Those of you who are trying to rehabilitate Oscar Kambona should at least tell the truth. Otherwise you lose credibility. Even his younger brother Mattiya, in his article below, has made a hyperbolic statement which impeaches his credibility. He unequivocally states: "Our elder brother Oscar, who had been Vice-President (of Tanzania)...."
When was Oscar Kambona vice president of Tanzania? Is it true that his younger brother Mattiya Kambona did not know that Rashidi Kawawa was the vice president?
Such an outlandish claim by Mattiya is inextricably linked with delusions of grandeur the Kambona brothers were afflicted with, in their quest for power, probably even deluding themselves into believing that Oscar was indeed destined to be president of Tanzania right from the beginning.
He also brazenly states: "In the Tanzania that I had left, all those years ago, one scarcely saw anyone smiling: there was little to smile about in those days."
That's a downright lie.
Unihibited, he further states that groups of people - apparently critics of Nyerere - were routinely rounded up and thrown into prison, individuals mysteriously disappeared, and so forth. He says he expected to see that in Tanzanian newspapers when he returned home but saw none of that.
What groups of people were being routinely rounded up in the sixties and seventies? You are talking about groups of people, not just individuals. And can you name a few individuals whom Nyerere killed for criticising him? In his article reprinted below in its entirety, Mattiya Kambona apparently uses the term "disappeared" in another context as well, as a euphemism for "murder," not just for imprisonment.
And nowhere does he mention that his elder brother Oscar was the ring leader of a treasonous coterie whose inner circle included some of Kambona's close relatives; nor does he concede that the plot to overthrow the government and assasinate Nyerere started before July 1967 when Oscar Kambona left Tanzania. Kambona's close associate, Eli Anangisye, was arrested in the same year. His arrest had nothing to do with criticising the government in Parliament. Of all members of parliament, it would have been Chogga who would have been arrested for crticising the government relentlessly. I even remember one time when Kawawa asked Chogga - "is there not one good thing the government has done?" - since Chogga was such a persistent critic of the government.
Mattiya should also be glad that Nyerere left Oscar Kambona alone when Oscar returned to Tanzania. Here is a someone who wanted to assasinate Nyerere. Here is someone who also continued to lie about Nyerere - claiming that Mwalimu stole a lot money during his tenure, among other things. He also lied about Kawawa. He said Kawawa also stole a lot of money. He promised to tell it all in his speech at Jangwani. He never did. There was nothing to tell.
In spite of all that, Mwalimu did not retailiate against him.
It was also Mwalimu who forgave Bibi Titi, Eli Anangisye and others who wanted to overthrow and eliminate him. Tell me any other African leader who has done that.
Eli Anangisye was not taken to court. That is why details about his involvement in the plot to overthrow Nyerere were not provided to the public. But he asked for forgiveness and Mwalimu forgave him and even let him get a very good job after he was released from detention. I talked to him after he was released.
Where else in Africa did you see that when Mwalimu was in power?
Msipotoshe ukweli. Kuna wana Jamii hapa wanao jua mengi kuhusu akina Kambona, Bibi Titi, Chacha, Kamaliza, Chipaka, na hata kuhusu wahaini wengine, kwa mfano Eli Anangisye, ambao hawakupelekwa mahakamani. Mkiongopa, mtanaswa.
And here is Mattiya Kambona:
Exile and Return
Mattiya Kambona
Editorial note: The Salisbury Review has had a
long connection with the Kambona family and three
brothers have now written for it. Oscar Kambona was
a prominent Government Minister in the sixties but
resigned in 1967 in protest at the introduction of the
one party state and the brutal collectivization of the
countryside. He left Tanzania for a 25 year exile in
Britain and terrible reprisals were taken against his
family and friends. (v SR vol 3 No 4, Vol 9 No 4, Vol
12 No 2, Vol 23 No 2, Vol 26 No 4)
When President Julius Nyerere's dictatorship of Tanzania finally came to an end in 1998, my close relatives gradually became more at ease when they spoke to me on the telephone. I had been living in exile in Britain for more than thirty years, and during that time conversations with people ‘back home' had necessarily been very guarded. Then one day I was somewhat surprised when someone asked me, ‘When are you coming home?'
During the dictatorship I had spent more than ten years in prison (without ever having been accused of any crime) so I could not understand why my people seemed so keen for me to return to a place which could be so dangerous. Had my relatives become Government agents? Cautiously I contacted some friends who assured me that it would be safe for me to return. ‘Come back', said one, ‘the dark days are gone. So I decided to visit my country to ‘test the waters'.
In 1968 my brother Otini and I had had to consider escaping from Tanzania, as we had realised that our situations were precarious. Our elder brother Oscar, who had been Vice-President, had already had to flee with his wife and family because he had had a disagreement with Nyerere over establishing Tanzania as a one party state and collectivising the peasants soviet style. (see The Time I Met Mao, SR Summer 1990)
Oscar was bitterly opposed to any such move. One day he had a warning from a friend who was a high ranking official in the police that he would be arrested very soon for opposing the President's wishes. Nevertheless Otini and I had hoped for the best and put our trust in the International community who we hoped would protect us, or at least would speak out for us, if we were arrested, and make the world aware of our situation as they did in Nelson Mandela's case.
The British government which had so painstakingly drawn up our constitution, which provided for a multiparty state, should be concerned. Otini was working as a journalist and I was employed in the Ministry of Industry and Power. I am a Cambridge graduate so we thought perhaps we were safe.
However late at night when I was working at home, I become aware of a tremendous commotion in the street outside. There seemed to be police cars everywhere. Then came the dreaded knock on the door. The police searched my home for several hours, then told me to accompany them to Ukanga prison. I thought that, perhaps, was some mistake as I was not being accused of any crime, but it was to be more than ten years before I saw the outside world again. On that dreadful night, I realized that my brother Otini had also been arrested, although I was not able to talk to him; indeed during the following years when Tanzania was developing into a completely inefficient state where nothing worked, my brother and I, while being shunted around various prisons from time to time, were very efficiently kept apart for the whole of our incarceration. Otini was married to a girl from Martinique and had two small children, my wife was from the Gambia and I had a three-month-old daughter. Both families were immediately expelled and our properties were expropriated. It was to be ten years before we saw anything of them again.
In 1978, we were just as suddenly and inexplicably released - probably through the intervention of Prime Minister Muldoon of New Zealand, who by a fortunate chance had heard of our plight and had made it known to Nyerere that aid from New Zealand would cease unless we were released. This happened almost immediately.
We were still not safe, however, as it was common practice that when people were released from prison the President would order their re-arrest. We knew that we would never be given official permission to leave the country; we would have to escape. One day we went north to Moshi, a town near the border with Kenya. We were not sure where we would go from there, but by another lucky chance, I met a man whom I had known in Moshi prison. He agreed to take us to a path in the forest from where we could cross to Kenya. Under no circumstances, however, could he be seen with us, because as soon as the authorities realised that we were no longer in Tanzania, he would be arrested and put into prison again, as it would be assumed that he had helped us escape. We could only make our way after dark and he would have to return before dawn. And so we managed to reach Kenya.
Here we had friends. President Kenyatta, who knew Oscar, was no admirer of Julius Nyerere. We were able to travel with the help of these friends to London and safety, or so we thought. We applied to the Callaghan government for asylum, which was refused. Then one morning I received a letter from the Home Office signed personally by Dr David Owen, who was Home Secretary, to go to Heathrow Airport, for deportation back to Tanzania. I was in a complete panic: some day I should like to confront Dr Owen and ask him why he was so keen to send us back to certain death.
Fortunately, thanks to the delay pending an appeal there was a change of government at the 1979 election and
Margaret Thatcher's government granted me asylum. I was safe and free at last.
And now thirty years later after working for the Sickle Cell organization and later with Alliance Security and having retired, I decided to return to Tanzania to ‘test the waters'. On the plane from Heathrow to Nairobi I was very happy - I was back in Africa but afterwards my heart began to sink. Had I made a terrible mistake? Had my desire to see my country blinded me to the dangers that I could be facing? As the plane approached Dar-es-Salaam I began to feel that I could be experiencing my last moments of freedom. Would there be government agents waiting at the airport?
After all, I had not had permission to leave the country. Perhaps I was stupid to have returned. As the plane flew
over the city I saw Ukanga prison where I had spent so many months and I felt on the point of collapse. Dear God, help me', I prayed almost aloud. I tried to take comfort from a favourite saying of my brother Otini - ‘God is greater than human beings' but all I could think about was those government agents who would undoubtedly be waiting to take me to Ukanga probably after taking me first to an interrogation room within the airport building.
As I put my foot on Tanzanian soil for the first time in thirty years I was extremely nervous and shaking almost uncontrollably. I felt that I was jumping from a comfortable warm bath into a boiling cauldron. As we entered the airport building I felt that my years of freedom were coming to an end.
I looked around me, but did not recognise any of the officials. I chose to give my documents to a young man who looked about thirty years old - he could have been born when I left the country. In spite of his youth I was expecting that he would call someone to search my belongings after which I would be told to accompany someone to the Land Rover, which I felt just had to be waiting outside to take me to Ukanga. I was so preoccupied with these thoughts that I scarcely heard the Immigration official tell me to go on my way. I thought that I had misheard. Was he really waving
me away?
‘You mean I can go? I heard myself asking ‘Yes of course', came the rather startled reply, ‘What else do you want?'
I could keep my freedom. I surveyed the area again. I could not see a single member of Nyerere's agents around. It was amazing. My legs became light and the heavy lump sitting in my chest began to disappear.
When I left the building I thought for a moment that I must be back in London. I was surrounded by smiling faces! (In the Tanzania that I had left, all those years ago, one scarcely saw anyone smiling: there was little to smile about in those days) As we drove away I kept looking behind. Nobody was following us. Was this really my country? Yet I still could not help feeling that this was some kind of calm before a storm.
Next morning I gingerly looked outside into the street. Apparently there was no informer watching the house. I began to feel that the disappearance of the all-pervasive fear, which I remembered so vividly, had infused my country with sweet fresh air. But as the saying goes ‘old habits die hard'. I was not yet totally convinced and I was still worrying at every
unfamiliar face.
I went into the city centre and bought every available newspaper expecting to see the names of people who had been dismissed from their jobs, which groups had been rounded up and thrown (without trial) into prison, which Trade Union officials were being harassed, which government critic or politician had been arrested or had mysteriously disappeared and had his property confiscated, but as I searched I found nothing. I looked at the faces of the people around me, and gradually realised that of Dar-es-Salaam's four million people, only one - me - was worried about Presidential tyranny. I bought a cold drink and sat in the garden opposite the Cathedral and imagined that I could see
the smiling faces of Angels. Eventually a mood of thanksgiving came over me and I thanked God for the wonderful changes that He had brought about in the wonderful country of Tanzania.
When Julius Nyerere was in power, anyone who criticised him or his government could look forward to perhaps a week of liberty. In the new Tanzania people are free to say what they like and can live and die a natural death. It was wonderful to be home!
Mattiya Kambona worked for the Sickle Cell
Association and Alliance Security.
Source: Mattiya Kambona, "Exile and Return," The Salisbury Review, Autumn 2010, pp. 4 - 5.
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