Hii  ni cross-post, chano ni kimeandikwa mwishoni mwa habari.

Hivi jamani, mnazijua gharama anazoingia bwana harusi hadi anapooa? Katika hali ya kawaida kabisa, kama wewe ni mwanaume na unataka kuoa, jiandae kwa mambo haya: 

1.        Kujitambulisha ukweni. Hapo utatakiwa uende kijijini alikozaliwa mkeo mtarajiwa ukajitambulishe huko. Kama mfano mkeo anatokea Mwanza, na mnaishi Dar, andaa nauli ya watu wawili, malazi kwa siku mbili, na utagharamia shuhuli hiyo ya utambulisho. We tenga 500,000. Hapo tuna assume mkeo atajitegemea. Otherwise 800,000itakutoka. 

2.        Kumtambulisha mkeo kwenu. Kama nyie nyumbani ni Arusha, utatakiwa umpeleke huko Ngarenanyuki. Sio umlete hapo Tabata mlipopanga. Hapo sio kwenu! Andaa nauli yako na atakaekusindikiza, nauli ya binti na mwenzie, na gharama za vinywaji na chakula siku hiyo. Utahitaji kama 700,000/=. 

3.        Kifuatacho ITV ni kuwaalika wakwe zako nyumbani. Uwatoe watu kama nane Mwanza, uwalete Arusha. Wale, walale, wajisaidie, kwa gharama zako. We acha ubishi, tenga 800,000 tu. 

4.        Kwani we wazazi wako wanajua unakooa? Sasa je? Wasafirishe kwenda Mwanza! Watu watano. Utahitaji kuwa na 500,000. Beba pia ATM card yako, kuna imejensi. 

5.        MAHARI ndio topic inayofuata sasa. Ukiwa mjanja, unganishia kwenye hiyo safari hapo juu uue ndege wawili. Pamoja na hayo, itabidi ubebe 2,000,000. 

6.        Sasa kijana unaweza kumvisha mchumba wako pete. Nunua ya kawaida kabisa ya dhahabu. 350,000. Tukio lenyewe la kumvisha pete unaweza ita marafiki wawili watatu ukatumia 200,000. Au fanya sherehe kabisa. Mi simo 

7.        Oke, sasa unaweza kuitisha vikao vya harusi. Tengeneza kadi za mwaliko wa kamati kwa 200,000, kikao cha kwanza gharama zote ni juu yako. Andaa 500,000. Swali la kwanza kwenye kikao: “We una shing ngapi?” Sema 1,000,000. 

8.        Utahitaji 100,000 ya sms na simu kukumbushia michango. (Shukuru Mungu kuna cheka time) 

9.     Wakati vikao vinaendelea, utatuma 200,000 kwa m-pesa ili mambo ya kimila yaendelee kule nyumbani. We unaelewa 

10.        “Darling, sasa mi kwenye kitchen party ntavaa nini?” 300,000! 

11.        “Darling, kuna mahali nimeona gauni zuri la send…” 400,000! 

12.        “Baby, rafiki yangu alinunua gauni la harusi China yani lilimpende…..” 700,000! 

13.        Wakati huo wewe mwenyewe hujajua utavaa nini, hujanunua pete za harusi, hujamvalisha best man na mkewe.
             Tuseme unahitaji kama 1,500,000 maana utalia lia sana. Kumbuka, gharama hizi huchangiwi na kamati. Wala
             hutarudishiwa. 

14.     Siku ya send off lazma uende Mwanza. Utaenda mwenyewe? Ndugu wawili watatu na mshenga 600,000.  Kwenye send off utatakiwa kutoa sijui blanketi la bibi, vitenge vya mashangazi, na vikorokoro kibao. Nunua hivyo vitu. 300,000 uende navyo ili kupunguza gharama. Beba 200,000 za wale mashangazi watakaoibuka ghafla! 

15.        Mshonee baba mkwe suti 100,000 mama mkwe yeye atavaa gauni la 50,000. 

16.        Fotokopi hiyo hapo juu (namba 15) kwa wazazi wako. 150,000 

17.        Watu watakaopenda kuvaa sare wajitegemee! Mimi sina hela! Ila utavishonea nguo vile vitoto kwa 80,000. 

18.      Siku mbili kabla ya harusi, utaanza kupokea wageni. Unatakiwa uwatafutie malazi na chakula. Kwa ujumla utahitaji kama 500,000 

19.       Jioni watoe auti mashemeji zako ambao hawajawahi kufika Dar ukawanunulie bia ili wakuone wa maana 200,000.
 
20.        Siku ya harusi bibi harusi na mwenzie na watoto na ma maids watatakiwa wakapambwe saluni. 200,000. 

21.        We na mwenzio mtaenda kunyoa hapo kwa nanii. Ndevu na nywele 10,000. 

22.      Siku ya harusi beba sadaka 10,000. Wakati huo umeshamtuma kijana akakulipie hoteli mtakayofikia baada ya harusi. Kamati haitoi hela hiyo, so utalipa malazi ya siku mbili 200,000. 

23.        Kama mtaenda honeymoon sehemu yoyote nzuri nzuri nje ya mji, si chini ya 800,000 kwa angalau siku 5. 

24.       Wakati uko huko honeymoon, huna hata kumi, mwanakamati mmoja ambae hakuchanga anakupigia simu “ Sasa tunavunja lini kamati?” Pesa yote iliyochangwa ilitumika kwenye harusi, sasa gharama za kuvunja kamati ni za nani?? 500,000! 

25.        SASA MNAANZA MAISHA YA UNYUMBA. 14,150,000 poorer.

TAFAKARI, CHUKUA HATUA
..........................................

via Wanazuoni Yahoo! egroup

Ghafla unasikia mhubiri kwenye kituo cha daladala, nyinyi wanaume hamtaki kunisikiliza kwani mnawahi kwenda guest house kuzini, nanyi wanawake hamnisikilizi kwani neno langu linawachoma kwani mmetoa sana mimba, mna mapepo ndiyo maana mnavaa masuruali, wote mnaoitwa Asha, Amina, Abdallah, na nani sijui eti waislamu mnaenda motoni kwani mungu wenu nu Ibilisi, wakatoliki wote ni wa motoni kwani wanaabudu masanamu, wanasalia marehemu na wanakunywa pombe, hata walutheri na waanglikana wanaenda motoni kwani wanawafuata wakatoliki kwenye baadhi ya mambo.

Njooni kwa Yesu anaokoa.mimi nilikuwa mzinzi wa wazinzi, nimewahi kuua watoto kwa kutoa mimba, sasa mnaona nilivyookoka nampenda Yesu.

halafu nyinyi majina ya makabila msiyatumie yana mizimu na shetani hupenda watu wenye majina kama hayo.Unakuta mtu anaitwa mwakalinga, malafyale sijui Rwegasira,mara huyo anitwa Otieno,manka,mara sijui mwana malunde,wote ni motoni.kwa nini msiitwe imani,furaha, ibrahimu, elshadai, asantemungu, nk, Mimi naitwa bwanaanaokoa, ni jina jipya, nimebatizwa kwenye kanisa la waliojitenga nao full gospel, lina upako. Acha dini haitakupeleka kokote, wazazi wako walikudanganya kukuweka dini uliyopo,mnaabudu masanamu, mnafuga majini, mtakwenda jehanamu

Nyinyi vijana mnavuta bangi na kulewa.mnajifanya mnawahi kazini wakati mnakwenda kuzii, tena nyinyi mnaovaa vizuri mnafanya ushoga na usagaji mnaniangalia nini? wengi wenu ni watoto wa nje ya ndoa, njooni kwa yesu, sisi tunaombea wagonjwa wanapona, tunawapa viza kwenda marekani, tunawapa utajiri na tunafufua misukule yote. Biblia inasema sisi wahubiri kazi yetu ni kuhubiri, mukisikia musiposikia shauri yenu, Mungu awabariki sana.

Ndugu zangu sasa haya ni mahubiri gani? MIMI BINAFSI YALINITIA KINYAA KWANI YANAUDHI SANA.

via Mdau wa blogu ya Mjengwa

My name is Queen and I was born in February, 1993. I came from Tanzania, one of the eastern countries in Africa. I was raised in Dar-es-salaam, the capital and biggest city in Tanzania. My mother’s name is Victoria, a police officer and my father’s name is Banda, a lawyer. 

I was born into a family of eight, mom, dad, and my five siblings. I was the first born, then Walter my brother, Victor and Stella my twin brother and sister, and two older siblings, a sister and a brother from my father’s previous marriage. 

My family and I lived together until 1998. This is when my mother became ill. After she delivered the twins, her health was very poor. A few months after my twin brother and sister were born, they both past away; one after another, one day apart from each other. My mother was very heart broken by this. All I remember of this is seeing her very depressed.  A few months after we buried the twins, my mother died. I remember seeing her very sick. She was taken to one hospital after another but she never got better. My mother’s side of the family tried their best to keep us from seeing how sick and suffering our mother was. The last time I saw her alive, I was hiding behind the bushes of my grandmother’s house. She was being taken to a hospital by my grandmother and my uncles in the middle of the night by taxi. I saw how tired she was. After the hospital visits she was taken to my grandmother’s house so she could have witch doctor medicine, since the hospital could do nothing for her. Two days after seeing my mother taken to the hospital I saw her in her wedding dress, in a coffin, not understanding why she was there in the first place and not understanding why her hands were very cold when I touched them. 

After my mother’s death my siblings and I were separated from each another. My father was not with us either.  Walter and I were taken to my grandmother’s house. The other two older children on my fathers’ side went with him. Grandmother did not want us to know were he was, and she did not take any questions about father from us either. A few months after my mother’s death and being separated from my siblings, my father returned and took Walter. I refused to go with him because grandmother told us not to, but I could not stop Walter from going. That was the last time I saw my father and Walter. Few months after he had taken Walter I heard that my father died. No one on my mothers’ side of the family went to the funeral. A few months after hearing of my father’s death I learned that other siblings had died but I did not know who died how they died or even who went to their funerals. I did not have the right to know anything.

I continued to live with grandmother and sometimes we would go to visit other uncles (my mother’s brothers). I did not belong to a certain home, I was anybody’s child. While all this was going on, my heart thought that grandmothers house was where belong. 

This great imagination was all crushed by my grandmother’s housemaid. She was the first person to sexually abuse me. She tortured me more when I did not do what she wanted me to do. I had no choice than to follow her commands in order to reduce the pain that I felt when she does the painful things to me. In the same year, I started grade zero in two different regions. First it was where my grandmother lived and few months from then, we traveled to Morogoro, one of the regions in Tanzania, and there I started grade zero again in the school of Missionaries’ kids. Because of traveling a lot from one uncle to another, I was not able to finish grade zero, but I was always there to start.

At age seven, I began first grade in a school called Olympio Primary School, in Dar-es-salaam. At this time, I was living with my Aunty. She had two children of her own, one named Frank and the other was named Chief.   I was very happy To begin first grade. I had to wear a uniform that all the children in all the other grades wore. I was happy to be there. Although my joy did not last very long as I thought it would. Aunty registered me to take a school bus home after school, so she would not have to worry about forgetting to pick me up every afternoon as she normally does. I was the last child to be dropped out of the bus. The two drivers raped me every day I took the bus. One will be driving and the other one doing his dirty job with to me. By that time, I could not wait to grow up and learn how to use the public transportation by myself. Although public transportation was most dangerous, which no one would ever dream to use. I dreamed for that chance, a chance to get off the school bus. Nothing was as bad as what I felt every afternoon after school. I could not tell other students or anybody else. I did not know which was the right thing, to tell or to keep my mouth shut as I always have done before. I thought about telling my Aunty, but she was very strict and I was very afraid of her. When I began third grade I begged my Aunty enough and she allowed me to use public transportation. Public transportation was all about how strong you are, how hard you can fight to get what you want. I was chubby and very strong. I kicked people and bit them in order to get in the bus. My shirt uniform was torn many times, I lost so many buttons but I never quit. 

Couple of years later, I lost my best friend, my grandfather. I could not believe that my grandfather died. My uncle who lived in Morogoro and I went to fetch a coffin for my grandfather. As days went by, I learned to forget about him. As time moved on I grew and matured. 

When I turned eleven, I experienced sexual abuse again from a third person. This time, it was a family member. He was my uncle, my aunt’s husband, Robert, who she loved very much. I say this because no matter how bad he treats her, no matter how bad he beats her, she still does not pack her bags and go, but she stays. Their marriage reminded me of my parents married life. They used to fight each other all the time. My dad landed punches on my mom even when she was pregnant. However, my mom was strong and she would fight back as hard as she could. They fought in front of me, and I did nothing, I was even too afraid to cry. My aunty was a very busy woman who traveled many times. When she was away I was uncle’s “second wife”. He said he was preparing me to become a strong woman, as if he was doing me a favor. I was not strong enough to say no. I went on with the fall, I figured since he is also very strict, by doing what he wants me to do, he will not be as harsh as he normally is. I thought life will turn to be a little better, and at least I would not wish to vanish and reappear in another place as I normally wished. 

However, I was very wrong. It killed me in side. I felt like I was a cheater. I was lying to my aunty who was working so hard to provide what she thought I needed. I began to hate home. At night, I would not relax and fall asleep. He would always come and knock on the door or just enter and do as he pleased. I hated everything. I thought even a homeless person was in better hands than I was. Life was terrible. 

When I turned thirteen, I was so looking forward to being in the seventh grade. It was like being an upperclassman in middle school. After seventh grade, you get to go to high school. Once again my high hopes were crushed.This time by my strict history teacher. He sexually abused me during school. Nothing seemed real from that moment on. I could not figure it out anymore, why was I going through all this. I was too ashamed to tell even my best friend. In addition, since it already happened, I figured it was too late to tell it anyway. Now in seventh grade, I became pregnant, and I needed to have an abortion. I was very scared, but it needed to be done. 

Entering high school was a major event to me. I wanted to go to boarding school because I wanted to have a fresh-start.  I figured that I would for once be free from the home. Boarding school was not a piece of a pie, or a cake. Boarding school was tough. It was school for twenty-four hours a day. The day we got to rest was Saturday when we go to church. Instead of the fresh-start I wanted, it was all survival just like middle school. While trying to get used to being a student all the time, I was sexually abused by my high school history teacher. This was when I figured that,“I was a cheap slut” and “everyone had a right to do to me as they pleased”.  

During my one-week vacation from school I got a call from my uncle, one of my mother’s brother. He lived in America. He said that he wanted me to join him and live with his family.  I was very happy. I knew that if I was to start again, in America would be my only chance. 

I made my way to America but since my uncle had such a big family and he could not fit us all in his small apartment. I stayed with his friends who had a big house and there was plenty of room because their two grown children had moved out.  This is how I came to know Mr. and Mrs. Carberry, the friends I came to stay with. They have been the most wonderful people I ever met. I became their third child. They have raised me since I came to America and are still raising me. My life finally changed for better and to the best while living in their house. They became my family as a true family and not family in just name. I love it here. As time passed and after visiting my uncle and his family on weekends, I quickly learned that he too is an abuser, but this time I am spared from any of this abuse happening to me again. I am so grateful.

I go to Franklin high school and now I am a senior who does not want high school to end.

To reach Queen B, visit the following site and read at the bottom: queenb.antosca.com (credits)

From: KENEDY GREYSON
To: Wanazuoni@yahoogroups.com

Ndugu wana jamii,

Leo nimeenda Regency kisha kumpeleka mtoto na mama. Kwakweli kunajaa kiasi kwamba hata madaktari wamejiwekea idadi ya watu wanaowahudumia. Tuliwahi kisha mimi nikapeleka kadi ya mtoto na mama ili kuwahi namba kama iivyokuwa siku zile za kuhesabu namba shule za msingi. 

Nikatoa kadi ya mtoto na mama. Kuna kijana ambaye alisema ni afisa wa NHIF akasema mama yuko wapi. Nikasema, yuko nyuma anajikongoja anaumwa. Nikakataliwa katakata kupoandikisha jina la mama. Nikasema ni upuuzi kukataliwa kuchukua fomu kwa sababu mgonjwa kusimama dirishani siyo sahihi kama kuna aliyemleta. Nikadhani ni upuuzi tu huo, basi ngoja nimsubiri aje. Mtoto akaenda naye bahati mbaya alikuwa ameisha chelewa maana namba ilikuwa imeisha timia. Jamani mambo ya muhimbili yanatuumiza. 

Nikaamua kurudi na kuchukua kadi ili nirudi nyumbani na tufanye mpango wa kuwahi kesho. Lakini nikanyimwa kadi ya mama. 'Kisa?' nikauliza, jawabu naambiwa nimetumia lugha ya chafu. Kwa hasira nikasema mara ya pili kuwa ni upuuzi na pengine ni kutokuwa na busara kumnyima mtu kadi yake anayelipia kila mwezi. Mke wangu akaenda akajikongoja mwenyewe kwenda pale dirishani, akapewa karatasi ya kuhudumiwa ila kadi nalazimishwa kuacha kazi zangu ili niende kuifuata kurasini ofisini kwao. Amemaliza matibabu amenyimwa kadi! Lazima amfuate huyu bwana ampigie magoti. Kisa utaratibu huu usiokuwa na huruma kwa wagonjwa. NHIF mnataka kujenga mlango gani huu? 

Swali langu ni kuwa , adhabu ya kusema kuwa huu utaratibu wa kipuuzi ambao hata hauna hoja na kujua kuwa mgonjwa kusimama kwenye foleni si bora? Ninadhani haya mateso tumezoea na nadhani wanasheria wanaweza kunisaidia niwashitaki hawa wanadamu. 

NHIF watafute mbinu njema ya kuratibu wanachama wao na siyo kuwataka wagonjwa wasimame dirishani, je kazi ya anayempeleka mgonjwa hospitali ni nini? Wanajamii tusaidiane.

Ndugu yangu mmoja juzi akiwa Kariakoo, simu zake mbili ziliibwa. Alichofanya ni kwenda kwenye makampuni ya simu ili kutaka kuzipata namba zake zile zile za awali. Anaeleza kilichojiri, anasema:

Nimefanikiwa kuzindua upya namba yangu ya airtel. Wamenicheka kweli pale dukani maana kwenye record zao ilikuwa bado inasoma Celtel. Sikuwahi kuibadilisha tangu 2002. Mambo hayo! 

There are things happening in this country watu wameshavibatiza ni KAWAIDA, meaning hakuna anayehangaika kutafuta SOLUTION. This is not very healthy. 

Kuna siku last week pale karibu na Lugalo mtu aliigonga gari yangu nyuma, nilivyoshuka kum-comfront akaniangalia anacheka, akaniambia "Cha ajabu ni kipi? Kugongwa na kugonga ni kitu cha kawaida" Sikuwa na cha kusema maana na foleni ilishaanza kuwa nzito nikajiondokea taratibu sikutaka malumbano. Bahati nzuri gari yangu haikuumia hata ila yakwake ilibonyea bonet. 

Sijui tunaenda wapi na hili li-inji letu.

Najua tu, wahusika watasema, "Hatufanyi kazi kwa shinikizo la migomo, hili lilikuwa katika mchakato wa kulifanyia kazi"

Zifuatazo ni picha toka blogu ya MbeyaYetu zikionesha mgomo wa wafanyabiashara na matembezi pamoja na maongezi (maswali na majibu) baina ya Wafanyibiashara na Mstahiki Meya wa jiji hilo kuhusu mazingira mabovu katika eneo lao la kufanyia kazi na kupinga pendekezo la kuongezwa gharama za ushuru wa kodi.

Mheshimiwa Mbunge, mimi na familia yangu ni wakazi wa Kisota. 

Mwezi Agosti mwaka jana tulivamiwa na majambazi ambao walitusubiri nje ya nyumba yetu na walifanikiwa kurusha risasi ambayo iligonga kwenye gari na kuvunja kioo cha mbele. Ilikuwa ni saa nne kasorobo usiku. Baadae kuna mikutano mbalimbali ya ulinzi na usalama ilifuatia lakini matukio ya ujambazi yaliendelea. 

Mwaka mpya ulipoanza nikadhani kuwa sasa huu ni mwaka wa amani. Kinyume chake, Jumatano saa nane na robo usiku wa kuamkia alhamis, majambazi walivunja mlango wakaingia bedroom kwetu wakiwa na bunduki, bastola, mapanga na marungu wakitaka pesa. 

Walitupiga sana na walituibia vitu kadhaa mpaka pete za ndoa na simu ya nokia ya tochi ya mume wangu. Walipoingia walisisitiza wapewe silaha na pesa vitu ambavyo hatukuwa navyo. Waliambulia wallet ya mume wangu iliyokuwa na pesa kidogo (si kama matarajio yao). Mume wangu alipigwa na rungu na panga kichwani na ameshonwa nyuzi nane. Mimi nimeumizwa mkono wa kulia na jicho na bega. Binti yetu wa miaka mitatu alishuhudia kwa vile aliamshwa na makelele ya vipigo. 

Tunaendelea na matibabu.

Tangu siku ya tukio tunaiogopa nyumba yetu na tunaiogopa Kigamboni. Tunaishi kwa marafiki zetu mjini na tunatafuta nyumba ya kupanga. Hatujui tufanye nini na nyumba tulijenga na kutegemea kuwa tungezeekea humo.

Ni mimi niliyekuwa mkazi wa Kigamboni.

Elector Kilusungu 

Na Mohamedi Mtoi

Hakuna maneno matamu zaidi ya kusema kuwa Elimu yetu iko kwenye mkwamo mkubwa sana kuliko wakati mwingine wowote katika historia ya nchi yetu. Isipo kuwa ukisikiliza wanasiasa wakisifia idadi ya vyumba vya madarasa vilivyojengwa pamoja na idadi ya wanafunzi walio andikishwa shule unahamasika na kufarijika bila chembe ya shaka kuwa tumepiga hatua kubwa sana katika sekta ya elimu.

Lakini ukweli mchungu unabaki kuwa Elimu yetu iko kwenye mkwamo mkubwa sana na hakika tunaandaa taifa la vilaza wenye vichwa nazi. uzuri wa bahati ni kwamba wakubwa wamelijua hili mapema sana ndio maana wao hawasomeshi watoto wao kwenye hizi shule za kina Kayumba zilizosheheni ukanjanja wa kila aina, Wao watoto wao wana wasomesha kwenye shule zenye mazingira bora kwa afya ya akili ya watoto wao ili waje kushika nafasi zao na kuendelea kuwatawala watoto wa maskini wasio kuwa na uwezo wa kupata elimu bora.

Matatizo ni mengi kwenye sekta ya Elimu lakini kubwa ni namna ya kumpata na kumuandaa mwalimu bora atakae fungua milangao ya fahamu ya mwanafunzi. Walimu wengi wa sasa hasa wale wa shule za msingi ni walimu waliofauli kwa viwango vya chini (Div IV), hawa wamefeli na wanatakiwa kuandaa watoto watakao faulu, halika dhalika sekondari, mfumo wa kuandaa walimu kwa njia ya Vodafasta nao umekuwa na madhara makubwa kwani kwa kipindi cha mwezi mmoja au mitatu bado hakitoshi kumuuandaa mwalimu bora atakae kuwa mahiri kwenye nyanja zote za ufundishaji, kitakacho fuata hapo ni kushindwa kumudu mchakato wa ufundishaji na matokeo yake ufaulu duni wa watoto.

Lakini pia baya zaidi kwa sasa ni la walimu kutokuwa na ari ya kufanya  kufundisha kutokana na mazingira magumu na ki mshahara kidogo kisicho endana na gharama za maisha, Nina mfano wa Mwalimu aliye ajiriwa kwa ngazi ya Stashada tangu mwaka 2006 akianza na mshahara wa shilingi 124,000/= (take home) mpaka leo hii analipwa 280,000/= (take home) ana barua ya kupandishwa daraja mkononi lakini hajabadilishiwa ngazi ya mshahara na wako wengi wa namna hii. Hebu tujiulize, kwa shilingi 280,000/= Mwalimu huyu ataishi maisha ya namna gani kwenye mfumuko huu wa bei yeye na familia yake? Ari yake ya kufundisha kwenye darasa lenye watoto 70 - 80 itakuwaje?

Mdororo wa elimu yetu unaanzia kwenye kuto kuwajali walimu kimaandalizi na ki-maslahi, majengo kwangu si tija maana mwalimu aliye andaliwa vizuri ki saikolojia na kimaslahi akipatiwa vifaa bora anaweza kufundisha hata kwenye darasa mithili ya banda la kuku kama haya tuliyo kuwa nayo na bado wanafunzi wakapata maarifa yaliyokusudiwa. Kinacho tugharimu leo ni kukosa viongozi wenye utashi wa dhati kusimamia elimu kwa dhati ya kusimamia na matokeo yake imekuwa vurugu mechi na uchakachuaji wa mitihani. 

Dear Subi. 

Thanks so much for continuing to provide Tanzanians with uncontaminated and relevant information through your blog. I would like to acknowledge your effort and those of who are doing the same in the threads posted and in other forums too.

I would like to kindly request you to give me a space on your blog to share my personal appraisal of the situation at the moment.

As a stakeholder in the health sector and so do you, improving the quality and safety of health services in this country and wherever else, requires meeting the needs and expectations of both internal [healthcare workers] and external [patients and community] customers. These needs and expectations are variable but at the end of the day they are all determinant factors for success.

My analysis of this situation, doctors are for the first time in history demanding for both internal and external customers rights, expectations and needs. I am a bit disappointed by the breeze of the discussion in the sense that everyone is so focused on that doctors should return as the government should be addressing their needs. One could argue that this is possible, but think about hepatitis B vaccine – such a crucial but affordable intervention. Currently the Ministry is not providing for this and it is truly unacceptable. What about medical insurance for doctors? In several occasions I have been approached by colleagues that we make a contribution for fellow doctors who are admitted at Muhimbili Orthopedic Institute and other private hospital, and yet these are the key providers of the service in the country. I can not over-emphasize how the wages are a total mismatch with what these individuals do, bearing in mind current inflation rates and the like.

The external ones are more important and I bet if the community could have understood about this, may be they could be the ones denying to go to facilities. These doctors have been complaining about lack of infrastructure, materials, supplies and equipment, factors of which truly compromise the safety and quality of the services offered to patients, albeit doctors presence in the facilities.

There are some anecdotal reports on the lack of stuff listed hereunder in a number of reputable hospitals in the country:

1. Lack or non-functional sterilization facilities [meaning that patients can end up acquiring preventable infections during the course of surgeries and other procedures]
   
2. Lack or inadequate running water and lack of water taps in the facilities [we all know that hand hygiene is the single cheap but efficient and effective intervention]
   
3. Lack of incinerators [meaning that the waste from hospitals get access to the community un-checked, a situation that leads into transmission of infections to the naive community]
   
4. Inconsistent power supply in hospitals
   
5. Lack of maintenance of various equipment rendering hospitals “equipment-less”
   

These are just examples, but my point is, I am not seeing a clear strategy in trying to address these issues, and it is high time that the government take care of the internal clients needs and promptly work together in addressing the external clients needs starting with the most life-threatening ones. There are people in the country who could work with the government in coming up with solutions if given opportunity.

I submit.