This is probably going to be the most interesting post this
blog ever sees (let’s hope). When you’re going through the application process
for Peace Corps, you find yourself imagining all sorts of insane, absurd
scenarios you might have to deal with. Last Saturday, another Volunteer and I
were somehow confronted by one of those insane, absurd scenarios. (And yes, one
of our coping mechanisms while everything was going down was to acknowledge
that it was going to make one hell of a blog post.)
It’s taken a few days to post about this for a number of
reasons.
(1) I (obviously) wanted to tell my parents before I posted
about it publicly.
(2) It made sense to give Peace Corps an account of what happened first.
(3) I couldn’t decide whether or not to post about it at all.
(4) I’m not a big fan of drama and this (at least in reality) contains a stupid
amount of drama.
(5) I still sometimes have trouble wrapping my head around the whole thing.
(6) Laptop power is at a premium right now.
It’ll take awhile to explain everything, but I don’t want to
drag it out. I give an account in greater detail below, but here’s a brief
synopsis for those of you who are as impatient as I am:
Some time ago, a significant deposit of natural gas was
found off the coast of Mtwara region. There has been an ongoing debate in
Tanzania regarding where and how the gas should be produced, and one faction
has been staging demonstrations to emphasize their frustration. Those
demonstrations remained peaceful until this past weekend, when rioting broke
out in Mtwara town on Friday and in Masasi and Newala on Saturday. Another Volunteer
and I got caught up in the crossfire in Masasi when our daladala broke down. We
spent eight hours dodging rioters and riot police and there were a number of
close calls that you’ll read about below.
Seven to nine people were killed in the rioting (reliable
information is difficult to come by here). We got out alright, but it was still
a tragedy. Estimates are at about $1M in damage, which is a lot here. The gas
issue has been a major headline for some time now, but the riots have brought
it to the fore. It sounds like things are calming down, though; regardless of
the political outcome, let’s hope that’s the case.
Rewriting everything would be exhausting, so I’m just going
to use a slightly-modified (grammar somewhat improved, full names removed, explanations
for a broader audience, etc…) version of the account I gave to Peace Corps to
convey the story. Pardon any grammar errors or poor writing; I wrote most of
this a couple days after the riot and was still stressing over the ordeal. I also
have to be sensitive posting about this because it involves an ongoing
political issue. There are a couple (other) things that ought to be said before
I begin:
(1) Tanzania has a proud history of stability and one incident doesn't change that.
(2) Peace Corps’ response to the situation was outstanding.
(3) I want to reiterate especially for this post that the views expressed here
are mine alone.
(4) I’m uncertain of the legality of posting pictures of the riot, so I won’t
chance it for now.
My (Slightly Redacted)
Account of the Riot in Masasi
All times given in this account are rough estimates based on
recollection and should be treated as such. The map above is also based on
recollection and serves only to illustrate the day’s events.
I left my village on 24 January
to go to Ndanda hospital to have stitches in my thumb removed. I returned to
Masasi later that day and booked a room at Ludewa Guest House (a). Charlotte (Volunteer) was leaving
for training in Iringa on 26 January and needed to be in town on the 25th,
so I stayed that day as well. On the morning of the 26th, Stephanie
(Volunteer) came down from her site to go to the soko (market). We were
planning on heading up to our sites on the same daladala (small bus), so we met
in the courtyard at Ludewa.
Even within the courtyard we
could hear the horns of pikipikis (motorcycle taxis) outside. We didn’t think
anything of it until, as we rode in a bajaj (three-wheeled taxi) to the main
soko, five pikipikis sped recklessly by us with horns blaring. As we walked in
front of the soko, we noticed more pikipikis speeding down the road together;
people had stopped what they were doing to watch them. The mood was unusually
tense, but Stephanie and I continued about our business.
We went to the “safi duka” in
front of the petrol station on the east end of the soko to buy some items for
site. While we were shopping, the owner of the duka stood in the doorway to
watch a growing mass of pikipikis congest the road. I asked him why the
pikipikis were rallying (I thought it might be about the pipeline issue) and
was told that they were protesting the poor conditions of the roads.* After
that, Stephanie and I went to reserve seats for the daladala at the small
standi, check the posta (post office) and go into the soko. It was during this
time that I first attempted to contact Joel (Safety and Security) to inform him
of the protest, but I was unable to reach him because I had the wrong number.
After loading our stuff on the
daladala, Stephanie realized she’d left her iPod in the posta to charge, so she
headed in that direction to grab it. I’m not certain whether someone shouted
something or what, but within a minute of Stephanie leaving, most of the people
in the standi began running all at once towards the main road. I followed to
get up to Stephanie.
The posta was virtually empty;
most of the staff were standing on the porch watching as people passed. I asked
a woman what was going on and she said there was an “anti-corruption” protest.
Hoping for clarification, I asked if it was about the pipeline and she said
affirmed that it was.
Stephanie grabbed her iPod. The
moment we were out the door, the staff returned inside and locked the building
up. Our curiosity got the better of us, and we headed toward the commotion to
see what was going on. While walking, I attempted and failed a second time to
contact Joel (again, my fault).
*I have since read that the
pikipikis were protesting the arrest of a driver over a traffic violation. This
was used as a platform to ignite the larger riot.
(1) As we neared the main road, we saw a large crowd of people – at
least many hundreds – standing en masse across the street in front of a complex
of government buildings. The outermost ring of people appeared to simply be
watching, but within the mass I could clearly see hundreds of people shouting
and throwing chairs and boxes. Even outside the outermost ring, people were
running around, screaming, laughing and looting.
Not long after we arrived, the
crowd set something on fire. A thick black cloud of smoke rose into the air and
the smell of burning plastic overtook the scene. Within moments, four fires had
been set, including a particularly large one just off the main road. Stephanie
used her iPod to take pictures of the scene.
We got to within about 50 meters
of the outermost ring, but opted to not get any closer for obvious reasons. We
had no reason to believe that we were targets, but we could clearly deduce from
the level of violence that the protest had become a riot and we wanted neither
to become involved nor to appear to become involved.
After taking a few pictures, we
decided to back off some; we stood near the safi duka and Stephanie continued
to take pictures. It was during this period that I called the Duty Phone (Peace
Corps’ in-country emergency line) and got ahold of Anne (Administrative Officer
and Duty Officer for the week) simply to inform Peace Corps of the situation;
we obviously had no idea we would be stuck in town another eight hours. While
talking to Anne, Stephanie and I began to walk away from the scene to board our
daladala, which was due to leave at any moment.
When we got back to the standi,
it was empty. All of the vehicles had taken off at news that the riot was
breaking out. By chance, I happened to see our daladala slowly moving away
through an alternate exit. To the jeers of onlookers, Stephanie and I sprinted
across the standi. As it happens, the daladala was stuck in sand, so we joined
a crowd of people trying to push it out. It was during the final push that the
daladala overexerted itself and began leaking oil. It sputtered to a halt just
down the road (b).
(2) We watched as those who had remained on the daladala got off
and sat on the side of the road. We were in a congested residential area in the
southeast of town. I called Anne again on the Duty Phone to inform her that our
daladala had broken down, but that we felt we were safe. She informed me that
she was on her way to the office and that EB (Country Director) was already
there. There were no alternative vehicles, so we waited by the daladala in the
hope that its issues would resolve quickly
Not long after we sat down, the
Diwani to my ward (employed by the district to council the ward) walked over
and greeted us. Apparently he was taking the same daladala back to my village.
He speaks English reasonably well and I interact with him frequently; he has my
trust. Because he works for the district, I asked him if he had any additional
information, but to that point he did not.
The first time we heard gunfire
was about a half-hour after we broke down. We could hear automatic weapons
firing from the west. This was disconcerting for a number of reasons, not the
least of which was that, to that point, we had no idea that there was any
trouble to the west. Within seconds of the first round of gunfire, we heard a
second round go off to the north near the soko. When that burst was sustained,
everyone in our area – Stephanie and I included – ran further into the
residential section away from the road. At that point it was clear that the
situation had escalated, and I called Anne immediately to report the gunfire.
Tyler, the Warden for our region (responsible
for coordinating Volunteers during security situations), had been informed of
the situation and called to inform us that Peace Corps had elevated our
region’s action stage to “Standfast” (which means we have to stay in our
villages until Peace Corps says otherwise). He asked if we were alright and
wanted to make sure that it was just Stephanie and I in town. After giving him
a brief rundown, I tried to call Amanda and Dierdre (the other Mtwara
Volunteers from my training class) to inform them of the situation. I was
unable to reach either, but sent Amanda a text and called Drew (Volunteer) to
ask if he would continue trying to contact Dierdre (who is in his district).
Not long after that, I received a
call from Joel checking up on us. I let him know we were still alright. He then
told me that he had contacted district officials and that one of the district
buildings had been burned down. He advised us to do whatever was necessary to
remain safe. I informed him that we had pictures of the situation and asked if
he would like us to send them; he said yes if we had the means, but only if we
were able to do so safely.
Stephanie and I then boarded the
daladala and I got out my laptop. We transferred the pictures and I began
composing the email. While I was resizing the pictures, we heard yelling; we
looked up and people were running away from the road again. I closed my laptop,
Stephanie and I jumped off the bus, ran down the road a bit and were guided
into a nearby house by a couple of men.
Within a minute, one of the men
said that all was clear, and Stephanie and I cautiously made our way back to
the bus. I finished resizing the pictures and resumed composing the email. As I
was about to send it, gunfire rang out again. After noting the gunfire in the
final line, I hit ‘send’, waited for confirmation that the email had made it
out, put my laptop away and got out to find a safer spot.
The sound of gunfire could be
heard from multiple directions over the couple hours we waited at that spot;
sometimes it was automatic, sometimes it was single-burst. Smoke was still
rising from various points in the distance. We ran away from the road any time
we thought rioters or riot police threatened to appear. We kept close to the
Diwani whenever we could. Even though he was a district official, he was having
trouble getting updates; nonetheless, he had a stoic demeanor that gave me the
impression that he knew enough about the situation to remain safe.
At some point while we were
waiting, I was able to get ahold of Dierdre and let her know what was going on.
During the course of that conversation, she informed me that Mtwara Town had
seen some significant rioting the night before. Aly (Volunteer) also called
Stephanie during the same period and informed her that there was rioting and
gunfire in Newala. After finishing the conversation with Dierdre, I called Anne
to suggest someone contact Aly about the situation in Newala.
Our situation in Masasi escalated
once more as the gunfire continued. While Stephanie and I were sitting on a
cement block with the Diwani, we heard three distinct single-round bursts fire
from the north. Within a second, we then heard what sounded like three
“sizzles” go just overhead. We ducked.
“It sounds like they’re using
firecrackers,” Stephanie said.
“Those are bullets,” I replied
(not as coolly as my writing implies).
This was the most surreal moment
of the entire ordeal. I’m not sure the bullets would have hit us had we been
standing, but had we stood and put our arms in the air at that moment, I think
we could’ve caught one. We were not the intended targets – I assume the gunfire
was being used as a deterrent rather than to kill – but whoever was firing was
doing so recklessly.
People were running again, and
Stephanie and I crouched low behind a house for cover. I called Anne
immediately, informed her of the near miss, let her know that the conflict was
spreading and that we no longer felt safe in the area. At some point, during
that or the previous call, I informed Anne of the presence of the Diwani, and
we resolved from that point that Stephanie and I should continue sticking close
to him and work on moving away from the area.
Soon after the near miss, a large
group of rioters armed with sticks, shovels and machetes appeared down the
road. They were making a lot of noise, and everyone in our group of bystanders
became quiet by their presence; the concern was evident in the bystanders’
faces. It’s one of the few times during the entire ordeal that the Diwani
looked uncomfortable. But the rioters turned down an adjacent street before
they reached us, and we continued considering our options for moving.
There are three major routes out
of Masasi: the road to Ndanda, the same road in the opposite direction to
Songea and the road to Newala (which would take us to our sites). Given the
location of the rioting near the soko, Ndanda wasn’t feasible because there was
no way to get a vehicle out without running into trouble. We had never been
down the road to Songea, so what lay down that road we had no idea – it was the
furthest option and we weren’t even sure it was accessible. We deduced then
that our best bet was to either try to get to safety at our sites or to find a
safe guest house in town and wait out the violence.
Soon after the rioters moved
away, the Diwani suggested we walk down the road. We would head down the same
route that the daladala would take when it was fixed. Then we would be able to
board and head to our sites. We agreed and started walking; a number of the
other bystanders followed.
It was a lengthy walk, but
relatively uneventful. I called Anne to inform her that we were moving. Peace
Corps wasn't able to contact Aly, so Stephanie passed on to Anne what
Aly had told her about Newala.
We could still hear gunfire from
various locations throughout town, and at one point during the walk we could
see smoke rising from multiple areas in the north. As we approached the road to
Newala, we could see lorries packed with riot police (from Mtwara town, I later
found out) heading into town. The police were armed with AK-47s; a few had some
form of grenade launcher.
(3) The Diwani directed us down the
main road a bit and we entered Matapola Guest House (c). A large group of bystanders had already congregated inside. I
called Anne and updated her on our whereabouts. We stayed in that area for a
couple hours; Matapola is on the outskirts of town and we were able to buy
bread and soda. There was some gunfire immediately outside the guestie at one
point, but aside from that it was relatively quiet. I called a couple other
Volunteers during that period to let them know what was going on.
About an hour
or so after arriving, Stephanie informed me that some rioters were outside the
guestie. Not long after that, she came back and said a fire had been set. I then
went outside to observe myself, and saw that the rioters had laid three tree
trunks across the road as barricades; the middle barricade was burning.
Minutes later,
a lorry of riot police arrived. A number of officers got out, rounded up some
bystanders and had them move two of the barricades (the third barricade was
placed poorly and the lorry could pass uninhibited). The police then boarded
the lorry again and continued to pass through.
After another
half-hour, the Diwani said the daladala had been fixed and was on its way. We
walked outside the guestie and waited for well over a half-hour, but the lorry
never arrived. During this period, while on the phone again with Tyler, another
police lorry pulled up and stopped. An officer with a grenade launcher aimed
high and shot something into the air. Five seconds later, we heard a deafening
explosion just overheard (we later deduced it was a concussion grenade). After
yelling some expletives, I got to cover and told Tyler that I needed to call
Anne. It was during the conversation with Anne that we realized the police had
simultaneously thrown tear gas. My nose began to tingle and my throat burned,
so we moved down the street a bit and Stephanie helped me wash my face (she is
apparently immune to tear gas).
Soon after, the
Diwani suggested moving back to the daladala to check up on it. I called Anne
to see what she advised, and she asked which option I preferred. While there
were drawbacks to either option, I decided that staying with the Diwani was
more important than sticking to the outskirts of town. Anne also informed me
that I should ask the Diwani to contact a driver to negotiate private
transportation in the event that the daladala couldn’t be fixed. I told her I
would talk to the Diwani while we walked.
While we were
walking back into town towards the daladala, a man I recognized from the soko
area spotted us and asked how we were doing. I asked him what the situation was
in town, and he informed us that the rioters were burning government buildings
and vehicles and were looking for government officials; at least three people
were dead, including a police officer. We gave him our condolences and said our
goodbyes. I then relayed the report of casualties to Anne.
(4) When we got back to the daladala,
we could see that it had hardly moved from its previous spot. The condo
insisted that it would be only a few more minutes, so we waited. Despite
several attempts to start, the engine wouldn’t get going.
After about
fifteen minutes, we decided to start looking for private transportation.
Stephanie and I agreed that I would stay with her in Nanjota (25km away) to
keep the cost down. The Diwani called someone he knew, who then called a
driver. That driver’s asking price was 120,000/= (~$75), well outside the
25,000/= (~$16) I was hoping to start with. I called Anne, and she told me to
start higher and remember that the primary objective was to make sure we got
out of town.
While we were
waiting on the driver to get back to us, the daladala started up again and the
engine held. We needed little encouragement to get on, and I called Anne
immediately to let her know that the daladala was moving again. Joel called
soon after and I updated him on the situation. We were passing through the
remains of the barricades as I hung up.
(5) Less than a minute after passing
the barricades, the daladala began slowing down. At first we thought it was
going to break down again, but upon looking ahead we realized that the rioters
had set up and were occupying a new pair of barricades on a bridge. The rioters
were shouting and were armed with shovels.
The daladala
came to a stop and the rioters surrounded us. A couple of them boarded, one
with a shovel, and began shouting something we didn’t understand to the crowd.
During the commotion, I turned back to the Diwani and asked him what was going
on (referring to him as ‘Bwana’ instead of ‘Diwani’ for obvious reasons). He
told me to wait a little, so I looked forward and kept my mouth shut. Stephanie
and I got an uncomfortable amount of attention for being white, but the condo
apparently knew one of the rioters and managed to get them off the bus after a
couple minutes of shouting. The rioters then moved the barricades out of the
way and we were allowed to pass. (I later found out that the rioters were
asking if there were any government officials onboard.)
Five or so
minutes after getting past the rioters, we felt a jolt. Then the daladala
veered sharply to the left and crashed into a ditch. We thought we were going
to roll, but the driver managed to position the vehicle in such a way that we
came to rest at an angle. The condo had jumped or fallen out of the door during
the crash, but was alright. I called Anne once more to update her on our new problem
(although I forgot to mention the episode with the boarding rioters) and we got
to work looking at private transportation.
I approached the
condo and the Diwani, who were speaking to each other. After they finished, the
Diwani told us that the condo was getting another vehicle from the same
company. Despite a brief period of uncertainty, we were soon informed that the
second vehicle was on its way. We relayed that information to Anne, and the
issue then became daylight (night driving in Tanzania is dangerous).
The first
daladala was eventually able to get out of the ditch, but was decidedly unfit
to continue; we waited and considered our options. We also spoke with both Anne
and Joel to weigh risking a night drive versus returning to Masasi and trying
to find a safe guestie. (I feel that returning to Masasi would never have been
an option in the first place had I not failed to mention the rioters’
barricades.)
The second
daladala arrived just as the sun was setting. The crews got to work unloading
the first daladala and loading the second. Even to that point there was some
concern over our decision. Neither option was without risks, but we eventually
agreed that Masasi was too unstable and that taking the daladalas back to our
sites, even at night, presented the safer choice.
We boarded the daladala and took our seats. Despite the
driver going a little faster than we were comfortable with at night, the trip
up was uneventful. Stephanie got to Nanjota in due time and I got to my site an
hour later. I called Anne immediately to inform her that I’d arrived. That was
the end of our ordeal.
Alrighty, so there’s my story. A lot of you said before I
came over that I’d experience things I’d never forget. Well, you were right,
but I’m not sure that’s what you had in mind...
Again, I am safe. The days immediately after the riot were
pretty stressful; I didn’t get much done this week. But things are settling
down and I’m hoping to get back into the swing of things once next week rolls
around. Please keep the families of those killed in your thoughts and prayers.
A billion thanks to Anne, Joel, EB, Nasorro and the PCMO for
helping us get out and for the follow-up support. Our country staff has proven
itself to be supremely competent when it matters most (on more than one
occasion, too).
On a lighter note, I’m eight weeks in and I’ve now been able
to get three Peace Corps staff members to say “Oh my God.” I think there’s a
prize if I get all of them to say it by the time my two years is up. We’ll
see...
I think that’s all for now. If you don’t mind, I hope my
next post is really boring.
Tutakutana siku nyingine (I promise).
