We are almost there — the day Tanzanians have long awaited: the day we will decide who becomes our next President, Members of Parliament, and Councilors.
It has been a tough and rugged road to this point. Not everyone has felt the same weight, but we can all sense it — the end is near, the moment is coming. The only question is: will this be just another election, like those we have held since the reintroduction of multiparty politics, or something different?
It could be a yes if we look at the familiar cycle. Every five years, Tanzania votes. Political parties crisscross the country, selling their manifestos. Posters flood the streets — in Dar es Salaam, 99.9 percent bear the ruling party’s green.
Slogans echo across rallies, radio stations buzz with commentary, and analysts debate the nation’s mood. Everything feels expected, predictable. It is, after all, an election season — one we know so well.
Yet much has transpired before reaching this final stretch.
For the first time in our history, we have a female presidential candidate from CCM — who is also the sitting president. This is her first electoral contest, following the passing of President John Magufuli. It is both historic and weighty — a moment that tests her legacy and the nation’s political maturity.
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This election is also marked by boycott and protest. The main opposition party, CHADEMA, has declared “No Reforms, No Election,” a slogan that resonates across society among those who argue that without genuine reforms — particularly to electoral laws and the independence of the electoral commission — no poll can be free or fair.
Meanwhile, the opposition landscape has grown more fragile. CHADEMA has no presidential candidate on the ballot, while hopes that ACT Wazalendo would field Luhaga Mpina were dashed after the Registrar of Political Parties ruled that the party had not followed internal nomination procedures.
INEC upheld that decision, and the High Court later dismissed the challenges — deepening questions about fairness and the unchecked power of electoral institutions. Beyond formal politics, another battle is being fought — one over truth itself.
Misinformation
Social media is now flooded with self-proclaimed “truth-tellers” spreading confusion and fear. Dubious accounts thrive on division, amplifying hostility and eroding trust among citizens. In this noise, meaningful political conversation fades. Instead of a well-informed debate about Tanzania’s future, we face a cloud of distraction.
When you travel across the country, you sense something deeper — a disconnection. Many people have distanced themselves from politics. The hunger to engage, to hope, to believe again feels lost.
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Perhaps this stems from the repressive bans on political activities that began in 2017 under the fifth administration. Though the ban has since been lifted, the wounds remain open. Habits formed under repression still linger. The excitement that once defined election seasons has dimmed, replaced by cynicism and fatigue.
Yet, during my travels across the country, I have attended ongoing campaigns and stopped by to listen. I encountered a fascinating and genuine enthusiasm among people who attended meetings devoid of any entertainment to entice their participation.
I realized that if we allow the next five years to pass with an uncompetitive democracy, cries for help to improve socio-economic conditions will be in vain. People have pressing issues that require answers. In a single-party parliament, it is challenging to address such obscure yet significant concerns that impact people’s lives.
What I sensed is that people expected honey and milk; instead, they tasted manna — enough to survive, but not to be satisfied. Our moral compass lies shattered, like the tablets of stone cast to the ground, and we drift, uncertain of where we’re headed.
Reclaiming the idea
Doing the right thing in such times is not about who wins or loses the election. It is about reclaiming the spirit of democracy itself — the courage to speak truth, to demand fairness, to stand tall even when fear surrounds us.
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Even when democracy falters, when the line between state and party blurs, we must not give in to resignation. Doing the right thing requires courage — the courage to vote, to question, to hold leaders accountable. However bleak the situation may seem, ballots remain the most powerful tools citizens possess to shape their nation’s destiny.
Doing the right thing also means listening to the diversity of voices — especially those silenced by fear. It means acknowledging the cries from families who have endured enforced disappearances and abductions that society too quickly forgets. People may speak out passionately for a few days, but after three, the story fades — until the next victim. The question remains: who will be next?
The future of our country rests in the hands of the people. If we lack representatives who truly voice our hopes and frustrations within democratic platforms such as Parliament, we risk losing our grip on the reforms we seek.
In the end, doing the right thing will not be measured by votes counted, but by courage kept — by those who still believe that Tanzania’s story can be one of fairness, dignity, and truth.
Fortunata Kitokesya is a lawyer and human rights expert. She is available at fortukito@gmail.com or on X as @fortunatak. 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.
