I recently called a taxi very early one morning in Mwanza. Curious, I asked the driver whether he normally worked through the night or had simply started early. He replied that many weekend customers were still leaving one of the city’s popular entertainment spots. I laughed that I would probably have been among them 20 years ago. He said he regularly drove people of my age home from the same venue. I immediately questioned what “old” really means.
The median age meaning half the population is younger and half is older is about 17 in Tanzania. In Monaco, where it is estimated at 58, I might almost qualify as a toddler. In Tanzania, people of my age make up less than five per cent of the population. These figures illustrate how dramatically age structures differ between countries and why perceptions of old age vary across societies.
One Swahili dictionary defines mzee as anyone aged 50 or above. Yet that definition seems at odds with the millions of Tanzanians who still work, exercise, travel and in some cases, dance until sunrise.
How a society defines old age is not merely an academic question; it has practical consequences. Governments rely on age data to plan pensions, healthcare, housing, transport and future workforce needs. An ageing population places distinct demands on retirement systems, hospitals, labour markets and succession planning. Given the special respect Tanzanians accord the elderly and the government’s responsibility to protect all citizens I would suggest that if large numbers of senior citizens spend entire nights dancing, emergency planners might reasonably consider ambulance coverage at popular nightlife venues. Demographics, after all, should inform practical decisions.
The same principle extends beyond government. Age profiles influence businesses, families and entire societies. Among the Zanaki, for example, traditional age groups assign responsibilities throughout life and provide an orderly framework for succession. Modern institutions face similar challenges. Companies must prepare future leaders before experienced employees retire, while political parties and governments must continually cultivate the next generation of leadership. Families, too, rely on age to guide decisions on inheritance, caregiving and long-term planning. As life expectancy rises and healthier lifestyles become more common, people remain active for longer, making thoughtful age planning increasingly important rather than simply assuming advancing years mean declining capacity.
Reflecting on my conversation with the Mwanza taxi driver, I have concluded that it is no one’s concern if senior citizens dance until dawn, provided they are healthy, responsible and harm no one. It becomes society’s business only because populations age collectively, influencing public services, the economy and long-term planning. Perhaps, instead of asking, “How old are you?”, the more important question is: “How old does society need you to be?”
