Praying for another ‘Sealink Ferry’ boss to solve my musical problem

Two weeks ago, I wrote about how I, the Sojourner, got my first motorised contraption in 1990. It would take another seven years before I got another second hand contraption, a maroon Peugeot 405 saloon car, this time from the UK.

I should remind the current dot.com generation that then there were no car bazaars in Bongoland. One had to literally get a permit to procure and import a car from abroad and only after one explained why one needed it.

Back to my Peugeot baby: this was basically the product of my dodgy musical career. It is a long story.

You see, sometime in 1997, I and a colleague, the late John Shetto, were on a mission in the UK. It was while there that I spotted the car parked at a ‘for sale’ slot at a gas station in one of the suburbs of London. I did not have the money so I cursed my luck - and went my ways.

At the end of our UK mission, we boarded one of the Sealink ferries from Dover to Eindhoven in Holland on our way to Germany where we had other engagements.

It is overnight sailing, and we decided to spend time before bed in one of the many nightspots on the ferry. This one also had a live band to entertain patrons.

I cannot tell whether it was on account of the many beers I imbibed, or my dodgy musical background... But, sometime in the night, I found myself on stage with the band singing some quasi Latino-cum-African numbers.

Apparently I was not doing badly, and the patrons wanted more of it, showering me with some sterling pounds and euros.

That was when the manager of the joint appeared. He offered me and my ‘patrons’ a drink and went on to offer me a two-week singing stint in the ferry - free board, food and drinks, as well as relatively substantial remuneration...

That was when I remembered the maroon Peugeot car in London. At the end of my ‘contract’ on board - and with my newly acquired ‘wealth’ - I bought the car and shipped it to Bongoland. I also promised the manager I would be back; I never did.

This ‘dodgy’ musical career of mine is thanks to my disciplinarian father, the late Mwalimu William - a.k.a. Askofu Makarios on account of his whiskers.

Trained by German Lutheran Church missionaries, he was a passionate musician. He played the accordion and the trumpet, in addition to being a good singer.

He even established his family church choir composed of my mother and my siblings - two brothers and a sister - and with him as the choirmaster.

A thorough thrashing befell any child who sang out of tune. That is where my ‘love’ of music was born and nurtured.

No wonder when I joined Mkwawa High School in Bongoland, I was part of the-then famous Orchestre Mkwawa, the school-cum-Iringa Town musical band.

And if it had not been for my father, I could not even have continued with school because I partially joined the-then popular Safari Trippers band in Dar es Salaam in the early 1970s, while temporarily working as a cashier with the National Housing Corporation (NHC).

My father landed in Dar es Salaam like a hawk, and hauled me back to school.

Many years later while working in Arusha, I established my own band, The Sounds of Serengeti, with which, I once in a while actively took part in serenading patrons in different facilities.

The band could have thriven better but for lack of funds with which to buy new equipment. That notwithstanding, however, I have not lost all hope.

Another ‘Sealink Ferry manager’ might still arrive on the scene like a Saviour with a welcome and memorable solution.

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The author is a veteran journalist and communications expert based in Arusha