Thank you Danford Mpumilwa for an amazing piece, last week.
“Village life at JKT : My 1973 Buhimba experience” left me flash-backing to my own days with The National Service. Yes. Mafinga, Iringa, 1975.
Right now JKT sounds beautiful. However, a huge difference being 70 compared to an inexperienced 20 year old.
Instagram JKT June 2025, reads: “Tunawaelea Vijana ili kuwajengea Uzalendo, Nidhamu, Ukakamavu, Umoja wa Kitaifa…”
Discipline, patriotism, astuteness and purposefulness.
Early 1975, arrived at Mafinga, with other male and female high school leavers. Our main mood would be endless annoyance. The cold weather. Standing in lines. Being reminded to EVER obey orders. Terribly annoying. For first three months of the total year stint, run every where. No walking. No saluting. You see an officer, you jump. Literally.
With other “town boys” from Dar es Salaam, Morogoro, Arusha and Moshi, we constantly planned absconding.
Initially our strategy was train karate and boxing (I had been boxing at Mzumbe then karate in Dar with the legendary Sensei Nantambu Bomani, an African American black belt). Idea was to beat up our sadistic tormenters known as Afandes.
They wore red bands on their shoulders. They strolled menacingly clutching long thick tree stumps which they would whack you, if necessary. I personally got whacked a lot. And to be honest I did not fear core war. With another mate, (let us call him William) started training our mates.
“If an Afande comes like this, you block like this and kick him like here, like that.”
Within weeks we had a respectable reputation.
One evening a group of our “annoyed learners” ambushed a group of Afandes on their way to the local village pub. Beat them up. After serious punishment and torture they snitched on us as The Coaches.
William and I were given a proper “beating” and court-martialled i.e. a military court, something different from civilian court cases. Verdict?
For example if at a JKT station you were being blown loudly, very seriously like during the theatrical trial I and William faced at Mzumbe school, rated soldiers.
Mhando’s crime* was flirting his white shirt in the wind and mocking the Afandes. We were sentenced and assigned the punishment of sweeping, cleaning latrines and slashing grass.
5AM we would be “awaken” by the Military Police. Cold water poured on us, then roll in the mud while being kicked, hit with those thick sticks, screamed at, threatened; everything. The overall purpose was to scare and break you. Tell you what? We did not care!
One day Harold and I escaped camp. Slogged for weeks across neighbouring villages. Our mission?
Meaning if you dozed off you drowned in your own urine and faeces. You soon learnt to sleep standing! A feat I can still manage today!
I learnt to cook Ugali, in big pots size of tanks, for fifty-plus people. Learnt to trek for days with huge bags and swim properly. One day during a log march through a river one of the guys was drowning. I dived in and saved him. I noticed some of the Afandes observing, closely.
From then on things, shifted. I learnt that the more trouble you caused the more you were secretly respected by the Afandes. To be a good soldier you must be “naughty,” and tough.
In later years I would become best of friends with one of the Military Police chaps, now a retired civilian.
And you know what?
After a year all “annoying” things were forgotten. Whoever had been in JKT, did well in life. This included mates who are now distinguished leaders of institutions and government.
JKT is resourceful, indeed.
Teaches youths to “get on” with challenges without complaining. Jeshi La Kujenga Taifa is equally a rite of passage. It should be encouraged to develop the body, mind, spirit of survival and resilience.
Bless your eyes.
Kamwene if you speak Kihehe.
Email: fmachawoluk@gmail.com
YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/fmachawoluk
