On October 29, 2025, as a government-ordered curfew fell across Tanzania, a young car wash worker in Dar es Salaam named Shaaban was shot and killed by police. He was not protesting. He was not rioting. He was, according to his colleagues, simply trying to withdraw money from a mobile agent to buy food. His body was left in the road for hours.
Shaaban was not alone. In the same city, Master Tindwa Mtopa, a sports journalist, was shot at his own home after stepping outside to see what the commotion was. He later died in the hospital.
On social media, a woman recounted in horror how police shot and killed her sister in her car, in front of her child. These are not the actions of a state enforcing a lawful order; they are the hallmarks of extrajudicial killings.
While the government of Tanzania has officially denied that any deaths occurred during the five-day lockdown, the evidence from the ground tells a different, far more brutal story. The critical question is not just whether the government had the right to impose a curfew, but whether it had the right to turn that curfew into a death sentence for its own citizens.
Non-derogable right
Even if we accept, for the sake of argument, that the curfew was lawfully imposed, the actions of the security forces were anything but. International law is unequivocally clear on this point.
The right to life is sacrosanct and non-derogable, meaning it cannot be suspended, even during a state of emergency. The UN Human Rights Committee, in its General Comment on the Right to Life, affirms that this is a “supreme right from which no derogation is permitted, even in situations of armed conflict and other public emergencies.”
Furthermore, the use of lethal force by law enforcement is governed by strict principles of necessity and proportionality. As outlined in guidance from the UN’s Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), firearms can only be used as a last resort against an imminent threat of death or serious injury.
Was Shaaban, on his way to buy food, an imminent threat? Was Master Tindwa, standing in his own front yard, a danger to the state? Was a mother in her car with her child a legitimate target for lethal force?
The answer is a resounding no. These killings were not a proportionate response to maintain public order; they were arbitrary deprivations of life, plain and simple.
Disregard for the rule of law
This flagrant disregard for human life is compounded by a profound disregard for the rule of law. The initial justification for the curfew was based on the Inspector General of Police’s announcement. However, Tanzania’s own Emergency Powers Act stipulates that any delegation of the President’s emergency powers must be formally published in the official Government Gazette.
A comprehensive review of all official Tanzania Government Gazettes for October 2025, the required channel for such orders, reveals no published delegation of emergency powers. This raises serious doubts about the legal foundation of the curfew itself, suggesting the entire operation may have been conducted outside the bounds of the country’s own laws.
When a government’s security forces kill citizens who pose no threat, and the government itself refuses to even acknowledge their deaths, it creates a crisis of accountability. This is not about politics or opposition; it is about the fundamental contract between a state and its people. The state’s primary duty is to protect its citizens, not to kill them with impunity under the cloak of a curfew.
Accountability
President Samia Suluhu Hassan’s administration cannot remain silent. It must move beyond blanket denials and take immediate, concrete steps to address these atrocities.
This begins with a full, independent, and transparent investigation into every death that occurred during the curfew period. It must be followed by a public acknowledgement of the victims and an apology to their families, the swift prosecution of the security officers responsible for these unlawful killings, and full reparation for the families who have lost their loved ones.
A curfew, no matter the justification, must not become a license to kill. The lives of Shaaban, Master Tindwa, and the many others lost are not mere statistics to be denied. They were citizens of Tanzania, and their government is accountable for their deaths. Until that accountability is delivered, the stain of this tragedy will remain.
Khalifa Said is the Editor-in-Chief of Dar es Salaam-based digital publication The Chanzo. He’s available at Khalifa@thechanzo.com or on X as @ThatBoyKhalifax. These are the writer’s own opinions and do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint of The Chanzo. Want to publish in this space? Contact our editors at editor@thechanzo.com for further inquiries.
