BY DANFORD MPUMILWA
TEARS AS
It was around mid-morning last Sunday when my mobile phone suddenly began buzzing with a flood of messages. That was unusual.
The messages came from close friends in Arusha, where I had spent more than half of my life. These days, I spend most of my time in Njombe, caring for my ailing mother, who is now 93.
The news was heartbreaking. My friend, brother and guardian in Arusha, Richard Yesaya Kitwika, has died. Overwhelmed by shock, I slumped onto the nearest sofa.
My mother, Rhoda Merere, feared I was having a heart attack.
“What is wrong?” she asked.
“My brother Kitwika is dead,” that was all I could say.
Then she, too, collapsed. I had to seek the assistance of a nurse who lives nearby to stabilise her.
To understand our grief, I must go back almost 40 years—to July 1, 1987, when I transferred from the Tanzania Tourist Corporation (TTC) in Dar es Salaam to the Arusha International Conference Centre (AICC).
I arrived in Arusha with the enthusiasm of someone beginning a new job. Once I had settled in, I began exploring the town’s popular social spots, including Silent Inn and Small World in Sakina. Longtime Arusha residents will remember those old haunts.
It was there that I met an interesting international group: Young African agricultural experts working at the Centre for Integrated Rural Development in Africa (CIRDAFRICA). They came from Malawi, Sudan, Nigeria, Congo, Uganda and Kenya.
As a news enthusiast, I soon became part of this international nyama choma group. We became close friends, helped along by my above-average command of English.
Among them, however, was a lone Tanzanian. He was not an agricultural expert but the centre’s accountant. His name was Richard Kitwika.
The group decided that he would
village in Tukuyu for burial ceremony. (Photo by The Arusha News). henceforth be my elder brother. He warmly embraced the idea and immediately began teaching me the ways of Arusha. Our bond grew stronger when he learnt that I had been born in Tukuyu, his home district in Mbeya Region.
When my mother visited me in Arusha some years later, I naturally introduced her to my new brother. They sat in my living room and spoke for an hour or so in fluent Kinyakyusa.
Among other things, they agreed that Kitwika would take charge of my life in Arusha and in particular, keep my sometimes wayward ways in check.
He embraced this responsibility wholeheartedly and I almost became a model, law-abiding young Tanzanian! He had a gentle way of imparting knowledge and offering guidance.
In time, almost everyone in Arusha came to believe, quite seriously, that I was his younger biological brother. He eventually became godfather to my three daughters—and a very good one at that time.
Last year, while I lay in a hospital bed recovering from surgery in Njombe, he chaired the marriage proposal ceremony for my eldest daughter in Arusha.
Unfortunately, when her wedding took place, it was his turn to be in a hospital bed. This time, I represented him.
Our responsibilities towards each other’s families were mutual. I also took an active interest in the welfare and guidance of his children: Four daughters and three sons.
I know how much he sacrificed for these young Kitwikans. It was little wonder that they went on to excel in their studies around the world.
Following his sudden death, I did everything I could to travel on Wednesday to NsiaNsia village, about 20 kilometres outside Tukuyu town, to bid him farewell.
The late Kitwika was a man of the people. Friends from Arusha, led by his close friend, Michael Lugaiya, travelled more than a thousand kilometres to see him off.
They, too, were deeply moved by the heartfelt tributes from Tukuyu residents, who sang mournfully in honour of the departed Kitwika.
I mourn my brother. And I can still see the tears streaming down the cheeks of the grieving residents of NsiaNsia.
May God rest the soul of Kitwika, a man of the people, in eternal peace, Amen.
mpumilwa@gmail.com
