Tanga Port’s future as a gateway to the world

By Florid Mapunda

It was a scorching August day, the kind where the sun beats down like a relentless interrogator, frying your brain until it bubbles in its own juices. The convoy of black SUVs snaked its way toward the Port of Tanga, dust swirling in their wake like a tail on a rabid dog.

Inside one of those air-conditioned beasts sat the Commissioner General of the Tanzania Revenue Authority (TRA), Yusuph Mwenda, a man who looked like he hadn’t smiled since the Cold War, and beside him, the Director General of the Tanzania Ports Authority (TPA), Plasduce Mbossa, a man whose very presence seemed to scream, “I’m in charge, and I’ve got the plans to prove it.”

They were on a mission, a pilgrimage of sorts, to witness firsthand the rebirth of this once-forgotten port that now teetered on the edge of becoming a monumental juggernaut of East African commerce. It was a place where history and modernity clashed like two heavyweight boxers in a ring, and today, the stakes couldn’t have been higher.

Read: Vehicle shipment to dock at Tanga port for the first time

The rise from the ashes:

Tanga’s grim past

Tanga Port wasn’t always this shiny, newly-minted star on the map. It was born in the 1880s under German colonial rule, a modest speck on the coast, known as the “Marine Jetty,” with ambitions as limited as a ship without a rudder.

Back then, the port was a ragtag operation—noisy, chaotic, and woefully inadequate. By 1914, they had managed to cobble together a berth, followed by another in 1954, stretching the port's capacity to a measly 750,000 tonnes per year. That was barely enough to keep the ship afloat.

For decades, Tanga was the orphaned child of the Tanzanian port system, overshadowed by the big boys in Dar es Salaam and Mtwara. Ships had to offload their cargo in the middle of the ocean, 1.7 kilometres offshore, because the draft was so shallow it could barely wet your ankles.

Feeders, those rusty, creaking vessels, were the only ones brave enough to make the trip to Tanga. And don’t get me started on the equipment—or lack thereof.

It was like trying to run a Formula 1 race with a bunch of tricycles. But that was before the madness, the blood, sweat, and—let’s be honest—pure, unadulterated greed that birthed the monstrous beast Tanga Port would soon become.

Tanga Port’s metamorphosis

Fast forward to today, and you wouldn’t recognize the place. The Tanzania Ports Authority, in a fit of industrial fervor, in October 2019, pumped a staggering Sh429.1 billion into the port's veins, injecting it with new life.

The first phase was a baptism by dredging—transforming the entrance channel from 3 meters to a cavernous 13 meters deep. The turning basin? A colossal 800 metres in diameter. No more of this offloading-at-sea nonsense. Now, Tanga could accommodate bulk vessels up to 60,000 DWT, the kind of beasts that make lesser ports weep in terror.

Then came the heavy machinery—a veritable arsenal of cranes, forklifts, loaders, and tractors, all gleaming in the Tanzanian sun like war machines ready for battle. Sixteen new pieces of equipment, with names that would make a gearhead drool—diesel-electric mobile harbor cranes, terminal tractors, empty container handlers. This was a port on the warpath, and it wasn’t taking prisoners.

As the port’s capacity ballooned to 3 million tonnes annually, the old ways were left in the dust. Ships that used to linger for five days now blasted in and out in two, barely giving the barnacles time to latch on. Efficiency wasn’t just a buzzword here; it was the law of the land.

Voices from the front lines:

The masters speak

When Mwenda and Mbossa finally stepped out of their SUVs, it was like watching two titans enter the Colosseum. They stood at the edge of the quay, gazing out at the endless blue horizon where their dreams were now anchored. The sweat trickled down their necks, but their eyes were sharp, calculating the future in cold, hard numbers.

“This port is no longer the weak link in our chain,” Mwenda growled, his voice a low rumble that could shake the rust off an old anchor. “What we’ve built here isn’t just a port; it’s a powerhouse. And with TRA and TPA working in tandem, there’s no limit to the revenue we can generate. This is what progress looks like—real, tangible progress that puts money in our coffers and power in our hands.”

Mr Mbossa nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the towering cranes and bustling workers.

“This is just the beginning,” he said, his voice smooth as a freshly laid concrete slab.

“We’ve laid the groundwork for something monumental here. The modernisation of Tanga Port is a symbol of what we can achieve when we pool our resources and expertise. With the right infrastructure, there’s no reason we can’t turn this port into a key player in global trade.”

The TPA-TRA synergy:

A union of necessity

And this was the heart of it all—the TPA and TRA, two bureaucratic behemoths that had decided to work together instead of against each other.

It was a marriage of more than convenience, perhaps, but one that had already borne fruit.

With TRA ensuring that every shilling of revenue was squeezed from the cargo passing through Tanga, and TPA providing the muscle to move that cargo, it was a match made in fiscal heaven.

The integration of ICT systems was a stroke of genius—every container, every tonne of cargo was now tracked with pinpoint accuracy, reducing losses, minimising fraud, and boosting revenue to stratospheric heights.

This wasn’t just a port; it was a money-making machine, and every cog in that machine was greased with the sweat of men like Mwenda and Mbossa.

Tanga’s future as a gateway to the world

But it wasn’t just about the money—it was about the future. Tanga Port, once the laughing stock of the Indian Ocean, was now poised to become a vital artery in the East African trade network. With the East African Crude Oil Pipeline (EACOP) project nearing completion, Tanga would soon be the final stop for crude oil from Uganda, a logistical lifeline that would pump billions into the Tanzanian economy.

Then there was the Raskazone Oil Jetty, a high-tech marvel equipped with Coriolis flow metres that could offload 50,000 metric tonnes  of oil in just two days.

That’s the kind of efficiency that makes other ports seethe with envy. And with storage capacity at GBP’s tank farms reaching 202 million litres, Tanga was ready to handle the oil demands of Tanzania and its landlocked neighbors with ease.

The port’s strategic location, just a stone’s throw from Rwanda, Burundi, and the DRC, made it the ideal gateway for regional trade.

Whether it was exporting copper, sisal, or timber, or importing machinery, raw materials, and petroleum products, Tanga was the nexus through which all this wealth flowed.

The savage beauty of Tanga’s resurrection

As the sun dipped low over the Indian Ocean, casting long shadows across the quay, Mwenda and Mbossa knew they were standing at the precipice of something extraordinary.

Tanga Port was no longer just a port—it was a symbol of Tanzania’s relentless march toward progress, a testament to what could be achieved with the right mix of vision, money, and sheer, unyielding willpower.

But beneath the shiny new surface, the port still hummed with the echoes of its chaotic past—a reminder that progress doesn’t come easy, and it surely doesn’t come cheap. It’s a savage, brutal process, one that chews up the old ways and spits them out in a cloud of dust and broken dreams. But in the end, what emerges is something stronger, something better.

The symphony of Tanga Port is far from over. This is just the opening act.  And if you listen closely, you can almost hear the drums of progress beating in the distance, calling for the next round. The TPA and TRA know it too—their work is far from done. But for now, they can stand proud, knowing they’ve set the stage for something truly magnificent.

Florid Mapunda is a Public Relations consultant