Wednesday this week, April 13, 2022, was Mwalimu Julius Kambarage Nyerere’s 100th birthday. Mwalimu Nyerere is, and has been for several decades, far from these shores but we still celebrate him, even without cakes and well-wrapped presents. This year, however, Mwalimu himself seems to have sent me a huge surprise present.
I will tell you more about the present in a moment. First, however, as I was wondering how I came to receive my Mwalimu’s present, I realised that his birthday this year coincided with the Easter season.
In its spiritual essence, the festival is characterised by surprising events, most of them symbolising fiercely intense or even infinite love. Like many of you, I read and listen to the Bible texts with a heightened attentiveness, and many of them leave me kinywa wazi (open-mouthed) with their demonstrative love and humility.
That Washing of the Feet text, for example, makes me wonder how many Governors would volunteer to wash their MCAs’ feet. Even more startling and amazing is that of the woman who inundates her friend’s feet in fragrant ointment and massages them with her hair.
Remember, moreover, that this passionate expression of affection is in full view of an assortment of dinner guests. Nor does the lady seem to care about the possible criticism of her actions as economic sabotage, lavishing rare and costly oil on the feet of a single friend.
Thus, then, does the Easter season dispose us towards gestures of great love and generosity. Do you remember the malefactor who wins himself a seat in Paradise while he hangs on a cross? My Makerere teacher and colleague, the late Rev Prof John Mbiti, captures the moment in a lovely piece of verse, “The Crucified Thief”, included in our seminal Poems From East Africa anthology.
Awards during the celebration
Back to my Nyerere present, however, it came in the form of a tuzo (award) from the Tanzanian High Commission in Kampala, in conjunction with the Broadcasting Corporations of both Tanzania and Uganda. Barely two days to the event, I got an invitation from them to the celebration of Nyerere’s centenary birthday.
You know that truly great people do not die, and that is why we do not call them “marehemu”(dear departed) but “hayati” (living departed). Mwalimu Nyerere, founding parent of Tanzania, is vividly alive, in both our memories and our affections.
The celebrations were held in the grounds of the Julius Nyerere Leadership Centre (JNLC) at Makerere, an icon of the very closely interwoven nature of our East African history. A regional study, research and think tank outfit, it was established at Makerere in 2018, in honour of Mwalimu Nyerere, arguably the most famous alumnus of that institution.
Makerere, as you know, counts among its alumni Tanzania’s first three Presidents, Uganda’s first two Presidents and Kenya’s third President. Nyerere was a student there between 1943 and 1945. Indeed, the centenary celebrations included a visit to his student room in what is today called the Complex Hostel.
A friend had hinted that I, along with my friends, Akol Amazima of the Uganda Broadcasting Corporation and Isaac Mmena of the BBC, would receive awards during the celebrations, but I had no idea what for. Only when the MC called me up to the podium and the High Commissioner started reading out the citation, in sonorous Kiswahili, did I realise that my “Tuzo ya Tunu” was in recognition of my “contribution to the development of protocols and programmes for the teaching of Kiswahili in Ugandan universities”.
Dumbfounded, I cast a glance at my beloved VC, Prof Nawangwe, as if to ask, “When, where and how have I done all this?”
Cultural future of our region
Who, however, was I to raise such quibbles in the face of this unbounded generosity? In any case, several of my former Kiswahili students, many of them well-established in their academic and professional careers, were cheering around me. The best I could do was to collect my trophy, in the form of a bright silver-faced shield, embossed with my name and the citation, and say thank you.
I used my brief acceptance speech, in Kiswahili, to make three points, which might also explain why I am sharing this experience with you, rather than boasting about it. The first was that I was deeply grateful to Tanzania, one of my homes, and, especially, to Mwalimu Julius Nyerere, who was literally our Teacher, we who were at university in Dar es Salaam in the 1960s. He frequently interacted with us, informally and intimately sharing with us, everything from conversations to meals in our University Cafeteria.
I told the distinguished audience that Mwalimu certainly taught us to love and cherish Kiswahili. But the most important lesson that he taught us, mostly by example, was humility and simplicity. For such precious pedagogy, I felt, I should be rendering thanks, rather than being acknowledged.
About Kiswahili itself, I told the Ugandans that they should be grateful for it and embrace it without reservations because it is one of their surest links to the rest of East Africa. Moreover, the cultural future of our region, and maybe the whole continent, seems to me to lie in Kiswahili, which is already an international language.
Finally, both in personal loyalty and gratitude and to emphasise our East African oneness, I dedicated (tabaruku) my award to my first Kiswahili teacher in Dar es Salaam, Kenyan Prof Sheikh Mohamed Hassan bin Abdulaziz. I am profoundly indebted to this exceptional scholar, who retired from UoN a few years ago, not only for his excellent teaching and mentoring but also for his unfailing support and encouragement all along my career path.
A Kenyan scholar teaching a Ugandan student in Tanzania and later mentoring him to teach in Kenya: that is what East Africa is about, and that is what Kiswahili is about. I will take my Tuzo to Mwalimu Abdulaziz for his blessings when I am next in Mombasa.
