Christmas in Tanganyika: A Memoir
Jonathan Russin
Language: English
Pages: 82
ISBN: 1511661658
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
CHRISTMAS IN TANGANYIKA is Jonathan Russin’s memoir about his experiences in 1961 when he took a year off from law school to take part in a one-year assignment as a research assistant to the Dean of the Law Faculty at the new University of East Africa.
During the Christmas/New Year recess, Russin volunteered with the Home Ministry to assist with a program to aid refugees from the Hutu-Tutsi conflict in Ruanda—which became Rwanda in 1964 upon gaining independence.
CHRISTMAS IN TANGANYIKA is the account he wrote upon returning from the refugee camp, while the story was still fresh in his mind. The story is as fresh today as it was more than fifty years ago. It is a story of reaching out to help others; it is a story of perseverance; it is a story of hope.
talked to his darling. The road now was nothing but two tire tracks leading off into the green bush, but James C. drove as though he were on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Weaving in and out of yawning potholes, splashing through water over the hubcaps, grinding and spinning through knee-deep mud, he coaxed and prodded the machine with an exhilarating love of adventure. James C. may have been only a poor stammering African on the ground, abused and exploited by Indians and Europeans alike; but in
leases which required various types of services from the leaseholders. The general effect of these institutions was to solidify the position of the Batutsi as the ruling class. The first Europeans to colonize what we now know as Ruanda-Urundi were the Germans. The German administration accepted the existing social order thereby utilizing the Batutsi hierarchy to enforce taxes and general administrative decrees on the population as a whole. After the breakup of the German colonial empire
with the attendant that as the principal government officer he should be allowed to go ahead of all the Africans—three busloads—who had been waiting there ahead of him. The District Officer turned out to be the stereotype of the British colonial servant. Tall and thin with khaki knee socks and shorts, a voice deep and firm like a BBC reporter, and a manner of speaking in short, clipped authoritative phrases. He was obviously tired by the journey and was visibly impatient about the delay with the
was going to happen. The children were by far the most disciplined of the lot. They squeezed themselves together one in front of the other, stepping on toes and pushing skinny elbows into swollen bellies. But they were quiet and stood still no matter how crowded by their neighbors. The very old men, thin and dignified, would hold their long walking sticks and calmly stare on the scene before them. When everything was finally ready, Rachael and I would take an armload of clothes from one of
probably fix you up with some camp equipment, so that you won’t have to sleep in the trees at night. How long have you been here in Dar?” “A little over two months. I arrived early in October for the beginning of term at the Law Faculty.” “You’re a lecturer at the College?” “No, I’m a research assistant to the Dean. I spend most of my time at the High Court library reading through criminal law cases to get some idea of the local variations from standard English cases. It gets to be fairly dull