Nyerere statue provokes memories and relevance at home and abroad  

The decision to erect a statute of Nyerere at the AU has divided Tanzanians but also underscores the significance of his legacy as an African leader.  

When I first visited the African Union Center in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, in 2016, it was during the leaders’ summit. Many significant events occurred during those few days, including interviews with several heads of state. However, one of the most cherished memories from my time there was seeing a portrait of Salim Ahmed Salim, one of Tanzania’s most distinguished diplomats and the former secretary general of the Organization of African Unity.  

Imagine my pride a few weeks ago when I returned to the African Union headquarters after the 37th AU summit in Addis Ababa and discovered an entire statue dedicated to our former president and the father of the nation, Mwalimu Julius Kambarage Nyerere. With over 50 African countries represented, it's notable that there aren't statues of all their founding leaders at the compound. Mwalimu guided Tanzania from its birth in 1961 until 1985; yet his impact transcended national boundaries, solidifying his role as a leader of regional and international significance. 

Nestled between historic and modern conference centres stands the statue, a mere few metres away from another monument honouring the Ghanaian statesman and prominent pan-African icon Kwame Nkrumah. This statue marks the entrance to the Julius Nyerere Peace and Security Building, a testament to Nyerere’s enduring legacy within the African Union. 

The bottom of the statue is etched with the following inscription giving you a feel for Mwalimu’s mission which has been embraced by the AU: “We would like to light a candle and put it on top of Mount Kilimanjaro, which would shine beyond our borders, giving hope where there was despair, love where there was hatred, and dignity where before there was only humiliation.”  

As the US obstructs decisive global action on the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza and the world ignores the plight of people in DR Congo, Sudan, Ethiopia, and beyond, the erection of Mwalimu’s statue and the quote accompanying carries a timely message for Africans. It encapsulates his unwavering stance against colonialism and injustice, reminding us of the principles which should guide our foreign relations. 

This raises important questions for Tanzania however about whether it is living up to the lofty ideals set out by our founder.  

Don’t even get me started on our foreign policy. It’s supposed to be all about economic diplomacy, but instead, it's turned us into beggars. We’ve become too afraid to stand up against oppression, even when it’s happening next door. 

From standing with the Palestinian people to dismantling white minority rule across southern Africa and his unwavering conviction for the formation of the United States of Africa, Mwalimu’s foreign policy ambition is well documented. From the 1960s to the 1970s, Dar-es-Salaam became a “command centre, a temporary captain’s bridge”, for African revolutionaries dreaming of liberating their homes, on par with Accra, Cairo, and Algiers. 

The award-winning Polish journalist, Ryszard Kapuściński, described the atmosphere in Tanzania’s capital during one of his trips: “All of Africa conspires here these days. Here gather the fugitives, refugees, and emigrants from various parts of the continent. One can spot sitting at one table Mondlane from Mozambique, Kaunda from Zambia, Mugabe from Rhodesia. At another – Karume from Zanzibar, Chisiza from Malawi, Nujoma from Namibia.”  

Tanzania would also host, nurture, and shape liberation movements beyond Africa. Some of the most notable political activists were drawn to Dar-es-Salaam, including Malcolm X, Angela Davis, Stokely Carmichael (Kwame Ture), and Che Guevara. Walter Rodney, author of the seminal text, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, also spent time in the city, where he taught at the University of Dar es Salaam. 

What is less talked about however is how Mwalimu communicated and transferred these solidarities and bold foreign policy moves into ideals embraced by common Tanzanians.  

Our national anthem, for instance, starts with a prayer for the continent and its leaders. (So far, the gods have been slow in answering our prayers regarding our leaders, but we keep praying, inshallah). Back in the 1990s, the jogging songs at primary school were full of references to liberation struggles and the denouncement of dictators across the continent. One song I remember goes: “When Idi Amin dies I cannot cry, I will toss him in the Kagera River to be crocodile food.” Though the verses are quite graphic for an 8-year-old primary school child still unfamiliar with the dilemmas of dictatorship and liberation struggles, the song provoked curiosity and planted the seed of rejection against dictatorship. 

After morning assemblies, we’d walk in straight lines heading to our classrooms, singing songs about South Africa. I particularly remember one song that had a short but clear line calling for the immediate release of Nelson Mandela: “Afunguliwe Mandela aaah Mandela, Nelson Mandela” – Mandela should be released, aaah Mandela, Nelson Mandela should be released from prison immediately, it went.  

Thirty years on, the enduring generosity inherent in Mwalimu’s political vision continues to resonate deeply with many. During a visit to Johannesburg last October, I encountered a gentleman at a local pub, a former freedom fighter of South Africa. During our spirited philosophical exchanges, upon learning of my Tanzanian origin, he paused, setting down his beer, and embraced me warmly. Memories flooded back as he reminisced about his time in Kilimanjaro, Morogoro, and Dar-es-Salaam during the liberation struggle. 

He fondly recalled Nyerere’s policy of opening doors for them to fight for their country’s independence from apartheid, even as powerful Western nations either turned a blind eye or supported the regime in South Africa at the time. 

When I looked at Mwalimu’s statue I remembered that gentleman and thought: “I’m sure he approves the installation of this statue.” 

Back at home, the statue sparked a broad discussion regarding whether proper procurement procedures were followed and whether the statue bears an accurate likeness to Mwalimu. The government contends that Mwalimu’s own children have approved of the resemblance. However, as I followed the discourse, I was struck by the fact that the focus wasn’t on the legitimacy of the statue or whether Mwalimu truly deserved such the honour. 

It was a stark reminder for Tanzanians about Mwalimu’s esteemed status across the continent. Despite leaving behind the enduring and sometimes unwieldy ruling party, Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM), he is still revered as a founding leader who had the best interests of his country and the continent at heart. Both ruling and opposition politicians find his moral principles relevant today, often quoting his words even though they rarely put them into practice in real-life situations.