It is back to my Madilu Primary School roots in Njombe Region...

I am still in the freezing cold Southern Highlands in Njombe, where I spent a greater part of my early childhood.

Actually this is where I went for my primary school education - at the then Madilu Primary Schhool, now Wangama, perched on the northern slopes of the impressive Mount Livingstone ranges. This was way before I ventured out to other parts of the country and beyond in search of more knowledge. That was in the early 1960s.

This time, after exploring Njombe and its modern and futuristic central market, I decided it was time I revisited my old Madilu, which was then called a Lower Primary School.

For the digital generation, Lower Primary Schools were those that catered for Class I to IV pupils only. After which one had to take a national exam and pass it to enter Class V at another school for one’s Class V to Class VIII stint - later reduced to Class VII. These were now called Upper Primary Schools or Middle Schools.

Then it was on to another national exam and passing it before one joined a secondary school. Now vacancies at the Middle and Secondary schools were very scarce. And the schools were very few. Therefore only the very top pupils who excelled well in the exams made it to the next level.

This is notwithstanding the fact that many pupils passed well the exams. Under the circumstances many a brilliant brain missed the chance to develop their faculties to their full potential.

I sorrowfully recall that only three of us out of a class of 45 pupils at Madilu made it to Middle school. And again only five of us from the then Tandala Upper Boys Middle School made it to secondary schools.

Back to my nostalgic trip to Madilu now Wangama. From Njombe I drove my rattling motorised contraption through the eye catching and well groomed Kibena Tea Estate plantations, and through the vast eucalyptus and wattle trees forest before reaching the now Christian and educational centre, Kidugala - formerly an outpost for 2nd World War Polish prisoners. Hundreds of graves of Polish men, women and children are located here.

I then scaled the mountain to Wangama. It has drastically changed. There are vast eucalyptus trees plantations, huge potatoes and wheat farms and the new ‘green gold’, the avocados’ plantations.

The Wangamans still maintain their old and nice houses they built in late 60s, during the Ujamaa policy era, under their formerly well managed cooperative union. The streets are still very orderly.

I was, however, very disappointed to find only ruins at the spot where I used to live with my family under the strict hawk-eye supervision of my late father, who was a head teacher at the school.

His style of waking us up - I and my siblings - in the mornings, for example, was very militaristic to say the least. He would rise up at 5am and go out with his trumpet before blaring it to wake us up. After which he would casually go back into his bedroom to finish his morning sleep.

In due course we got used to his morning blaring and we would comfortably continue sleeping. That was when our mother took the drastic action of pouring cold water on top of us in bed. Combined with the freezing cold weather this would jolt us out of our slumber to prepare for school.

This unorthodox approach seemed to have worked. We all excelled in our exams and went on to Middle schools. Naturally things have now drastically changed.

To begin with there is an ultra - modern girls secondary school nearby where all pupils who pass well their exams are groomed for bright futures. It is appropriately named, Maria Nyerere Girls Secondary School. I am sure similar developments are taking place in other parts of Bongoland.

The author is a veteran journalist and communication expert based in Arusha.