During voting and in the days following the elections, something happened that left deep scars on the national psyche
If thoughts are worth a penny, who can tell what thoughts shared might be worth?
Here I am, sharing my thoughts on the recent elections related events in Tanzania, thoughts born out of agonising worry, empathy and the stubborn belief - yes belief - that we can still do better.
During voting and in the days following the elections, something happened that left deep scars on the national psyche. This wasn’t just about politics. It was about who we are as a people and what we are becoming.
For a country long known for calm and civility, witnessing an unprecedented curfew felt like watching a poorly scripted movie where a part of our national identity is eaten away.
Some viewed it as an attempt to disrupt the voting process, others as a quest to demand justice and fair treatment. What we all saw was chaos. Property was destroyed, public offices vandalised and private businesses were looted or burned.
In the melee that ensued, lives were lost and many were injured. Some were protesters, others were, well, collateral damage. Families that had gone to bed with hope for change woke up to grief and fear.
Beyond the destruction was the defeat of purpose. Nothing good came out of it but vandalism and bloodshed.
But how did it come to this? How did a people long admired for their patience, tolerance and peace find themselves in such a predicament?
Those who took to the streets were our own kith and kin, mostly young, restless and unemployed. Some were probably graduates who see hopelessness left and right after years of waiting for opportunities.
Others were hustlers just trying to make ends meet. But they had one thing in common: a quiet rage at being left behind.
These were not protests of prosperity. No one with a stable job or a small business to protect willingly abandons it to face tear gas or truncheons. This was frustration spilling over.
And so, they poured into the streets. But at the core of it all was a simple truth; too many young people have too much time and too little hope. When a society reaches that point, the ground beneath creaks.
The real danger is not just the protests; it’s the vulnerability that breeds them. An idle youth population can easily be manipulated by opportunists. With no faith in the system, they become susceptible to anyone who offers a sense of purpose, even if that purpose is ruinous.
But in all this, the state’s response, though intended to restore order, also left painful questions in its wake. The very organs meant to protect citizens sometimes became part of the problem.
The result was that not all victims of the unrest were people who took part in the protests. Two wrongs never make a right. Peace built on fear or silence cannot endure. Real peace can never be policed into existence.
This begs the question: what kind of society have we built? One where able-bodied youth are ignored? One where public office is seen as a shortcut to privilege and a bragging right among peers?
For years, we’ve comforted ourselves with the illusion that Tanzania is different, that our peace is unshakable. But peace is not a permanent possession; it’s a relationship we must constantly nurture.
Today’s citizens are not as easily swayed as before. They see things for themselves, in real time. Gone are the days when uncomfortable truths could quietly be swept under the rug. This new generation demands accountability, transparency and a say in shaping their own future.
So, what now? Where do we go from here?
We begin by acknowledging that something has gone terribly wrong and that fixing it will take more than rhetoric.
The essence of public service is values not interests. Leaders have to be guided by humility, not hubris. The true measure of leadership is reflected in how many believe in you.
But the task of rebuilding rests on the people as well. We must invest in our youth with opportunities, real, tangible ones that restore dignity and hope. Similarly, we must instil in them the importance of tolerance, discipline and restraint.
Peace and prosperity will always walk hand in hand. You cannot have one while starving the other. After all, you can’t have your cake and eat it too. Until we embrace true change, our peace will always be fragile.
The violence revealed our inequality, our impatience and our indifference but it also showed us the inevitability of change. Instead of losing control, it is best to accept controlled change.
We owe it to those who lost their lives, to the families who are mourning and to the generations yet to come. We owe it to ourselves.
Because peace is not the absence of conflict; it is the presence of justice. And justice begins when we start listening, not to respond, not to defend, but to understand and engage.
Et voilà, just thoughts shared!
Kilasa Mtambalike is a veteran journalist and Public Relations and Communications Consultant based in Dar es Salaam. He is also Chief Editor of Wealth Magazine
