Morning Trumpet Azam tv 9 December: Mohamed Said na historia ya Uhuru wa Tanganyika - 1

[Mohamed Said]

 

[iikatseb]

Namsikiliza Yericko Nyerere muda huu Star TV anasema kanisa katoliki lilimlipia Nyerere nauli kwenda UNO na nyumba ya TAA ilitolewa na muingereza kwa kina Abdulwahid Sykes ili waifanye kuwa makao makuu. Ya kweli haya ???? Au kijana kajituma kuja kuondoa ukweli wa historia ya Tanzania.

 

[bagamoyo]

The African population swelled massively in the years I was in Dar from around the 93,000 people recorded in the 1957 census by at least ten per cent yearly.

As a part of this drive to relieve the city of the scroungers, a lot of my time came to be spent at the “Repatriation Centre” dealing with spivs and beggars, which was interesting though sordid work. I was there two mornings a week working with the Police in screening the wahuni, sorting, as it were, the wheat from the chaff. We distinguished those who had paid tax from those who had not, those who had relatives in town from those on their own, those who had proper jobs from those living hand to mouth, and those who had somewhere to live from the homeless. For the many that had nowhere and nothing, we tried to arrange return to their homes up-country. Some cases we saw were very sad; Mohamed Hassan was blind, old, destitute and helpless, in rags and found sleeping in the road. He told us that he had distant kin down in the southwest of the country near the town of Mbeya. We sent ahead to alert his relatives, put him on the bus from Dar to Mbeya, and arranged for the local police to meet him there and take him out to rejoin his family. A similar case was that of Mahomed Hatibu, a one-legged beggar who said he had relatives in Tanga, so we arranged for him to be escorted there on the bus in order that they could look after him. There were hundreds like these two in Dar in those days.

The Administration had long been in the habit of supporting the Police when they carried out raids in the shanty towns and squats to pick up the wahuni. One of my jobs was to accompany the police on these raids in order to deal with tricky cases, and we used to go out to the African dormitory areas in the mornings some time after law-abiding folk had gone to work. The police would check those still around to see if they had paid their taxes, and put them in front of me for a decision whether or not to have them sent to their distant homes. Sometimes we were in the older parts of the city where the houses were built of concrete blocks roofed with corrugated iron, comprising several rooms, with a backyard and shed. Large extended families lived in such accommodation, including the old folk and children and often several visiting young, unemployed, sponging relatives. At other times we were among mudwalled shacks where the smoke from the cooking fires floated up through makuti roofs between waving coconut palms; and on some of these raids we went down very early into the industrial areas including Dar’s docks. While checking tax receipts, I gained a useful insight into the working of the dock labour where strikes frequently took place, often over petty disputes. Later I made a habit of attending the dock-labourers’ weekly pay parades, with a tax clerk in attendance to collect their personal tax before they had a chance to spend their wages.

I was often at the prison and in the cells of the police stations among the many rogues and vagabonds. I worked closely with the police in the same way that I had done in Nzega. One of the Police Inspectors was Peter Mence whom I had first met before Christmas, and we used to go out with his team of askaris and their fierce police dogs chasing burglars. One week in March, nineteen houses in Oyster Bay were broken into, and we were very alert - although when I accompanied a police posse there after dark, we caught no-one despite an intensive search. I was also in touch with the Special Branch who kept track of immigrants from Kenya, notably Kikuyu who might have been involved in the Mau Mau uprising; and at the Police CID, I met Mr Hannington whose children had been in the room next to mine in hospital.

Destitute Europeans

Another of my functions was to help those Europeans who found themselves stuck in Dar without funds and in need of support. In particular, it was my job to pay a small monthly pension from the British Government to a handful of elderly Polish émigrés. A large number of Poles had found their way to East Africa after escaping from Poland through Russia and the Near East at the end of the war. Nearly all of them had obtained work and prospered, but just a few seemed to be unemployable and were dependent on a tiny government hand-out. They spoke little Swahili and less English, and were a miserable and shabby lot, sometimes living in one room in an African hut in a dirty suburb with no privacy and absolutely nothing to do.

The Salvation Army ran a camp for the destitute at Mgulani just off the road out of town, where some of the Poles and other ‘poor whites’ were to be found. Each individual lived in a one-room banda, a white-washed hut capped with a steep roof of palm thatch and equipped with the most basic furniture, but at least a roof and three decent meals a day were provided, and the Salvation Army asked for little in return.

Among this sad and sorry flotsam were some delightful characters. One was Rufiji Barker, an elderly fellow who had for many years hunted elephants for their ivory and wild animals and reptiles for their skins all over East Africa, notably in the Rufiji Delta. He had the bushiest beard I ever remember and a cheery Father Christmas of a face behind it, with an occasional twinkle in his eye. He knew a great deal about the beasts he had hunted and the bush country in which they lived, and he could be very entertaining with (doubtless heavily embroidered) stories of his experiences. He had fallen on evil days, however, when no longer able to hunt and pay the rent of a room in the city. So he had thrown himself on the mercy of the Salvation Army and ended up at Mgulani where his basic needs were met in the camp.

Despite the occasional interesting individual who came before me for help or judgement, the office work was dull and not enough to fill my days, and I was always on the look-out for more to do; I did not complain, however because acutely conscious that my job had been specially created so that I could stay in Dar. Besides, the climate was improving all the time. In May, we wore shortsleeved pullovers to go to work at 7.30am, and in the evenings a jacket or blazer for comfort.

 

[Mohamed Said]

View attachment 2442458

The African population swelled massively in the years I was in Dar from around the 93,000 people recorded in the 1957 census by at least ten per cent yearly.

As a part of this drive to relieve the city of the scroungers, a lot of my time came to be spent at the “Repatriation Centre” dealing with spivs and beggars, which was interesting though sordid work. I was there two mornings a week working with the Police in screening the wahuni, sorting, as it were, the wheat from the chaff. We distinguished those who had paid tax from those who had not, those who had relatives in town from those on their own, those who had proper jobs from those living hand to mouth, and those who had somewhere to live from the homeless. For the many that had nowhere and nothing, we tried to arrange return to their homes up-country. Some cases we saw were very sad; Mohamed Hassan was blind, old, destitute and helpless, in rags and found sleeping in the road. He told us that he had distant kin down in the southwest of the country near the town of Mbeya. We sent ahead to alert his relatives, put him on the bus from Dar to Mbeya, and arranged for the local police to meet him there and take him out to rejoin his family. A similar case was that of Mahomed Hatibu, a one-legged beggar who said he had relatives in Tanga, so we arranged for him to be escorted there on the bus in order that they could look after him. There were hundreds like these two in Dar in those days.

The Administration had long been in the habit of supporting the Police when they carried out raids in the shanty towns and squats to pick up the wahuni. One of my jobs was to accompany the police on these raids in order to deal with tricky cases, and we used to go out to the African dormitory areas in the mornings some time after law-abiding folk had gone to work. The police would check those still around to see if they had paid their taxes, and put them in front of me for a decision whether or not to have them sent to their distant homes. Sometimes we were in the older parts of the city where the houses were built of concrete blocks roofed with corrugated iron, comprising several rooms, with a backyard and shed. Large extended families lived in such accommodation, including the old folk and children and often several visiting young, unemployed, sponging relatives. At other times we were among mudwalled shacks where the smoke from the cooking fires floated up through makuti roofs between waving coconut palms; and on some of these raids we went down very early into the industrial areas including Dar’s docks. While checking tax receipts, I gained a useful insight into the working of the dock labour where strikes frequently took place, often over petty disputes. Later I made a habit of attending the dock-labourers’ weekly pay parades, with a tax clerk in attendance to collect their personal tax before they had a chance to spend their wages.

I was often at the prison and in the cells of the police stations among the many rogues and vagabonds. I worked closely with the police in the same way that I had done in Nzega. One of the Police Inspectors was Peter Mence whom I had first met before Christmas, and we used to go out with his team of askaris and their fierce police dogs chasing burglars. One week in March, nineteen houses in Oyster Bay were broken into, and we were very alert - although when I accompanied a police posse there after dark, we caught no-one despite an intensive search. I was also in touch with the Special Branch who kept track of immigrants from Kenya, notably Kikuyu who might have been involved in the Mau Mau uprising; and at the Police CID, I met Mr Hannington whose children had been in the room next to mine in hospital.

Destitute Europeans

Another of my functions was to help those Europeans who found themselves stuck in Dar without funds and in need of support. In particular, it was my job to pay a small monthly pension from the British Government to a handful of elderly Polish émigrés. A large number of Poles had found their way to East Africa after escaping from Poland through Russia and the Near East at the end of the war. Nearly all of them had obtained work and prospered, but just a few seemed to be unemployable and were dependent on a tiny government hand-out. They spoke little Swahili and less English, and were a miserable and shabby lot, sometimes living in one room in an African hut in a dirty suburb with no privacy and absolutely nothing to do.

The Salvation Army ran a camp for the destitute at Mgulani just off the road out of town, where some of the Poles and other ‘poor whites’ were to be found. Each individual lived in a one-room banda, a white-washed hut capped with a steep roof of palm thatch and equipped with the most basic furniture, but at least a roof and three decent meals a day were provided, and the Salvation Army asked for little in return.

Among this sad and sorry flotsam were some delightful characters. One was Rufiji Barker, an elderly fellow who had for many years hunted elephants for their ivory and wild animals and reptiles for their skins all over East Africa, notably in the Rufiji Delta. He had the bushiest beard I ever remember and a cheery Father Christmas of a face behind it, with an occasional twinkle in his eye. He knew a great deal about the beasts he had hunted and the bush country in which they lived, and he could be very entertaining with (doubtless heavily embroidered) stories of his experiences. He had fallen on evil days, however, when no longer able to hunt and pay the rent of a room in the city. So he had thrown himself on the mercy of the Salvation Army and ended up at Mgulani where his basic needs were met in the camp.

Despite the occasional interesting individual who came before me for help or judgement, the office work was dull and not enough to fill my days, and I was always on the look-out for more to do; I did not complain, however because acutely conscious that my job had been specially created so that I could stay in Dar. Besides, the climate was improving all the time. In May, we wore shortsleeved pullovers to go to work at 7.30am, and in the evenings a jacket or blazer for comfort.

Bagamoyo,
Unamfahamu huyu Barker Mjerumani aliyetajwa humo?

Huyu ni baba yake Abdul Beka aliyekuwa msomaji taarifa ya habari TBC hodari sana.

Huyu Barker aliandika vitabu vingi kuhusu stori zake za uwindaji.

Sijui hivi vitabu viko wapi na nani alichapa.

 

[Smart911]

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