Driving past Makumira, a suburban area along the Arusha–Moshi highway, always brings back memories of some of the great and historically significant figures of our country.
This was equally true some 30 years ago when I used to make that journey at least twice a week. It was in 1994–95, when I was running errands on behalf of two Meru titans: Ambassador Major General (Retired) Mirisho Sarakikya and Ambassador Dr Peter Palangyo – he of Dying in the Sun fame, the first Tanzanian novel to be included in the African Writers Series.
During one of my visits to these two great men – who happened to be neighbours up the Nkoaranga road, a route cutting through lush green plantation groves, neatly manicured coffee estates, and tropical forest – they insisted I meet a charming and fascinating Meru elder.
We all believed it was important that I, as a journalist, speak to this mzee because he embodied the history of the Meru people and their long struggle against colonial rule.
Indeed, I was not disappointed. The man, Japhet Kirillo, took me to a small local pub along the Nkoaranga road, where we sat sipping the local brew as he narrated his colourful – if not pivotal – role in Meru politics.
Hexapolated in the late 1930s and 40s, the Meru practiced mountain herding on dramatically expanding lands. This restricted the Meru from expanding down the slopes of Mount Meru and prevented them from grazing their cattle in the lower pastures and accessing watering points.
At that time, Tanganyika was a mandated territory under the British Empire, following Germany’s defeat in the Second World War. It was administered by the UK under the loose supervision of the League of Nations.
Mzee Kirillo explained that in an effort to defuse this ticking time bomb, the British introduced a new policy that transformed traditional tribal authorities into modern local governments, attempting to blend indigenous practices with common law administrative principles.
However, the Meru refused to cooperate. They rejected the imposed Mangi (chief), believing he was chosen mainly to serve the colonial administration to settle land claims. The Meru resisted.
The British response was to jail many local leaders in an attempt to quell unrest. Yet this strategy backfired. The move only galvanised resistance. Many Meru joined the Kilimanjaro Citizens’ Union (KCU), originally established by the Chagga to diminish the power of colonial chiefs, who were supported by the colonial authorities.
Meanwhile, the Tanganyika African Association (TAA), a burgeoning nationalist movement, was gaining traction. It united people of diverse ethnic backgrounds under the banner of national liberation.
While Meru representatives were involved in the TAA, their primary concern remained the defence of their ancestral land rights.
On 1 January 1951, the Meru established their own political party – the Meru Citizens’ Union (MCU) – separating from the KCU, and on 24 February 1951, they elected their first Paramount Chief, or Nshilli Nnini – none other than Mzee Japhet Kirillo himself.
Mzee Kirillo, originally trained as a teacher and later employed as a medical assistant, threw himself into the Meru land struggle, and this culminated in the now-famous Meru Land Case.
At the heart of the conflict was the illegal eviction of 3,000 Meru farmers from their ancestral lands in the Engare Nanyuki area, which were then allocated to European settlers.
Local protests bore no fruit. But the Meru did not give up. They instead dispatched Mzee Kirillo to the United Nations in New York, where he presented the case of the Meru people’s violated land rights.
The UN agreed with their grievances and issued a resolution in their favour. Predictably, however, the British ignored the ruling.
After returning, Mzee Kirillo sought the support of national leaders such as Mwalimu Julius Nyerere and S. Kandoro. With their encouragement, he travelled the country, raising awareness of colonial injustices, using the Meru Land Case as a rallying point.
Before long, the case became a national symbol of resistance and a key catalyst for Tanganyika’s nationalist movement. To the Meru, Mzee Kirillo became a hero.
It was nearly dawn when I staggered out of the Nkoaranga pub, having promised Mzee Kirillo that I would return to conduct more interviews and eventually, write a book.
Mzee Kirillo passed away two years later, in 1997—a profoundly rich loss to the historical timeline of this nation.
