Urais 2015: January Makamba moto wa kuotea mbali

Urais 2015: January Makamba moto wa kuotea mbali

mwenegoha

JF-Expert Member
Joined
Apr 10, 2013
Posts
205
Reaction score
101
JR1.jpg
Ni kijana, Mzalendo, ana Uwezo, Muadilifu, ana malengo.

sikuwa nikiyajua haya. hebu soma mwenyewe ujionee. Nimependezwa sana na namna alivyoweza kujielezea humu.

5 Years at State House



The campaign itself was one of hope. The theme was Continuity and Change - and doing things with “New Vigor, New Zeal and New Speed” to bring “Better Life to all Tanzanians”.
The candidate was fresh, and articulate. The message was clear. And the final tally was a resounding 80 percent victory for our candidate. The President was sworn in, and less than a month later I was appointed one of his aides, dealing with speechwriting. My formal title was Personal Assistant to the President – Special Duties (PAP-SD). I was the youngest back then of all the aides. The position, in government civil service ranks, was quite senior. It was a high pressure, long hours, and emotionally draining post.

Working at the State House is like living in a glass bowl – everyone peeking from the outside trying to figure out how you got there, how much influence you have on the President etc. You can bet that your phones are being tapped, your emails are intercepted and you are a subject of reports on your whereabouts, dealings, remarks and relationships. I survived because of the trust and confidence of the President himself – and the commitment I put into my work, as my work spoke for itself as speeches were a daily occasion.


The magnitude of the office and responsibilities required me to remind myself to remain humble everyday. As you travel with the President; as you have access to him at all times; as you can call any office and get all the information you need; and as you are driven to and from the office; and have people serving you tea and food at the office, if one is not careful, the arrogance of the office may get to your head. If you are not careful, you may regard anyone who is calling you as having a problem or a favour to ask. I forbade my secretary at State House (Mrs. Aziza Bukuku) to call me “Boss” (as is supposedly customary) as I thought it sounded awkward and demeaning to her. She insisted, and later we made it a joke.


The five years at State House were quite a journey.
Presidential aides attend cabinet meetings as observers. In fact, we are sworn in during the very first cabinet meeting we attend. I recall the nervousness I had when all the Ministers were seated and looking as the President presided over my oath before proceeding with the cabinet meeting. It is a very special feeling and indeed an honour.

As I attended the cabinet meetings, and communicated with people throughout the government, as I travelled with the President in almost all the regions (again) and overseas, I learnt a lot about how government is run, the nuances of high-level diplomacy, dilemmas and choices in policymaking, the difficulties in executing big government programs, and why progress can be difficult in some areas. More importantly, the office gives you the confidence to interact with the wider community with authority of knowledge and experience. You are taken seriously and you are respected. You are listened to, and therefore rest, to impress or to disappoint, is up to you. The only problem is that, once you disappoint you let down the President because it reflects on his ability to choose the right people. I made a lot of acquaintances in the diplomatic community and political circles, and friendships were forged later on beyond work relations.


As a presidential aide, I was also responsible for sitting in and taking notes when the President meets with dignitaries. As a result, I had the fortune of meeting and listening to some of the great personalities in global politics and business having conversation with my boss. I met, shook hands and sat in meetings with George W. Bush in the White House in Washington DC (after a meeting with my boss at the Oval Office, he hosted lunch for 8 members of our delegation at the White House in August 2008. I remember vividly this rainy day in the White House because it was the day when John McCain announced Sarah Palin as his running mate (and all TV sets in White House lobbies were tuned to Fox News, and the press was not allowed to ask questions after the meeting because President Bush didn’t want to answer questions about Palin mainly because he did not even know her. He was charming throughout lunch, and afterwards, he gave us a tour of the White House); Muammar Gaddafi (met my boss on AU issues several times, and every time there was a surprise – sometimes I would skip notes just amazed by his stories and theories); Shinzo Abe (a pleasant Japanese Prime Minister); Robert Mugabe; Morgan Tsvangirai; Tendai Biti (a sharp guy); Bill Gates (came to the President’s hotel in New York City to talk about his Foundation’s work); Mwai Kibaki; Yoweri Museveni; Paul Kagame (in New York also, came to talk about the Isaka-Kigali railway with people bearing a big map); Uhuru Kenyatta (in Dar es Salaam, as leader of PNU delegation during post-election violence in Kenya); Bill Clinton (a couple of times, last time at Kirchner Museum in Davos, Switzerland in January, 2010; I consider some of his aides my friends); Raila Odinga (this one I met without the President, I had breakfast with him at his house on Christmas of 2007, two days before the election); King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia (we had the honour to have dinner at his palace in Riyadh, a magnificent place); Romano Prodi (a very intelligent chap); Jacob Zuma; Jeffrey Sachs; Bono, the rockstar (in New York, another intelligent chap); Gordon Brown; Ban Ki-Moon (at the 38th floor of UN HQ, a very pleasant man); Inacio Lula Da Silva (in New York, at UNGA Hall meeting booth, a cheery and confident leader); Thabo Mbeki (a mentor and friend - emailing). In his very first visit to the United States in 2006, the President was invited for lunch at the Senate Dining Room by five Senators (Dick Durbin, Russ Feingold, Barack Obama, Richard Lugar and Thad Cochran, who hosted the lunch). The President was asked to bring two people for lunch. He brought me (as a note taker) and Hon. John Cheyo (MP for Bariadi, who was part of our delegation). Barack Obama, as the most junior Senator then met us at the steps outside and ushered us to the dining room. One interesting thing about the lunch meeting was that Obama was mostly quiet, just listening. And whenever he spoke, he asked questions. Feingold mostly talked about Zanzibar. Lugar asked about Chinese influence in Africa. The list is really long and impressive. I also met and interacted with a number of diplomats and business leaders in World Economic Forum meetings and other conferences and here in Dar es Salaam.


Now, these details would seem irrelevant and sort of bragging, but for me they add to the sum of what I know about the world, and therefore who I am. It is part of my story. At the end of the day, what makes a person is the sum of his values and beliefs and life experiences. When I was a kid in the village, on weekends when I did not go to school, my grandmother would leave me to attend the pub for patrons who wanted to have an early start. The regular customers on those days were former hardcore criminals who were in a rehabilitation program at a halfway prison camp in Kitengule/Mwisa village near our village, who were allowed to leave camp on weekends. So, there will be me, 9 or 10 years old, and some criminals – me serving them alcohol and them telling me stories. I would be fascinated by the stories of their exploits. Yet, this was a very dangerous exposure for a young child. But I made it. I made it to be able to share a lunch table with George W. Bush at the White House as he recounted his recent trip to the Olympics in China; as he talked about malaria in Africa; as he did a small talk with his fellow President. Sometimes, in these meetings, I would reflect on where I had come from and I get swept by the vastness of the journey I have taken. I conclude that nothing can pull me down, and that anything more than what I have now, and where I have reached, is simply a blessing and not a necessity to complete me.


At State House, I learnt a great deal beyond my field of study. I can confidently say that I self-taught graduate level Development Economics as I delved into textbooks I bought through Amazon.com and other publications on topical issues and journals that I subscribed. I continued to read about politics and philosophy, my first love. In travelling overseas, I used every occasion to learn about the history and the politics of places we visited. When we visited Cairo, Rome, Istanbul, and Jordan I stole some time to visit the remarkable monuments of three great monotheist religions – Islam, Judaism and Christianity - and learnt about the rise and fall of two great empires – Roman and Ottoman. In Rome I visited the Colosseum, The Panthenon, The Roman Forum, and learnt about statecraft. In Cairo, I took a crash course on Egyptology.


As a result of all this, I left State House enriched with deep knowledge on many issues and countless lifelong lessons. I will always be grateful to the President for this exposure and for giving me a front seat view to history.


Moving On



Any story has to be wound up. I end with a new beginning - my new career in elective politics. After five years as Assistant to the President, and with all the experiences I already mentioned, I thought it was time that I moved on, and part with the comfort and prestige of working at the State House. I would step out of the shadow and seek direct mandate from the people of Bumbuli, my ancestral land, so that I can represent and speak for them in the Parliament - and also work with them to advance the development of our region. The campaign for my election was inspirational to me, as throngs of people – young and old, men and women – trusted my word that I will serve them diligently and with all my abilities. I go on with tremendous hope and optimism – and indeed bolstered by the trust and confidence that my people have reposed in me. We are going to attempt some bold ideas for the development of Bumbuli as nothing less is required. And perhaps we can write a new history.


Final Thoughts




This is my story. I left a lot of detail because this is not an autobiography and more – particularly about my own campaign and five years at State House – is yet to be written. The story is a portrait of events and experiences that have made me who I am today. Everyone has their own story and I know that others may have more captivating stories than this one. In general, I have been successful – in raising a good family, with two beautiful children but also getting all this exposure and experience. But, I have been lucky that I was spotted and given an opportunity to prove that I am indeed worthy of big responsibilities. Other young people, perhaps more competent than I am, have not been spotted yet. I have therefore made a point of advancing young talented people in positions of public service. I won’t mention names but I am proud that there are more opportunities for young people now to serve their country and society.


I will finish by admitting that my last name has helped me because of the ready-made network of willing helpers. But also it has placed undue burden and responsibilities, including inheriting enemies who we haven’t even crossed paths. I also had to work twice as hard to prove that I am my own person, and my successes are borne out of my own efforts. I saw my family fortunes go up and go very down – one of the lowest points was when both my parents were unemployed and we lived with relatives in Korogwe while father tried-out timber business. It is rare to get an opportunity to tell my story which indicates a humble background – internal displacement, growing up with jiggers and stomach worms, raised under a leaking roof. I grew up with value of fierce independence, concern for others and being true to one’s self. I hope to bring these values into my political career.


January Makamba.

SOURCE :- WEBSATE YA JANUARY MAKAMBA - January Makamba.com
 
View attachment 169679
Ni kijana, Mzalendo, ana Uwezo, Muadilifu, ana malengo.

sikuwa nikiyajua haya. hebu soma mwenyewe ujionee. Nimependezwa sana na namna alivyoweza kujielezea humu.

5 Years at State House



The campaign itself was one of hope. The theme was Continuity and Change - and doing things with "New Vigor, New Zeal and New Speed" to bring "Better Life to all Tanzanians".
The candidate was fresh, and articulate. The message was clear. And the final tally was a resounding 80 percent victory for our candidate. The President was sworn in, and less than a month later I was appointed one of his aides, dealing with speechwriting. My formal title was Personal Assistant to the President – Special Duties (PAP-SD). I was the youngest back then of all the aides. The position, in government civil service ranks, was quite senior. It was a high pressure, long hours, and emotionally draining post.

Working at the State House is like living in a glass bowl – everyone peeking from the outside trying to figure out how you got there, how much influence you have on the President etc. You can bet that your phones are being tapped, your emails are intercepted and you are a subject of reports on your whereabouts, dealings, remarks and relationships. I survived because of the trust and confidence of the President himself – and the commitment I put into my work, as my work spoke for itself as speeches were a daily occasion.


The magnitude of the office and responsibilities required me to remind myself to remain humble everyday. As you travel with the President; as you have access to him at all times; as you can call any office and get all the information you need; and as you are driven to and from the office; and have people serving you tea and food at the office, if one is not careful, the arrogance of the office may get to your head. If you are not careful, you may regard anyone who is calling you as having a problem or a favour to ask. I forbade my secretary at State House (Mrs. Aziza Bukuku) to call me "Boss" (as is supposedly customary) as I thought it sounded awkward and demeaning to her. She insisted, and later we made it a joke.


The five years at State House were quite a journey.
Presidential aides attend cabinet meetings as observers. In fact, we are sworn in during the very first cabinet meeting we attend. I recall the nervousness I had when all the Ministers were seated and looking as the President presided over my oath before proceeding with the cabinet meeting. It is a very special feeling and indeed an honour.

As I attended the cabinet meetings, and communicated with people throughout the government, as I travelled with the President in almost all the regions (again) and overseas, I learnt a lot about how government is run, the nuances of high-level diplomacy, dilemmas and choices in policymaking, the difficulties in executing big government programs, and why progress can be difficult in some areas. More importantly, the office gives you the confidence to interact with the wider community with authority of knowledge and experience. You are taken seriously and you are respected. You are listened to, and therefore rest, to impress or to disappoint, is up to you. The only problem is that, once you disappoint you let down the President because it reflects on his ability to choose the right people. I made a lot of acquaintances in the diplomatic community and political circles, and friendships were forged later on beyond work relations.


As a presidential aide, I was also responsible for sitting in and taking notes when the President meets with dignitaries. As a result, I had the fortune of meeting and listening to some of the great personalities in global politics and business having conversation with my boss. I met, shook hands and sat in meetings with George W. Bush in the White House in Washington DC (after a meeting with my boss at the Oval Office, he hosted lunch for 8 members of our delegation at the White House in August 2008. I remember vividly this rainy day in the White House because it was the day when John McCain announced Sarah Palin as his running mate (and all TV sets in White House lobbies were tuned to Fox News, and the press was not allowed to ask questions after the meeting because President Bush didn't want to answer questions about Palin mainly because he did not even know her. He was charming throughout lunch, and afterwards, he gave us a tour of the White House); Muammar Gaddafi (met my boss on AU issues several times, and every time there was a surprise – sometimes I would skip notes just amazed by his stories and theories); Shinzo Abe (a pleasant Japanese Prime Minister); Robert Mugabe; Morgan Tsvangirai; Tendai Biti (a sharp guy); Bill Gates (came to the President's hotel in New York City to talk about his Foundation's work); Mwai Kibaki; Yoweri Museveni; Paul Kagame (in New York also, came to talk about the Isaka-Kigali railway with people bearing a big map); Uhuru Kenyatta (in Dar es Salaam, as leader of PNU delegation during post-election violence in Kenya); Bill Clinton (a couple of times, last time at Kirchner Museum in Davos, Switzerland in January, 2010; I consider some of his aides my friends); Raila Odinga (this one I met without the President, I had breakfast with him at his house on Christmas of 2007, two days before the election); King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia (we had the honour to have dinner at his palace in Riyadh, a magnificent place); Romano Prodi (a very intelligent chap); Jacob Zuma; Jeffrey Sachs; Bono, the rockstar (in New York, another intelligent chap); Gordon Brown; Ban Ki-Moon (at the 38th floor of UN HQ, a very pleasant man); Inacio Lula Da Silva (in New York, at UNGA Hall meeting booth, a cheery and confident leader); Thabo Mbeki (a mentor and friend - emailing). In his very first visit to the United States in 2006, the President was invited for lunch at the Senate Dining Room by five Senators (Dick Durbin, Russ Feingold, Barack Obama, Richard Lugar and Thad Cochran, who hosted the lunch). The President was asked to bring two people for lunch. He brought me (as a note taker) and Hon. John Cheyo (MP for Bariadi, who was part of our delegation). Barack Obama, as the most junior Senator then met us at the steps outside and ushered us to the dining room. One interesting thing about the lunch meeting was that Obama was mostly quiet, just listening. And whenever he spoke, he asked questions. Feingold mostly talked about Zanzibar. Lugar asked about Chinese influence in Africa. The list is really long and impressive. I also met and interacted with a number of diplomats and business leaders in World Economic Forum meetings and other conferences and here in Dar es Salaam.


Now, these details would seem irrelevant and sort of bragging, but for me they add to the sum of what I know about the world, and therefore who I am. It is part of my story. At the end of the day, what makes a person is the sum of his values and beliefs and life experiences. When I was a kid in the village, on weekends when I did not go to school, my grandmother would leave me to attend the pub for patrons who wanted to have an early start. The regular customers on those days were former hardcore criminals who were in a rehabilitation program at a halfway prison camp in Kitengule/Mwisa village near our village, who were allowed to leave camp on weekends. So, there will be me, 9 or 10 years old, and some criminals – me serving them alcohol and them telling me stories. I would be fascinated by the stories of their exploits. Yet, this was a very dangerous exposure for a young child. But I made it. I made it to be able to share a lunch table with George W. Bush at the White House as he recounted his recent trip to the Olympics in China; as he talked about malaria in Africa; as he did a small talk with his fellow President. Sometimes, in these meetings, I would reflect on where I had come from and I get swept by the vastness of the journey I have taken. I conclude that nothing can pull me down, and that anything more than what I have now, and where I have reached, is simply a blessing and not a necessity to complete me.


At State House, I learnt a great deal beyond my field of study. I can confidently say that I self-taught graduate level Development Economics as I delved into textbooks I bought through Amazon.com and other publications on topical issues and journals that I subscribed. I continued to read about politics and philosophy, my first love. In travelling overseas, I used every occasion to learn about the history and the politics of places we visited. When we visited Cairo, Rome, Istanbul, and Jordan I stole some time to visit the remarkable monuments of three great monotheist religions – Islam, Judaism and Christianity - and learnt about the rise and fall of two great empires – Roman and Ottoman. In Rome I visited the Colosseum, The Panthenon, The Roman Forum, and learnt about statecraft. In Cairo, I took a crash course on Egyptology.


As a result of all this, I left State House enriched with deep knowledge on many issues and countless lifelong lessons. I will always be grateful to the President for this exposure and for giving me a front seat view to history.


Moving On



Any story has to be wound up. I end with a new beginning - my new career in elective politics. After five years as Assistant to the President, and with all the experiences I already mentioned, I thought it was time that I moved on, and part with the comfort and prestige of working at the State House. I would step out of the shadow and seek direct mandate from the people of Bumbuli, my ancestral land, so that I can represent and speak for them in the Parliament - and also work with them to advance the development of our region. The campaign for my election was inspirational to me, as throngs of people – young and old, men and women – trusted my word that I will serve them diligently and with all my abilities. I go on with tremendous hope and optimism – and indeed bolstered by the trust and confidence that my people have reposed in me. We are going to attempt some bold ideas for the development of Bumbuli as nothing less is required. And perhaps we can write a new history.


Final Thoughts




This is my story. I left a lot of detail because this is not an autobiography and more – particularly about my own campaign and five years at State House – is yet to be written. The story is a portrait of events and experiences that have made me who I am today. Everyone has their own story and I know that others may have more captivating stories than this one. In general, I have been successful – in raising a good family, with two beautiful children but also getting all this exposure and experience. But, I have been lucky that I was spotted and given an opportunity to prove that I am indeed worthy of big responsibilities. Other young people, perhaps more competent than I am, have not been spotted yet. I have therefore made a point of advancing young talented people in positions of public service. I won't mention names but I am proud that there are more opportunities for young people now to serve their country and society.


I will finish by admitting that my last name has helped me because of the ready-made network of willing helpers. But also it has placed undue burden and responsibilities, including inheriting enemies who we haven't even crossed paths. I also had to work twice as hard to prove that I am my own person, and my successes are borne out of my own efforts. I saw my family fortunes go up and go very down – one of the lowest points was when both my parents were unemployed and we lived with relatives in Korogwe while father tried-out timber business. It is rare to get an opportunity to tell my story which indicates a humble background – internal displacement, growing up with jiggers and stomach worms, raised under a leaking roof. I grew up with value of fierce independence, concern for others and being true to one's self. I hope to bring these values into my political career.


January Makamba.

SOURCE :- WEBSATE YA JANUARY MAKAMBA - January Makamba.com

Ahsante sana mleta MADA.
This Is what we Call PRESIDENTIAL MATERIAL
 
View attachment 169679
Ni kijana, Mzalendo, ana Uwezo, Muadilifu, ana malengo.

sikuwa nikiyajua haya. hebu soma mwenyewe ujionee. Nimependezwa sana na namna alivyoweza kujielezea humu.

5 Years at State House



The campaign itself was one of hope. The theme was Continuity and Change - and doing things with “New Vigor, New Zeal and New Speed” to bring “Better Life to all Tanzanians”.
The candidate was fresh, and articulate. The message was clear. And the final tally was a resounding 80 percent victory for our candidate. The President was sworn in, and less than a month later I was appointed one of his aides, dealing with speechwriting. My formal title was Personal Assistant to the President – Special Duties (PAP-SD). I was the youngest back then of all the aides. The position, in government civil service ranks, was quite senior. It was a high pressure, long hours, and emotionally draining post.

Working at the State House is like living in a glass bowl – everyone peeking from the outside trying to figure out how you got there, how much influence you have on the President etc. You can bet that your phones are being tapped, your emails are intercepted and you are a subject of reports on your whereabouts, dealings, remarks and relationships. I survived because of the trust and confidence of the President himself – and the commitment I put into my work, as my work spoke for itself as speeches were a daily occasion.


The magnitude of the office and responsibilities required me to remind myself to remain humble everyday. As you travel with the President; as you have access to him at all times; as you can call any office and get all the information you need; and as you are driven to and from the office; and have people serving you tea and food at the office, if one is not careful, the arrogance of the office may get to your head. If you are not careful, you may regard anyone who is calling you as having a problem or a favour to ask. I forbade my secretary at State House (Mrs. Aziza Bukuku) to call me “Boss” (as is supposedly customary) as I thought it sounded awkward and demeaning to her. She insisted, and later we made it a joke.


The five years at State House were quite a journey.
Presidential aides attend cabinet meetings as observers. In fact, we are sworn in during the very first cabinet meeting we attend. I recall the nervousness I had when all the Ministers were seated and looking as the President presided over my oath before proceeding with the cabinet meeting. It is a very special feeling and indeed an honour.

As I attended the cabinet meetings, and communicated with people throughout the government, as I travelled with the President in almost all the regions (again) and overseas, I learnt a lot about how government is run, the nuances of high-level diplomacy, dilemmas and choices in policymaking, the difficulties in executing big government programs, and why progress can be difficult in some areas. More importantly, the office gives you the confidence to interact with the wider community with authority of knowledge and experience. You are taken seriously and you are respected. You are listened to, and therefore rest, to impress or to disappoint, is up to you. The only problem is that, once you disappoint you let down the President because it reflects on his ability to choose the right people. I made a lot of acquaintances in the diplomatic community and political circles, and friendships were forged later on beyond work relations.


As a presidential aide, I was also responsible for sitting in and taking notes when the President meets with dignitaries. As a result, I had the fortune of meeting and listening to some of the great personalities in global politics and business having conversation with my boss. I met, shook hands and sat in meetings with George W. Bush in the White House in Washington DC (after a meeting with my boss at the Oval Office, he hosted lunch for 8 members of our delegation at the White House in August 2008. I remember vividly this rainy day in the White House because it was the day when John McCain announced Sarah Palin as his running mate (and all TV sets in White House lobbies were tuned to Fox News, and the press was not allowed to ask questions after the meeting because President Bush didn’t want to answer questions about Palin mainly because he did not even know her. He was charming throughout lunch, and afterwards, he gave us a tour of the White House); Muammar Gaddafi (met my boss on AU issues several times, and every time there was a surprise – sometimes I would skip notes just amazed by his stories and theories); Shinzo Abe (a pleasant Japanese Prime Minister); Robert Mugabe; Morgan Tsvangirai; Tendai Biti (a sharp guy); Bill Gates (came to the President’s hotel in New York City to talk about his Foundation’s work); Mwai Kibaki; Yoweri Museveni; Paul Kagame (in New York also, came to talk about the Isaka-Kigali railway with people bearing a big map); Uhuru Kenyatta (in Dar es Salaam, as leader of PNU delegation during post-election violence in Kenya); Bill Clinton (a couple of times, last time at Kirchner Museum in Davos, Switzerland in January, 2010; I consider some of his aides my friends); Raila Odinga (this one I met without the President, I had breakfast with him at his house on Christmas of 2007, two days before the election); King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia (we had the honour to have dinner at his palace in Riyadh, a magnificent place); Romano Prodi (a very intelligent chap); Jacob Zuma; Jeffrey Sachs; Bono, the rockstar (in New York, another intelligent chap); Gordon Brown; Ban Ki-Moon (at the 38th floor of UN HQ, a very pleasant man); Inacio Lula Da Silva (in New York, at UNGA Hall meeting booth, a cheery and confident leader); Thabo Mbeki (a mentor and friend - emailing). In his very first visit to the United States in 2006, the President was invited for lunch at the Senate Dining Room by five Senators (Dick Durbin, Russ Feingold, Barack Obama, Richard Lugar and Thad Cochran, who hosted the lunch). The President was asked to bring two people for lunch. He brought me (as a note taker) and Hon. John Cheyo (MP for Bariadi, who was part of our delegation). Barack Obama, as the most junior Senator then met us at the steps outside and ushered us to the dining room. One interesting thing about the lunch meeting was that Obama was mostly quiet, just listening. And whenever he spoke, he asked questions. Feingold mostly talked about Zanzibar. Lugar asked about Chinese influence in Africa. The list is really long and impressive. I also met and interacted with a number of diplomats and business leaders in World Economic Forum meetings and other conferences and here in Dar es Salaam.


Now, these details would seem irrelevant and sort of bragging, but for me they add to the sum of what I know about the world, and therefore who I am. It is part of my story. At the end of the day, what makes a person is the sum of his values and beliefs and life experiences. When I was a kid in the village, on weekends when I did not go to school, my grandmother would leave me to attend the pub for patrons who wanted to have an early start. The regular customers on those days were former hardcore criminals who were in a rehabilitation program at a halfway prison camp in Kitengule/Mwisa village near our village, who were allowed to leave camp on weekends. So, there will be me, 9 or 10 years old, and some criminals – me serving them alcohol and them telling me stories. I would be fascinated by the stories of their exploits. Yet, this was a very dangerous exposure for a young child. But I made it. I made it to be able to share a lunch table with George W. Bush at the White House as he recounted his recent trip to the Olympics in China; as he talked about malaria in Africa; as he did a small talk with his fellow President. Sometimes, in these meetings, I would reflect on where I had come from and I get swept by the vastness of the journey I have taken. I conclude that nothing can pull me down, and that anything more than what I have now, and where I have reached, is simply a blessing and not a necessity to complete me.


At State House, I learnt a great deal beyond my field of study. I can confidently say that I self-taught graduate level Development Economics as I delved into textbooks I bought through Amazon.com and other publications on topical issues and journals that I subscribed. I continued to read about politics and philosophy, my first love. In travelling overseas, I used every occasion to learn about the history and the politics of places we visited. When we visited Cairo, Rome, Istanbul, and Jordan I stole some time to visit the remarkable monuments of three great monotheist religions – Islam, Judaism and Christianity - and learnt about the rise and fall of two great empires – Roman and Ottoman. In Rome I visited the Colosseum, The Panthenon, The Roman Forum, and learnt about statecraft. In Cairo, I took a crash course on Egyptology.


As a result of all this, I left State House enriched with deep knowledge on many issues and countless lifelong lessons. I will always be grateful to the President for this exposure and for giving me a front seat view to history.


Moving On



Any story has to be wound up. I end with a new beginning - my new career in elective politics. After five years as Assistant to the President, and with all the experiences I already mentioned, I thought it was time that I moved on, and part with the comfort and prestige of working at the State House. I would step out of the shadow and seek direct mandate from the people of Bumbuli, my ancestral land, so that I can represent and speak for them in the Parliament - and also work with them to advance the development of our region. The campaign for my election was inspirational to me, as throngs of people – young and old, men and women – trusted my word that I will serve them diligently and with all my abilities. I go on with tremendous hope and optimism – and indeed bolstered by the trust and confidence that my people have reposed in me. We are going to attempt some bold ideas for the development of Bumbuli as nothing less is required. And perhaps we can write a new history.


Final Thoughts




This is my story. I left a lot of detail because this is not an autobiography and more – particularly about my own campaign and five years at State House – is yet to be written. The story is a portrait of events and experiences that have made me who I am today. Everyone has their own story and I know that others may have more captivating stories than this one. In general, I have been successful – in raising a good family, with two beautiful children but also getting all this exposure and experience. But, I have been lucky that I was spotted and given an opportunity to prove that I am indeed worthy of big responsibilities. Other young people, perhaps more competent than I am, have not been spotted yet. I have therefore made a point of advancing young talented people in positions of public service. I won’t mention names but I am proud that there are more opportunities for young people now to serve their country and society.


I will finish by admitting that my last name has helped me because of the ready-made network of willing helpers. But also it has placed undue burden and responsibilities, including inheriting enemies who we haven’t even crossed paths. I also had to work twice as hard to prove that I am my own person, and my successes are borne out of my own efforts. I saw my family fortunes go up and go very down – one of the lowest points was when both my parents were unemployed and we lived with relatives in Korogwe while father tried-out timber business. It is rare to get an opportunity to tell my story which indicates a humble background – internal displacement, growing up with jiggers and stomach worms, raised under a leaking roof. I grew up with value of fierce independence, concern for others and being true to one’s self. I hope to bring these values into my political career.


January Makamba.

SOURCE :- WEBSATE YA JANUARY MAKAMBA - January Makamba.com

All I am seeing is "I" and even more "I's...I did this, I did that...selfish!
 
Mbona tunasikia ya sekondari hayana uadilifu??[/QUOTE

uadilifu kivipi mkuu?.
soma hapa

When my father was moved (once again) to Lindi to become Regional Party Secretary, I had to move to a boarding school: So, I joined Galanos Secondary School, a more established if not reputable government school in the outskirts of the city of Tanga.
I was a very good student there, almost always and effortlessly first in class. I was also very popular, outspoken and fearless. I ran for Deputy Head Prefect and won handily against a candidate favoured by the teachers (in old government boarding schools, the election of the student government body is a very serious matter). I was a very unconventional student leader as I clashed often with teachers over students' rights, particularly poor state of food. Also, I did not quite fully use all the privileges that came of DHP position.


I was expected to do well at national secondary education exams. I chose to pursue CBA – Chemistry, Biology and Agriculture – as my "combination" for High School studies.
The main reason for this choice was that it was an exclusive and a highly competitive combination. There was only one high school – Kibaha Secondary School – in the country taking only 34 students for this combination.

So, I chose this because it was hard to get to high school on this. I was thrilled and moved by the challenge. So, we did our exams – and the day to go and look for the result came. And, to the shock of friends and family and teachers, my name was not there in the results sheet. I felt like collapsing.

I went to another result centre thinking that there was a mistake – again, nothing. Inquiries to the reasons were not responded to immediately. Later we learnt that I was mistakenly linked to a cheating scam that one of the teachers was involved in. I was a pawn in a terrible mistake. A really long and painful story.

So, what was the alternative? To resit the exams. I quickly registered as private candidate and pursued High School studies at Forest Hill High School on a tentative basis while resitting – so that when I get my results I can proceed on to Form Six.

It was such a task, but I succeeded
 
kumbe jamaa ameishi maisha halisi kabisa ya kitanzania!!
In 1983, my parents decided that I should move back to the village (this time without my brother) to live with my grandmother. Life in the village, in 1983, in that era of scarcity where basic necessities such as soap, sugar, salt, etc were rationed, was quite rough. Hardship that comes with village life – no running water, no electricity, etc - tests your character. It was much more difficult for me to cope because I had lived in the cities where all amenities were available. School was about seven kilometres from my grandmother's house, and to make it by 7am, you have to be up by 5am to get prepared. Every student arrived in school in the morning with wet shoes (or wet feet, for those many who didn't have shoes) from collecting moisture on grass covering village footpaths. As a city kid in the village, I stood out in the village – for better and for worse. I did well in school because of the good foundation but I also slid back because of the sheer enormity of tasks a village kid has to undertake. After school at about 3pm, I used to go straight to herding goats in the nearby hills overlooking River Kagera (as you start a climb towards Karagwe). Goats are interesting creatures to manage. If you condition them that they have 90 minutes to eat, they will settle and won't run around, and in 90 minutes they will be full. If they know they have full day, you will be frustrated because you will be running with them and by the end of the day they will still not be full. There is nothing more satisfying than herding goats back home with bloated stomachs. Every evening I would feel satisfied and extremely accomplished. And, as a kid, the wonderment of being in the bush alone with goats, the bewilderment of the immensity of nature around you, with occasional terror of a glimpse of a snake, does not leave you for your entire life. Alone in the bush, a sole shepherd of the important assets of the family, you reflect, you fear and you hope – all the while you are a nine year old.
When the goats are back, my grandmother and I would go fetch water from River Kagera. The water used to be smelly and darkish kind as we fetched it not from the river itself but its adjacent wetland. When I go to the village today, and see some 7, 8 and 9 year-olds, shoeless and in ragged clothes, balancing 10 and 20 litres containers of water from the same river, I recall my life back then – and reflect on the purpose of politics.
Life in the village happened at my grandma's place. She used to have a little village pub selling local brew (lubisi). At 6pm, me and her open shop. Most customers were men. In the village, people knew each other and many customers will drink on credit. My grandma, who died this March, was tough as steel. She would handle drunken men who are aggressive with command and authority and cow them into leaving the pub or paying up their debts. I would watch in amazement as collect the money or measure portions to customers. Village pub conversation meandered from gossiping, to politics, to the latest developments in the village, to the retelling of the good old days.
My grandmother is from a people who are steeped in etiquette: everything has elaborate rituals, most especially eating. Eating was communal where up to 8 people would sit down, and surround and share one big plate, and, as a junior, you do not pick up a piece of meat on your own. It is handed to you by seniors. And never ever will you greet someone while walking. You have to stop and offer extended greetings. The idea was to keep order, discipline and retain predictability in social conduct and relationships. So, I learnt to recall and abide to these rituals, and this provided me with a set of values that I have kept todate.
 
kumbe jamaa ameishi maisha halisi kabisa ya kitanzania!!
In 1983, my parents decided that I should move back to the village (this time without my brother) to live with my grandmother. Life in the village, in 1983, in that era of scarcity where basic necessities such as soap, sugar, salt, etc were rationed, was quite rough. Hardship that comes with village life – no running water, no electricity, etc - tests your character. It was much more difficult for me to cope because I had lived in the cities where all amenities were available. School was about seven kilometres from my grandmother's house, and to make it by 7am, you have to be up by 5am to get prepared. Every student arrived in school in the morning with wet shoes (or wet feet, for those many who didn't have shoes) from collecting moisture on grass covering village footpaths. As a city kid in the village, I stood out in the village – for better and for worse. I did well in school because of the good foundation but I also slid back because of the sheer enormity of tasks a village kid has to undertake. After school at about 3pm, I used to go straight to herding goats in the nearby hills overlooking River Kagera (as you start a climb towards Karagwe). Goats are interesting creatures to manage. If you condition them that they have 90 minutes to eat, they will settle and won't run around, and in 90 minutes they will be full. If they know they have full day, you will be frustrated because you will be running with them and by the end of the day they will still not be full. There is nothing more satisfying than herding goats back home with bloated stomachs. Every evening I would feel satisfied and extremely accomplished. And, as a kid, the wonderment of being in the bush alone with goats, the bewilderment of the immensity of nature around you, with occasional terror of a glimpse of a snake, does not leave you for your entire life. Alone in the bush, a sole shepherd of the important assets of the family, you reflect, you fear and you hope – all the while you are a nine year old.
When the goats are back, my grandmother and I would go fetch water from River Kagera. The water used to be smelly and darkish kind as we fetched it not from the river itself but its adjacent wetland. When I go to the village today, and see some 7, 8 and 9 year-olds, shoeless and in ragged clothes, balancing 10 and 20 litres containers of water from the same river, I recall my life back then – and reflect on the purpose of politics.
Life in the village happened at my grandma's place. She used to have a little village pub selling local brew (lubisi). At 6pm, me and her open shop. Most customers were men. In the village, people knew each other and many customers will drink on credit. My grandma, who died this March, was tough as steel. She would handle drunken men who are aggressive with command and authority and cow them into leaving the pub or paying up their debts. I would watch in amazement as collect the money or measure portions to customers. Village pub conversation meandered from gossiping, to politics, to the latest developments in the village, to the retelling of the good old days.
My grandmother is from a people who are steeped in etiquette: everything has elaborate rituals, most especially eating. Eating was communal where up to 8 people would sit down, and surround and share one big plate, and, as a junior, you do not pick up a piece of meat on your own. It is handed to you by seniors. And never ever will you greet someone while walking. You have to stop and offer extended greetings. The idea was to keep order, discipline and retain predictability in social conduct and relationships. So, I learnt to recall and abide to these rituals, and this provided me with a set of values that I have kept todate.

kweli kabisa.

hongera sana kama nawe umeingia kwenye hiyo website yake.
 
Hana lolote huyu,amekaa kujisifu wakati ni mtoto mdogo sana kwenye siasa. Mimi ni ccm lakini kura yangu hata ipata.
 
Back
Top Bottom