Issa Michuzi’s reel on Instagram has been disturbing most Tanzanian viewers. Le Bucheron , a 1970 song by Franklin Bokaka wails in the background. Franklin Boukaka was a Congolese musician believed to have been murdered by dictator President Mobutu in 1972, aged 31. Le Bucheron questions the reality of African independence (“Dipanda” in Lingala).
In the Michuzi clip a Nigerian street vendor is ordered to quit his business and return to his country. The threat is by a group of black South Africans with black T-shirts ( labelled Labour and Civic Organisation). “You have ten minutes …” They warn, menacingly.
Over 1,287 comments flood the clip with 8, 511 likes by Easter Monday 2026.
One comment in Swahili: “This video has really hurt me. .. We Africans have started becoming animals. In fact , South Africans do not like foreigners at all… One day we should all unite and kick South Africans out. Expel them like they do to us. We Tanzanians are too kind… When we see a visitor needing assistance we help…I do not know what happened to the Nigerian man. You heard him saying his wife died and therefore he has to raise the children alone.”
Another: “ We have been saying Arabs and Whites are racists, but those folks have not reached such a level.”
The thousand – plus distraught comments, reminds a Congolese proverb from the Nkundo tribe : “When one finger is cut all fingers are covered in blood.”
Dislike and mistreatment of foreigners is known as Xenophobia.
What upsets most is that during the horrific era of apartheid South African regime – most Africans (and rest of humanity) were sincerely committed assisting black South Africans to be free through demonstrations, live music, speeches, offering refuge, etc.
Sadly, Black on Black mistreatment may sometimes feel worse than when dished from traditional white racists- as that is, unfortunately, expected.
Years ago while visiting the USA, I got into a lift ((“elevator” in the US), with my girlfriend. Two black guys joined us. I smiled. Shouted, hello.
WHAT ARE YOU SMILING AT?
I said one of them resembled one of my brothers back in Africa.
SHUT THE …!
He lifted his shirt to reveal a concealed gun under his trouser’s belt.
We immediately vacated that negative space.
Urewedi, if you speak Kipare.
