BabuK
JF-Expert Member
- Jul 30, 2008
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- 329
By Staff writer
15th November 2009
BoT Twin Towers
Seven years ago, one man refused to succumb to pressure from his bosses when he stood up and questioned the inflated cost of the controversial Twin Towers project.
Then in April 2006, he made the bold decision to go public with how the much defended project's cost was being inflated – to the extent of costing taxpayers an extra $200million (Sh270billion), or an amount that could have financed 14,000 students through for four years of university education.
Knowing that his decision apart from costing his job could also cost his life, the man set his personal interests and safety aside and instead acted in the interest of his fellow countrymen. He knew the project wasn't economically viable and that the third phase regime had orchestrated another white elephant deal that his fellow Tanzanians needed to be warned about.
As expected, he lost his job, which at that point was bringing in close to $6,000 a month. He also withstood a number of grave attacks from the Central Bank of Tanzania, with the bank issuing a press release questioning his integrity as an engineer, even though it was the same bank that had previously hired and then promoted him to the position of Deputy Director for Estate Management.
The man's name was Anthony Rukoijo, and in a curious way he represented the alter ego of those who are not ready to succumb to corrupt deals even if in so doing they are risking their lives.
Looking back today, Rukoijo doesn't regret his costly decision to oppose the project. Instead he considers himself lucky, because if he had approved the project, he would now be spending his days and nights at Keko Maximum Prison with his former boss Amatus Liyumba.
"It would have been even worse for me spending my life in prison now that I'm in my sixties. I would have died immediately," he says.
"Daudi Ballali, the former BoT governor, through his top aides tried to ensure that I approved the cost of the project, but I defied his order because I was guided by my own principles...Finally they removed me from my position."
"I would have loved to see Ballali's face but it's sad news that he died before the truth came out," Rukoijo says, adding that recently he was invited to testify before another committee currently assessing the value for money of the buildings.
Like David Munyakei, a young Kenyan who revealed the massive Goldenberg scandal that cost Kenya close to $3billion during Daniel Arap Moi's administration, Rukoijo was a whistleblower; a man whose rigid sense of good and evil made it impossible to remain silent while taxpayer's billions were going to the dogs.
Like Munyakei, Rukoijo's actions exposed a multi-million dollar scandal, though it came at a costly personal price. However the two have very different and contrasting backgrounds; while Rukoijo was a university graduate with BSc in Engineering from the University of Dar es Salaam, Munyakei was just a Form Four leaver and an illegitimate child born in Lang'ata prison, where his mother was employed by Kenya's Prisons Department.
But both were joined with one common mission- to expose the corruption scandals they witnessed even if in so doing they were courting the "kiss of death".
Finally Munyakei died a poor man in Kenya 's Narok Hospital on July 16, 2006. He was only 38-years-old, and the illness which killed him is treatable.
Documented very well in Michela Wrong's book It's Our Turn To Eat, Munyakei was a tiny but vital cog in a machine that was eating up billions of shillings in taxpayers' monies, supposed compensation for non–existent gold shipments.
Alarmed by the massive looting he discovered, Munyakei finally photocopied all the evidence he had on the Goldenberg scandal and leaked his information to the press, believing that he was playing the role every responsible citizen should play in fighting sleaze.
The scandal exploded into the public domain when Kenya 's Daily Nation published a series of articles about Goldenberg-the company that pocketed close to $3billion from fake gold exports.
Munyakei was accused of violating the Official Secret Act and was arrested by Kenyan police. After hearing the news, Munyakei's shocked mother suffered a stroke and died.
Although he was finally set free after six months, his life was ruined, while those he tried to fight continued to prosper in Kenya. His plight demonstrates the difficult choices and the dim consequences that whistleblowers in Africa face.
Munyakei's sad story resembles what Rukoijo went through during his tenure at the Central Bank of Tanzania. Working as the Deputy Director of Estate Management, Rukoijo sensed something fishy was going on in the plans of the Twin Towers, and he refused to follow the path of his bosses.
He queried the skyrocketing cost of the twin towers project, which had originally been slated to cost $37million, but somehow ended up costing a whopping $400million.
His refusal to follow his bosses' orders came with a heavy price, as he was removed from his position and transferred to an upcountry branch in Mwanza, where he spent two years more or less aimless, but earning millions of shillings in salary and other benefits.
"They saw me as a thorn in their side and decided that, I should be kept far away from the headquarters so that they could proceed with their project," he told me back in 2006 when I was first pursuing the Twin Towers scandal.
When I asked him whether he was aware that his actions could cost not only his job but also his life, he replied, "I know but I would rather die an innocent man than live as a thief and plunderer of public resources."
"I feel so bad for being paid for nothing…I haven't done anything for the past two years apart from just reporting to the office everyday," he said back then.
After Rukoijo went to the press, a series of stories on the Twin Towers surfaced, shocking not only lawmakers but even the president, who ordered the anti-corruption czar to investigate the scam.
As his bosses kept pointing an accusing finger at him, Rukoijo resigned before the standard age of 60, and he continued to criticise the project now that he was no longer working with the bank.
Rukoijo had previously only spoken to the press on condition of anonymity, but at that point he decided to reveal his identity to further strengthen his claims and bolster his credibility in criticising the scam.
Once his identity was known, the BoT released a series of statements to the press defending the project and slandering Rukoijo, claiming because he had scored a lower second division at the University of Dar es Salaam he wasn't competent enough to understand the project's complicated budget.
But the man remained calm and strong, insisting that he could stay patient until all those implicated in the scandal were arrested and prosecuted according to the law.
"Almost all my colleagues who blindly supported the project have since been arrested and are in custody," he says.
"When I criticised this project some people thought I was just jealous maybe because I was denied a chunk of the pie…But I took that stance because I knew that what was going on would one day land some people in prison, and I was right."
"I'm in my 60s, I'm supposed to be enjoying my retirement benefits with my family, not toiling away in prison," Rukoijo says, without mincing words.
Today, Rukoijo, a father of six, lives happily in the outskirts of Dar es Salaam where he still runs a construction firm to get by.
"I would have made millions by supporting what my bosses wanted me to do, but it would have taken me nowhere," he says.
"When I see where some of my colleagues are today, it makes me believe that I made the right choice."
SOURCE: GUARDIAN ON SUNDAY
15th November 2009
BoT Twin Towers
Seven years ago, one man refused to succumb to pressure from his bosses when he stood up and questioned the inflated cost of the controversial Twin Towers project.
Then in April 2006, he made the bold decision to go public with how the much defended project's cost was being inflated – to the extent of costing taxpayers an extra $200million (Sh270billion), or an amount that could have financed 14,000 students through for four years of university education.
Knowing that his decision apart from costing his job could also cost his life, the man set his personal interests and safety aside and instead acted in the interest of his fellow countrymen. He knew the project wasn't economically viable and that the third phase regime had orchestrated another white elephant deal that his fellow Tanzanians needed to be warned about.
As expected, he lost his job, which at that point was bringing in close to $6,000 a month. He also withstood a number of grave attacks from the Central Bank of Tanzania, with the bank issuing a press release questioning his integrity as an engineer, even though it was the same bank that had previously hired and then promoted him to the position of Deputy Director for Estate Management.
The man's name was Anthony Rukoijo, and in a curious way he represented the alter ego of those who are not ready to succumb to corrupt deals even if in so doing they are risking their lives.
Looking back today, Rukoijo doesn't regret his costly decision to oppose the project. Instead he considers himself lucky, because if he had approved the project, he would now be spending his days and nights at Keko Maximum Prison with his former boss Amatus Liyumba.
"It would have been even worse for me spending my life in prison now that I'm in my sixties. I would have died immediately," he says.
"Daudi Ballali, the former BoT governor, through his top aides tried to ensure that I approved the cost of the project, but I defied his order because I was guided by my own principles...Finally they removed me from my position."
"I would have loved to see Ballali's face but it's sad news that he died before the truth came out," Rukoijo says, adding that recently he was invited to testify before another committee currently assessing the value for money of the buildings.
Like David Munyakei, a young Kenyan who revealed the massive Goldenberg scandal that cost Kenya close to $3billion during Daniel Arap Moi's administration, Rukoijo was a whistleblower; a man whose rigid sense of good and evil made it impossible to remain silent while taxpayer's billions were going to the dogs.
Like Munyakei, Rukoijo's actions exposed a multi-million dollar scandal, though it came at a costly personal price. However the two have very different and contrasting backgrounds; while Rukoijo was a university graduate with BSc in Engineering from the University of Dar es Salaam, Munyakei was just a Form Four leaver and an illegitimate child born in Lang'ata prison, where his mother was employed by Kenya's Prisons Department.
But both were joined with one common mission- to expose the corruption scandals they witnessed even if in so doing they were courting the "kiss of death".
Finally Munyakei died a poor man in Kenya 's Narok Hospital on July 16, 2006. He was only 38-years-old, and the illness which killed him is treatable.
Documented very well in Michela Wrong's book It's Our Turn To Eat, Munyakei was a tiny but vital cog in a machine that was eating up billions of shillings in taxpayers' monies, supposed compensation for non–existent gold shipments.
Alarmed by the massive looting he discovered, Munyakei finally photocopied all the evidence he had on the Goldenberg scandal and leaked his information to the press, believing that he was playing the role every responsible citizen should play in fighting sleaze.
The scandal exploded into the public domain when Kenya 's Daily Nation published a series of articles about Goldenberg-the company that pocketed close to $3billion from fake gold exports.
Munyakei was accused of violating the Official Secret Act and was arrested by Kenyan police. After hearing the news, Munyakei's shocked mother suffered a stroke and died.
Although he was finally set free after six months, his life was ruined, while those he tried to fight continued to prosper in Kenya. His plight demonstrates the difficult choices and the dim consequences that whistleblowers in Africa face.
Munyakei's sad story resembles what Rukoijo went through during his tenure at the Central Bank of Tanzania. Working as the Deputy Director of Estate Management, Rukoijo sensed something fishy was going on in the plans of the Twin Towers, and he refused to follow the path of his bosses.
He queried the skyrocketing cost of the twin towers project, which had originally been slated to cost $37million, but somehow ended up costing a whopping $400million.
His refusal to follow his bosses' orders came with a heavy price, as he was removed from his position and transferred to an upcountry branch in Mwanza, where he spent two years more or less aimless, but earning millions of shillings in salary and other benefits.
"They saw me as a thorn in their side and decided that, I should be kept far away from the headquarters so that they could proceed with their project," he told me back in 2006 when I was first pursuing the Twin Towers scandal.
When I asked him whether he was aware that his actions could cost not only his job but also his life, he replied, "I know but I would rather die an innocent man than live as a thief and plunderer of public resources."
"I feel so bad for being paid for nothing…I haven't done anything for the past two years apart from just reporting to the office everyday," he said back then.
After Rukoijo went to the press, a series of stories on the Twin Towers surfaced, shocking not only lawmakers but even the president, who ordered the anti-corruption czar to investigate the scam.
As his bosses kept pointing an accusing finger at him, Rukoijo resigned before the standard age of 60, and he continued to criticise the project now that he was no longer working with the bank.
Rukoijo had previously only spoken to the press on condition of anonymity, but at that point he decided to reveal his identity to further strengthen his claims and bolster his credibility in criticising the scam.
Once his identity was known, the BoT released a series of statements to the press defending the project and slandering Rukoijo, claiming because he had scored a lower second division at the University of Dar es Salaam he wasn't competent enough to understand the project's complicated budget.
But the man remained calm and strong, insisting that he could stay patient until all those implicated in the scandal were arrested and prosecuted according to the law.
"Almost all my colleagues who blindly supported the project have since been arrested and are in custody," he says.
"When I criticised this project some people thought I was just jealous maybe because I was denied a chunk of the pie…But I took that stance because I knew that what was going on would one day land some people in prison, and I was right."
"I'm in my 60s, I'm supposed to be enjoying my retirement benefits with my family, not toiling away in prison," Rukoijo says, without mincing words.
Today, Rukoijo, a father of six, lives happily in the outskirts of Dar es Salaam where he still runs a construction firm to get by.
"I would have made millions by supporting what my bosses wanted me to do, but it would have taken me nowhere," he says.
"When I see where some of my colleagues are today, it makes me believe that I made the right choice."
SOURCE: GUARDIAN ON SUNDAY
