BY DANFORD MPUMILWA
It was in January 1974 that I embarked on what was then the longest road and rail journey of my life, from Njombe to Musoma, more than 1,300 kilometres away.
I was a 19-year-old who had just completed high school. I had been conscripted into the National Service (JKT), which was then compulsory for all high school graduates. My destination was Buhemba JKT Camp, some 52 kilometres south-east of Musoma town.
I obtained my travel warrant, authorising free, government-funded travel, from the Njombe District Commissioner’s office. I then boarded an East African Railways and Harbours bus for the bumpy, muddy, 20-hour journey to Dodoma, where I caught a train for another bone-rattling, two-day journey to Mwanza.
Naturally, I arrived in Mwanza utterly exhausted. Fortunately, I managed to jump onto a bus bound for Musoma and promptly fell asleep, having first informed the conductor that I was heading to Buhemba.
A few kilometres before we reached Musoma, he woke me and ushered me onto a bus coming in the opposite direction, bound for Buhemba. And voilà! At long last, I reached Buhemba, which, strangely enough, was also the end of the road — if the rough, thorny, twin-track path through the bush could be called a road.
Buhemba had previously been a well-known gold-mining camp. Now, all that remained were dozens of dilapidated, grass-thatched miners’ huts and officers’ quarters, which accommodated us and our camp commanders respectively.
After the initial shock of this new, regimented existence, which included military drills, route marches, farm work and other strenuous manual tasks, we settled into our gruelling routine.
Our adventures included sneaking out to the huts, bushes and valleys around Ikoma Road village to sample the local illicit brew — gongo — which was the most popular drink in the area. We easily got sloshed and somehow wobbled back to camp, where we would often be arrested and locked up in the quarter guard cells to sober up for a few days.
Then, one day, an unusual notice appeared in the daily orders, announcing that about 50 servicemen from our camp would be taken to Butiama village, some 20 kilometres away, the following day. We were to join Mwalimu Julius Nyerere, who was on holiday, in working on his farm. obviously, this was very exciting news.
The following morning, instead of sneaking out of camp, we all competed eagerly to be selected. I was among the ‘lucky’ ones. We joyfully bundled ourselves and our hoes onto the back of our long-wheelbase Ford truck for the short journey, arriving a few minutes before 8 am.
On arrival, we were immediately herded towards the nearby farm, where we were astonished to find Mwalimu Nyerere already tilling the land with his hoe. Dressed in a khaki shirt, trousers and hat, with gumboots on his feet, he straightened up as we approached. After we sheepishly greeted him, he welcomed us, saying: Karibuni wanajeshi wangu tujenge nchi yetu! — ‘Welcome, my soldiers. Let us build our nation!’
He then gave us a brief talk on modern farming and the preparation and use of compost manure.
Soon afterwards, we lined up and joined him in tilling the land. It was serious business. Try as we might, we could not keep pace with Mwalimu, despite being much younger and presumably fitter and more active.
He continued working without a break. Hours passed, but he showed no sign of stopping. It was not until around 3 pm, after seven consecutive hours of farm work, that his aides politely begged him to allow us to rest and have our late lunch. Even then, we left him behind, still tirelessly working the soil.
After lunch, our afandes bundled us into the truck for the journey back to Buhemba, angrily scolding us for having shamed the JKT in front of the Head of State.
Unsurprisingly, the following day, no servicemen or women were willing to go to Butiama. The afandes had to order others to join Mwalimu, the extraordinarily energetic and committed farmer. We, meanwhile, returned to our usual clandestine activities: Drunken excursions to the notorious huts of Ikoma village.
The author is a veteran journalist and communication expert/consultant.
mpumilwa@gmail.com
