From as early as the 1990s, young Tanzanians would envision what life is like in Europe and America; the Hollywood movies had brainwashed many into thinking it was all milk and honey.
The biggest hurdle was the hefty ticket prices to fly across the ocean and the rigorous visa application process that included proof of financial stability in the tune of millions of shillings, but then stories of prosperity and promises of a ‘western’ lifestyle were spread by those who travelled to South Africa; by then, the country was barely coming out of the clutches of apartheid.
Many black people, as did other Africans in the neighbouring countries, including young Tanzanians, hoped for a better life.
For decades now, Tanzanians have endured a long, overland journey to Mzansi, hoping for a better life.
Stories of tragedies, sorrows, and success have emerged in a country that still attracts young Tanzanians 30 years later.
Ludovic Mahuwi, popularly known as Mjomba, has been in and out of South Africa for more than 10 years now.
Having lived in the capital city, Pretoria, and settled in the border city of Musina, formerly known as Messina, located in Limpopo province near the border with Zimbabwe.
Life in Dar es Salaam was becoming fruitless for Ludovic; every entrepreneurial move he made didn’t bring in the results he was hoping for, so he wanted what he had always dreamt of doing: a search for greener pastures outside of Tanzania, and his most reachable country was South Africa.
His friend in Pretoria invited him to go over there.
On his arrival, reality struck; his friend didn’t show up to pick him up.
“I arrived at 5am, I called him, and he never picked up my phone. It was winter; I waited for more than 12 hours for him to come pick me up,” he said.
He only came to pick me up after some local South Africans showed concern, having seen me standing by the corner waiting for so many hours.
They approached me and took me to a place where Tanzanians hang out; it was a small kiosk where Tanzanians were known for selling sweets and operating payphones.
They had to call him and reprimand him for abandoning him on his first day in a foreign country.
After picking him up, he didn’t even take him to his place; he just dropped him off at a makeshift room and left.
That was his brutal introduction to the land he perceived as ‘land of milk and honey’. He had to readjust fast or fall into depression and destitution. He met a young guy from Kinondoni, of whom they became friends, and was welcomed by the Tanzanian community in Pretoria West. His first hustle was at a barbershop.
Whenever someone came in to shave all their hair bald, they would let him do it since it was easy and didn’t require much skill. Whatever he made, he would give the barbershop owner half of the money he made.
He saved enough and eventually got a room, and later he bought his electric clipper and started his hair-cutting business in a makeshift tent.
Whatever money he made, he sent back home.
Soon his barbershop became a hangout spot for Tanzanians in the neighbourhood; his friendly nature and charisma attracted people, and he got to know other Tanzanians who came from Dar es Salaam.
One day, while carrying on his everyday business and chatting with his friends, he was informed that his former friend, with whom he had lost touch, was staying close to the Zimbabwe border in a remote town called Musina.
“Good deeds never go to waste,” said Ludo. While in Dar es Salaam, he used to have his humble abode where he invited all his friends to come over, and he would treat them well.
One of his friends suddenly disappeared, and he didn’t know where he went, only to be told he now resides in Musina.
South Africa-based Tanzanian Ludovic Mahuwi. PHOTO | COURTESY
He quickly asked for his phone number and reached out.
By then, life in Pretoria was difficult; paying rent was a gamble, and he sometimes thought of going back to Dar es Salaam.
When Ludo reached out, the friend was excited to have him come over, and soon he was on a bus to try his luck in the new town.
“That was a long time ago; Kikwete was still the president of Tanzania,” he remembers.
Musina’s economy largely depends on Zimbabweans who cross over to buy goods and services; they make the economic wheel of this border city, as the Beitbridge bridge goes around without their presence.
Musina would be dormant.
Most local businesses employ illegal Zimbabwean immigrants who provide cheap labour.
“They call the illegal Zimbabweans Mexicans,” he said.
Ludovic has learnt the art of trading with them, sometimes crossing the border to Zimbabwe for business.
The skills he has mastered over the years of painful toiling.
While most Tanzanians choose to settle in big cities like Johannesburg and Cape Town.
Ludo chose a secluded Musina town away from the hassle and bustle of the metropolises.
Life is better now; he rents a nice house, bought a car, and he even wears designer clothes; he brags about it too; not everyone can wear genuine designer brands.
“You can’t wear Nike if you don’t have money,” he smiled.
He is glad to be able to pay the fees for his children back in Tanzania.
The mother of his children understands his absence; she knows he provides better for the kids when he is away from Tanzania.
“I sat down with her and asked if life is better when I am in Tanzania or South Africa, and she agreed that life is better for them when he is in South Africa,” he said.
He had briefly returned to Dar es Salaam to try his luck after he had saved up some money as capital, but business in Dar still proved a hard bone to crack, so he decided to leave his family for the second time and go back to Musina. He insists he will be back in Dar because that’s where his family is.
He can’t go to bed before video calling them and calls them back in the morning, as they are going to school. He sends money for pizza whenever they ask, all that to keep them close.
His son, 11 years old, has ambitions to play professional football; he has had his trial to join the Azam football academy.
He is doing everything he can to fund his ambitions.
Ludovic understands what it’s like to have dreams deterred, and he doesn’t want to see that repeat with his son.
His music career didn’t materialise because he lacked the backup he needed at that time.
He watched people that he supported become famous and successful; his close associates are now Bongo Flava superstars. He used to walk for many kilometres from Ilala to Masaki to go to Master J’s studios, and nothing came of it, but now in South Africa, he is living the life he dreamed of.
Hitting the walls in everything he worked for in Dar es Salaam drove him to abandon the country and try his luck elsewhere.
He said many young Tanzanians in South Africa fall victim to drugs, and that leads to homelessness.
Many without proper guidance turn to violent crimes as a way to get money, and many have died that way.
It is a mixed bag of dreams and nightmares. Some Tanzanians make it big and disassociate from other Tanzanians out of fear of what some of their countrymen have become, and those who fall into crime and selling drugs rarely make it far before they meet their demise.
“Many young men in Tanzania living in the ghettos are influenced to come to South Africa without having a clear plan; they just smoke marijuana and make an abrupt decision to travel, and those end up on the wrong path,” he said.
Many young people have had to be flown back to Tanzania after becoming drug addicts and mentally ill.
Ludovic has had to help many young Tanzanians who are caught by the law.
He is now called Mjomba, Swahili for uncle, as he is seen as a mentor to many youth coming from Tanzania seeking greener pastures in South Africa, like he did decades ago.
