People spoke in whispers or avoided talking altogether, fearing they could be misunderstood.
“People used to talk freely here, but everyone became scared of saying something that could be taken the wrong way. We lived in silence, not because we wanted to, but because we had to,” said Rehema Mussa, a shopkeeper in Kinondoni.
Even in the daladalas, the mood remained tense. Before the tragedy, passengers often joked, debated politics, or shared stories with strangers.
After the curfew, commuters sat quietly, eyes fixed ahead, and conductors who were once talkative, collected fares without a word.
“You could feel the tension, even humour felt dangerous.” said one commuter
Residents in areas such as Sinza, Kimara, and Tabata said they still felt uneasy walking home after sunset, even when the streets appeared calm.
According to a cosmetics seller in Sinza, Neema John, said fear had become part of daily life.
“Your heart raced when someone walked behind you. Even if it was just a neighbour, you still felt afraid. We lost our sense of trust,” she said.
Silence was also noticeable in workplaces. Workers who once joked and chatted now kept to themselves.
An employee from Workspace, Haji Haji said that before the tragedy, colleagues freely talked about politics, football, and music.
“Now, even when someone tried to start a conversation, people answered with only one or two words. It was like the whole city had lost its laughter,” he said.
Psychologists, Dr Grace Gidion, said that the quiet is a natural response to collective trauma.
She explained that fear and curfew were common after communities experienced painful events together.
“What we saw was not just fear, but a form of emotional withdrawal,” she said. “People stop expressing themselves as a way to cope. But over time, silence becomes harmful. It isolates individuals and delays healing.” Dr Gidion further added that rebuilding communication is essential for recovery.
“When fear dominates, people lose trust not only in others but also in themselves,” she said. “Restoring trust begins with small steps, talking to neighbours, checking on friends, or sharing daily experiences.”
Although the curfew ended, many people struggled to return to the open, easy conversations that once defined Tanzanian society.
As the nation slowly recovered, the quiet that filled buses, homes, and streets reflected both pain and resilience. Beneath that silence, there is hope that laughter would return to the community.
