Dar es Salaam aerial picture |
by Joe Boyle
Visionaries
hope for a modern metropolis modelled on Singapore, but pessimists fear the
emergence of another dirt-poor city of slums. Dar es Salaam is one of the
world's fastest growing cities, and it has reached its tipping point.
In the dark
basement of the cavernous Kariakoo market, dozens of traders gather at tiny
makeshift stalls, arranging fruit and vegetables into neat piles. This part of
the market has the least sought-after plots, and all of the stallholders have
one thing in common: none of them was born in Dar es Salaam.
Rolens
Elias arrived seven years ago from a village near Morogoro, about 150km to the
west. He had been a farmer but wanted to try his luck as a trader. He now makes
about 3,000 shillings ($2; £1.50) each day selling tomatoes in the farthest
corner of the basement.
"It
has been hard to set up a life here," he says. "I came here by myself
and had to wait until I had enough money to bring my wife and family. We all
live in one room, but it's a better life than in the village."
As he
arranges his tomatoes, a group of his friends gather around and chip in with
their own stories. They are all from Morogoro, and all came to Dar es Salaam in
the hope of a better life. They all contrast the rural poverty they were born
into with the lure of Dar es Salaam and its big-city opportunities.
Their
stories are repeated many thousands of times across the city.
Every day
new arrivals flood in, many of them setting up home in hastily erected shacks,
many others sleeping on the streets. Those who cannot set up as greengrocers
hawk goods, anything from baseball caps and mobile-phone chargers to bottled water
and sweeping brushes.
The
dramatic influx has pushed the city's population up from roughly two million
two decades ago to four million today. If the government does nothing, the
population will hit eight million in 20 years, according to Nimrod Mushi, a
lecturer at the city's Ardhi university.
He is one
of the experts commissioned by the government to produce a "master
plan" to overhaul the city's infrastructure. Singapore is his role model,
and he favours big projects to clear slums and build bridges, roads and
out-of-town settlements.
"When
we went to Singapore, we could see their satellite towns, their ring-roads,
their skyscrapers and their decentralised services, and it's working very
nicely there," he says.
Read more after the cut..
He points
out that Dar es Salaam has gone 20 years without any guidance on planning, and
now "badly needs a master plan".
Superficially
at least, his dream seems within reach. Tanzania's economy is booming, and
cranes litter the skyline, putting the final touches to high-rise blocks. The
country's super-rich, many of whom make their cash in the far-away mines of the
north, are pouring money into the city.
But Dar
es Salaam is a long way from Singapore. The Asia city-state's economy was worth
$260bn last year compared with $23bn for the whole of Tanzania, which remains
one of the poorest countries in the world.
The UN
estimates that 70% of Dar es Salaam's population live in informal settlements;
there are no slums in Singapore.
Slum
clearance would be vital to any regeneration project. It would involve
rehousing possibly hundreds of thousands of people, and the extra headache of
clarifying the legal status of the land that has often passed down through
generations of families without any legal paperwork.
The
Tanzanian authorities do not have a great record with such projects. Some 600
families had their homes destroyed by floods late last year. The government
promised to rehouse them, but most are still living in temporary shelters or
have been left to fend for themselves.
Such
stories point to a deeper problem with Dar es Salaam's development.
Kariakoo shops |
The
divisions in Tanzania's lop-sided economy, with a tiny super-rich elite and a
vast poor majority, are reflected in its main city. The poorer residents crowd
into dilapidated downtown areas or sprawling slums, many without running water
or basic services. Their rich counterparts can choose between $1m beachside
mansions in the city's posh northern districts.
Among
many of the city's poorer residents, there is profound resentment at the
authorities.
"Every
day I pay 700 shillings to the government for my stall," says avocado
seller Mzeze Chouheke Gady. "If I make 5,000 shillings, I pay 700. If I
make nothing, I still pay 700. What do I get in return?"
His
gripes include a lack of medical care, transport or basic sanitation. Many
other people share his grumbles.
Nimrod
Mushi warns that a planning overhaul is the only way to solve these problems.
But he concedes that its success or failure depends on financing.
"When
the document comes out later this year, we will include all the budgets
needed," he says.
"Then
it's up to the government, or a donor government, to allocate resources.
Otherwise it'll be just another book on the shelf."
Rakesh
Rajani, who runs a development project in the city, is also worried about the
way the authorities are handling the city's growth.
He says
the influx provides an opportunity to harness the talents of the people and
create a great city, but worries that the authorities too often oppress the
poor with petty rules and rough treatment.
He says
Tanzania could face a similar conflagration to Kenya in 2007, when thousands of
people were killed in post-election violence.
His
analysis runs against the popularly held view of Dar es Salaam as a beacon of
diversity, where people of different religions and ethnicities live together
peacefully.
But
Rajani is more plugged in than most to the collective mind of the city. His
project, called Twaweza, runs regular phone-based polls on major issues aiming
to reflect the views of Dar es Salaam's residents.
"We
live on that knife-edge," he says.
"Sadly
I think that at times the people in charge are squandering this opportunity,
and possibly mismanaging things to the extent that it could turn very
nasty."
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