THE AZANIA–TAMBAZA CONFLICT XXXIX

 

Adeladius Makwega – DODOMA

My reader, just remember that at this time it was still early 1994. I was still continuing to follow up on when the Appeals Board meeting would take place. The process was a back-and-forth routine—going and returning—yet no date had been set. This follow-up was being done at the Dar es Salaam City offices located along Sokoine Drive.

 

Life at Tambaza was truly unique, because this school brought together students from all districts of Dar es Salaam, both from rural and urban areas. That is why it was a school full of many dramatic incidents—both amusing and sad.

 

In our R1 class there were about 45 students. Personally, there were four students whose homes I came to know, and they also came to know mine. The first was Kahenya Katalama. He studied at Muhimbili Primary School and lived at the Dar es Salaam School of Accountancy (DSA) in Kurasini. His mother was an employee of that institution.

 

This friend spoke to his mother and got permission for us to study in the college classrooms. Indeed, we were allowed to study there.

Another Tambaza student I knew well was Hamisi Ramadhani (Rashid Kazyoba). I have mentioned him many times. I knew him even before joining Tambaza because we used to take mock primary school exams together at Mtoni Primary School (Mtoni kwa Mama Mere), along with Seleiman Dewji, Hamisi Jangwa, and many others.

 

The third person I knew well was Christian Maembe. He lived in Mtoni Relini. He was a very calm young man and a fan of reggae music, especially songs by Lucky Dube such as “Baby Don’t Cry,” “Remember Me,” and “I Got You Baby,” and he would sing these songs to us frequently. He is a relative of the artist Vitalis Maembe, as I explained in earlier writings.

 

I had also known him before going to Tambaza because we attended the same parish (Mbagala Parish), and I received my First Communion in 1988 together with his younger brother, Vitalis Maembe. They came from Mtoni Mtongani while I came from Mbagala Sabasaba.

 

Another R1 student I knew well, including his home, was Ibrahimu Liguo. He lived in Manzese, deeper inside, in a less affluent area. How does a student from Mbagala come to know a Tambaza student living that far away?

To answer that question, note that on the very first day we joined Tambaza Secondary School, we entered the classroom and each person sat wherever they wanted. Students began competing for certain seats. Some did not want to sit in front, and many preferred the back desks, based on the primary school mentality that girls sit in front.

 

I remember that on that very first day, fights even broke out; I will not name those who exchanged blows, but desks were actually enough.

We were informed that before lessons began, class teachers would come, introduce themselves, call our names, and then arrange us properly in the classroom.

 

In truth, conditions in primary schools were very poor, unlike secondary schools. For example, at Mnazi Mmoja Primary School, sitting on the floor was completely normal. Girls would bring small mats or khangas to sit on, and one stream could have up to 100 students. Only the stronger ones managed to get desks.

 

I also remember that during the government of Ali Hassan Mwinyi, there was an operation to ensure that all stolen school property was returned to schools and public institutions. They specifically targeted desks and chairs.

At that time, I was studying at Mnazi Mmoja Primary School. The morning after the announcement, I arrived near Manyema Mosque and the Uhuru offices and found piles of chairs and desks scattered around after being returned overnight. I am certain I have never seen such an operation again—an operation to recover school furniture that had been used in hotels, restaurants, and private homes, especially metal desks and chairs stolen from schools in Dar es Salaam.

 

While we were in class at Tambaza, our class teacher—a tall, light-skinned woman—rearranged us, and I ended up sharing a desk with Ibrahimu Liguo. That is how I came to know him.

Indeed, the government at that time was extremely strict—very strict. Today, do students in public schools get properly arranged in classrooms when they start Form One, or do they just enter randomly? Do those classrooms even have enough furniture, or do students still sit on the floor like in the 1980s at Mnazi Mmoja Primary School?

Personally, I have no answers, but I believe you, my reader, do.

 

Now let me return to Ibrahimu Liguo. Personally, I did not know Manzese well, but I visited Liguo’s home, and although he had never been to Mbagala before, he later visited the Makwega family.

One day, Liguo came to our home during a wedding of a Makwega family girl, and we celebrated. During the wedding, Liguo told some of my younger siblings that he did not know Kiswahili and that at Tambaza we only spoke English.

 

Some of my younger siblings, who were still in primary school, believed him. Even after finishing primary school, they applied to join Tambaza—and indeed they passed and joined in 1994, including Mkomangi Mkundi (Gerald Stephen).

 

Since Ibrahimu Liguo and I were very close friends, I remember many things about him. The biggest of all was the day I came from Honorable Peter Pinda, who told me to go find my three friends, including Ibrahimu Liguo, as you may recall when I passed by Tambaza Secondary School.

 

There I met many students. After speaking to them and delivering Pinda’s message, I was about to leave. Ibrahimu Liguo followed me and said, “Makwega, don’t leave; there is something I want us to discuss.” I told him okay.

 

He asked me, “Did you receive the 5,900 shillings collected by the class through Dunkani?” I replied yes and thanked them very much.

He said, “I did not contribute to that collection because I had my own money, but it had not been exchanged. Since that day, I have been carrying it every day to school so I could give it to you. Let me go get it from the classroom.”

 

He went to the classroom and came back with his notebook, neatly covered with newspaper. He opened a hidden section and took out a green-colored note and gave it to me.

“I was afraid it might get lost if I gave it to someone else, which is why I delayed giving it to you. I was planning to come to Mbagala to give it to you, but since you are here, go exchange it—it will help you a lot.”

At that moment, I did not take it seriously because my mind was focused on studies, and I had already fallen behind. I kept it in my jeans pocket for two days. When I examined it carefully, I noticed the picture of Benjamin Franklin, whom I thought was the former  President of the United States. Looking closer, I realized it was actually a 100 US dollar bill.

 

I kept it in my jeans and left. I did not exchange it immediately; first, I did not believe it was real money. I kept it for a long time. Later, I showed it to my aunt who worked at NBC.

She said, “My child, where did you get this money?”

I explained how my fellow Tambaza students contributed 5,900 shillings and how Ibrahimu Liguo gave me 100 dollars.

My aunt needed a detailed explanation and kept the 100 dollars. At that time, Liguo, Atanas, and Hamis were going to testify before a senior official.

 

When I asked Liguo about the 100 dollars, he explained that since Form One he had been saving the leftover money given by his parents for school expenses and converting it into dollars. By Form Three, he had accumulated 100 dollars.

He told me that this was his method, and that some people store wealth in valuable items like diamonds and gold.

 

I returned to my aunt at NBC to explain further, wishing Liguo could also come explain it to her. Fortunately, my aunt, known as Bernadeth Makwega, understood well, exchanged the money, and I received 28,000 Tanzanian shillings. This money helped me greatly, as it was a large amount for a young student.

Today, my benefactor Ibrahimu Liguo is the Director of Planning at the Office of the Treasury Registrar, which was previously under the Ministry of Finance and Planning in Tanzania.

I am not sure whether Liguo remembers that incident, but today I remind him—it has now been 30 years since that 100 US dollars, which would now be about 230,000 Tanzanian shillings as of 2022.

makwadeladius@gmail.com
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IMAGE DESCRIPTIONS

The first image is of R1 in 1991, taken in their classroom. In the last row near the wall, there is a student bending down; next to him is Adeladius Makwega, followed by Ibrahimu Liguo.

The second image is also of R1, taken on the same day. The one holding Robert Nesta Marley’s scarf is Adeladius Makwega, and the one sitting in front of all students is Ibrahimu Liguo.

The third and fourth images are of Ibrahimu Liguo as he appears today.