The untold stories of Dar’s homeless youth during October 29 unrest

He recalls the distant sound of gunfire cutting through the night.

“When I heard the gunshots, I rushed into abandoned kiosks. I stayed there until it seemed calm, then came out. When the shooting started again, I ran back inside,” he told The Citizen during an interview at Mwenge on November 11, 2025.

Matano says he remained in those kiosks for six consecutive days.

“People would tell me to hide every night around 10 p.m. Sometimes I hid inside parked cars, other times inside kiosks,” he says.

Originally from Dodoma, he explains that he had nowhere else to run. The deserted business stalls became his temporary shield.

For Matano, who earns a living washing car windows at traffic lights in Mwenge, life on the streets was already difficult before October 29. But when the unrest erupted, roads were closed, vehicles halted and shops shut down — turning hardship into desperation.

In bushes near the Sinza junction traffic lights, The Citizen spoke to a group of homeless youths who recounted what happened that night. Though calm has since returned, about seven boys still linger in the area, listening to music and chatting.

Abubakar Salum recalls the terror vividly:

“When we heard gunshots and explosions, we lay flat on the ground. Sometimes we hid behind trees.”

He says that now, even the sound of the wind makes him flinch, fearing the violence may return.

For Jimmy Lioha, the night marked the beginning of further torment.

“We were in Ubungo. We had to run into the riverbank bushes. We stayed quiet there,” he explains.

But the calm did not last.

“They followed us, caught us, beat us and then left,” Jimmy says.

Days later, some of them were arrested.

“They forced boys to do push-ups, to carry each other. If you failed, they beat you. If you refused to carry your friend, they beat you again. It wasn’t right,” he recounts.

He remembers fleeing the last time the officers approached their hiding place.

“I saw them take my friends away, beating them as they left. I kept silent, my heart pounding.”

Jimmy later heard the officers saying, “Take them to where the others are,” prompting him and his companions to escape deeper into the bushes until they eventually regrouped.

The struggle for food

Matano says he was advised to buy enough food beforehand. He purchased two plates of rice and stored them, eating them on October 30 and 31 despite them having gone bad.

He lived alone and had no idea where his companions were. Being new to Dar es Salaam, the only area he knew was Mwenge.

Omari, who moved from Tanga, says the little savings they made from washing car windows — combined with earlier help from passers-by — enabled them to buy food.

“We thank God we had a bit of money. We also ate mangoes and pawpaws we picked from these bushes,” he says.

Rain made life even more difficult, forcing them to huddle under trees.

Jimmy, originally from Mbeya and living beneath the Kijazi Flyover, recalls:

“To reach the shops, we had to cross the river. Ahead, we found shops still open. We bought three kilos of maize flour and sardines or leafy vegetables.”

At times they went two days without food.

They contributed whatever they had — Sh2,000 to Sh3,000 each.

Rescued by a scrap collector

Unlike the others, Mohamed Selemani, who arrived from Mwanza, was helped by a scrap collector on October 29

“When movement was restricted after 6 p.m., I met a scrap collector. I told him I was new and looking for my friends. He told me to follow him home,” he says.

At the collector’s place — an area where scrap is sorted and weighed — food vendors were nearby. His host gave him food and clothes, and he slept on a cardboard box outside the house.

He stayed there for four days until 2 November, when he left to search for his friends at the Kijazi Flyover and was directed to a football field in Ubungo.

There, behind electricity machinery, Steven Mungi recounts how one of them, who had a national ID, was sent to buy food. It took him an hour because he had to walk all the way to Kintintale in Ubungo.

He returned with barely enough food for one day due to the number of people needing it.

When it rained, they hid in bamboo thickets near the Gide River and used fish-frying stoves as makeshift shelter.

Longing for home

Mungi says he phoned his parents and told them about his living conditions. They sent him money and urged him to return home.

“I told them I was eating mangoes. They insisted I go back and sent Sh15,000 so I could survive until things calmed down,” he says.

Matano, shaken by what he endured, also wishes to return to Dodoma. He is now trying to earn and save what little he can from washing windows — hoping to gather enough for the bus fare.

“My parents know I’m in Dar es Salaam but not where I live or what kind of life I lead. When I told them about the situation, they told me to come home,” he says.

Life returns to normal — slowly

As in other areas where homeless youths sleep, a small group was found late at night along Uhuru Road in Kariakoo, lying beside the wall of Uhuru Girls’ Primary School.

Rajabu Salum, who collects and sells cans and sleeps on cardboard, using another piece to fend off mosquitoes, says:

“We used to sleep deeper in the neighbourhoods, some near markets. When the police patrolled, we ran in different directions. If they passed on one side, we escaped through the other.

Sometimes we hid in inner streets and alleyways to avoid being seen.”

“When it rained, we fled into unfinished buildings. We stood beneath the upper concrete slabs, while others hid in bushes near the railway line,” he says.

He explains that they received food from residents in Upanga.

“We went around asking for food. Sometimes we slipped into Ilala Market at night to look for discarded fruit like mangoes and bananas.”