It was the early 1990s in Arusha. I was a representative of Radio Tanzania (RTD) and the late Benjamin Mkapa-then Minister for Higher Education—was in town representing President Ali Hassan Mwinyi as a mediator in the Burundi peace process.
The mission was critical. To navigate the high-stakes tensions between the FDD-led CNDD later CNDD-FDD under Léonard Nyangoma and the Tutsi-dominated UPRONA party. These efforts would eventually pave the way for the Arusha Peace Accord, a landmark agreement that sought to end years of ethnic conflict and stabilise the Great Lakes region.
As a fellow native of Mtwara, I saw a golden opportunity during this historic visit. Having been assigned an exclusive interview, I met the Minister in the lobby of the Novotel Mount Meru Hotel.
As the lift doors closed on our way to his suite, I decided to play the “homeboy” card in an attempt to build instant rapport.
“Chamli Muthamfi?” I asked warmly in our mother tongue Makua—meaning, “How are you, brother?” expecting a smile and immediate camaraderie.
Instead, I received the shock of my life. Mkapa looked at me sharply and pierced the silence: “Brother! Lughochote!” which in Makua meant “Brother! That language [nothing].”
I was speechless. My mission to “chawalise” to use tribal affinity for personal favour—had failed miserably. The interview proceeded with strict professionalism, devoid of any special bonding.
Reflecting on today’s political culture, where “Chawas” often dominate the landscape, I still think about that elevator ride. Had Mkapa reciprocated, I might well have become a “Presidential Chawa” by 1995.
Instead, his rebuke saved me. I may have missed the cut but I gained something far better: Professional integrity and a clear conscience.
