Sanduku lililobeba mwili wa Mwandishi Mkongwe Marehemu Adam Lusekelo, ukiwa mara baada ya kutol;ewa heshima ya mwisho na waombelezaji nyumbani kwake Ubungo Maji jijini Dar es Salaam leo, tayari kusafirishwa kwenda kwao Tukuyu, wilaya ya Rungwe mkoani Mbeya kwa ajili ya mazishi kesho mchana 
Waombelezaji wakioa heshima zao kwa Mwandishi Mkongwe Marehemu Adamu Lusekelo nyumbani kwake Ubungo Maji jijini Dar es Salaam leo muda mfupi kabla ya kusafirihwa kwa mwili wake kwenda Tukuyu, wilaya ya Rungwe mkoani Mbeya kwa mazishi kesho mchana.
Adam Lusekelo! Why are we Born Only to Die?
By Danford Mpumilwa
He walked in with a swagger catching everyone’s attention in the class of
new form V entrants at the then Mkwawa High School in Iringa. By then, that
was 1971, there was this youth craze to look, walk and dress like Black
Americans or Afro-Americans as we used to call them. And he was the near
thing to that. He had these ‘Mtoni’ shirts, with collar buttons and a loop
at the back. But above all he had these ‘Mtoni’ worn out jeans. For the
dot.com generation ‘Mtoni’ clothing was that ‘mtumba stuff’ which was
brought in by ships at the Dar es Salaam port, basically from America and
Europe. Mind you in the local shops then we had only nylon shirts and
‘crimpling’ trousers which to say the least were fire-friendly on account
of them being made from some petroleum products.
In due course he injected some urbane thinking in our class. But above all
he encouraged us to seriously engage in sports. He himself was avid fitness
nut. He played boxing, was a karate expert and dabbled in football, as part
of one of the ‘born-town’ members of the African Kibuyu Football Club. He
later became one of the few students from our school who joined, during
leave, the Kenyan Loitoktok Outward Bound School and climbed Mount
Kilimanjaro to the summit.
Naturally I, like many others, soon came to admire his commitment to
fitness and focus in life. In class he was brainy with a knack for English
language. He could be easily hurt by one who spoke or wrote broken English.
Around him one had to be careful with his English grammar. The good thing
is that he made immediate efforts to correct you accordingly.
At the end of the first year we had become friends. We formed what came to
be ‘the guys club’ at the school. We joined the school drama group as
actors, formed a music band, the Orchestra Mkwawa for Rhumba Music and The
Midnight Movers for the then soul music. He loved singing the Otis Redding,
Clarence Carter and James Brown numbers. We both also became regular
contributors to the school magazine ‘The Mkwawan’.
Within two years we had completed high school and as fate would have it we
were both assigned to the Buhemba National Service Camp in Musoma rural.
His arrival at the Camp was quite a sensation as he trotted in with no
luggage at all but for the toothpaste and toothbrush he was holding. The
‘Afandes’ were stupefied.
Life, as is always the case in Camps, was initially very rough and
heartbreaking. But in no time we became used to it. And actually, to our
own surprise, began liking it. Imagine we used to sleep on top of dining
tables with nothing to cover our bodies. The hordes of mosquitoes from the
nearby waterlogged mine pits had a feast on us. Still we enjoyed it and we
actually felt bad when real beds, mattresses and blankets were brought in
for us. My friend was our inspiration. Due to his outward bound training he
assisted us in solving a lot of the seemingly impossible problems.
I do recall one incident when we together spear-hooked some chunks of meat
from the Camp boiling pots. And as we stormed out of the kitchen we saw the
‘Afandes’ coming. Without thinking we removed our regimental hats and
placed the chunks of meat on our heads and then covered them with our hats.
As we passed by the ‘Afandes’ and halted to salute them we were on the
verge of crying out loud on account of the unbearable heat on us. The
‘Afandes’ asked us why we looked like we were face to face with death. They
must have though we were crazy because we simply whimpered and rushed away.
My head felt like a boiled potato for more than a week. In a nutshell his
craftiness and fitness schedule made us sail through the national service
stint without a hitch.
We parted ways after that as he went on to join the Information Department
of the then East African Community while I went to college. But we had
already become very close friends. We both joined journalism and at one
time we were both writing for the Daily and Sunday news.
He continued with his fitness regime and made annual pilgrimages to climb
Mount Kilimanjaro. It was while I was in Arusha and organising annual Mount
Kilimanjaro Diplomatic Climbing expeditions that he coaxed me into actually
doing the unthinkable – climbing the Kili. Only he could do that.
Then I used to take the groups up to the Marangu gate and let them proceed
with the climb while I hung around there for a week until they came down.
On this occasion my friend convinced me to join them to the fist hut,
Mandara. The next day he urged me to proceed with them to Horombo, after
all he argued I was already on the hill. At Horombo he wandered why I
should descend while I was already eye to eye with the Kibo peak. I made to
Gilman’s point. He made me climb twice more before I could gather enough
courage to tell him that was enough.
My friend had in the meantime cut an edge in journalism. His was a critical
mind. With his ‘light touch’ he touched on so many serious issues with
simple and very obvious and convincing logic. He was nobody’s puppet and
licked only his boots. He set an example to many budding journalists on how
not to compromise one’s profession and integrity. For that, I know, he
crossed many a powerful individuals in our society. But then who said
journalism was there to please and whet individual whims?
Throughout the many years I had known him he was asthmatic. But in the last
few years his sickness caught up with him. He was not the usual bubbly and
jovial guy who was the soul of any gathering or party.
So as I woke up on Friday,1st April 2011 and ‘fools day’, somebody sent me
a simple SMS note saying “Adam Lusekelo Bye Bye!” Soon afterwards my
brother Richard Kitwika called confirming to me that indeed Adam Lusekelo,
that friend I had known for more than 40 years was no more. As I sit at the
Kengeles Restaurant in Nairobi, for that is where I am writing from, I
begin to think on the philosophy of life. Why are we born only to die?
mpumilwa@gamail.com.
Adam Lusekelo! Why are we Born Only to Die?
By Danford Mpumilwa
He walked in with a swagger catching everyone’s attention in the class of
new form V entrants at the then Mkwawa High School in Iringa. By then, that
was 1971, there was this youth craze to look, walk and dress like Black
Americans or Afro-Americans as we used to call them. And he was the near
thing to that. He had these ‘Mtoni’ shirts, with collar buttons and a loop
at the back. But above all he had these ‘Mtoni’ worn out jeans. For the
dot.com generation ‘Mtoni’ clothing was that ‘mtumba stuff’ which was
brought in by ships at the Dar es Salaam port, basically from America and
Europe. Mind you in the local shops then we had only nylon shirts and
‘crimpling’ trousers which to say the least were fire-friendly on account
of them being made from some petroleum products.
In due course he injected some urbane thinking in our class. But above all
he encouraged us to seriously engage in sports. He himself was avid fitness
nut. He played boxing, was a karate expert and dabbled in football, as part
of one of the ‘born-town’ members of the African Kibuyu Football Club. He
later became one of the few students from our school who joined, during
leave, the Kenyan Loitoktok Outward Bound School and climbed Mount
Kilimanjaro to the summit.
Naturally I, like many others, soon came to admire his commitment to
fitness and focus in life. In class he was brainy with a knack for English
language. He could be easily hurt by one who spoke or wrote broken English.
Around him one had to be careful with his English grammar. The good thing
is that he made immediate efforts to correct you accordingly.
At the end of the first year we had become friends. We formed what came to
be ‘the guys club’ at the school. We joined the school drama group as
actors, formed a music band, the Orchestra Mkwawa for Rhumba Music and The
Midnight Movers for the then soul music. He loved singing the Otis Redding,
Clarence Carter and James Brown numbers. We both also became regular
contributors to the school magazine ‘The Mkwawan’.
Within two years we had completed high school and as fate would have it we
were both assigned to the Buhemba National Service Camp in Musoma rural.
His arrival at the Camp was quite a sensation as he trotted in with no
luggage at all but for the toothpaste and toothbrush he was holding. The
‘Afandes’ were stupefied.
Life, as is always the case in Camps, was initially very rough and
heartbreaking. But in no time we became used to it. And actually, to our
own surprise, began liking it. Imagine we used to sleep on top of dining
tables with nothing to cover our bodies. The hordes of mosquitoes from the
nearby waterlogged mine pits had a feast on us. Still we enjoyed it and we
actually felt bad when real beds, mattresses and blankets were brought in
for us. My friend was our inspiration. Due to his outward bound training he
assisted us in solving a lot of the seemingly impossible problems.
I do recall one incident when we together spear-hooked some chunks of meat
from the Camp boiling pots. And as we stormed out of the kitchen we saw the
‘Afandes’ coming. Without thinking we removed our regimental hats and
placed the chunks of meat on our heads and then covered them with our hats.
As we passed by the ‘Afandes’ and halted to salute them we were on the
verge of crying out loud on account of the unbearable heat on us. The
‘Afandes’ asked us why we looked like we were face to face with death. They
must have though we were crazy because we simply whimpered and rushed away.
My head felt like a boiled potato for more than a week. In a nutshell his
craftiness and fitness schedule made us sail through the national service
stint without a hitch.
We parted ways after that as he went on to join the Information Department
of the then East African Community while I went to college. But we had
already become very close friends. We both joined journalism and at one
time we were both writing for the Daily and Sunday news.
He continued with his fitness regime and made annual pilgrimages to climb
Mount Kilimanjaro. It was while I was in Arusha and organising annual Mount
Kilimanjaro Diplomatic Climbing expeditions that he coaxed me into actually
doing the unthinkable – climbing the Kili. Only he could do that.
Then I used to take the groups up to the Marangu gate and let them proceed
with the climb while I hung around there for a week until they came down.
On this occasion my friend convinced me to join them to the fist hut,
Mandara. The next day he urged me to proceed with them to Horombo, after
all he argued I was already on the hill. At Horombo he wandered why I
should descend while I was already eye to eye with the Kibo peak. I made to
Gilman’s point. He made me climb twice more before I could gather enough
courage to tell him that was enough.
My friend had in the meantime cut an edge in journalism. His was a critical
mind. With his ‘light touch’ he touched on so many serious issues with
simple and very obvious and convincing logic. He was nobody’s puppet and
licked only his boots. He set an example to many budding journalists on how
not to compromise one’s profession and integrity. For that, I know, he
crossed many a powerful individuals in our society. But then who said
journalism was there to please and whet individual whims?
Throughout the many years I had known him he was asthmatic. But in the last
few years his sickness caught up with him. He was not the usual bubbly and
jovial guy who was the soul of any gathering or party.
So as I woke up on Friday,1st April 2011 and ‘fools day’, somebody sent me
a simple SMS note saying “Adam Lusekelo Bye Bye!” Soon afterwards my
brother Richard Kitwika called confirming to me that indeed Adam Lusekelo,
that friend I had known for more than 40 years was no more. As I sit at the
Kengeles Restaurant in Nairobi, for that is where I am writing from, I
begin to think on the philosophy of life. Why are we born only to die?
mpumilwa@gamail.com.
RIP adam ama kweli "MALUMBANO YA HOJA" yameisha........... nilikuwa napenda sana kuangalia kipindi chako sijui kama bado kinaendelea haswa nakumbuka mara ya mwisho kabla sijaondoka dar ulizungumzia wale ambao wako kwenye ndoa wanataka kutoka na waliokuwa nje wanataka kuingia.... nilifurahishwa sana na kipindi chako (wakati ule nilikuwa singo hahaha) lakini ulitufungua macho wengi ambao tulikuwa gizani kwa wakati ule.
ReplyDeletePoleni sana wafiwa Adam atakumbukwa kwa mengi.... RIP bro
Ankal, nimepata mstuko baada ya kusoma habari hii ya kusikitisha kwa mara ya kwanza leo katika blogspot hii. Nilifahamiana vizuri na Adam na marehemu Charles wakati baba yao alipokuwa RC wa mkoa wa Arusha miaka ya 1960's. Adam alikuwa anaipenda kazi yake na aliifanya kwa umakini mkubwa. Wakati huo huo alikuwa ni mtu ambaye alikuwa ni uwezo wa kumchekesha mtu yoyote. Natoa pole kwa wafiwa na wanafamilia wote wa ukoo wa mzee Mwakang'ata. Tunamwomba Mola ailaze roho ya Adam mahali pema peponi. Amin. Shariff.
ReplyDeleteNimekuwa nikisoma makala za Adam tangu utotoni na nakumbuka siku niliyomuona kwa mara ya kwanza japo ilikuwa kwa mbaali (alikuja shuleni kwetu Forodhani) nilifurahi sana. Niliendelea kufuatilia makala zake na nilishukuru makala zako zilipohamia mtandaoni. Niliguswa na kufarijika pale Adam alipoandika kitu kidogo pale mzee wangu alipofariki na nilisema nitamtafuta nimshukuru ila sikutekeleza hayo. Nawapa pole sana watoto na mjane wa marehemu ila natumai watapata faraja kujua kuwa hata tusiomjua Adam binafsi tuliguswa na kazi yake na maisha yake. Ingawa ametutoka ila mkae mkijuwa he was a great man na mwenye uchungu na nchi yake.
ReplyDeleteMola amfungulie pepo na alale pema, Amin
Ulikuwa rafiki mzuri na mcheshi, uliyependwa na wote. Nikikumbuka wewe nitakumbuka siku tulipokuwa wote pale Mlimani, na hata zile siku tulipokuwa tunakutana baada ya kumaliza Chuo. Nakumbuka mara ya mwisho kuonana ulitukaribisha mimi na mke wangu tukae meza moja na ukatupa ukarimu wako. Mungu aweke roho yako mahali pema. Rambirambi zetu kwa ndugu na jamaa wa marehemu.
ReplyDeleteTeacher.
Asante sana makafyale Danford kwani umemuelezea Adam kama alivyokuwa, nilikuwepo wakati wa last respects jana na namuombea marehemu.
ReplyDeleteNami namfahamu Adam for the last 30 yrs toka tukiwa UDSM.
He lived a life worth living , amemaliza kazi aliyotumwa na Muumba, amuweke mahali pema peponi.
Natoa pole kwa marehemu Auncle Adam, mara ya kwanza nilikuwa namuona Ubungo alikuwa anapenda sana kukaa pale Standard Bar Kulikuwa na Internet unafanya kazi zako pale, kweli taifa limempoteza mtu muhimu sana tunakuombea Mungu akupumzishe kwa amani Amen.
ReplyDeleteRIP ADAM LUSEKELO
ReplyDeleteMay he rest in eternal peace. I also thought it was an April Fools Day joke. I found out it wasn't. We had good times at Daily News, Adam could find humour in anything. He was also a Great actor. He did some plays at UDSM and I remember in the late 80's or early 90's he did a film.
ReplyDeleteRest is Peace dear brother Adam.