Nelson Mandela na Tanganyika, nukuu kutoka kitabu chake!


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kajembe

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kajembe

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Early the next morning we left for Mbeya, a
Tanganyikan town near the Northern Rhodesian border. We
flew near Victoria Falls and then headed north through a
mountain range. While over the mountains, the pilot tried to
contact Mbeya, but there was no answer. “Mbeya, Mbeya!”
he kept saying into the microphone. The weather had
changed and the mountains were full of air pockets that
made the plane bounce up and down like a cork on a rough
sea. We were now flying through clouds and mists and in
desperation the pilot descended and followed a twisting
road through the mountains. By this time the mist had
become so thick we could not see the road and when the
pilot abruptly turned the plane I realized that we narrowly
missed a mountain that seemed to rear up out of nowhere.
The emergency alarm went off, and I remember saying to
myself, “That’s the end of us.” Even the ever-loquacious Joe
was stone silent. But then just as we could see no farther in
the clouds and I imagined we were about to crash into a
mountain, we emerged from the bad weather into a
gloriously clear sky. I have never enjoyed flying much, and
while this was the most frightening episode I have ever had
on a plane, I am sometimes adept at appearing brave and I
pretended that I was unconcerned.
We booked in a local hotel and found a crowd of
blacks and whites sitting on the veranda making polite
conversation. Never before had I been in a public place or
hotel where there was no color bar. We were waiting for Mr.
Mwakangale of the Tanganyika African National Union, a
member of Parliament, and unbeknown to us he had
already called looking for us. An African guest approached
the white receptionist. “Madam, did a Mr. Mwakangale
inquire after these two gentlemen?” he asked, pointing to
us. “I’m sorry, sir,” she replied. “He did but I forgot to tell
them.”
“Please be careful, madam,” he said in a polite but
firm tone. “These men are our guests and we would like
them to receive proper attention.” I then truly realized that I
was in a country ruled by Africans. For the first time in my
life, I was a free man. Though I was a fugitive and wanted in
my own land, I felt the burden of oppression lifting from my
shoulders. Everywhere I went in Tanganyika my skin color
was automatically accepted rather than instantly reviled. I
was being judged for the first time not by the color of my
skin but by the measure of my mind and character.
Although I was often homesick during my travels, I
nevertheless felt as though I were truly home for the first
time.
We arrived in Dar es Salaam the next day and I met
with Julius Nyerere, the newly independent country’s first
president. We talked at his house, which was not at all
grand, and I recall that he drove himself in a simple car, a
little Austin. This impressed me, for it suggested that he
was a man of the people. Class, Nyerere always insisted,
was alien to Africa; socialism indigenous.
I reviewed our situation for him, ending with an appeal
for help. He was a shrewd, soft-spoken man who was welldisposed
to our mission, but his perception of the situation
surprised and dismayed me. He suggested we postpone
the armed struggle until Sobukwe came out of prison. This
was the first of many occasions when I learned of the
PAC’s appeal in the rest of Africa. I described the
weakness of the PAC, and argued that a postponement
would be a setback for the struggle as a whole. He
suggested I seek the favor of Emperor Haile Selassie and
promised to arrange an introduction.
I was meant to meet Oliver in Dar, but because of my
delay he was unable to wait and left a message for me to
follow him to Lagos, where he was to attend the Lagos
Conference of Independent States. On the flight to Accra I
ran into Hymie Basner and his wife. Basner, who had once
been my employer, had been offered a position in Accra.
His radical politics and left-wing activities in South Africa
had made him persona non grata there and he was
seeking political asylum in Ghana.
The plane stopped in Khartoum and we lined up to go
through customs. Joe Matthews was first, then myself,
followed by Basner and his wife. Because I did not have a
passport, I carried with me a rudimentary document from
Tanganyika that merely said, “This is Nelson Mandela, a
citizen of the Republic of South Africa. He has permission
to leave Tanganyika and return here.” I handed this paper to
the old Sudanese man behind the immigration counter and
he looked up with a smile and said, “My son, welcome to
the Sudan.”
 
Communist

Communist

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Communist

Communist

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IT IS INTERESTING, GIVE US MORE ABOUT PAC. Where is it by the way?
 
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Abunuas

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A

Abunuas

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I carried with me a rudimentary document from
Tanganyika that merely said, "This is Nelson Mandela, a
citizen of the Republic of South Africa. He has permission
to leave Tanganyika and return here." I handed this paper to
the old Sudanese man behind the immigration counter and
he looked up with a smile and said, "My son, welcome to
the Sudan."
Nimekapenda haka kakipande. du!
 
Shekizongoro

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Shekizongoro

Shekizongoro

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"Julius Nyerere, the newly independent country's firstpresident. We talked at his house, which was not at allgrand, and I recall that he drove himself in a simple car, alittle Austin. This impressed me, for it suggested that hewas a man of the people". Mi nimependa sana hapa..!!
 
Adharusi

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Adharusi

Adharusi

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Nice for us
 
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mwalunyungu

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mwalunyungu

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''Julius Nyerere, the newly independent country's first president. We talked at his house, which was not at all grad and I recall that, he drove himself in a simple car, a little Austin''

Duh! keli mwaimu alikuwa mzalendo tofauti na viongozi wa leo hii, big up MWALIMU
 
Msingida

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Msingida

Msingida

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Mungu ibariki Tanganyika.Ina sifa nzuri ya kutuka.
 
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fikirikwanza

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fikirikwanza

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ok, what did mandela do for Tanganyika after such a warm shower
 
K

Kilahiro

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K

Kilahiro

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Unataka tena misaada toka south?endeleeni na mabepari wenu mashoga.
 

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