The Gathering Storm

Seventeen

187 SEVENTEEN Two years later, Uhuru, the dreamed Independence, materialized. On the 9th of December 1961, the Uhuru day, the celebrations in Bulembe came. Nobody could in anyway compare the celebrations of Uhuru with any others before: beer parties, demonstrations, football matches, choirs dancing and many other events so that everybody was enjoying himself actively in one way or another. However, like any other giant miracle, Uhuru did not seem true to many. But since Uhuru was commonly taken to mean the departure of white rule, the term took on more credibility when eventually the colonialist administrators evacuated. People reasoned the unparalled celebrations couldn’t just be an effect without cause. There were no people who failed to cherish 188 the uprooting of masters so towering as the colonialists had been. It appeared not to be necessary to think deeply of life in the future, for the prospects opened up themselves clearly, even in the heads of children. That would have been like a leper sitting down to think deeply about how he felt one day after getting rid of leprosy. Two years after Uhuru, in 1963, Simon came to stay in Bulembe as TANU district secretary. He found the town changing fast, as fast as any other town he had seen after Uhuru. There were many more businesses opening up here and there. There were a lot of new things written on doors — African bazaars, African stores, African bakeries and so many enterprises started up by Africans, some flourishing and others nearly collapsing within only a year or so after their establishment. The TANU district office was transferred to Majengo and Simon rented a house at Majengo, just next door. In the office he had many visitors. Some visitors only came to greet him or Mr Sengene, who was still the Bulembe TANU chairman. But more often they came to lodge complaints about the Indian and African businessmen who employed them, or about some favouritism in a government office, and so on. Simon had just got seated in his office one morning when a new, long, French-made car hooted its brakes outside the office. Simon looked up. “Hallo, Simon,” somebody called, getting out of the car. Simon recognized him. He ran out to meet the visitor. 189 “Hallo, Willie, where did you hide yourself all this long time?” he said, taking the hand of his old friend at Mbazala Boys’ School. “I had gone to England. By the way, I think you know that Father Waters went back to England immediately after Uhuru?” “I think I heard about it.” “So, he took me with him. But when I reached there, I could not get a place for my studies because of my asthma and that is why I’m now here.” “Why, let’s sit in the office.” By that time two people had entered the office, unnoticed by Simon, and had seated themselves on a bench that lay beside the table. They were Lubele and Saidi-wa-Manamba. Simon began the introduction. “Willie, here is my father, Mzee Lubele Ndanganga, and here is Mzee Saidi. He is known throughout the town. I hope that you may have known him also.” “No, I don’t know him,” Willie returned, shaking his head. “You don’t know him, truly?” “No, I think I may have never known him,” Willie stressed. “And this is the son of Mr Samuel,” Simon went on, looking at the old people and touching Willie on the shoulder. As for the introduction of Willie, it had sufficed to mention Samuel. Willie found the introduction not worthwhile enough tointerrupt their conversation. He went on. “You asked me where I will be living now?” “Oh, yes.” 190 Willie looked down. Then he raised his head slowly and his eyes beamed with satisfaction and pride. Simon noted that Willie had grown very big. But he had little changed from the naughty boy of Mbazala School. “My father is holding one of the highest posts in the government. I hope that this you know.” “Not exactly. I only know that he is having some post in Dar es Salaam,” Simon answered after a moment’s failure to recollect any further knowledge about Mr Samuel. “A principal secretary.” “So are you to stay with him in Dar es Salaam?” “I can stay anywhere. My father has bought the big farm...