

I paid my fare along with theirs by signaling to the conductor.

When the conductor reached them, he gave them two tickets; Mr Mtera took out money, but the conductor pointed to me, showing that I had already paid.

I watched him from the corner of my eye. He looked at me several times, shaking his head left and right.

When I got off at the Station, I did not know whether they got off as well.

 

I went to NBC to collect the money from Miss Makwega, then returned to Mombasa–Ukonga to deliver it to the builders.

While preparing this article, I tried to find Mr Mtera to hear his side of the story, but I was told that both he and Mr Wajimila had already passed away.

 

It is said that Mr Mtera and his wife died on a Sunday in a car accident while going to church.

Personally, I offer my condolences to their families. They were teachers who raised and taught us good morals.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.

Mwanakwetu, are you there? Remember, this is an article from The Azania and Tambaza Conflict XXXVIII.

I wish you a good day.

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