Beyond the Frontier

Dressed in khaki shorts and a white cotton shirt, Hussein hesitantly stepped on mainland Tanganyika. He was only 12. His dad always told him to face fear with faith in himself and in God. “A confident face brings success,” he always told Hussein. With this thought in mind, Hussein started his life journey on the mainland Tanganyika. For Hussein, it was important to find work quickly to support himself.

Pragmatism was a trend designed by the British colonization of Tanganyika and other countries. It was probably the most essential ingredient of modernization.” Your being is defined by your usefulness.” This was the British philosophy that permeated the education system at that time. This philosophy made it noticeably clear that acquiring skills through education led to jobs, and the jobs provided security and success, leading to the affordability and consumption of goods and services. This thinking fitted well with the Industrial Revolution’s output and consumption of goods to consolidate colonial power and boost the economy and entrepreneurship. The consumeristic thought patterns tied to Industrial Revolution, therefore, contributed significantly to the self definition in the modern era.

By this time, the British had already built a railway line from the port of Dar es Salaam to Mwanza in the west end of the country. The steam trains passed through every hub town where locally produced raw materials like cow and goat hides, precious and non-precious stones, nuts, and grains were loaded to be transported to England. Once the finished products were made in the English factories, they found their way back into the hub towns and eventually to the hands of consumers.

Profit was an important variable in the colonial formula. Rural areas being sparsely populated and being inaccessible by roads, did not attract the British. Later, even after the independence of occupied countries, the newly formed governments continued to neglect the rural populations resulting in major weaknesses in democratic reforms. The rural population intrinsically could not form a majority. A major weakness in democracy and capitalism.

The British facilitated two types of migrants in two phases from India. In the first phase, Indian labourers were brought in to build the railway lines. They were already experienced in the construction of British railway projects in India in the 1850s. In the second phase, the Indian dukawallas (shopkeepers) were encouraged to migrate to Tanganyika. They had previously provided a network for the distribution of British-manufactured goods throughout India. As dukawallas, they did not only sell finished goods but procured raw materials from the locals or natives and sold them back to the British through middlemen wholesalers called dalaals. Many Khoja Ismailis migrated as dukawallas for two reasons. Firstly, it was their Imam’s directive, or firman, to migrate from the drought-stricken areas of Kutch and Kathiawar to East Africa. Secondly, they were welcomed by the British who viewed them as fair traders and were respected for their acumen and neutralism in politics. 

As the Khoja or Satpanthis were establishing dukas in the hub towns along the railway lines, they needed helpers. Hussein had a bit of experience with his dad, who advised him to work for others before starting his own business. He was a child, and so it was obvious that it would take quite a while before he would set up his own duka. For now, he provided cheap labour to others.

However, at twelve, he looked bigger than his age. The evaporation of the family fortune did not dampen his will to survive and make it in life. He had nothing more to lose. His mother had taught him to recite du’a (prayers) every morning and evening. He never abandoned this practice. It gave him a sense of being protected. The dua was full of verses to that effect. It was “in the name of the Almighty who is most kind and watches over you. Stay on the right path, and he is closer to you than your jugular vein.” His mother also taught him Ginans, which resonated with Quranic verses. He was gifted with a good voice and sang the Ginans. For him, the Ginans took away a lot of pain. Singing and loudly reciting could be very therapeutic. Later in life, he was able to afford a musical instrument called a harmonium. This is a hand pumped mini piano like musical instrument used by Sufi musicians and classical singers. One hand pumps the air which pressures the musical keys to produce sound when pressed by the other hand. Playing it became his hobby. It also helped release physical and mental stress.

He worked for a transporter and a merchant, Padamsi, for about four years. His job was to keep an eye on the goods being transported from hub towns to the small villages in the interior, like Handali and Kikombo. He also helped in loading and unloading the goods. That kept him physically fit.

One day, he was asked to take a small parcel from Kikombo, a train stop village, to Handali, about ten miles away. There was no transportation in those days. So, he asked a Mgogo tribe member, who walked to Handali often, to go with him.

The dominant tribe in the Dodoma region was called wagogos, with a very distinct style of dressing and language. A Mgogo man always carried a rungu, which is a stick with a ball-like ending. This stick is explicitly designed to be a very lethal defensive weapon. The other unique characteristic that distinguishes them is a penny-like mark on their foreheads. This mark is imprinted with a red-hot metal pressed on to the front of the forehead. This mark on the forehead defined one’s identity and belongingness to the tribe.

Their concept of time and distance was remarkably different. They could walk for days carrying a long stick over their shoulder with heavy loads of water, grains, or any farm produce hanging on both ends of the stick. They ensured that the weights at both ends were approximately equal to provide equilibrium. They would graze their cattle and walk for days.

Hussein had never spent time with a Mgogo tribesman. But there were two reasons why he needed a Mgogo man to go with him.

First, there was a chance of encountering leopards and poisonous snakes, and Mgogo knew how to avoid them. Secondly, the tribesman was knowledgeable about the shortest distance to Handali. There were no roads or trails through the forest at the time. So, after walking for a while, Hussein would ask the tribesman, “How far is Handali?” The tribesman would respond with a phrase, “Bahá Doo (just around the corner).” But the corner was never in sight. Finally, after walking for eight hours, and encountering a few dangerous animals and snakes, they finally reached Handali.

For the wagogo tribe, the concepts of distance, space, and time were different from those of Hussein. Living in the vast and sparsely inhabited land where there were no watches or clocks to tell time, the tribesmen and tribeswomen depended on a sequence of events to decide when to eat, when to sleep, or when to graze the cattle. They were guided by the shadows caused by the sun and objects like trees to determine the sequencing. They often walked long distances to obtain groceries, medicines, clothes, etc.

Time and space seemed to be a mental state rather than a physical reality. With the invention of watches, the concept of time has gotten a different meaning. The obvious shift from feeling sequential time through one’s need for food and sleep to instrumental time is like feeling the temperature of water by touching it versus reading the temperature on the thermometer. The instrumental aid, in other words, is devoid of direct touch and feeling. While the instrumental data may be more exact than guessing, the former has robbed the modernity of its primary feeling instinct.

In recent years philosophers have debated this issue of rationality as the basis of true scientific knowledge versus the feelings and individual experiences as being the core of human existence.

On reaching Handali, Hussein was invited by Kassam Lalji, one of the brothers of Juma Lalji, to stay over. Kasam started a duka in Handali. The other brother, Kanji Lalji, became a developer in Dar es Salaam. Hussein gladly accepted the offer, as he was very tired. He slept well until the morning. But it was still dark when he woke up. He could hear the morning call of a rooster. He could not figure out for a while why the morning day light was still shrouded in darkness. Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion. A few tribesmen had surrounded his bed with smoking jute rags. He was scared stiff but dared not get up. Gradually, bright light pierced through the mosquito net. He asked the tribesmen about the smoke and the commotion. They pointed to the swarms of black killer ants that had enveloped every inch of the mosquito net. The net saved Hussein’s life. Hussein attributed his escape to his faith in God’s intervention.

Hussein had no parents or a family to hug him or assure him not to fear. Total dependency on the unseen Power for protection and safety defined the meaning of life for him. This most likely inculcated humility and a desire to seek new experiences. The Socratic axiom that “I know that I do not know” and that “you are what you know” reverberated this knowledge and experience seeking attitude.

During his years of toiling and working for Khoja traders in different towns and villages in Tanganyika, Hussein picked up many personality and survival traits that defined him. He unintentionally sought a sense of certainty and permanence against the backdrop of inhospitable, rudimentary rural settings lurking with dangers at every step. Common sense became an invaluable tool for survival.

Meditation, prayers, and social skills of communicating with the natives in their dialects, helping others, etc., characterized his attempts at adaptation to the new situation. His syncretic past, most likely, contributed to his adaptability.

Learning and adapting seem to define the meaning of existence. It also inculcated humility and openness to newness. He did not have a formal education, which would probably not have prepared Hussein for his time. Those survival traits of Hussein’s personality seem to have significantly contributed to his mental health and positive attitudes.

Although he was sensitive, he hid his feelings behind a smiling face. He always reminded himself of his mother’s teachings, “The world may be unjust and selfish, but the human spirit is like a bird that must soar higher and be self-reliant.” He stayed silent, amicable, and caring. His stepfather’s family, mired in their own inheritance conflicts, admired Hussein’s simplicity in carrying himself. He did not entertain any grudges against them.

His perceptions of the world were the result of his own inherited beliefs. His beliefs were fed by two sources. Firstly, his own subjective thoughts and, secondly, his experiences of the world outside. The knowledge of anything was therefore argued to be possible with the existence of two fundamentals: the innate categories or ideas in our minds, and the external or objective world or things. According to Immanuel Kant, “One is empty or blind without the other.” Therefore, Berkeley argued that your perception is your reality. In other words, your world does not exist without you perceiving it. This implies that negative perceptions cause mental and physical anxiety in oneself, because they cannot be verified by the objects outside one’s own mind.

Hussein could not contain his joy whenever his relatives visited him. It felt strange that their absence precipitated the negatives, yet their presence evoked positive feelings.

He could not understand his attitudinal duality for he lacked formal education. The time in which Hussein lived, in terms of communication, was vastly different from today. The communicative technologies, like cell phones, have today not only exacerbated loneliness and negative thoughts about others, but are also probably contributing to a significant lack of social skills that are fundamental to happiness and mental health. These social media platforms cannot replace the physical-social interactions. This physical vacuum germinates negative thoughts. The populist movements of today seem to feed on these negatives manufactured by a lack of physical social skills.

Hussein, at the age of twenty, finally opened his small duka in Handali village, about thirty-two kilometers from Dodoma. He was cut out to be like his father, but he also inherited the trait of not being able to keep the money. Owning one’s duka was a dream come true. He went from being passive to being dynamic, from being submissive to destiny to being a destiny maker, from being status-less to a challenger. Unfortunately, as soon as he started the business, he was perceived as a threat to his step uncle’s duka. At the behest of his other step uncle, Kanji Lalji, he moved his shop to Kikombo, another village about sixteen kilometers away.

The shop defined time and space differently for Hussein than the time and space defined by labour. In the case of the former, time stretched longer, especially when there were no customers. Also, he went to sleep less tired on a proper bed. In the case of toiling as a labourer, there was not enough time. A small space with scant rags to sleep on was enough to soothe his body. Duka implied ample time. His mind became more conscious of what his body needed. He had more time to feel himself as he watched his step-uncles wives pay more attention to him.

No one dared talk about sex or be friends with the opposite sex at that time. And so, Hussein had to keep his feelings and desires to himself. He had two forms of existence. One was the existence of a decent businessperson, and the other was his secretive existence, where sexual feelings and romantic imaginations dared not manifest in his external behavior. He knew that even thinking about it was a taboo. Talking about sex could unleash wrath. This ambivalent existence was directly related to his adherence to the community norms. In many instances, a minority group tends to crystalize its customs amidst a large loosely knit group.

When Hussein first saw Fatma in an arranged setting in Dar es Salaam, there was no possibility for both to have a conversation. He could not hide his liking for her. He thought she was very pretty. For Fatma, he was a blessing in disguise. All her siblings had found their spouses and their destinies.