KITIME FAMILY MOVES TO MBEYA, FROM USWAHILINI TO UHINDINI

 I remember very much the trip to Mbeya, the whole week before that was spent on packing, I think I spent most of the time going around to all my friends telling them I was leaving for Mbeya, and we will be going with my father's car.
 The day before the journey a big lorry came and carried away almost all our belongings. That evening my mother prepared lots of food for the journey. We left Iringa the next day at about ten in the morning and began the trip to Mbeya. My grandfather had been my companion and best friend for almost two years, but I was too excited to be traveling in a car to feel sad about leaving my grandfather. And so the journey began, my father was driving and there was my mother and four of my siblings all crammed in the back seat with my small items that my mother thought they should not go with the other luggage in the lorry. The roads were not the best in those days, just a few kilometers from Iringa the tarmac road ended and that was the condition of the road until again a few kilometers from Mbeya town. But the journey was fun, my parents loved singing, and so we all sang together many songs, my father told us many stories, he was a great storyteller. We stopped somewhere and had a nice picnic with the food my mother had prepared before, after that the journey went on and we reached Mbeya early evening. My father told us he wanted to show us something, he then drove the car past Mbeya Prison and told us that was where he had been imprisoned, he stopped the car and went to greet one of the prison guards who recognized him, and soon they were laughing at something, a few other guards gathered around my father, he then introduced them to us and we went on our way. 

It was already dark when we arrived at our new home, it was a big house, with glass windows, and a big main glass door. The house even had electric lights, and water flowing from the faucets, this was beyond my wildest dreams living in a house like this, I was so anxious to see what the neighborhood looked like. 

The first time I switched on an electric light was the year before (1963) in Iringa. I had gone to visit David Mwaibula's home, they were staying in Uzunguni area opposite the Anglican Church. He showed me how to switch on the light, it was an exciting experience. At the time back at my grandfather's house we mostly used the hurricane lamp, although my grandfather had a kerosene pressure lamp which he used in his room. 

Kerosene Pressure Lamp

Hurricane Lamp

The next morning I was up before sunrise, and the first thing I noticed, was it seemed the sun was rising from the wrong direction!!. Then I noticed that all the houses in our street were of the same design but all were in different colours, and the street was very quiet. 

Everything was different from my sweet Barabara Mbili Street in Iringa, I went around the house it was the nicest house I had ever seen. By the end of the day, I found out that most of our neighbours were Asians.  Apart from the Asians, there was a house next to ours where a number of freedom fighters were living. We called them Wakimbizi at the time. One of them was called Kamjuji, he was very dark, even the palms of his hands were black, but I came to like him because he was very friendly and would give me nice South African magazines with lots of pictures. And he also had a guitar which he allowed me to play whenever I wanted. On the opposite side of our house,  there was a house where there was a mechanic who also owned a number of  Vauxhall Viva taxis. He was known as Baba Shukuku, Shukuku became one of my best friends. The main bus stand in Mbeya is where Baba Shukuku's house used to be. And just nearby there was a half-cast family with a beautiful daughter called Salama.  

My mother with other female teachers, and the Headmaster Mr. Lohar. From left, Mrs. Dhawan, Miss Maier( American peace corp), Mrs Mshiu, Miss Manji, Mr. Lohar the Headmaster, my Mother Mrs. Kitime, Mrs Massawa and my class teacher Miss Hirji (1965)

My two young sisters and I were enrolled in the  Mbeya Aga Khan Primary School, and my mother got a job as a teacher in the school. It was an English Medium school with very few Waswahili, and I had just come from a full Kiswahili school. The fun was about to begin.