6 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka

Swahili supernatural homiletics

in an age of promiscuity
Aaron Rosenberg

Introduction
Some of the most relevant artistic narratives in Tanzania lie outside of the tra-
ditional purview of literary studies. That they express concepts fundamental to
communities within this East African nation is made clear through their wide dis-
semination and avid discussion within Tanzania itself. Three texts from Zanzibar
Ghost Stories (2006) collected and translated by Amir Mohamed will be studied
in conjunction with the song “Amekoma” by Mheshimiwa (Mh.) Temba from
his album Ipo Siku (2007). All of these works grapple with potentially destruc-
tive sexuality in urban contexts and the manner in which the narrators have
employed supernatural phenomena tells us a great deal about the historical as
well as contemporary lives of both narrators and audiences. Why and how do
themes of sexuality figure so prominently in these Tanzanian narratives? How are
conceptualisations of gender, as linked to sexuality and in other socio-political
arenas, iterated? Finally, what does the presence of paranormal beings in these
texts tell us about the intentions of authors and their fabrication of messages
regarding the dangers of sexuality as well as the socio-cultural sources upon which
the tales have been formulated?
Conventional scholarship on Tanzanian, as well as African verbal expres-
sion more generally, frequently neglects oral and aural forms of art, especially
those which are considered popular and contemporary rather than “traditional”.
It is also often the case that the genres in which these artworks are created are
deemed unworthy of serious critical attention (see Barber 2000). Another factor
which negatively impacts on the reception of these works in scholarly circles is
the predilection of scholars fluent in European languages to focus their attention
on works that are accessible to them. Ironically, however, it is forms of popu-
lar (even commodified) articulation in non-colonial African languages which
are the most actively and energetically used by their respective communities.
Folk stories and popular songs (specifically rap songs) are two categories of oral
and aural expression which, as we will see below, merit critical attention due
to their ability to provide insights into the lived experiences and philosophical
perceptions of Tanzanian people. Academics may concentrate on works appar-
ently modelled on European forms or collected from communities carrying out
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 111
putatively “authentic” cultural practices, but such piecemeal representations
reveal a hegemonic bias.
Alain Ricard and Flora Veit-Wild affirm that this phenomenon, which they
refer to as “literary globalization” (ix) inhibits the investigation and apprecia-
tion of forms of verbal art falling outside of the privileged genres of publication
thus creating an aporia in literary scholarship and public knowledge globally and
locally.
There are an increasing number of scholars attending to popular songs in a
variety of areas. However, as Brian Longhurst emphasises, “unless there is invest-
ment in detailed empirical work informed by theoretical advances in cultural
studies, media studies and the sociology of culture, the field will not advance in
the way necessary to understand the rapidly changing nature of some of the key
contemporary aspects of social life” (251).
For many coastal Tanzanians, cultural consumption includes expressive
works which are informal in their modes of publication, contemporary and self-
defining in their generic characteristics as well as intellectual content. These
are intended for audiences unconcerned with gratifying or refuting the precon-
ceptions and misconceptions of outsiders. Popular songs and orally transmitted
stories are examples of complex and multi-layered narrative forms widely dis-
persed in Tanzania and East Africa. The narratives presented here demonstrate
the qualities of generic fluidity and unofficial dissemination mentioned above.
While these works could all be classified as folkloric stories, the nature of their
delivery and the manner in which they are constructed through complex systems
of contextual reference and hypertextuality make them artistic expressions. The
messages delivered through the song and stories also place them into a certain
class of sexual morality tales. In their synthetic work Did You Hear about the Girl
Who…?: Contemporary Legends, Folklore and Human Sexuality (2000), Marianne
Whatley and Elissa R. Henken have pointed out the transformative potential
and concomitant staying power of folklore narratives dealing with taboo topics
such as human sexuality. They observe that the type of sexual horror stories we
will consider, “has a long life because it is frightening, refers to a very common
practice, seems as if it could happen to anyone (particularly to any […] who are
generally the purveyors or targets of the story), and has a ‘moral’ that resonates
with many” (4).

Narratives, aesthetic communication, and everyday life

The fact that the works dealt with here are recent underlines the continuing rel-
evance of orality and aurality as forms of aesthetic communication in Tanzania
and especially in the coastal regions of Tanzania where, ironically, literacy was
first introduced through the Arabic script and where the publishing industry in
Tanzania has most of its major houses based. Commenting on the introduction of
writing to the Tanzanian coast through the use of the Arabic script, Jose Arturo
Saavedra Casco has pointed out that while
112 Aaron Rosenberg
this long process of Swahilization of Arabic script took place, simultaneous
usage of the oral tradition, which used poetry as a mode of preserving local
stories, tales, and lyric songs, was maintained by the illiterate lower class or
rural Swahili. Their lack of literacy helped them to keep the tool of memory
and orality alive as a way of transmitting information and knowledge from
generation to generation (43).

In spite of the spread of literacy “use of manuscripts did not diminish the impor-
tance of memory as a means of preservation. Both traditions coexisted before
European colonization and until recent times have been in vogue in several
Swahili communities” (81).
One of the phenomena of daily life which Tanzanian musical and verbal
works of art deal with repeatedly is human sexuality and the consequences which
its perversion may have on both the individual and his or her community. It is
true that there are some texts created by Tanzanian artists which revel in sexual-
ity. While such works do exist and, no doubt, “sex sells” in Tanzania just as it
does elsewhere (there is in fact, a pornography market in Tanzania despite gov-
ernment intervention to prevent it), there are a great many other literary, cin-
ematographic and musical works being produced and consumed which speak out
against such behaviours. Cases in point include the widelyread secondary school
set book novella Rosa Mistika (1971), by Euphrase Kezilahabi. This is a story in
which the female protagonist unleashes a self-destructive whirlwind through her
sexuality which comes to engulf and obliterate both herself and those around
her. Ben R. Mtobwa, in his popular novel Salamu Kutoka Kuzimu (1984) also pre-
sents female promiscuity as punishable by death through the character of Waridi,
a prostitute who, when given the task of assassinating the novel’s protagonist,
Joram Kiango, instead falls in love with him and is killed in his stead for failing to
dispose of him. The implied message is that such a tarnished woman could have
no hope of true love and that her only reasonable fate is death: figuratively, in a
social sense, or literally.
Marijani Rajabu’s similarly canonical song “Mwanameka” (also at one point
a set text in Tanzanian secondary schools) expresses a similarly grim vision of
the unrestrained exercise of human sexuality. The song narrates the story of a
certain “fiery” young woman named Mwanameka who makes it her objective to
lead the (apparently) innocent Musa astray by performing her femininity. While
Mwanameka’s transgressive behaviour does not lead to the tumultuous fatality
with which Kezilahabi’s text comes to an end, she does destroy Musa’s marriage
and make him fearful of women, a concept which Rajabu expresses through the
proverbial expression “kishaumwa na nyoka akiona unyasi anashtuka” which is
commonly expressed in English as “once bitten, twice shy”.
Kezilahabi, Mtobwa and Rajabu, emerging from both Christian and Muslim
backgrounds, have both expressed in explicit terms the potential dangers of
uncontrolled sexuality, most particularly when such lustful urges are acted upon
by women. All these artists focus upon women as the perpetrators of sexual
immodesty and aberration.
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 113
In the texts here, it is men who are the transgressors of proper sexuality and it
is, significantly, supernatural forces who exact punishment. None of the protago-
nists in any of the texts considered is killed or physically injured.
The majority of coastal dwellers in Tanzania, and certainly the creators of the
song and stories here are Muslims. While it is neither important nor fair to single
out Muslims, or indeed, the Muslims of Tanzania, as exceptionally preoccupied
with sexuality, it would be fair to say that many Tanzanians, and Tanzanians who
are practising Muslims, are concerned with matters of sexuality and the preven-
tion of adulterous behaviour which, according to Sharia law, is a serious infrac-
tion punishable by flogging or death. While Sharia is not practised in Tanzania,
the existence of such social and ethical notions within Islamic communities his-
torically (and in some cases in contemporary contexts), is a demonstration of
the persistent and central role of sexuality and its regulative institutions within
Muslim societies.
The dangerous and potentially destructive nature of human sexuality is found
in widely circulating rumours on the Tanzanian coast one of which is the ter-
rifying figure known as Popobawa. The name is a combination of the Swahili
words for bat, “popo” and wing, “bawa” and has been described as referring to
the shadow which is cast by the shape-shifting creature when it makes its appear-
ance. Similar in certain respects to the succubus, a creature that endangers men
through sexuality, Popobawa is different in that it is represented as a male fig-
ure who incapacitates and sodomises its exclusively male victims. The fact that
the reporting of these supposed violations (which have been linked to the docu-
mented phenomenon of sleep paralysis) seem to be associated with the election
cycle in Tanzania suggests that this supernatural figure and the accounts con-
cerning its abusive behaviour constitute what can be called a “diving rumour”.
Pamela Stewart and Andrew Strathern define this phenomenon of popular dis-
course in the following terms:

A diving rumor is one that appears and disappears, then reappears at inter-
vals of time. Its tendency to do this is a product of its close association with
enduring cultural motifs, which become available for reuse in changed cir-
cumstances. […] [R]umor may become sedimented into folklore or legend.
Its themes are then preserved in oral traditions and can be recovered from
these and reappropriated as rumour later. (170–71)

Upon further analysis it will be made clear that both the story of Popobawa and
the narratives considered here can be considered examples of this type of anec-
dotal reporting of “events”. Further and more salient relationships also pertain to
both groups of narratives. One that will be dealt with in greater detail below is the
emasculating power of the supernatural beings whether they be evidently male or
female. In all cases where men come into contact with these spiritual forces they
are drawn into a position of passivity and powerlessness where they hand over all
control to the unknown force to which they have fallen prey. While there are a
great many popular songs and literary works emergent from Tanzania that deal
114 Aaron Rosenberg
with the dangers of sexuality in an age of AIDS, supernatural elements within the
narratives here serve to exact judgment and punishment upon the transgressive
male characters.
The works here also make proclamations about the significance of the
events narrated. I will investigate the way conceptualisations of gender can be
used to unpack narrative complexities here, analysing how the supernatural
feeds into these accounts of sexual deviance. I will also point out the presence
of “inherent hypertextuality” between the song and stories. This refers to the
manner in which these works, though produced in different forms and with
the creators having no knowledge of one another, show similarities due to
the way they respond to analogous mazingira or social realities. It is unlikely
that either Temba or the narrators of the stories collected by Mohamed were
explicitly reformulating the ideas expressed in each other’s works through
forms of intellectual appropriation. It is almost certain, however, that the
similar socio-cultural environments in which they have achieved maturity
and continue to function, bearing as they do comparable ethico-religious cos-
mological systems, have influenced the topics selected as well as the manner
in which these verbal artists have chosen (consciously or unconsciously) to
confront them.

Gender dynamics and hip hop

What can a consideration of the gender dynamics intrinsic to these works tell
us about the way they engage with the larger socio-cultural systems of moral-
ity and praxis just mentioned? These stories grapple with aspects of sexual-
ity in Tanzanian coastal societies which are, to say the least, contentious and
disruptive.
Prominent here are discriminatory attitudes which allow men to practice adul-
terous behaviour while women are repressed and punished. Such practices are
documented by Marc J. Swartz in his study of the Swahili in Mombasa. While
it is probably true, as Jan Knappert has asserted, that the “long series of myths
depicting women as endowed with all possible vices starts with the Bible and is
continued in the Islamic tradition”, (7) it is also true that the song and stories
explored here seek in some important ways to invert this paradigm in favour of a
vision of the sexes in which the reality of the morally bankrupt philandering male
is both revealed and reprimanded. As Knappert states, in the Swahili religious
cosmology and within the narrative articulations of that view, “To be judged is
part of our destiny. Judgment is already given in the perpetration of the act” (12).
In the case of these four works then, it is this judgement, or at least a small but
extremely bitter taste of it, that the male protagonists are being forced to swallow.
This is significant, for on the Tanzanian coast, different codes of sexual conduct
are applied on the basis of gender. This is precisely what Pat Caplan discovered in
her anthropological work with her male informant on Mafia Island to the South
of Zanzibar. During several interviews which she conducted these are some of the
insights which she received:
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 115
P[at Caplan]: But what rights (haki) do women have?
M[ale informant]: To do what her husband tells her (40). […]
M[ale informant]: I marry so and so. She becomes my wife and I her husband.
And this has been since the time of our ancestors. And that
woman is my property, to use her at any time. (42)

Caplan later reveals that her informant was perpetually penniless in large part due
to his numerous extramarital affairs (which eventually caused the acrimonious
break up of his marriage), demonstrating the manner in which such misogynistic
visions of women’s sexuality and potential roles as marriage partners can be and
often are ideological wellsprings from which male sexual irresponsibility emerges.
Contemporary songs and stories which attempt to counter these attitudes, are,
therefore, worthy of consideration.
Simultaneously, however, and seemingly in a contradictory spirit, the voices
through which these texts are told reinforce the male perspective and the abil-
ity of the men to circumscribe the nature of public discourse on sexuality. This
is because nearly all these accounts are given “voice” by men. Two of the three
storytellers recorded by Amir Mohamed are men. Mheshimiwa Temba, the singer
of “Amekoma” is also a male chronicler. Moreover, he is a singer of Bongo Flava
style Tanzanian Hip Hop Music, a type of music which continues to evolve into
new media spheres and musical genres (Kerr 2019) and, as with many, if not all
Tanzanian musics, provides the opportunity for the creation of diverse forms of
community (Rosenberg 2019) though these expressive forms may be hotly con-
tested and even denigrated by sectors of the population (Ernø et al. 2017).
As in the case of Hip Hop in other countries such as the United States where
Hip Hop is generally credited with having begun (Alim, Baker, Bazin, Boyd,
Bynoe, Chang, etc.), Tanzanian Hip Hop music is dominated almost exclu-
sively by men in terms of professional exposure as well as the gender discourses
expressed by male performers in their songs as demonstrated by scholars such as
Musa Saimon (2019). The presence of female performers within the industry is
almost non-existent and female lead singers such as Sista P are forced to adopt
forms of aggressive behaviour, costume, lyrics, and modes of address which are
more often associated with men, in order to declare their presence and have it
be noted by other performers and fans. Moreover, Temba has come up through
the ranks of various music groups before striking out on his own. The latest of
these, and probably the group within which he achieved his greatest notoriety
was the group TMK Wanaume which continues to be one of the most popular
and prolific Bongo Flava bands. The name of the group translates as “Men of
TMK”, the TMK standing for the Temeke mtaa, or neighbourhood, in the city of
Dar es Salaam. In addition to their lyrical talent, a great part of TMK Wanaume
and Temba’s popular success is linked to their putative ability to narrate the hali
halisi, or “reality” of inner-city life in Tanzania. This reputation comes in no small
part from the fact that they proudly proclaim their position as residents of one of
the toughest areas of the city. The members of the group are aggressively assert-
ing their status as wanaume, rather than vijana, or young, unmarried men, which
116 Aaron Rosenberg
is, in fact how they would generally, and derogatively be defined in generational
terms in Tanzania. Additionally, and just as importantly, these wanaume have
arrogated to themselves the status of being from the dangerous area of Temeke.
This is a strategy repeated by men throughout the world in Hip Hop musical
groups, as well as other contexts, in order to reaffirm their bravery and masculine
status as successful members of “hoods” such as Compton in the United States of
America, Tepito in Mexico City, or Clichy-sous-Bois in France.
Therefore, the forceful male voices in these texts project a male “gaze” as
defined by feminist scholars. Though the term originally comes from feminist
film scholarship through the groundbreaking work of Laura Mulvey (“Visual
Pleasure”) it has been adapted to literary scholarship through the work of such
writers as Assia Djebar. In the context of the works considered here we can con-
sider the male gaze to refer to the perspective from which the narratives are con-
veyed. There is thus an intriguing tension established in these works between
their content and the positions of gendered authority from and through which
they are being disseminated.
The specific manner in which the supernatural is deployed is, additionally,
remarkably similar in both the stories and the popular song. In all of the cases
dealt with in this chapter the supernatural beings and forces which appear in the
course of the narrative serve to “komesha” (in the words of Mheshimiwa Temba)
or put an end to adulterous behaviour after they have apparently allowed the
human perpetrators of such acts to believe that they will be able to satisfy their
lustful urges. In all cases supernatural beings and forces which appear in the
course of the narrative serve to “komesha” or put an end to adulterous behaviour.

Realm of the supernatural

Up to this point we have been referring to these ghostlike powers through generic
terms. It would be wise to clarify what they describe in terms of the supernatural.
The first phrase to be expunged from our vocabulary is “witchcraft”. Crow depicts
witchcraft as:

[…] a nightmare literary creation, […] associated […] with night and dark-
ness, eerie moonlight and the powers of the underworld who ruled the land
of the dead. Witches could kill or injure people and cattle, drive their vic-
tims mad, ruin crops, stir up storms, provoke lust or hinder love. […] They
reversed all normal and decent values, reveling in evil, blood and dirt. (32)

Some scholars have pointed to definitions of witchcraft that include the ability
of witches “to transform themselves into other creatures and to kill, harm, or
inflict sickness on those whom they intend to weaken” (Stewart and Strathern
6) and certainly that ability is displayed in the narratives we will look at here.
At the same time the nature of the interactions described undermines any such
definition as the male characters are not subjected to any physical harm and,
though they are somewhat shaken by their experiences, go on to mend their
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 117
immoral and philandering ways. Furthermore, Stewart and Strathern describe
the self-interested and ultimately anti-social nature of the witch’s undertakings
in the following terms, “the witch is seen as a kind of cannibal, eating the vic-
tim’s life-force as a way of self-augmentation” (6). While the activities of the
supernatural forces dealt with here are certainly out of the ordinary they are, in
the final analysis, carried out with the welfare of society at large under considera-
tion and cannot therefore be considered examples of the cannibalistic behaviour
identified by Stewart and Strathern. Swales and McLachlan have also made it
clear that in Euro-American contexts:

[t]he stereotype of a witch was laid down by the dominant religious author-
ities before the inception of widespread witch trials in Europe. The most
influential work which detailed the stereotype of the witch was the Malleus
Maleficarum. In the stereotype, a witch was female, as women were regarded
by the Church in this period as inferior and inherently evil. (349)

While it is true that the paranormal characters in these works do function ini-
tially as putatively feminine and seductive characters, they also change into
various other physical forms, including men, in the course of carrying out their
retributive actions.
What is presented here are potential sexual encounters which initially appear
fairly standard, albeit socially deviant. The nature of the transformations that
take place, however, are anything but normal, and, I would argue, due to their
association with a sort of supernatural retribution or justice, fall far outside of the
standard translation of witchcraft, especially in the terms understood by residents
on Tanzania’s coast. Instead these paranormal beings are, it seems, interlopers
from outside the community of mere mortals. Based on descriptions to be found
in the tales recorded by Baker (1927) and Steere (1870) these beings most closely
resemble those which in coastal terminology would be described either as jini (pl.
majini) or pepo (sing./pl.). The former is of direct Arabic and Islamic derivation
while the latter emerges from terminologies developed within Bantu cultural and
cosmological systems. The jinn have elsewhere been described by Ella Sykes as
“spirits of lesser power. They can turn themselves into animals at will” (263).
Crow likewise adds that the jinn “can easily make themselves invisible, and
can also appear in different shapes of animals[,] plants, clouds and vapor” (75).
Though we do not witness any accounts of mysterious clouds or plants in these
tales we certainly do see transformations into both a goat and a camel taking
place alongside changes in human identity and gender as well as a sudden disap-
pearance. These beings also demonstrate pro-social action through their attempts
to reform men without harming them physically. This is consistent with Crow’s
assertion that “[t]here are good and evil jinn” (74).
The way these figures behave demonstrates the extent to which Islamic beliefs
have been combined with pre-Islamic and contemporary intra-Islamic concep-
tions of the supernatural. These stories and the song deal with ideas which are a
part of Islamic religious orthodoxy. The jinn are mentioned directly in the Qur’an
118 Aaron Rosenberg
in Sura 72, ‫ سٯرة الجن‬otherwise known as “Jinn”. At other junctures, the Qur’an
deals with the figure of King Solomon and his control of the jinn as in Sura 34,
‫ سٯرة سباء‬otherwise known as Saba or Sheba. The narratives here, however, fall
outside of the purview of sacred works. What is intriguing here is the way aspects
of religious orthodoxy are combined with contemporary experience in order
to reflect upon and challenge, gendered perceptions of sexuality in Tanzanian
coastal communities. These narrative practices surrounding the supernatural are
consistent with the findings of Celia Rothenberg who has stated that jinn in rural
Palestine have the potential for enacting a variety of spiritual as well as social
discourses. As here with male promiscuity in Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam, the
presence of jinn can constitute “a potential space for comment, criticism, and
even debate” (Rothenberg 132).
The additional fact that the jinn do not, ultimately, consummate any sexual
act with their human targets, also reinforces notions of the jinn as explored in
Amira El-Zein’s seminal text Islam, Arabs, and the Intelligent World of the Jinn
(2009) which explains the “alleged and dangerous” (103) nature of these amo-
rous relations between humans and jinn. At the same time, however, El-Zein
emphasises that:

These alleged love stories between jinn and humans […] have almost no
sexuality. […] [T]his is because of the subtle and shape-shifting nature of the
jinni or the jinniyah whose love for a human remains elusive and intangible
despite the jinn’s embodiment in physical forms. […] Sexuality is of a totally
different order, more substantial and more concrete. It cannot thrive in an
indefinable relationship such as this. (120)

Taking Temba’s “Amekoma” as our starting point let’s investigate the ways in
which gendered discourse is constructed through praxis and thematic content.
What I am labelling praxis is the process through which the song is dissemi-
nated and received as a structured narrative with a beginning, middle, climax,
and end. This resembles what the Swahili refer to as hadithi. The term comes
from the Arabic hadith, derived from ‫ حدٽ‬meaning “to happen”. The hadith in
Arabic encompasses tales of the Prophet Muhammad. As such these works are
distinguished from the revealed knowledge in the Qur’an which is considered
to be the transcribed words of God as delivered to the Prophet Muhammed by
the Archangel Gabriel. In Swahili secular contexts the word hadithi has come to
encompass any prose narrative of an artistic and creative nature. The fact that
this particular narrative is sung over a Bongo Flava beat in no way proscribes it
from inclusion in this group for the non-sacred nature of the hadith as a tradi-
tion in Arabic, while more narrowly defined, is already moving in this direction.
The moralistic content of the tale itself, delivering a message warning against
promiscuity and admonishing listeners to heed the advice of those around them,
is another aspect of the text which demonstrates its linkages to this tradition.
Temba, then, is not claiming any particular position of authority or knowl-
edge within Dar es Salaam other than his ability to perceive and accurately and
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 119
eloquently articulate the realities of contemporary life in Dar es Salaam or Bongo
as it has come to be known in Kiswahili cha mtaani or Swahili slang. The term
itself refers to the fact that “street smarts” or bongo, referring to the word for
brain in Swahili, are required to flourish or at least survive in the capital city of
Tanzania. This attitude of Bongo Flava artists towards their work as performing
artists and their claim to being able to speak meaningfully about the conditions
in which Tanzanians, and especially urban Tanzanians live, is widespread. One
of the composers who has artfully expressed this idea is the contemporary singer
Afande Sele who, in one of his most famous songs variously calls himself “darubini
kali”, or high-powered binoculars, and “kioo cha jamii”, or the mirror of society,
and goes on to explain the manner in which he manages to understand and clev-
erly sing about the true nature of contemporary existence in Tanzanian contexts.
Temba claims for himself a similar position in this song as elsewhere through the
same forms of hyper-masculinised authenticity referred to above. Thus, when he
holds forth about the promiscuous sexual activities of Sidi, the main focus of our
hadithi, we are led to agree with him in his assessment of the events leading up to
Sidi’s painful, shameful encounter with the supernatural and his equally disturb-
ing period of retreat from society.
Temba begins the song, then, as a male narrator who is manifestly capable
of discussing and precisely explaining the salient points of the hadithi which is
to be told. The singer establishes a closeness between himself as speaker and his
putative listeners/audience that approximates as closely as possible what has been
referred to by Isidore Okpewho as “total harmony between artist and audience”
(161). This sense of harmonious interaction apparently effaces or renders insig-
nificant both the artifice of the narrative itself and the obvious perspective of the
narrator. By inviting the listeners to agree with the storyteller on certain widely
accepted moral and “pro-social” principles Temba in a sense persuades them to
accept all the other concepts implicit in the song as contextualized narrative.
This conviction on the part of the audience is linked not only to the information
imparted but to the manner in which it is movingly expressed.
A major part of this position of knowledgeability claimed by the singer is
undoubtedly based on the (probably fictional) relation of the narrator to the pro-
tagonist as a former friend. As is explained early in the text:

Mimi ninasimulia stori yake sababu I am telling his story because

Nimekuwa naye 25 I have been around him
– Huyu – This one!
Nimesoma naye I have gone to school with him
– Huyu –This one!
Mpaka sasa nilishagombana naye And now I’ve even quarrelled with him

These quarrels, of course, have been caused by Sidi’s irresponsible sexuality and
the contempt with which he has treated the advice well-meaning associates have
tried to provide him. As is stated in the next line, Sidi has even gone so far as to
treat his parents with disrespect.
120 Aaron Rosenberg
Wazazi walimshauri huyu 30 His parents tried to advise him
Akawa na kiburi. But he was just pig-headed.

The significance of this attitude and the seriousness of Sidi’s offence becomes
apparent when one takes into consideration the respect which is generally
afforded to one’s elders in Tanzanian communities, to say nothing of the debt
of gratitude and respect which children, regardless of their age or financial posi-
tion, are expected to display towards their parents. Such notions are frequently
discussed in informal conversations (some of which I have actually taken part in)
wherein parents lament the loss of systems of heshima, or respect in the present
generation. These opinions are also often expressed through song and other fms
of verbal art. The poetry of Shaaban Robert, specifically his utenzi addressed
to his daughter entitled “Utenzi wa Hati” promotes the notion of advice given
through poetry. This is advice which, of course, the author expects the daughter
to listen to respectfully and obey, or tii as the concept is expressed in Swahili.
Similar accounts of the disastrous results of rebellious and disrespectful behaviour
towards one’s parents are widespread throughout Tanzanian popular music. One
notable example which resonates on a number of levels with Temba’s song is
the canonical work “Masudi” (a man’s name) which I have discussed at length
elsewhere (“Living for the City”). In this song, released nearly 30 years before
Temba’s, our misguided protagonist, Masudi ends up publicly beaten and in jail
after refusing to heed the apparently wise and affectionate advice of his parents.
Temba takes advantage of these normative feelings regarding the importance
of obedience to parents in order to establish his own pro-social and therefore
acceptable account of events. This act of putting his own narration beyond ques-
tion likewise causes the indirect statements which it carries to be intellectually
absorbed as a part of the whole.

Gendered intersections and the supernatural

Male authority and powers of enunciation are also reinforced in none too subtle
ways throughout the text. Perhaps the most obvious example of this is the fact
that it is men who are endowed with the ability to “speak” in the course of the
song’s narrative. The only exception to this is the presence of a female voice in
the song text in lines 73 and 75 where Sidi’s girlfriend at that point in the text
(of course, he has many throughout the course of the entire story) tells him that
she wants a car, “nataka gari” and that she also needs a cell phone, “nataka simu”.
Thus the only circumstances in which a female is given any voice in the text
are a situation in which this female is demonstrating her position of inferiority
economically (and by association possibly in other spheres) through her entreat-
ies to her more powerful boyfriend. Such a hyper-conservative attitude towards
women’s proper role in social arenas, is, as explained by James Ogude and Joyce
Nyairo, a consistent feature of East African Hip Hop music from Kenya, Uganda,
and Tanzania where “a desire for regional integration but a hegemonic mascu-
linism and conservative social attitudes dominate the song-texts” (11). These
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 121
misogynistic attitudes, as clarified by Edda Sanga, have a lengthy history within
Tanzanian popular music which precedes the ascension of Hip Hop as a domi-
nant category. According to Senga, Tanzanian popular “music portrays women
negatively. Most of the Tanzanian local bands sing in praise of a woman as a
beautiful object to be admired and cherished by a man. […] Other songs portray
a woman as a treacherous creature who should never be trusted” (112). These
attitudes, as clarified by Edda Sanga, have a long history within Tanzanian music.
This lack of female voice in Temba’s song is, as explained by Sara Longwe and
Roy Clarke, a frequent strategy within homiletic songs. Writing about Zambia
they state that “[t]he popular song of the male moralizer supports and reinforces
the implicit claim that women have no voice. What is missing from the songs
[…] is any authentic female voice to provide women’s perspective on men, and
their relationship with them” (70).
Focusing on the examples presented by Tanzanian poetry and taarab songs
S.A.K. Mlacha has affirmed that a similar situation is extant amongst Swahili
verbal artists: “Kiswahili poetry and taarab songs, when talking about [women],
have generally portrayed them as human beings who are primarily objects, and
at most, people whose contribution to the development process is not given due
recognition” (207). Such sexist discrimination and expression is all the more
remarkable in the case of taarab performance in that the audience members and
performers (at least the vocalists) are often both male and female. As Ntarangwi
asserts, in the case of taarab “the songs become an intersection between men’s
and women’s world[s] that form a relationship that cannot be severed if we are to
truly grasp Swahili gendered practices” (109).
Janet Topp Fargion has also documented the extent to which the canonical
female singer Siti binti Saad was instrumental in defining the nature of the genre
for the nearly one hundred years following her appearance on the scene:

Up until the 1920’s and 1930’s taarab remained predominantly a male,

upper-class Arab performance genre. It took a female, peasant African to
bring change and to begin the process of “Swahili-isation”. Singing songs
based on the ţaqţūqah form she rose to fame as a taarab singer in the 1920’s
and remained active until she died in 1950. For many Zanzibaris it was with
Siti binti Saad, often called the “mother of taarab”, that taarab actually
began. (14)

If these forms of bias as described by Mlacha are indeed so prominent in a mixed-

gender performative genre such as taarab, it is little wonder that a variety of song
such as Bongo Flava, dominated as it is by male creative energies (see above)
should have a frequently problematic relationship to female expressive power.
This state of powerlessness is underlined in “Amekoma” by the manner in
which Sidi uses and abuses the women with which he is sexually (the term
“romantically” seems misplaced given Sidi’s habits) involved. Consistent with
the comments of Pat Caplan’s informant above, Sidi uses the women as though
they were property with no say in how they are treated. Furthermore, when Sidi’s
122 Aaron Rosenberg
rampant sexuality becomes too much for the community to bear, it is the men
who get together and begin to develop a plan to stone him to death.

Wasela wa mtaani The guys on the street

Walishapanga dili wampige mawe Were planning on stoning him to death
Wazee wamekaa kikao And the elders had met
Wanatamani wamwue 60 They were eager to do away with him.

Aside from the fact that this form of punishment is remarkably reminiscent of
common punishments for adultery advocated by Sharia law, it is also significant in
that it demonstrates with certainty the manner in which problems of this nature
are dealt with by authorities that are exclusively male. Although the term wazee
meaning elders is not always exclusively male, through its association with the
term wasela, a slang term derived from the English word “sailor” rapidly gaining
wide circulation throughout Dar es Salaam, it is understood that both young and
elderly men got together in order to decide on a course of action. The fact that
even these community-based forms of power eventually decide to take no action
and are therefore unable to put an end to Sidi’s destructive behaviour allows for
the entrance of the supernatural “personality” which appears later in the text.
This paranormal force is then the one that eventually manages to terrify Sidi
into a form of neurotic compliance with rules of sexual propriety. At the end of
the song we are told that Sidi has lost the affluent economic status which he pos-
sessed earlier in the text and that:

Anawapa amekoma He swears he is finished with that

business
Cha Ng’ombe nzima anaona noma He is afraid to set foot in Cha Ng’ombe
at all
Wiki nzima hii hajatoka nje 155 He’s been cooped up inside all week
Anaona aibu And is overcome with shame
Kwa yaliomsibu Because of what has happened to him
Sidi huyo That’s Sidi
Sidi huyo This Sidi
Mnyamwezi 160 Mnyamwezi
Anautafuna masaki He is struggling to fill his belly
Anaishi ghetto Magomeni Living in the Magomeni ghetto
Choo cha kulenga With a shared outhouse
Ugali tembele And dry stiff corn porridge
Nyumba ya makuti 165 In a house built of coconut leaves
Sidi Mnyamwezi Sidi Mnyamwezi

Thus it is clear that both powerless women and even empowered male mem-
bers of the community have been unable to rectify Sidi’s behaviour but that
“higher”, or at least supernatural, forces have succeeded in frightening him onto
the right path. However, while the influence of men is implicitly stated through
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 123
their planned action, the almost total absence of women as active parties in the
song robs female characters of any control whatsoever. In fact, we do not even
hear them complaining about the treatment they are being given at the hands of
sexual profligates such as Sidi.
This supernatural curbing of male sexuality is an instance of the phenomenon
of the deus ex machina as described by Horace in the Ars Poetica. It translates
literally as “[a] god which comes by way of a machine” and may, given present
circumstances, be the most reasonable way in which to resolve the issues under
scrutiny (Horace line 191). Part of the significance of the intrusion of the super-
natural in these works is the deus ex machina as plot resolution. The logical ques-
tion to ask here is then, why is this necessary? Perhaps socio-cultural actualities
have led Temba to make use of the spiritual world in these ways. The seemingly
intractable problem of hyper-male sexuality in Tanzania is resolved in these texts
through the only “credible” means at the disposal of the narrator. As Caplan has
shown, spirits are oftentimes perceived as the sole means through which adulter-
ers can be punished. This may be because though there are social and religious
sanctions against adultery there are no specific secular laws making it illegal. This
is in spite of the fact that the Qur’an mentions it four times. During the course of
these suwar or chapters in the Qur’an God reveals the haram, or forbidden nature
of adulterous behaviour and explains the reasons why it must be avoided. In the
second verse of the twenty-fourth sura, known as ‫ النور‬or the light, punishment
for fornication is prescribed in terms of public whipping.
While the illegal position of adultery in Islamic society is clearly stated in the
Qur’an and understood, the same is not necessarily true of the power and posi-
tion of spirits such as the jinn in coastal areas in Tanzania, nor is it apparent what
steps, if any, Muslims should take to propitiate or defeat such forces. It is, there-
fore, understandable that coastal Muslims in Tanzania should feel justified, if not
compelled, to have recourse to supernatural forms of consultation and treatment
when faced with serious problems which are apparently beyond their control.
Caplan explains that in the minds of residents of Mafia island belief in spirits and
the importance of cults of spirit possession are viewed as continuations of the
mila na desturi or traditions and customs of these communities which antedate
or otherwise supersede the penetration of Islamic cosmological systems into the
everyday lives of coastal inhabitants. As she affirms:

[b]eliefs in spirits coexist uneasily with Islam. All villagers agree that spirits
exist and know that they are mentioned in the Koran. Yet for many ortho-
dox Muslims, engaging in trance dances (ngoma ya kupungwa), slaughtering
animals and drinking their blood, ascribing illness and death to spirits, and
making offerings at spirit shrines, is a form of polytheism (ushirika) which is
anathema to Islam, and they refuse to have anything to do with such prac-
tices. (152–53)

Urban areas on the coast of Tanzania as well as on the islands, as spaces of inter-
action in which various cultures have come together, represent a physical and
124 Aaron Rosenberg
intellectual space in which potential liberation is tempered by the possibility
of destructive transgression. That socially proscribed actions should be con-
demned in the very texts which are often perceived as enacting these forms of
misbehaviour, may initially appear anomalous or, at the very least, ironic. Even a
cursory investigation of the thematic content of Tanzanian popular songs, how-
ever, shows that this practice of speaking, or singing out against reprehensible
behaviour carried out during or as a result of musical performances is widespread.
Thus, the homiletic emphases of these works are often directed at the anti-social
activities and repercussions which popular music is thought to engender in both
its audience members and performers. There are thus numerous songs such as
“Pombe Si Chai” (Beer is not like tea) by the late leader of the orchestra Dar
International Marijani Rajabu (see the discussion of his song “Masudi” above)
or Remmy Ongala’s tale of alcohol-induced domestic abuse in “Kidogo Kidogo”
(Take it Slowly). The lengthy list of texts speaking out against the dangers of
unprotected sex and specifically the tragedy of AIDS, or UKIMWI (upungufu wa
kingo mwilini) extends across a great number of popular performing artists from
R&B artists, to Bongo Flava performers to electric muziki wa dansi groups all of
whom are known to hold performances in restaurants, bars, and hotels; precisely
the locations where irresponsible sexual practices get their start (oftentimes with
the help of alcohol).
Temba’s song, then, fits into a tradition of expression which has shaped his
choice of theme as well as the nature of his message. That this body of art extends
across generic boundaries is demonstrated through the fruitful comparison which
can be carried out between Temba’s song and the “ghost stories” told to Amir
Mohamed by his informants in Zanzibar. The three stories which I have chosen
do not constitute all of the texts in Mohamed’s collection that deal explicitly with
sexuality but, within the confines of a focused study such as this, it seems prudent
to limit my study to those works which resonate most closely with Temba’s song.
The three stories under consideration are entitled “From a Woman to a Male
Goat”, “A Lesson for a Male Prostitute”, and “A Midnight Romance that Ended
in the Graveyard”. While there is no exact correspondence between any one of
these texts and the plot outlined by Temba in his song, taken as a trinity they
each resonate in significant ways with “Amekoma”.
The tales all have a man as their protagonist. Opposite these male characters
are the (apparently) female characters who demonstrate through some transfor-
mation their supernatural origins. Another plot element which the stories share
is that our promiscuous men all meet their “partners” in public places. It should
be noted that Sidi, the protagonist of the song “Amekoma” also met with his
paramour in the bar Club Bilikanas. These locales call attention to the depraved
abandon with which these men undertake their sexual exploits. That they are
only interested in sex is emphasised by the fact that the men do not waste any
time in idle niceties such as a meal, a drink, or, in most cases, idle conversa-
tion. Instead, in three of the four cases they rush to their “den of iniquity”. The
only narrative in which this does not take place is the story “From a Woman
to a Male Goat”. In this case the male protagonist never makes it to the bed
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 125
chamber because his partner for the evening transforms her/itself into a male
goat before his eyes. The metaphorical value of the goat as an animal avaricious
in its appetite for both food and sex is given emphasis through the male gender
of the beast. The willingness of a goat to consume anything which he can fasten
his teeth upon is thus analogised to the sexual appetite of the man, unable to
refrain from propositioning whomever he meets. In fact, it is specified that the
woman is veiled. Often quoted in regards to the use of the veil is the twenty-
sixth verse of sura ‫ األعراڧ‬, or The Heights, wherein Muslims are warned to use
clothing to dress modestly. The purpose of humble dress is perverted in the story
and the divine caveat flouted. Due to the prurient cravings of our male visitor,
rather than viewing the conservative dress of this “woman” as a sign of her purity
and protection from lascivious desires, he treats it as an aphrodisiac. Thus, the
supernatural creature represents a threat on a host of levels, most succinctly in
its ability to rouse latent tendencies to sinful sexuality that catalyses the charged
situation.
First is the possibility that the man might be forced into sexual relations with a
supernatural being, the implications of which are, at their mildest, aberrant and,
at their worst, painful or fatal. Additionally, he might unknowingly have engaged
in bestiality (if his partner had transformed into a goat during intercourse). To
make matters worse, the jinn is a male goat, thus emphasising the possibility
of the protagonist engaging in homosexual intercourse and himself being the
passive partner; shoga, msenge or mfirwa in Swahili parlance. In both Tanzania
and Kenya homosexuality is a crime with attendant penalties. In Tanzania the
accused, if convicted may face up to 14 years in prison if found guilty (“Kenya:
Court Upholds Archaic Anti-Homosexuality Laws”;, “TanzaniaSays Anti-Gay
Squads Are Not Government Policy”) and there are forms of less “disinterested”
mob justice. That such attitudes are incorporated into artistic expression is dem-
onstrated by the fact that, “In 1984, after a particularly virulent exchange of
taarab songs concerning homosexuality, the Zanzibari government established a
formal censorship board, and continues to review songs to be performed and aired
on the government radio” (Arnold 148). In Temba’s song also, Sidi lapses into a
form of temporary insanity when confronted with a similar situation. His “part-
ner”, in addition to making itself invisible at one point, transforms into a series
of women. The jinn also becomes a camel, “[d]emu kageuka/Kawa ngamia” (an
even more frightening prospect than a goat as a sexual partner). The crescendo to
the supernatural encounter, however, and the metamorphosis which drives Sidi
out onto the street naked and screaming, is when the jinn transforms into a man,
known to Sidi, named Rashidi.
The other stories included by Mohamed likewise communicate the dan-
gers presented by irresponsible sex with unknown partners and, as in the case
of “Amekoma”, emphasise the reformative power of these terrifying paranormal
experiences. In “A Lesson for a Male Prostitute” our protagonist goes to bed with
his unknown partner. The narrator of the tale in fact states specifically that the
“playboy” invites the veiled lady to his house and asks her to climb into his bed
“without making sure who the lady was”. When it is time to turn off the light
126 Aaron Rosenberg
and turn to the business at hand his supernatural paramour stretches her arm
to a length of “about six meters” to accomplish this task. At this point the man
releases his bladder, wets the bed, and loses his erection. In the ensuing darkness
he realises that (fortunately for him) the jinn has made its exit and left him alone
to contemplate the error of his ways. As a result of this supernatural intervention
the storyteller informs us that “[i]t remained to him a bitter memory. It was a
big lesson to stop hunting strangers in the night and eventually he got married”.
Thus, as elaborated above, these spiritual forces are called into play in order to
resolve a seemingly intractable problem, namely the unrepentant immorality of
men. The listener to this account of sin and punishment is expected to come to
the same conclusion that our “male prostitute” has returned to the safety, secu-
rity, and public sanction of the institution of marriage.
Although in the last morality tale, “A Midnight Romance that Ended in the
Graveyard”, the promiscuous male character is not driven to marriage as in the
above text, it is stated that he makes the decision to mend his ways:

It was enough punishment to make him abandon his bad habit of midnight
seduction. For at least seven days he had a high temperature with mild neu-
rosis. After recovery he never went out at night because that night remained
a powerful reminder for the rest of his life. He was always advising his friends
“Beware of the moonlit nights”. (Mohamed)

This quote also exhibits another significant parallel between Temba’s song and
this tale. This is the resulting physical illness of the male protagonist following
his encounter with the jinn. Analogous to the high temperature and mild neu-
rosis suffered by the protagonist in the above-quoted passage from our tale, Sidi
in “Amekoma” retreats to his room to nurse his mental wounds following his
soul-shattering and shameful experience. This is described in the following terms:

Anawapa amekoma He has sworn that he is finished with

Cha Ng’ombe nzima anaona noma
Wiki nzima hii hajatoka nje
Anaona aibu
Kwa yaliomsibu
that business
He is afraid to set foot in Cha Ng’ombe
at all
155 He’s been cooped up inside all week
And is overcome with shame
Because of what has happened to him

Similar emotions are expressed in the tale when the man awakens naked in a
graveyard having fallen asleep while waiting to have intercourse. That he has
been magically transported to this spot is implied by the bizarre nature of the
entire experience and the fact that this is, in fact, a “ghost” story. The meta-
phorical value of the graveyard carries weight through its wide-ranging associa-
tions. On the literal level, it expresses the ephemeral and destructive nature of
lust. While the man himself was blinded by his desires he agreed to be led to
the “house” of his supposedly female acquaintance. The illusion of an expansive
 Asiyefunzwa na wazazi na mzuka 127
mansion is spread out before the eyes of our protagonist in order to entice him to
release his carnal cravings:

“Yes! An extraordinary, furnished house with wonderful decorations on

every wall, especially the bedroom. One could relax in comfort and a roman-
tic atmosphere. A double bed in the centre of the room, a majestic wardrobe
and a Persian carpet on the floor, a jar of flowers at every corner of the room
and a seductive dim light”. (Mohamed)

In actuality, however, the house is a hoax. The logical place for a spirit to inhabit
is a graveyard and this is where the man has allowed his animal urges to lead him.
When he believes himself to be reclining comfortably on a spacious bed he is in
fact stretched out on a slab of cold stone laid over a grave. On an abstract level he
has been shown the inevitable end of his evil ways: death. Death from venereal
diseases such as AIDS and an even more miserable fate in the afterlife when he is
cast down into ‫جحيم‬, jehanum in Swahili, the Muslim hell.
The man’s nakedness also functions on more than one level. It emphasises
the foolishness of his promiscuous behavior. He thus appears childlike in his
nakedness as only children would allow themselves to be seen so by others. The
emphasis here in the story as well as in Temba’s song on the public nudity of the
male protagonists is also intended to open such men and their actions up to pub-
lic ridicule. In both cases the men end up outside and therefore in public space
without their clothes on due to their eagerness to engage in illicit sex. Neither of
them is stripped of their clothes by their supernatural partners (in fact, in the case
of the man who awakes in a graveyard he finds his clothes hanging on the branch
of a nearby tree). Instead they willingly disrobe and, as a result of their unplanned
brush with the supernatural, find themselves thus compromised. In Sidi’s case he
is so overcome with fear that:

Ikabidi Sidi atoke 141 Sidi had to run away

Aondoke guest uchi He fled naked from the hotel
Huko anapiga kelele Screaming and carrying on

In both cases the shame or aibu as it is referred to in Swahili that the men suf-
fer is a major part of the reason for the neuroses which they undergo following
these experiences. This is because in Swahili communities, as explained by Marc
Swartz, public nudity, intentional or not, is a source of tremendous shame (24).
The embarrassment suffered by these men, analogous to the protagonist of
“A Lesson for a Male Prostitute” urinating on himself and losing his erection, all
speak to the dynamics of gender power explicit in Swahili societies and implicit
in the relationships between these anti-social men and the supernatural forces
with which they consort. While they do not suffer the same sort of violence as
Rosa inflicts upon herself in Rosa Mistika, they do suffer a loss of control either
mental, or physical, or both. The reformative power of these supernatural inter-
ventions in all cases depends upon the power of these men to recognise the sinful
128 Aaron Rosenberg
nature of their behavior and to be able to choose to change their ways. Had they
been castrated, dismembered, or otherwise violently disposed of (as they appear
to deserve) by their respective jinn, they would not have been capable of mak-
ing any such reformative decision. Thus, we as listeners are able to benefit from
their experiences and to replicate the process of resolution that they carry out.
The injunction to make these morally upstanding decisions is likewise made all
the more imperative for the audience due to the knowledge that there are forces
beyond our control or even proper knowledge which surround and observe us.
The prospect that these forces can intervene destructively in our lives, possibly
to the extent of ending our time on Earth and consigning our souls to eternal
damnation is affirmed through their immeasurable powers of which we, like the
men in these tales, only catch a tiny glimpse.

Conclusion
This redemptive power then, in all four texts, links them together in terms of
thematic content and the purposes which they are intended to serve in the com-
munities for which they have been crafted. This inherent hypertextuality links
them together on a variety of intellectual levels which demonstrate what Harold
Scheub has called the “unbroken continuity in African verbal art forms” (1).
That these narratives contain and effectively communicate profound and engag-
ing messages of great relevance to their intended listeners is demonstrated by the
wide dissemination and repeated iteration that they enjoy. The complex interplay
of ideas concerning sexuality, gendered power, and the supernatural both within
and outside of the realm of Islamic orthodoxy make all of these texts vital and
significant contributions to forms of discourse ongoing in both Dar es Salaam and
Zanzibar where they have their origins. Their composition and deployment as
hearsay accounts contribute to rather than diminish their power. This is because
as Stewart and Strathern accentuate, “[r]umors represent people’s attempts to
make narratives about social values and judgments about the morals of others.
They are ‘improvised news’ and conversations ‘in search of the truth’” (195).
The manifestly performative nature of these works also points to the necessity
of bringing other types of expression into the purview of comparative literary
scholarship in general and that concerned with Africa in particular. The intimate
nature of delivery, so essential to these stories’ perceived veracity and concomi-
tant potency apparently places them outside of the traditional arenas in which
canonical literary scholarship takes place. However, it is precisely this proximity
and inward-looking gaze that make these works so valuable – the various ways
in which they grapple with fundamental conceptualisations of social and super-
social interaction.

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