World Affairs

Tanzania - Samia Suluhu Hassan Takes Oath for Second Term as Opposition Kept at Arm’s Length.

Dar es Salaam — Under a blazing mid-morning sun and the crackle of a 21-gun salute, Samia Suluhu Hassan raised her right hand on the steps of the State House and swore to “defend and protect the United Republic.” The brief ceremony, watched by a carefully chosen crowd of cabinet ministers, diplomats and ruling-party loyalists, formally launched her second five-year term.

Yet only a few hundred metres away, a different scene was unfolding. Rows of police trucks blocked the road to Mnazi Mmoja grounds, the capital’s traditional opposition meeting point. Officers in riot gear turned away anyone wearing the distinctive green-and-white colours of the CHADEMA party, and at least three senior opposition figures said they had been served with written notices barring them from “all official installations” for 48 hours.

“No invitation arrived, and when we tried to enter anyway, we were told our names were ‘not on the list,’” said CHADEMA vice-chairman Tundu Lissu, speaking by phone from his home in Ubungo. Lissu, who returned from exile only last year, added that uniformed agents had parked outside his gate overnight. “It feels like house arrest dressed up as protocol,” he said.

The November 3 election, which handed Samia 78 % of the vote, was already clouded by the earlier disqualification of two high-profile challengers on what the electoral commission called “paperwork irregularities.” Both candidates insist the forms were properly filed and accuse the commission of bowing to State House pressure. European Union observers, not present in polling stations for the first time since 1995, issued a terse statement noting “constraints on fundamental freedoms” without deploying the word “rigged.”

Inside the State House gardens, however, the mood was festive. Speaker after speaker praised Samia’s first-term infrastructure push—new rail links, hydropower switches flicked on, and a debt-to-GDP ratio trimmed by four points. “She inherited storms and gave us bridges,” declared Philip Mpango, the vice-president, to loud applause.

Samia’s own address, lasting barely nine minutes, promised “a Tanzania that belongs to all who call it home,” but warned that “the patience of the state has limits” when public order is threatened. She did not mention the opposition bans, nor the small knots of protesters dispersed with tear-gas the previous night.

On the swearing-in sidelines, diplomats offered carefully calibrated congratulations. The U.S. chargé d’affaires spoke of “looking forward to deeper trade ties,” while the Chinese envoy hailed “iron-clad friendship.” Neither took questions from reporters.

As the last brass band note faded, cleaners swept rose petals from the red carpet and plain-clothes security agents folded away the metal detectors. Outside the perimeter, a group of women in kangas printed with the Swahili slogan “Sauti Yetu Si Uhalifu” (“Our Voice Is Not a Crime”) sang softly before being told to move on. By dusk, the trucks had gone, the road re-opened, and Dar es Salaam’s traffic flowed as if nothing had happened—leaving only the echo of an oath and the unanswered question of who was allowed to hear it.