Lately, I find myself in desperate need of hope. The stress of watching Tanzania become what it is is too much to bear alone. I feel powerless and helpless. At 2 am, instead of sleeping, I found myself writing this: I am out of prayers Dispair knocks and I let it in I let it sit on my chest and wait for something resembling hope to lift me from under it I look at the shut door see if my neighbours knock but they too are locked inside their houses with the same heavy things on

The wind is heavy, and when I pick up the pen to write to you, my bones rattle. Many of you were, but children, 17-25, barely out of your parents’ houses, pushed into a country that failed you. Toni Morrison once said, “Speaking to the broken and the dead is too difficult for a mouth full of blood. Too holy an act for impure thoughts. Because the dead are free, absolute; they cannot be seduced by blitz.” I must speak with you soberly, somberly, with humility and reverence.  I

I see you the hurt of losing your loved ones heavy on your chests like a boulder you cannot breathe you are shocked by the silence of those who should beg your forgiveness or comfort you you want to cry or scream and torch something the anger coils around your throat it chokes you   I am with you even when you do not want to hear me or feel my hand around your shoulders I know you want them to pay you want vengeance holy and exact you want them sorry unleash hell over them so

The streets are quiet, and the wails have muffled The smoke is clear, and guns are back in the holster The blood is almost dry a blackening sheet of red on asphalt Flags fly, full mast, and bodies are quietly buried, no wake. Mothers of scared children let out a sigh of relief Shop owners pick up broken glass and finger bullet holes on their metal gates Somewhere, a mother has lost their only son and a bullet tore through a beloved daughter’s eye Somewhere, a husband is missi

Dark clouds still loom over Tanzania. It’s been three days since the general elections, which should be declared invalid, since most people were not able to exercise their right to vote for the leader they wanted, either because they wanted reforms or because of the disruptions that caused low voter turnout and eroded citizens’ trust in the ballot. The question now is, what will happen to Tanzania? Who will step up to resolve these issues?  I have found no clear answers in th

My heart is heavy. Yesterday, Tanzania held its general election despite millions of Tanzanians demanding reforms. Their cries seemed to land on deaf ears, and when not, those in power threatened people who wanted peaceful demonstrations. The result? Aggravated young people taking to the streets, burning police offices and private property. I do not know what to say or who to say this to, as the powers that be have also shut down the internet. I understand the frustration of

Wanikosesha usingizi Tanzania ya siku hizi, Uloikata mizizi Na kusahau misingi Uliyosimika siku nyingi   Ndotoni unanijia Kwa kilio na hasira ‘Nisuta kukosa dira Na kunidai uhuru Ulopigania siku nyingi   Wanikumbusha amani Haiji bila ya haki Na ukombozi wetu thabiti Haukuja bila ya dhiki Na damu za wafianchi

[I wrote this essay in 2018, and posted it on a blog which has since been closed (Tanzanian cyber laws, censorship and all). Today, somebody asked in our Tanzanian writers' group, where are the writers in what is currently happening in Tanzania. I thought about this piece again, and thought to repost here. I hope we will find our collective courage to speak. Anyway, here we go!] It’s been a while since I have written publicly. Every time I pick up the pen to write, the warnin

Siamini! Masikio yenu mmetia pamba wananchi mwatuona vyura wapiga kelele za kukoroma   Na kamusi mmezichoma hamjui maana ya haki wala...

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