The End of Black Folly

By David Rugero

The End of Black Folly is a cultural revival crusade by Black Africans and Black African Diaspora. The campaign focuses on the total change of Black Africans' mindsets, the leading cause of African people's centuries-old suffering of all kinds. It starts with compulsory abandonment by Black Africans of all foreign cultural influences and spirituality. The crusade outlines all Black African flaws and the endless blame game on Western World's diktat on African affairs, which cannot solve Africa's problems. The Spirits of Black African Ancestors provide a blueprint for the emancipation of Black Africans worldwide. The Spirits select and sanctify Emissaries from Black African countries and give them "Umuti" antidote to sanitize their people's brainwashed mindsets and teach them "Ubuntu" and Pan – Africanism philosophies. The same "Umuti" antidote helps to cure racists worldwide attacked by the "melanin virus." Mr. Ruti, Chief Emissary of the Spirits, and his deputies Miss Salma, Rama, and Kabuto lead the campaign. The outcome is one borderless United Africa with one people and one government

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Rugero
• Release date: Nov 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201610548

David Rugero

David Rugero is a social entrepreneur involved with the development of his community. He is a staunch Pan Africanist and believer in African traditions, beliefs, norms, and values. An alumnus of the University of Wales, his field of study is Economic and Social Studies. He enjoys traveling, listening to music, and writing fiction. He lives with his family in Kigali, Rwanda. The End of Black Folly is his debut novel.

Book preview

THE END OF BLACK FOLLY

CHAPTER ONE

The heavy April downpour lasted for almost fourteen hours. It caused a lot of havoc, sweeping away bridges and causing many damages to many roads in the city. Trash and debris, which were swept away from gardens and destroyed houses, clogged the gutters. There were floods on both paved and dirty roads, making it difficult for motorists and pedestrians to return home from work.

Buses that made a significant part of the public transport, operating from the city center to places like Ubungo, Mwenge, Mwananyamala, and other neighborhoods, were cut off by the flooded Msimbazi valley, which empties its waters in the Indian Ocean along the Salander Bridge creek.

Rama, who worked with Nyumba ya Sanaa at City Drive in the city center, had left the office earlier and went to Oyster Bay to meet his American friend who had checked in one of the beach hotels. After sharing coffee, Rama left his friend at the Hotel and took a taxi to his home in Mwananyamala.

The taxi driver dropped him at the nearest point to his home, about 500 meters away. The water had flooded the area, and the taxi driver couldn't make it further along the road as the water level was almost reaching the car windows. He had to turn back.

Rama stood on the unflooded road and asked himself how he could reach his home. The power had gone off due to fallen poles, and the whole area had plunged into total darkness. Hooligans were shouting and cursing intimidatingly around the area as owls hooted from a nearby coconut tree. Rama was petrified. He was scared by the cursing from the people he was not seeing. He gripped the laptop bag that slung on his shoulder, anticipating someone to come and descend on him, mug him and run away with the laptop bag, a common scenario in this particular area of the city.

Finally, the anticipated worst time for Rama came. A dark figure stood by his side without altering a single word. Rama's adrenaline shot up like a fired rocket, and his eyes, in that darkness, almost dropped out of their sockets. His mouth went dry. He jumped into the water pool he had feared to dare and tried to walk quickly through the water towards his home. Suddenly a mighty hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

Why do you want to kill yourself? The road is impassable, and now you want to drown yourself? Please don't be afraid, just come back; I will show you your way home. Rama heard the sharp voice from the dark figure, now standing behind him.

"Who are you, and how do you know where I am going?

"I know where you are going, Rama, the son of Nyatsi and the grandson of Vuba. Your father is a late 1960s migrant from Rwanda. Rwanda is a small East African country that forms part of the Great Lakes Region. Your father came to Tanzania with a small number of other migrants. He stayed with his family at Ubena Zomozi while others went elsewhere. Your father left Rwanda when I was five years old. I remained in Rwanda with my maternal uncle when your father moved to Tanzania. Aren't I right? 

"You are right, Mzee. Now I believe that you know me very well, much as you know my family". Rama was relieved.

Now, let us leave this place. I will take you to your home. Just follow me. From now onwards, call me Mzee; it sounds great.

They took a different direction all together avoiding the big pool along the flooded road. Within less than 2 minutes, they were at the door of Rama's house! Rama's trepidation seemed to ease, but the darkness of the night was so deep that he couldn't see the person in the dark who was talking to him and walking him home.

Sir, sorry. Mzee, how come we have reached my house within no time? Even without rain and floods, I couldn't be here within such a short time. Rama marveled.

You will see much more than this, Rama, my son. You don't have to worry much. Today I am your visitor; if you allow me, you will get to know me better. Mzee replied.

Rama was dumbfounded. He opened the door of his two-bedroomed house, which served him well as a single man. The whole place was dark. The rain had disrupted the power supply as powerful winds brought power poles down.

Oh my God! I need to go to the nearby shop and buy paraffin to light the house.

Don't worry, my son. The power will be back in lesser time than it took us to reach your house. Mzee assured him.

Suddenly, bang! The power was back!

Oh my God! The power is back. Rama's eyes opened up, and he gazed at the stranger in his living room. He was afraid to utter any single word but gathered courage and welcomed him to the house.

The stranger was older than him but not so old. He wore a white robe with a red fez covering his hair. His eyes were sharp, and he had a robust body of a giant. He wore pure leather sandals and carried a medium bag that contained his personal belongings. Rama wanted to ask him who he was now that he knew Rama and his family. He took time and looked as if he was familiar with him.

Mzee, it is freezing here. It is quite unusual for a coastal place like this, which is usually very hot and humid throughout the year.  Can I make you a cup of coffee or tea, please? Rama asked him.

"No, son, I am fine. But since it is your wish, make me a cup of coffee, then I will tell you who I am.  I suspect you are very much worried and anxious to know who I am.

"Okay, Mzee. Let me do it".

I know you are not married yet. Do you have any plan to marry soon, son? I know you are old enough to get married. You are thirty years old now. Aren't you?

"How do you know my age, Mzee?

How do I know your age? Hahahahahahaha. You still wonder how I know you and especially your age. Why am I here in the first place, and not anywhere else, son? Rama, let me get you out of the dark. It is time for you to know me now.

A knock on the door interrupted them.

Who is it? Rama asked

It is Asma, your neighbor's daughter. A young girl's voice came from outside.

Rama opened the door, and a beautiful young woman entered the leaving room.

Oh my God! You do have power here while our whole neighborhood is into total darkness! She marveled.

My son uses solar power to light his house. Do you know green energy is propagated daily on the national radio? This young man went faster and fixed solar panels to his roof to help him during power outages The old man quickly intervened, giving a warning wink to Rama.

You are so lucky to have managed this. We are in total darkness, and it isn't easy to cook our evening meal. Anyway, my mom sent me to ask you to help us with some little paraffin to put in our lantern. She has no money to buy some from the nearby shop. The young lady, whose apparent beauty was visible behind a transparent veil, said shyly.

Well, I don't have the paraffin, but I have the money you can give to your mom to buy paraffin. Rama gave the young girl 5,000 shillings.

Thank you very much, and God bless you. She stood up and disappeared as the door slammed behind her.

Thank you, Rama. It is a noble deed to help other people, especially the needy ones. Mzee was impressed by Rama's benevolence.

"Now we can talk. Tomorrow is Saturday, and you won't go to work. Isn't it?

Yes, I don't work on Saturdays though some of my colleagues do. I will be free tomorrow.

Great. Tomorrow I will still be your guest. I have a lot to discuss with you. Since you are not working tomorrow, we will spend the whole night and tomorrow talking and getting to know each other better. I know you now want me to introduce myself to you. Isn't it?

"Yes, Mzee. I will be more than happy to know you and all you have done for me so far: The way you led me to my house and how you fixed solar panels on my house! I feel entirely out of my wits! Are the solar panels set on the rooftop already, and if so, how? I'm anxious to know."

Don't worry, Rama. You will be able to know everything soon. Don't worry.

"I am not worried, Mzee, not at all. I'm simply confused and don't believe my eyes and ears of what I'm seeing, hearing, and experiencing."

Cool down.  Do we have something to eat tonight?

Yeah. I have some rice and some vegetables in the refrigerator. I can make a quick meal. Rama said.

Great! I can help you with the cooking if you wish. My cooking takes seconds. It is like warming an already cooked food in a microwave. Mzee proposed.

Rama was not in a position to argue or say anything against Mzee’s proposal.

Microwave! Does Mzee use Microwave? Mmm, He stood up and went to the kitchen and put some tomatoes and other vegetables on the table, then took one cup of Basmati rice and put it also on the table as well. Mzee was already standing beside him and looked well prepared to do the cooking.

You can go, son. Go and make the beds. We will soon be going to sleep.

Rama looked at the Mzee by the corner of his eye and left the kitchen. When he finished making the beds and returned to the living room, the steaming rice and vegetables were already on the dining table placed on the living room corner.

Rama's house had no separate dining room from the living room. It was just one room for both purposes. His house was but a small maisonette for a single man like Rama. Mzee looked relaxed with a lot of satisfaction on his face.

Let's have our food while it's still hot. I like hot meals, even when I am at a place where humidity is pretty high. By the way, I don't care if I have a cup of coffee to water down the food.

"I'll make you a cup of coffee, Mzee. But I only use instant coffee. Not the locally roasted and ground one".

Mzee smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry, son. That is not your mistake. We grow coffee but drink the most inferior quality of our coffees, imported from original importers of our unprocessed coffee. Unfortunately, this is how we Africans live. It isn't good. Anyway, sorry. Let's eat our food. We will talk more about this soon when you start working fully for your people's salvation: the black people and, where possible, the rest of humankind. Rama had the patience for Mzee to introduce himself. He took his bag and searched for something inside. It was a men's brass bracelet. He gave it to Rama.

Take this, son. It is your gift from your ancestral land—the small but big country in the Great Lakes Region. You will know more about your roots soon. Could you put it on? It is an obligation and the wish of your Ancestors. Would you please do not confuse it with a charm? It is just a wristlet won by brave men who had defeated a thousand warriors on the war front. No wonder you will also fight wars that are not the same wars that your Ancestors fought. Wear it from now onwards, throughout your life. It will enable you to accomplish so many things in the future. It will assist you in overcoming unimaginable obstacles in life. It will enable you to accomplish what will be considered impossible missions. This bracelet will help you understand me better and whatever I will be telling you about what is due to happen in the future. Complicated but also simple things that will be happening soon, things that can turn the world upside-down.

Rama was as quiet as a mouse, just gazing at his strange visitor with a certain degree of fear which he tried hard to hide. He was also trying to reflect on what had happened to him since the cab driver dropped him near his house from Oyster Bay. He saw himself having a wonderful but confusing dream, not a nightmare, though.

Now it is time to tell you who I am, Rama, and why I'm here. Why don't we go to the bedroom and relax on our beds while we talk? He proposed.

Good idea. After all, we are tied, and the night is getting old. Rama agreed.

" My name is Rukara Rutikanga, a brother to your late father Nyatsi, son of Vuba, your grandfather. Before your father passed away, I visited your Home at Ubena  Zomozi. Your father owned a granite stone quarry, which earned him a good income. The locals respected him as he provided well for his family, sent his children to decent schools, and lived a modest life. Before your father died, he asked me to be closer to you and your siblings, but this didn't happen due to tragedies that befell Rwanda for many years before 1994. The spirit of your father kept haunting me and argued me to come and meet you. To come and meet you, Rama. Now you understand me and who I am to you. I am your uncle—my name is Ruti Rutikanga.

Let me also inform you that my family perished in the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi. I miraculously survived the horrible carnage. Now I am here. I have come to meet you, Rama, the only survivor of the Nyatsi family. I know that you are the only one remaining. Your family members passed away due to different causes embedded in one single shell of misfortunes, a body of evil omen—bad luck. But you survived. People rarely perish entirely and leave no survivor behind. It happened in Rwanda - the genocide against Tutsis left behind survivors.

Of course, by God's will. Not the choice of human beings. So the two of us are the only survivors from the Vuba family. From now onwards, you must understand this. Starting a new family by getting married to a woman and having children is not possible for now. My age is slightly advancing, but I have a mission to fulfill before I think of marriage. But I may get married before I die and possibly have children again. For you, your age is ripe to make your own family, but, unfortunately, you won't be able to achieve this until you complete a mission our ancestors have assigned you and me. You will know about this mission soon. With time, you will enjoy being part of this mission. No one, and I say again; no one will deter us from achieving this mission.

What mission is that uncle? I am a bit confused. I don't understand.

Tomorrow, you are not going to work. I will take you to places tomorrow; then, we will talk more about this mission. It is time to sleep now. I am sure we are getting sleepy.

Good night, uncle.

Good night Rama, my son.

Rama woke up early in the morning and went out to look at the solar panels. He did not find the solar panels.

He still imagined with awe what had happened to him the previous evening and his strange, unexpected guest, who he found later to be his uncle. The power from non-existent solar panels! Mzee cooked the food within no time! Rama had indeed lost all family members due to various natural causes, as mentioned by his uncle.

How did he know all these? What kind of person is my uncle? These are questions Rama kept silently asking himself.

Time to take our breakfast uncle, it is ready on the table, Rama said as his uncle left the bathroom.

Thank you, my son. He replied.

The breakfast was composed of chapatis

, boiled red beans, and spiced lemon tea. It was a typical daily breakfast for most of the coastal Swahili people of low status, whose culture Rama had adopted.

"We shall need to travel to Ubena Zomozi today and possibly spend one night there. I don't know. When were you at Ubena for the last time, Rama? "Mzee Asked.

Something like a year ago or so, I don't remember well. Rama was not sure.

What about the graves? Is there anyone taking care of them? Are they still visible? If not, then we shall have to rehabilitate them. Those monuments remind us where our passed relatives lie and spiritually link us to them at their final resting place. Culturally, these are sacred places, and regular visits to these graves appease their souls and give peace and luck to us as long as we remain in this world. We always have to keep them cared for and intact. Never leave them to ruins. Your parents' and siblings' souls can be restless if you can't appease them in different ways. I will teach you how. Restless souls can wreak havoc when they can decide to seek appeasement on their own, and that can cause destruction and bad omen to negligent surviving relatives.

Thank you, uncle, for educating me on this. At what time do you think we can leave for Ubena Zomozi? Rama asked.

Any time after breakfast. We don't have time to waste. Mzee replied.

I understand. We shall have to pick a bus to Ubena from Ubungo Bus Station. Rama said.

Leave that to me. We shall be at Ubena much earlier than you think. Don't worry. We shall hire a taxi from here. I will pay for the journey. Don't worry about the money. I never travel by bus. My Ancestors have prohibited me from doing that. I travel mostly by other means. By being patient, you will later get to understand what this means. Yes, we won't go by bus. Buses are slow and can disrupt one's schedule. There are nice things which we can use in our traditions to make our lives easier. You will learn more soon. Mzee finished his breakfast and went to the bedroom.

Rama moved the plates and cups back to the kitchen and returned briefly to the living room. For over fifteen minutes, Mzee had gone to the bedroom and was not coming out. Rama remained in the living room and waited.

Time to go, son. The taxi is waiting outside.

The taxi man was about fifty-two years of age. His Kiswahili accent was the type spoken by people from Pemba Island.

I will need money in advance to fill my fuel tank because our 134 kilometers journey to Ubena Zomozi will take us at least two hours. The taxi driver requested.

Don't worry, just drive and then stop at the nearest filling station on our way, Mzee assured the driver.

They drove through Bagamoyo road. At Mwenge, they turned left towards Ubungo through Mpakani road, where they took  Morogoro road through Kimara, Kibaha, and beyond towards Ubena Zomozi. The taxi driver stopped at Mwenge Filling station, and Rukara ordered the pump attendant to put in ten liters of petrol. The taxi man frowned and complained that his tank was almost empty and ten liters of petrol was not enough for their long journey.

Don't worry. We will add more fuel as we travel; I know it is not enough.

The taxi man shrugged and drove off. Ten minutes of silence passed. Mzee was watching ponderously at a significant number of people hustling as they sold their different articles and foodstuffs on both sides of the highway. A wave of heat and the smell of rotten fruits dumped in the stormwater gutters made him look quite uncomfortable.

Why can't city authorities designate places where people can do their businesses in a more dignified and cleaner environment than what is happening along this highway? Mzee looked frustrated.

"This happens everywhere in this city, Sir. It happens along all highways. We don't have sidewalks, and our stormwater drains are broken and clogged with dirty stagnant water and trash. People do what they want like there is no tomorrow. That is how we leave, and city authorities live in their slumber. They can't open their eyes. That is why we frequently experience cholera outbreaks, and malaria is endemic in this city and the whole coastal region. The reason? Authorities are not serious, and people live like no laws to govern the city's environment and the wellbeing of its people. It is so sad, Sir; sometimes we feel bad in the eyes of our visitors. It is shameful".

That is a big problem facing most of our African cities. It is not Dar – Es – Salaam alone. It is a pan – African problem. It is a problem for the African people. We have to change ourselves before we ponder changing anything else that seems to be our challenge. We as Africans have a milliard of challenges that never give us sleepless nights. We live like there is no tomorrow. That is our big problem. Anyway, I am sorry I didn't intend to introduce this kind of talk. Mzee shrugged.

The taxi man turned right as they reached Morogoro Road's junction and drove towards Kimara on the way to Ubena Zomozi in the Coastal Region. From a distance, a heavy black cloud covered the sky, and it started raining heavily. It is raining again. I hope it won't cause floods like the rain we had yesterday. The taxi man said worriedly as the rain started to drizzle and then turned into a heavy downpour.

Please park the car, don't drive in the rain. The downpour is too heavy for us to continue. Mzee ordered the taxi man.

It profoundly rained as darkness filled the sky and halted all vehicles traveling to and from Dar-es-salaam city.

Would two of you cover your faces with your palms for two minutes so that I pray God to save us from this rain and high winds? And please, when I pray, don't dare open your eyes until I finish. Otherwise, my prayer will be futile. Mzee ordered.

"No problem, Sir, start your prayer; our palms are covering our faces." The taxi man assured him.

Mzee uttered words in a strange language Rama and the taxi man couldn't understand. However, they kept the palms on their faces.  Two minutes elapsed, and no one opened his eyes, though Mzee had ended his prayer.

You can open up your eyes now. God has answered my prayer. He confidently said.

The taxi man looked bewildered. He wiped his eyes several times to be sure of what he was seeing. Rama sat frozen in the back seat with total astonishment. The sun was high in the sky. There was no sign of rain, and there were no traces of rainwater around. They were already in Ubena Zomozi at Rama's family house!  The taxi man sat in his driver's seat, shocked.

"We are at Ubena Zomozi, gentlemen. God listened to my prayer. Are you guys alright? Mzee asked them with a smile.

"Sharif? Oh my goodness! I didn't know that a Sharif had hired me! Rahimakallah. We are in Ubena Zomozi. I don't want to ask questions. Just tell me if I will have to wait for you, Sir. 'ant jayid jiddaan ya sharif". The taxi man opened the car door, went straight to a nearby mango tree, and sat in its shade. Rama was quiet throughout but didn't look much shocked like the taxi man.

The family graveyard was about twenty meters from Rama's family house. Mzee signaled the taxi man to wait for them. He took Rama to a small crowd of local people who had turned up to see the visitors. He approached and greeted them. Then he asked Rama to pick a few young men from that small gathering who were willing to clean the graveyard. It was easy. Four young men agreed to clean the cemetery on agreed payment. Rama and Mzee supervised them, and after an hour, the place was well cleaned. There was nobody at the house of Rama's family.

Mzee asked Rama to get back to the local people and ask those who had adult goats for sale to bring them. He needed six of them to conduct a necessary ritual, which was why they visited the family graveyard. The local people were happy to sell their six goats to Mzee. He bought them and told those who sold the animals that their blood was the only thing he needed. All the six goats were slaughtered and had their blood collected, each in a separate container. Mzee allowed them to take the meat for use by their families. His kindness overjoyed those who sold their goats to him. He paid them good money.

They took the six jerry cans of goat blood to the graveyard. The sun was almost setting, and the taxi man was sleeping in his car, waiting for Mzee and Rama to finish whatever they were doing in the graveyard.

My son Rama, this is a critical moment for the two of us to be here. This ritual's main purpose is to appease the souls of our dead ones. Here lies your late father, mother, and your four siblings. The six jerry cans containing blood from the slaughtered goats are offerings you and I give to the spirits of our sleeping ones. We do it as a traditional ritual that evokes their spirits and makes them happy, and appeases the souls of your siblings who left this world at the prime of their lives. They left with sadness and anguish. Remembering them makes their souls smile at us and give us good luck and protection, the power they get from the Almighty God who called them from this world. We usually carry out this ritual to protect ourselves, especially when we have a difficult task ahead of us, such as going to war, traveling to distant foreign countries where our journey may be full of uncertainties, etc. It is getting a bit late, but we have to wait a few more minutes until the sunsets. Meanwhile, we can place each jerry can on the side of each grave.

The sun rapidly set at Ubena Zomozi. A golden sky on the horizon indicated an evening creeping in as domesticated animals started heading home as the herd boys directing them.

Mzee and Rama took one jerry can each and started to spill the now almost clotting blood around Nyatsi's grave, his late brother, and Rama's father. He asked Rama to take the jerry can and spill blood around his mother's grave, the late Hafsa. Rama took the jerry can and started to spill the blood around the grave. Mzee asked him to continue spilling blood around Amir and Husna while he would spill blood around Amri's grave and that of Khadija, all being Rama's late siblings. Mzee took a plastic pills container from his shoulder bag and opened it. He poured a black powder on his left palm and picked small amounts of it by his thumb and index fingers, and then started to sprinkle it on all poured blood around each grave, muttering words in a language Rama couldn't understand.

Let us cover the blood with soil. We have finished. Mzee said

They quickly covered all the blood around all the six graves. When they finished, Mzee stretched his hands forward in a prayerful manner, muttered final words, and then signaled Rama that they leave.

The taxi man was snoring with a grunting sound as Rama and Mzee reached the taxi.

He must be hungry and tied. We kept him waiting for too long! I am sorry, but we had to be here. Thank God we have accomplished our mission. Mzee waked up the driver and asked him to drive back to Dar – es - Salaam.

We don't have to spend a night here. We have to be back in Dar – es – Salaam. Mzee said.

"Allahumu ahmina fi tariqina'lilaa albayt - Oh God, protect us on our way back home." The taxi man from Pemba Island uttered some Arabic words as he yawned. He cleared his face and started driving. The evening was creeping in, and all the three men in the car looked hungry and tired.

CHAPTER TWO

Thank you so much, taxi man, for being so kind to us. We kept you waiting for a very long time, and you never complained. Thank you once again. We will equally be kind to you. First of all, have this sandwich.  The bread consists of chicken meat, lettuce, cheese, and tomatoes. It will kill your hunger. You can also have this small bottle of coca-cola to water down your meal. Rama, have the same, please. Mzee provided them those snacks and soft drinks as the taxi man took Morogoro road back to Dar – es – Salaam. He drove for about ten minutes before he turned on the headlights. It was getting dark.

Rama didn't understand where and how Mzee bought the sandwiches and soft drinks but decided not to ask him anything.

Halt! Pack your car right there. I need to pray God before we proceed. Mzee ordered the taxi man to stop. He obeyed.

"Do you remember what we did this morning when it was heavily raining? Put the palms of your hands on your face and close your eyes for two minutes while I pray. If you open your eyes before I utter the word Amen, then you will turn blind. Don't you dare do that, I beg you"? Mzee uttered his prayer in a strange language both the taxi man and Rama couldn't understand. When he loudly said Amen, they opened their eyes.

Allah 'Akbar! Ma hi almuejizat alty' azharatha li alyawn – what miracles you have shown me today, oh God!

The taxi man from Pemba Island found his car parked outside Rama's house in Mwananyamala. The two minutes prayer had just caused that miracle, and he was now sure that Mzee was by all means not an ordinary person.

Narju 'an yahfazak Allah subhanah wataealaa sharif eazim– may the Almighty God keep you safe, great Sharif. The taxi man uttered Arabic in awe.

Thank you, taxi man. Here is your payment. Mzee handed one hundred thousand shillings to him. The taxi man looked at the payment in awe, remembering that he didn't drive long distances to and from Ubena Zomozi in the first place.

"This is a lot of money, Maulana Sharif. I didn't work for all this money".

Please take that money, you have done us a great service. Go and see your family. We have kept you for too long time. You are a gentleman. Tomorrow, please come at 10.00 a.m. and take me to other places. I will fill your fuel tank this time because I want you to take me around the city".

"I will come, Maulana Sharif." The taxi man agreed, and Mzee allowed him to leave.

Rama and his uncle went into the house.

"It has been a great day for us. Tomorrow you may need to rest or accompany me to Bagamoyo town. It is about 120 km north of Dar – es – Salaam. I want to visit the old slave market ruins and other historical sites in this old Swahili port. There are many things I need to learn.  We may visit the museum as