Beating the Drum on One Side: Confusing the People on Both Sides

Beating the Drum on One Side: Confusing the People on Both Sides

Chana Bateta said:
Namuuliza Mr.Hirji, wewe kaa pembeni hauna hata moja unalojua kuhusu historia ya Tanganyika, nakushauri uwe msomaji, Mr.Hirji wana JF wasubiri majibu.
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Mr Bateta Walla,naona adab ya mnakash imekupitia kando,hujui kwamba kum address Hirji ni privilege kubwa sana kwako
 
jackline1 said:
Wewe kaa pembeni sasa, HIRJI is in the house,tunakuomba uwe mfatiliaji tu mohamed Said, mwaga cheche bila chenga tunaomba uthread carefully maana reputation yako Hirji anaweza kuichanachana to shreds
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Hirji? Maybe made in Ufipa Str. Kinondoni, that is not the way Hirji should have written. I have doubt if we are debating with a real Hirji. FaizaFoxy Ritz Mohammed Said
 
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hanzu runi said:
reading hirji's article this one tingled with excitement. He thought we now are onto something. Worthy. Digging deep. A city of ideas. Where the exchanges would enrich the mind even when you disagreed with the points. Alas! True to form this has now reverted to type. Intellectual bullism and some lazy medley of faith, false pride, zealotry, or all rolled into one. So much so one heavy-hitter weighed in with a celestial announcement in the year of the lord! How do you argue with that? What intellectual basis is there to question your faith, your lord? The other hitter went down-low mimicking hirji's ancestry. He is indian afterall and so: Bana kuba.

I am blind but i know there a many ways to go and this is not one of them.

Yes, i know mshume kiyate and all swahili soldiers who gave their lives so that i would be writing these lines. A keyboard. Some schooling. Seen the world. Some of these soldiers you don't even know. (because you don't need to). Sheikh amran. Sheikh isa kibira. Fimbo mtwana. Ustadh mangilingi. Chamng'anda usingizi. Fatuma bint mpera. Sheikh mwinyimlenda...but so what? So that we could compare who suffered most? The academe of the slaves. I was lucky but many offspring of these soldiers are languishing in ignorance, poverty, disease and the pride of being "wazee wa dar es salaam", wheeled out from their hovels from time to time for the national television and a per diem of sahani za ubwabwa. Where is the pride? To get these offspring off charity you take them to cities of ideas not stale stories.

Let us build this land together. It belongs to all of us. The descendant of indian cobbler. Ponjoro na baniani. Mkinga mchawi. Manyema slave. Christian. Muslim. Pagan. Chief. Commoner. Woman. Man. No one has a monopoly over the history of this country. And some of the indians derided have been here way before the manyema slaves, way before the ngoni migration. Some respect!

Let descendants of mshume kiyate learn about cities of ideas, algorithm of this medium, ode to joy, professor hirji's nuance, that would be a befitting coda to mshume's struggles and not some vacuous declarations about year of the lord in these seconds of nano technology.
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well written
 
Chana Bateta said:
Mr. Karim Hirji.

Vipi ile history ya Kivukoni kuhusu Tanganyika pamoja na kuwa ilikuwa muhariri zamani mbona huajataja mapungufu yake au unakubaliana nayo, lakini umekimbilia kumjibu Mohamed Said na kutoa mifano ya ajabu.
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Hilo hajibu hata chembe.

Tazama hata post yake yupo katika kujitetea tu hana zaidi.

Eti "Professor" anatamba kaandika chapter moja.

Huyu mzee ni ze komedi wa ukweli.
 
kfhirji said:
Ningependa kutoa historia fupi ya kibinafsi

Mwaka 1969: Mimi, Karim Hirji, nilikuwa Mhariri Mkuu wa jarida la wanafunzi wa UDSM
liitwalo CHECHE. Tuliunga mkono siasa ya ujamaa lakini tulisema ukweli kuwa utekelezaji
wake na TANU ilikuwa mbaya sana. Wazee wa TANU walikasirika sana na Jarida letu ilpigwa
MARUFUKU.
Mwaka 1973:Niliandika makala kukosoa sera ya Mwalimu Nyerere kuhusu elimu ya kujitegemea
iliochapishwa UDSM kwenye jarida la Maji Maji Nilionyesha utekelezaji wake shuleni ilikuwa una
mapungufu mengi. Wakati ule nilikuwa Assitant Lecturer wa Mathematics. Mwalimu alikasirika
na mimi nilifukuzwa UDSM na nilipelekwa SUMBAWANGA.
Mwaka 1979: Niliandika chapter kwenye kitabu A HISTORY OF COLONIAL TANGANYIKA kuhusu
sera za wajaremani ya elimu na niligusia suala la dini pia.

Na kuna mengi zaidi. Watu wengi wana sema mambo ambayo kwa wakati ule walikaa kimya.
Mmi nili sema ukweli wazi wazi na nilipewa adhabu kali.

Ndugu Saidi mimi pia nina historia ndefu ya kuandika mambo ya social historical analysis.
Na wewe pia una historia ndefu ya kufanya hivyo. Lakini mimi sisemi kwa wengine
nyinyi mlikuwa wapi wakati wote huu.

Kuuliza swali kama hilo ni a diversionary tactic. Hai fai hata kidogo. Leo wewe na mimi
tumekutana kwenye majadiliano ya mambo muhimu kwenye nchi yetu. Tujaribu kujibu
hoja kwa hoja, wazo kwa wazo, na siyo kuuliza ULIKUWA WAPI? Kila mtu ana haki ya
kujiingiza katika mjadiliano yeyote wakati wowote.

Prof. Karim Hirji
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"Professor" wacha kuwa comedian, yani historia yako fupi imeishia kwenye kuandika "chapter moja" tu ya Historia.

Wacha kutuchekesha saa hizi.

Hebu tuwekee hiyo chapter tuisome.
 
FaizaFoxy said:
"Professor" wacha kuwa comedian, yani historia yako fupi imeishia kwenye kuandika "chapter moja" tu ya Historia.

Wacha kutuchekesha saa hizi.

Hebu tuwekee hiyo chapter tuisome.
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FaizaFoxy.

Huyu kweli "Comedian Professor" msome hapa chini...

Karim F. Hirji,

All children in my primary school in colonial Tanzania were brown-skinned, with ancestry in India or Pakistan. Instruction in the first three years was in Gujarati. Only at the age of 13, two years after Independence in 1961, did I have an African friend. And that was because, unlike my Asian peers, I chose to study at the Dar es Salaam Technical College. Else, like them, my circle of friends would have remained an exclusively racial and communal one, and I would have been cut-off from genuine contact with 99% of my country folk until reaching the university.

Moez Vassanji's acclaimed Uhuru Street, published in 1992, and Jules Damji's recent Oyster Bay & Other Short Stories are both set in that era of my life and in the location I grew up in. Though these collections of short stories are declared to be purely fictional, it is evident that they derive from reality. Many characters either bear strong resemblances to, or are composites of, real persons from those days. And, the tales mostly relate to the Ismailia community in Dar es Salaam, from which both authors originate. These varied stories essentially reflect the angst and aspirations of a racial minority in a nation burdened with the toxic legacy of colonialism. Hitherto, it had led an isolated and relatively privileged existence. Now, with the nation seeking a brighter future for all its citizens, it finds itself in an existential bind.

Each book, no wonder, begins with a tale of transition. A half-caste, enjoined by poverty into an arranged marriage with a suitorless plump woman, puts up with his dreary life of a docile son-in-law of a wealthier family. Facing social ridicule and boredom, he is attracted by a widow, a seller of buns. When there is a chance to elope, his suspicious father-in-law is on guard. Prevented from accessing his savings, and with only a few coins in his pocket, will the man take the plunge? Vassanji deftly leaves us in suspense.

A majestic mango tree, a magnet for children, hawkers, itinerant barbers, and all forms the locus of Damji's first tale. A hawker, maltreated by a sour spirited newly wed lady from distant lands, casts a spell on her. Haunted thereafter by the spirit of the tree, she has it declared a safety hazard by the city authorities and cut down. An icon of the place, a refuge from the hot sun for generations, is no more. What's more, the lady also packs her bags and is gone for good soon after.

Vassanji's half-caste desperately seeking another place to call home symbolizes a community, neither black nor white, rejected by the locals and the colonial masters alike. Sandwiched into an arranged service of the unruly master, it prospers from favored economic opportunities, and rises above the rest. Independence, though, brings discomfort and insecurity. For some, the prospects of venturing on to distant shores emerge. But the possessions may have to remain. To sail towards London, United States, or Canada, or not? That is the logical climax towards which Vassanji's characters are headed.

The methodic uprooting of the tree evokes the memory of the original inhabitants displaced by colonial authorities to make way for the Ismailia enclave. It as well signifies a nation turned upside down by foreigners for their own interests. When they leave, the black and brown, hitherto socially and economically apart, have to face the consequences. Can they unite to forge a common destiny, or will the rift between them grow? That is an underlying theme Damji explores.

Both books enthrallingly bring a distant era to life. With dark humor, they expose the idiocies and frailties of our existence; with insight, they narrate the intricacies of ordinary life; and with a vivid caste of characters, we see both the resilience and corruption of persons facing daunting odds. Despite their diverse perspectives, they have much in common. Both depict the profound social distance between the races; the grip of the worst facets of Western culture on the colonized mind; and the challenge to common sensibility posed by the demise of the colonial rule.

Vassanji gives us a host of acrid and hilarious depictions of the Asian community in general, and of the Ismailies in particular. Five stories hammer home the depth of racial hostilities: Ali, the perfect yet ambitious house servant; the beggar exacting revenge on cheeky Asian kids; the dark portrait of the caller to prayer; the small act of rebellion by the African driver; and the rape and murder of an Asian woman.

While Vassanji packs 16 tales over a thin volume of 144 pages, Damji unfolds nine of them in 255 pages. He develops characters in greater depth, and places them in the broader social setting. From a thrilling rendition of a safari rally uniting people in varied walks of life, to a beautiful portrait of the life and work of the prayer house caretaker, a lurid tale of friendship ripped apart by material and moral corruption, and ending with the oddities of a family reunion, he is never far from the inner life of the community in which he grew up. Yet, his stories have a distinct flavor deriving from their connections with the happenings in Tanzania and Africa in those times.

Both authors explore the perplexities of inter-racial romance. Vassanji engages us in an evolving affair between a Ghanian professor and an Asian female student, while Damji portrays a ripening bond between an Asian male and an African female student. While the Asian family in the former uniformly demeans the relationship, at least the mother in the latter is liberal enough to countenance it. Vassanji's frame of reference thereby is that of a realist while Damji expands it towards an uncharted dimension.

Both authors depict rebellious elements from their community; Vassanji attends to the ostracization of an outspoken book store owner and its impact on his family. In particular, the son Ebrahim is radicalized at the university and later joins the civil service. We hear about Shiraz uncle, a socialist accused of corrupting the youth. But both are casts in essentially a negative light, with the former ending up as a corrupt conduit for the very businessmen he had looked down upon, and the latter being deemed a foolish governmental lackey.

While Vassanji touches on this matter tangentially, Damji devotes roughly a third of his pages to it, more fully capturing how nationalistic sentiments and the spirit of the Sixties radicalized a small but influential segment of the Ismailia youth. Again Damji surveys an often ignored terrain, that of some Asian youth empathizing with the plight of the African masses, and one even laying down his life for African liberation.

While Vassanji's youth dream of going to an American university, Damji envisions
how and why one chose to attend a local university even when he was accepted to study at Oxford. These are the distinctive fundamental threads running through their tales. Vassanji's tales are rooted in the community whereas Damji searches for meaning in the nation at large; Vassanji probes into the inner follies and foibles of persons but Damji also locates them to events and history. Despite sprinklings to the contrary, the principal framework of the former is socially introverted and conformist, in which emigration emerges as the eventual solution. The latter, on the other hand, exhibits extroverted, nationalistic and morally bold inclinations, entertaining harmony between communities and races, despite its attendant challenges, as a futuristic possibility. Damji,
furthermore, explicitly touches on the facts and impact of economic inequality.

Fiction thrives when imagination has a free reign. Yet, if the work depicts a specific historic era, the writer is ethically obliged to not, by commission or omission, give a fictionalized rendition of history. Vassanji has a case to answer for his lack of due attention to the inner life of a secretive community, and his bland, superficial and misleading portrayal of the broader landscape. While Damji does a much better job there, he takes too many liberties with history, and at times, reveals the lack of adequate research and mastery of facts. And both authors too simplistically depict the radical Ismailia youth as governmental followers–many, in fact, were critical of Nyerere's policies in that it was socialism in name only, but not so in practice. And while Vassanji's skill of narration is hard to fault, a better editorial assistance could have enriched parts of Damji's exposition.

The two books complement one another. As a seasoned author, Vassanji has a large international audience. I would as well recommend Oyster Bay & Other Short Stories to the general reader. Yet, here I have a ma jor gripe with Damji. His book also needs to reach high school students and their teachers in the classroom setting. But the explicit depiction of sexuality in just a couple of pages make it a suspect reading in our conservative circumstances. By not keeping his African audience in mind, and seemingly pandering to a Western one, he has shot himself in the foot. By laying himself open to spurious and diversionary charges of corrupting the morality of the youth, he has in essence reduced their access to the much needed critical spirit that flows through his work. Perhaps an East African edition or a Swahili translation can remedy this.

********
Nearly five decades later, race relations in Tanzania, or East Africa for that matter, seem no better than they were at the time of Independence. Even religious, ethnic and regional schisms continue to corrode the social fabric. Leadership at all levels today is singularly lacking in vision, places its own interests above anything else, and is firmly wedded to Western economic interests. As the recent post-election turmoil in Kenya attests, the state authorities, virtually the whole spectrum of the political and business elite, and community leaders, bereft of any true legitimacy, can and will exploit these differences to their own advantage. Ethnicities and races remain divided while the underlying wounds are not addressed, and the nation cannot unite to tackle the mammoth challenges it faces. In Kenya, as in Tanzania, and elsewhere in Africa, that is the common story. Can we learn from the past? We will need to read about it first.

We badly need writers who inspire the youth with "unreal" dreams, who look into the past as a way for envisioning a bolder future, and whose stories depict hope not simple realism. While the Western world can continue to pour their laurels on Vassanji, for me, Damji is the man of the hour. But he needs to go forward. While I was entertained by his stories and enthralled by his courage to speak plainly, he needs a deeper and more engaged immersion into African realities to deliver us more exciting and far sighted work. His debut shows a keen talent for the task. I await the next product of his pen.
 
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FaizaFoxy said:
"Professor" wacha kuwa comedian, yani historia yako fupi imeishia kwenye kuandika "chapter moja" tu ya Historia.

Wacha kutuchekesha saa hizi.

Hebu tuwekee hiyo chapter tuisome.
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Tatizo umeshindwa kujua Prof amemaanisha nini, labda aje MS mwenyewe.
 
Ritz huyo mwana CHADEMA Nyakageni anaonyesha kuwa Siku likifanyika kosa la Kuwapa Madaraka CHADEMA hii ndio hali tukakayo kuwa nayo.
anatukana mchana kutwa kwa sababu maskini elimu ya kujadili hana!

Ati leo ana ahidi ya kumpa mtu milion 20 wakati kodi ya Chumba analipiwa na Ben Saanane.

Na kina PainKiller wuko busy na kina Kahtaan lkn hawa wengine wako Exempted na BAN!

Kweli jf Sarakasi.
 
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Mohamed Said yuko wapi?? Hirji anasubiri,wajadiliane na kuukosoana kitaalam na sisi tufyonze elimu
 
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jackline1 said:
Mohamed Said yuko wapi?? Hirji anasubiri,wajadiliane na kuukosoana kitaalam na sisi tufyonze elimu
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Hirji yupo wapi? Kuna viporo vingi tu anatakiwa kuvijibu kwa wana JF kwa hiyo wewe hautaki Hirji atujibu.

Prof Hirji, kama unatusoma wana JF tunaomba ujibu maswali yetu.

1) Historia ya TANU iliyoandikwa Kivukoni ni histiria sahihi maana imeanzia kwa Nyerere na kuishia kwa Nyerere.

2) Kuna ushahidi kutoka kwa Maaskofu kuwa Kanisa lilikuwa upande wa serikali wakati wa utawala wa Nyerere wewe unapingana na hawa Maaskofu.

3) Wale Masheikh waliokamatwa na kutupwa Gerezani na Nyerere baada ya Uhuru walikuwa na kosaa gani.


Tuanze na haya kwanza Prof Hirji.
 
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jackline1 said:
Naona shughuli imekuwa kubwa,nmeshakuwa kaka sasa- twasubiri
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Jackline1,
Niwie radhi kwa hilo neno, "kaka."

Hili neno hutumiwa katika njia ya kutaka kumkweza yule unaezungumzanae.
Yaani kuchukuliana.

Kwetu ni neno la kumpa mtu heshima.
Niwie radhi ikiwa kwa sababu yoyote ile likawa ninelitumia sipo.

Nakuwekea hapa taazia ya Chief Kidaha Makwaia na nataka uone kuwa
yeye baada ya uhuru alikuwa "repatriated," Tunduru kwa kosa "lisilojulikana,"
kama alivyoeleza mwandishi:

Guardian (UK)
Extract Author: Awam Amkpa
Extract Date: Thursday May 31, 2007
​

Chief David Kidaha Makwaia: Tanzanian politician, businessman and head of the Sukuma

Chief David Kidaha Makwaia of Tanzania, who has died aged 84, was one of the last great bridges between colonial and postcolonial Africa. Paramount chief of the Sukuma Federation and an ally of Tanganyika's governor from 1949 to 1958, Lord Twining, Makwaia liaised between British rulers and various constituencies of their Tanzanian subjects, witnessing East Africa's transition from imperialism through independence to postcolonial repression.

Makwaia's life offers a window to the overlapping identities and cosmopolitan experiences that defined the colonised elites of 20th-century Africa. He was born a Muslim son of the Sukuma chief, Makwaia Mwandu of Usiha, in the Shinyanga region of Tanganyika. He trained in agriculture at Uganda's Makerere University College in the early 1940s before entering Lincoln College, Oxford, where he read principles and praxis of local government, philosophy and politics.

Makwaia's political life unfolded along multiple channels bestriding the worlds of Tanzania's colonial rulers and its local chiefdoms. He succeeded his father as Usiha chief in 1945 and later became "paramount chief" of the Sukuma Federation, an autonomous institution of more than 50 chiefdoms, with its own offices and flag. This won him British recognition as an authoritative native voice - a privilege cemented by his appointment in the same year as the first of two Africans to Tanganyika's Legislative Council (Legico).

Other offices followed. In the course of the 1950s, he served as the only African member of the East African royal commission on land and population, was an unofficial member of the governor's executive council, and a consultant to the colonial government as an administrator in the African aspirations section of the social welfare department.

He was a guest at Queen Elizabeth's coronation in 1953; two years later he was awarded an OBE. He was viewed by the British as a likely president of Tanzania. Along the way, Makwaia underwent a conversion, embracing Roman Catholicism. This reawakening shaped his subsequent sense of mission. Although one of the most influential chiefs in East Africa, he was not driven by the need for power, but had always considered himself a servant of the people.

As the winds of independence gathered steam, he facilitated the political rise of his long-time college friend Julius Nyerere by winning him British support as well as by securing the allegiance of Sukuma chiefs to Nyerere's party, Tanu (Tanganyika African National Union). As prime minister, later president of independent Tanganyika, Nyerere repaid Chief Kidaha, as he was known, by abolishing the role of chiefs, and banishing him for some months to the remote Tunduru district of the Southern Province for undisclosed reasons. This experience alienated him from politics forever, prompting him to turn his energies to private business and religious pursuits.

In the 1960s and 1970s, he served as managing director of Market Research (T) Ltd, and was appointed public relations officer of the Nairobi-based East African Railways and Harbours administration. Upon his retirement in 1975, he moved to the northern Tanzanian town of Moshi, where he operated a private insurance agency. Active in local religious affairs, he founded the Moshi chapter of the Order of Franciscans.

At the time of his death, Chief Kidaha had resumed the leadership of the Sukuma community from his late brother Hussein, and was active in preserving Sukuma cultural legacies. He was buried at Ibadakuli in Shinyanga, the site of his state house during the heyday of his chiefdom. Most people who met the chief commented on his charismatic yet welcoming presence. He was proud of having fulfilled his promise to his father to ensure all his 43 siblings were properly educated.

He is survived by his wife, Grace, his former wife, Mary, four children, Misuka, Edward, Jonathan and Simona, eight grandchildren, and two great grandchildren.

David Paul Kidaha Makwaia, politician and businessman, born May 7 1922; died March 31 2007
 
Radio ya Taifa ya Finland kusoma Quraan yote pamoja na tafsiri na maelezo kwa kifinish.
Allah Akbar Allah Akbar.
Mungu mkubwa Mungu mkubwa.
Haya kwa wazungu sio ajabu kwani ni watu wenye elimu ni watafutaji na wachunguzi hawana akili mgando hata siku moja. Ndio utaona moja ya oldest Quraan Book ipo katika Library ya Washington na ilihifadhiwa na Abraham Lincorn na mpaka leo ipo. Wazungu hawapendi kufata kitu kama kasuku.
Wazungu ni wavumbuzi na wanajua wazi historia ya enzi za vita .
wakati wao wapo katika vita na ushenzi vita ya Barberians
Wababe hercules , ceaser romans empire yenye nguvu na ubabe vita vya wenyewe kwa wenyewe ..miaka hii ikipotea kwa mauaji upande wapili ndio dolla la kiislam likifanya mapinduzi makubwa katika kila secta za elimu matibabu na uchumi.
Ulaya walikuja kujifunza utuluvu huu kutoka waislam hasa baada ya crusade zao mwanzo
Wame soma historia wanajua ukweli. Hawaamini kabisa mambo ya boko haram na ISIS kuwa ni uislam wanajua hawa ni outlaws. Hata wao walikuwa nao wakati wakitafuta amani nchi zao hao ndio wengi walofukuzwa ulaya na kupelekwa New zealand Marekani na Austrslia hawa ni outlaws na washenzi . Wakihangaisha sana wazungu wenzao lakini hawakua wskiwakilisha ukristo....
Hivyo hatua hii ya Finland ni kutaka kuwa elewesha wa Finish nini uislam na Quraan inasema nini badala ya chuki za islamphobia.
Wanataka raia wao waujue ukweli kuhusu dini hii.
Na hili narudia kuwafahamisha wakristo ndugu zetu wa bongo...kuwa ukweli muko tofauti na wakristo walo kuleteeni huo ukristo.

Wao japo ni wakristo lakini hawana red line katika kusoma. huisoma Quran sawa sawa . Hutafuta maana hasa ya aya za Quraan. Huuliza wenyewe walobobea katika tafsiri na hadith . Hawa isomi nusu nusu au ile ilochafuliwa ambayo kwao haipo anyway ile ili letwa Afrika kuwabagua kule Afrika Kusini na nyengine ililetwa huku kwetu kuleta uadui kwa waislam . Hii haikuletwa na mapadre hakuna ushshidi huo.

Wewe mbongo unapinda maneni kutumia mafunzo ya wavamizi wa kikoloni una redline kusoma na unabaki unapotosha wenzako makusudi. Lengo labda ni kuwafanya wasione ukweli may be...

Lakini bongo christians Muko tofauti sana na mabwana wa ukristo nyinyi bado mnafata mafunzo yaloletwa maalum kuwagawa wakati wa kinyanganyiro cha Afrika.
Kwani walokuleteeni ukristo hawakuwa Mapadri ma makasisi walobobea na elimu hii ya ukristo bali majasusi . Walipanda mbegu mbaya sana . Lakini
Bado mna muda wa kubadilika kutafuta elimu kusoma tafsiri sahihi kupata ukweli japo mchungu
 
"Only at the age of 13, two years after Independence in 1961, did I have an African friend. And that was because, unlike my Asian peers, I chose to study at the Dar es Salaam Technical College."

A genius indigenous "Professor " at age 13 admitted in DTC (now a days DTI). Not even in record books.

Wooooow. A Tanganyika record if not Africa or rather the world?. Not mentioned anywhere.

Hirji, wasn't it at Adams garage near DTC, then?

Pity.
 
The history written by THE "Professor"

"All children in my primary school in colonial Tanzania were brown-skinned" - Hirji.

Was it a segregated school? by brownies do you mean "lower caste" or higher? at the time.

And you had an "African friend" for the first time when you were "13", was he a "lower caste" to you or Higher or an equal? was he "black", "white" or "brownie"?

Was it because of your parents or the segregation of "Asians" to Africans? or was it the "Protectors" who segregated you?


 
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