In a tale that seems ripped from the pages of a spy novel, Tanzanian human rights activist Maria Sarungi Tsehai recently found herself at the heart of a chilling real-life drama. On a seemingly ordinary Sunday, as the sun lazily basked Kenya’s bustling streets, Tsehai was snatched away from her afternoon stroll by anonymous gunmen. As if Nairobi needed any more action. Why was Tsehai targeted, you ask? Well, she calls it a consequence of her audacious calling out of Tanzanian authorities for suppressing their people.
Tsehai’s unsettling abduction by the unidentified men sent shockwaves through the activist community. Actions like these might be routine thrillers for the big screen, but for Tsehai, it was an all-too-real nightmare. Once ensnared within the suffocating confines of their vehicle, Tsehai became a victim of intimidation and violence. The abductors, ever so gentle, demanded access to her phone, presumably attempting to harvest digital insights into her activism, which often involves whistleblowing. Tsehai surmised that her activities had struck a nerve. After all, she has been critical of Tanzania for quite a while now, and it seems like they finally decided to shoot the messenger.
Having called Kenya home for four years, Tsehai’s vocal critiques have been unwavering, particularly about Tanzania’s governance, its suffocating grip on dissent, and the silencing of opposition voices and media. But let’s face it, old habits die hard, and some governments prefer the old cloak-and-dagger approach.
After what must have felt like an eternity, the abductors drove her into the unyielding shadows of Nairobi’s cavities, where they left her alone, dazed but gratefully unscathed. Ignoring the ominous directive to not glance back, Tsehai clutched her salvaged belongings—perhaps seasoned by this ordeal—and secured a ride home. Upon arrival, she reconnected with her family and supporters, who had rallied online and offline like an improvised search and rescue team, their concern evident in every post and phone call.
While Tanzania remained tight-lipped about the allegations, the incident fits too snugly into a broader pattern that’s raising eyebrows—and perhaps some blood pressure—in Kenya. There were similar scenes not too long ago with Turkish asylum seekers and the dramatic case of Ugandan opposition figure Kizza Besigye, testifying to a troubling uptick in foreign abductions. Why, one might wonder, does Kenya seem like a film set stockpiled with foreigners meeting such perilous fates?
Roland Ebole, a keen eye on East African affairs at Amnesty International, put it bluntly: It’s a dangerous path for Kenya. Would-be investors and diplomats prefer less drama and more Oprah-approved security, you know?
As Tsehai reflects on her rescue and the outpouring of solidarity she witnessed in Kenya, she acknowledges a curious irony: she feels a strange comforting sense of safety here—more so than within her homeland. Apparently, the Kenyan spirit of advocacy and defiance rings reassuringly for Tsehai, contrasting sharply with the more suffocating environment she left behind in Tanzania.
The timing couldn’t have been worse for her motherland; with Tanzania poised on the brink of elections later this year, whispers of impending crackdowns on dissent are already echoing through the corridors of power and apprehension.
For activists like Tsehai, such experiences are a poignant reminder of the battles fought not just on the streets but within the silent current of public consciousness. Even amidst adversity, there’s a glimmer of hope, borne by those who stand undeterred, whispering words of change—one tense encounter at a time.
Report By Axadle.
Edited by: Ali Musa
alimusa@axadletimes.com
Axadle international–Monitoring
