Dear Abdul,
I write to you from a place of anger and fear, but ultimately one of profound gratitude.
I am angry that you have recently been subjected again to such intolerable suffering, after the horrific ordeal you went through in 2018.
In March of that year, when you were abducted, taken to Iringa, and unjustly charged with ‘lying’ about threats to your life, I was concerned, along with many others. We rejoiced when you triumphed in court that November, as the magistrate ruled that the prosecution had failed to prove its case against you.
That victory was not only yours but Tanzania’s – a moment of vindication for truth and justice.
And yet, here we are again.
Forgive me if my facts are imperfect – I did not witness the events firsthand like millions of others. But the reports of what you recently went through between the Magufuli Bus Terminal in Mbezi and Coco Beach, Oysterbay, speak volumes.
They point an accusatory finger at a state that is, at best, incompetent in fulfilling its most basic duty: protecting human life. At worst, it hints at complicity in the crimes you endured.
I am also deeply afraid. Afraid because you are not alone in this pattern of violence. Afraid because your courage in the face of such brutality illuminates the darkness, but it also underscores the increasingly perilous state of our nation.
In Shakespeare’s Hamlet, a soldier observes with foreboding, “There is something rotten in the state of Denmark.” He speaks these words after seeing a ghost – the restless spirit of Hamlet’s father, whose murder by his own brother reveals the depth of corruption and decay within the royal court.
There is something rotten in the state of Tanzania when its citizens are abducted, tortured, or even murdered for daring to exercise their most basic constitutional rights of expression, association and assembly. And worse, that rot threatens to seep into our very souls when we look away to whisper in dark corners instead of shouting with indignation and defiance.
You have refused to look away. You have refused to retreat or surrender your principles, even under the gravest of threats. You have demonstrated strength and courage that inspire and humble us all. Your steadfast determination reminds me of the famous words of Dylan Thomas, the Welsh poet:
“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
You refuse to “go gentle” into silence or submission. Instead, you stand tall, raging against the forces that seek to extinguish the light of freedom, justice, and democracy.
Your bravery challenges us all to be worthy of the ideals to which our nation aspires – Uhuru na Umoja. You remind us that liberty and unity are not mere words on Tanzania’s crest but principles we must fight to preserve every day.
You remind us that courage is contagious and that the fight for freedom belongs to all of us. You show how an unyielding commitment to truth, justice, and liberty defines our shared humanity.
I am deeply grateful on behalf of millions of Tanzanians who see your struggle, feel your pain, and share your hope.
Asante Abdul!
Aidan Eyakuze.
Aidan Eyakuze is the Executive Director of Twaweza East Africa, a regional organisation that promotes active citizenship and responsive governance. He can be reached at aeyakuze@twaweza.org or on X as @aeyakuze. The opinions expressed here are the writer’s own and do not necessarily reflect those of The Chanzo. If you are interested in publishing in this space, please contact our editors at editor@thechanzo.com.
One Response
Good.
I stand besides your open letter.
Uhuru in Tanzania – not yet Uhuru.
Thank you