Last week I was driving around Dar with a friend visiting from Kigali. First time in Tanzania. Sis was excited. She wanted zege, nyamachoma, beach vibes, amapiano nights, the full Dar experience.
Then traffic happened.
As we sat somewhere between Ubungo stress and Kariakoo survival mode, she finished a bottle of water, looked around innocently and asked,
I started looking outside like I was also searching for answers from God Himself.
Left.
Right.
Bus stop.
Electric pole.
Another electric pole.
A goat.
No trash can.
And that’s when I realised something very serious about Dar es Salaam...
Our city operates on vibes and prayers.
Because if we are being honest, public trash cans in Dar are treated like limited-edition luxury items. You’ll find one today and never see another for the next 7 business days.
So my friend kept holding the empty bottle while I kept driving around like I was on a treasure hunt sponsored by mazingira.
At one point she even asked, “Are people expected to carry their trash home?”
And honestly?
Maybe yes.
Because where exactly are people supposed to throw trash in this city?
We love shouting “Dar ni wachafu!” every five business minutes, but let’s be serious for a second. Even responsible people struggle sometimes because bins are basically playing hide-and-seek with citizens.
Now don’t get me wrong, some Dar people are also committed to chaos.
You’ll watch somebody open a car window dramatically like they’re in a music video… only to launch a plastic bottle into the streets at 80 km/h.
No shame.
No hesitation.
Just environmental terrorism.
Then when rain comes and floods happen, everybody suddenly becomes a climate change expert on Instagram.
Meanwhile the drainage system is choking on Energy bottles, takeaway containers and somebody’s abandoned sandals.
What makes it even funnier is that Tanzanians are actually very clean people inside the house.
Our mothers will wake up at 5 AM to sweep the compound like they are preparing for a state visit.
Shopping bags are folded neatly.
Containers are reused until they deserve retirement benefits.
But public spaces?
Ah.
That’s where citizenship disappears.
The road becomes “sio kwangu".
The bus stop becomes “tatizo la serikali".
The drainage becomes “Mungu atasaidia".
Meanwhile, Kigali is there looking clean, organised and moisturised.
My friend kept apologising for bringing it up, but honestly I’m glad she did. Because sometimes it takes an outsider to remind you that maybe… just maybe… your city should not require advanced survival skills just to dispose of a water bottle.
Dar is beautiful.
Dar is vibrant.
Dar has amazing people.
But my fellow citizens, if visitors need a GPS, prayer circle and emotional support just to find a trash can, then surely we need to have a conversation.
