Letter from Butiama: The Age Gap (in memory of Fred Ndala Kasheba)

I recently bought an audiocassette from a shop in Butiama. For those who are too young to remember, it is a collection of old songs by a band called Nyanyembe, including one of my favourites, Rangi ya Chungwa.

On my way home I stopped for a game of pool and while playing a young man, perhaps 20 years my junior, picked up my cassette and looked at the cover. One of his age mates asked, “What is it?”

“Nyanyembe”, the first replied, put down the cassette, and showed no further interest. I realized then that our mutual interest was confined to the pool game.

I have superficial knowledge of the music tastes of the younger generation today. A few years ago while driving from Dar-es-salaam to Butiama accompanied by my two nephews and their friend, who they say was a presenter at Radio Clouds FM, I listened to a large CD collection from the sixties and seventies through most of the journey, pretending I was unaware that I was the only one in that car enjoying that music.

The following day as I drove past the Ngorongoro Crater, all my passengers were fed up with my music so the elder of my nephews asked if he could listen to his friend’s CD from Clouds FM.

I relented and was treated to a selection of what was then the latest music, mostly American. It wasn’t that bad, I felt. One of the names I saw listed on the CD cover was Timberlake, and I said I always thought Timberlake was the name of a barbershop in Dar-es-salaam’s Kinondoni suburb. Today, on reflection, I must have mixed up Timberlake with Timberland; the Kinondoni place is called Timberland.

I was also told the two genres from the CD were “hip hop” and “R&B” (rhythm and blues). In my times, we had our share of music imports including “blues” - without the “rhythm”. It was plain “blues”. Not the blues played by Riley “B.B.” King or Eddy “The Chief” Clearwater whose blues express feelings, mostly of sadness in relation to love; ours was slow music that allowed one to get close to his or her dancing partner. Far from making anyone sad, I recall it made everyone who had a dancing partner very pleased indeed.

With my generation whenever the subject turns to music the consensus is “all the good musicians of popular music are deceased”; “If you listen to most of today’s music, you are left with a sour after taste.” Perhaps this attitude is unjustified. I say the best “we” can say is that we do not understand today’s music. To appreciate today’s music, my generation has to be open minded, as open-minded as I believe our parents were when we were growing up.

When “soul music” invaded East Africa in the early seventies, I recall it was one of my brothers who came home and broke the news about the latest dance fad.

He didn’t stop at talking; he got down and boogied – as we used to say then – to one of James Brown’s hit singles. It was one of the most comical dances that anyone had ever seen at home. And yet we all got into the craze while it lasted, and the music didn’t seem that strange, despite the fact that James Brown didn’t have the most profound lyrics.

Together with the “imports”, we also listened to music by home-grown talents including Mbaraka Mwinshehe, Marijani Rajabu, Juma Kilaza, Salum Abdallah, and the more recent ones like Patrick Balisidya and Fred Ndala Kasheba. To the parents of my generation, Balisidya’s Weekend was probably then just another composition by “those young people”. The same type of judgement that we pass on the music tastes of the younger generation today.

Many years ago, I attended a live performance by Kasheba’s band, Zaita Musica, during which an old song was played; played, as I felt then, almost as well as the original. After the performance, I told Kasheba that they had played a song which brought back some fond old memories. I couldn’t remember the title so I told him, “That song by Orchestra Fauvette…”

Fred Ndala Kasheba with his 12-string guitar

“Jacqueline”, he said. Then he said something else which I still recall vividly today, “Fauvette si ilikuwa ndiyo sisi. Mimi, Baziano, na....” To paraphrase him: he was, together with Baziano and other former band members he mentioned, Fauvette.

I recall a few of Fauvette’s compositions very well. I knew Kasheba just as well, but I just never, until he told me, knew that we had been enjoying the music of Fred Ndala Kasheba for so long. Perhaps I’m just too young to remember.

Note: Fred Ndala Kasheba died in Dar es Salaam four years ago today. His composition, Dezo Dezo, was re-released by Tshala Muana and became known to a wider international audience.

Why I quit smoking: My Kilimanjaro climb adventure (Post 3 of 10)

Friday 15 August 2008
Left Butiama for Mwanza early in the morning, intending to drive through before any traffic police officer was on the road to inspect my car insurance that had expired by a few days. My problem was I realized too late the relatively high cost of climbing Kilimanjaro and was not sure whether enough money to pay for both the insurance premium and the climb.

At Mwanza, I picked up my rebate ticket offered by Air Tanzania Corporation Limited (ATCL) for the Mwalimu Nyerere Charity Climb 2008 to for my flight from Mwanza – Kilimanjaro - Mwanza. I continue to be amused that it sounds like a grand fund raising campaign, but there I was, one person who had cornered himself into a quandary. I was the campaign. I flew to Kilimanjaro International Airport in the evening.

Saturday 16 August 2008
I woke up early to file my article for the Sunday News, late as usual. I have a problem of coming up with a new topic for the column every week. I spend most of the time thinking through a subject and by the time I sit down to write the article, it is way past the deadline. One advantage of climbing the mountain will be I might be able to squeeze out more than one article for the column.

I spoke to Zainab Ansell, owner of Zara Tanzania Adventures and she informed me that her company was offering me a fully-paid 8-day Kilimanjaro trek worth $US1,500. I was elated.

In the afternoon, my friend from Mwanga sent a car to pick me up at Moshi and I slept in a room that had about a hundred mosquitoes. I spent more than an hour reducing their number using the cloth-canon technique. The technique involves waiting for a mosquito to land on a wall and then hurling clothing against the wall. It is one one of the most environmentally friendly mosquito-eliminating method that I know.

Next post: I meet Le, an experienced climber and Yahoo, our mountain guide.

Why I quit smoking: My Kilimanjaro climb adventure (Post 2 0f 10)

In 2007 when it looked like I had lost yet another opportunity to climb Kilimanjaro, I decided I had to do something drastic or else I would continue dreaming of reaching Uhuru Peak. I had to place myself at a point of no return. I decided to tell a few people that I will climb Mt. Kilimanjaro this year to raise funds for education. The first one was Sr. Stephanie Blaszczynski, headmistress of Chief Edward Wanzagi Girls’ Secondary School near Butiama and she said, “Why don’t you raise money for us? We need a dormitory for the students.”

I also wrote an e-mail to Howard Chinner, a resident of Sevenoaks, England, with whom I have corresponded after he read one of my columns. He suggested I could raise funds for Village Education Project Kilimanjaro (VEPK) located at Mshiri, Marangu, on the slopes of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

It was partly from his suggestion that what would have been a nameless event, involving climbing the world's highest free standing dormant volcano, became The Mwalimu Nyerere Charity Climb. As I gradually built my confidence during the climb, I decided to add “2008” to the event, signifying that it will become an annual event.

With those two commitments it was not possible to excuse myself out of the climb. I then sent out an email to appeal to all those who I felt will have sympathy (and a generosity to match) for one or both of the targeted beneficiaries of the climb. I received some positive response, further preventing me from making any plans that excluded climbing Kilimanjaro.

Prior to the climb, I spent some time trying to raise my fitness level by trekking around some of Butiama’s mountains. I changed my usual 5 kilometre walk around the Muhunda Forest, Butiama's ancestral forest, to a longer trek up Mt. Mtuzu, adding perhaps 3 kilometres to my trek. As I settled into my new exercise regimen I became convinced I was transforming my body into a formidable climbing machine.

A friend who lives near Mt. Kilimanjaro told me my convictions were fragile, that Butiama does not have mountains but only anthills, and that the closest I would get to experiencing climbing Kilimanjaro would be to join him in Mwanga and spend some time climbing the Pare Mountains.

I spent two days in Mwanga, but did not climb any mountain. Instead I took a rest and prayed that I was fit enough to climb Kilimanjaro.

Next post: I leave a village and head for a mountain.

Why I quit smoking: My Kilimanjaro Climb Adventure (Post 1 of 10)

I cannot remember the first time I decided I should climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, but it could have been eight years ago. For no particular reason, I decided I wanted to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Making that decision was the easiest part, implementing the decision was a totally different matter. Years came and went and I realised if I did not take drastic measures, I would never climb the mountain.

As the years passed, I found more reasons for climbing the mountain. I kept on meeting people from all over the world who had climbed Kilimanjaro and I felt deprived of the fact that Tanzanians had a treasure that an increasing number of foreigners were discovering and yet few Tanzanians climbed. At a certain point I decided I could not live anymore with a situation where I would meet a foreigner who had climbed Mt. Kilimanjaro and not being able to say I have also been there.

In the past decade a lot has been said and written about global warming and its effect on the natural habitat. Some experts predict that because of global warming the snows of Kilmanjaro will melt away in the not-too-distant future. I was compelled to climb Africa’s highest peak to see that snow before the effects of human development wiped it off the face of earth.

It has to be said that an opposing view suggests that the glaciers on Mt. Kilimanjaro are retreating, not because of global warming, but because of a combination of other factors. I was not going to wait for the experts to agree.

In August 2005 I met Gen. Mirisho Sarakikya, former Chief of Defence Forces of the Tanzanian Army (1964 - 1974) and a veteran climber of Kilimanjaro. He has climbed Kilimanjaro 46 times. I promised him I would join him in September of the following year but I did not and his words kept on haunting me: “I would be very disappointed if you were one of those Tanzanians that I meet once and never see again.” Read: those Tanzanians who pledge to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro but never show up for the climb.

One reason that may account for few Tanzanians reaching the summit is the cost. It costs an average of $US1,500 to pay for the 8 day trek, a sum which is beyond the reach of most Tanzanians. There is a large number of Tanzanians who can afford to pay that sum, but the question is whether they can have a matching resolve to tackle a climb that, to most average human beings, is considerably tough.

I was surprised to find out that, apart from the guides and porters, there were virtually no Tanzanian climbers on Mt. Kilimanjaro. I probably met more than 100 climbers during the climb, but I met only one Tanzanian on his way up when I was descending. Sadly, he succumbed to altitude sickness and was brought down on a stretcher.

Next post: Preparing for the climb.

Letter From Butiama The Global Village

This is one of numerous articles I wrote for the Sunday News (Tanzania) column "Letter from Butiama" between 2005 and 2011.

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When football archrivals Simba Sports Club and Dar-es-salaam Young Africans last clashed at Kirumba Stadium in Mwanza, I overheard a conversation between two residents of Butiama. One of them was informing the other that he had to complete his errands in time to catch the live broadcast of the soccer match from Mwanza. When he wanted to know whether his colleague would join him to listen to the broadcast, he received an unexpected response.

“I have no time cheering people I do not know,” he said to the second, adding, “I am surprised to see people so involved with soccer teams and sometimes, during matches, even questioning the team manager’s decision to substitute a particular player. I bet if Athumani Machupa shows up one day at the mtera (Butiama’s weekly market) very few of these so-called soccer fans will recognize him."

He went on, from Tanzanian to European soccer teams, and explained how some Tanzanian soccer enthusiasts have become “experts” on European soccer leagues, the United Kingdom’s Premier League, Spain’s La Liga, and Italy’s Serie A, but especially “experts” on European-based soccer stars.

It is true that, thanks to a combination of live television broadcasts of European soccer leagues, and the hundreds of articles appearing in local newspapers on European soccer players and their teams, many soccer fans have built up considerable information bases on their favourite teams and players.

I learnt from someone at Butiama a long time ago that a Dutch soccer player called Davidtz, whose only detail I recall is his trademark wearing of protective eyeglasses each time he plays in a match, never travels by plane. I assume that the highest altitude he has ever reached is the highest point he has managed to jump during a soccer match.

Last Monday I was on a bus to Mwanza and of the several subjects of conversation that I managed to ‘tune in to’ from fellow passengers during the bus journey was one on politics, specifically Chama cha Mapinduzi’s candidate for this October’s [2005] presidential elections, Jakaya Mrisho Kikwete.

“You don’t know Kikwete?”

“No.”

“You have never seen him, not even seen his photograph?”

“No.”

Then the informed one of the two began to describe Honourable Kikwete to someone who, presumably, will vote in October. I wouldn’t be surprised if she votes for Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM).

Three weeks ago if someone from CCM told me that it was necessary for their presidential candidate to be “introduced to Tanzanians” I would have suggested that they should recruit another political consultant. Now that “the truth” is out, they should probably give her a bonus.

The ongoing social and economic dependencies and interaction between the inhabitants of a real village has led some people to create the phrase “global village” to refer to a similar situation that exist between the inhabitants and nations of our world today.

In a real village everyone knows everyone else, but in the global village it seems people tend to know more about other “villagers” then they know about themselves. Those Tanzanian-based soccer fans of European leagues are one example. They will tell you which teams Ruud van Nistelroy has played for, and they can even tell you why Manchester United’s team manager, Sir Alex Ferguson, threw a football boot at soccer star David Beckam.

Ask them about matters close to home, and they begin to fumble because the news they are exposed to does not give much attention to subjects that a wider “globalized” audience does not care about.

Sometimes “global village” exposure does produce some important gains. Some time ago, when several names were being discussed as possible contenders in the presidential elections in Liberia, one of the names which received a lot of attention in the country and around the world was that of former footballer of the year George Opong Weah.

When both his soccer and political fans were eager to find out whether he would hang up his soccer boots and put on his political gloves, he could not be found for comment.

Then it was discovered that he was in the Democratic Republic of Congo discussing the possibility of coaching Congo’s national team.