It was as if we who are not rated world class for anything except for our wildlife - and we are busy killing off that resource as swiftly and efficiently as we can - have finally made it into a premier league of sorts.
My goodness, how pleased am I to announce that when it comes to corruption we Tanzanians are world class and therefore worthy of an invite to the top table.
Wow! What an honour! To be bracketed alongside Nigeria. That is something to smile about.
Or is it? Perhaps we were asked along to join ‘fantastically corrupt’ Nigeria (UK PM David Cameron’s words, not mine) because we know more about corrupt practices than most other nations.
Perhaps we could give a lesson in how to divert foreign aid from the mouths of the starving into the cavernous pockets of our political masters.
But enough of this cynicism! Someone told me that we sat there in London’s magnificent Lancaster House, alongside the President of Afghanistan (another nation perched alongside Nigeria at the top of Cameron’s corruption hit list) precisely because we are a shining example of how to deal with corruption.
I hardly think so. However, let us look at the good intentions that emerged from the conference.
Tanzania has promised to embark upon a radical three-point plan that will root out corrupt practice and corrupt practitioners.
This means, according to the communique released at the end of the conference that from now on companies, especially those extracting raw materials, will have to make public their dealings with the government. In other words they will have to be transparent.
Of course, there is a huge gulf between what a company or a businessman chooses to tell us and what it or he actually does.
How will we know that everything is ‘above board’ and out in the open?
While you are pondering this, I will come to the second prong of the attack.
That promises to wage a war against the corrupt. They will be punished and, more interestingly those who have ‘suffered’ from corruption will be ‘supported’.
What does this actually mean? Could it mean that a whistleblower will be protected and compensated for risking his career and telling the truth about how his company works?
If so, this is something that I applaud. Too often whistleblowers are left high and dry by the authorities who, though they claim to back such people, more often than not turn their backs on them and leave them languishing and friendless in the cold.
The third resolution interests me the most. It is, I have to say, rather vague. It states the intention to ‘drive out the culture of corruption wherever it exists’.
This is a Herculean task and is, in my admittedly humble opinion, beyond the powers of the government. I hasten to say, I am not pointing the finger at this government. I mean any government.
The point is this: corruption is widespread and endemic. It affects all of us and that is because we are, in effect, not only all victims of corruption, but we are all corrupt.
It is as if the entire population of the country has been touched by a virus. We succumb to it and then pass it on. Such is its strength that it affects different generations and it develops immunity against any attempt to eradicate it.
What evidence do I have for making this outrageous claim?
Well, all I say is this: look around, talk to your friends, talk to your teachers, talk to the policeman down the road, the shopkeeper, the doctor at the hospital, the pharmacist, the pal who works in the port, the uncle in the tax office. And so it goes on.
Everyone of these people, people you know, have been touched by corruption. And in turn this has made them corrupt.
The chain starts at the top. With the minister. The money that has been allocated for the payment of the police has gone astray. It will, he is told, ‘turn up soon. In fact it has been reallocated to another ministry whose funds have also mysteriously vanished.
So the officer in the police station does not get paid. He needs to buy food for his supper, for his family. So he stops a car, spot-fines a motorist. The motorist pays up. The policeman gets his supper.
His children get to eat. The motorist, who is a teacher, goes home but he does not have enough for his supper so he goes to the school, opens an envelope that contains the exam papers, takes one out, and sells it to the parents of a pupil he knows does not have the ability to pass the exam but has the money to buy the exam paper.
The teacher has his supper that night, and the boy passes his exam the next day. He goes to university. He is studying medicine. He struggles. He buys another look at an exam paper. He passes and becomes a doctor.
One day he fails to spot the symptoms of meningitis and a baby dies. The parents of the baby go to the police. They have to pay the police to investigate the case. The doctor goes on trial. But he bribes the courts and is acquitted.
And so it goes on.
This is the reality of corruption. What starts at the top pervades the whole of society. A minister’s budget goes missing, a baby dies. This is the culture we are caught up in. Our destinies are linked by an invisible thread of corruption. Everything its connected.
So will it change? And how can it change? I see little hope. After all, the very people who are in a position to push through these reforms are only there because they too have been indulging in corrupt practices.
How else do you think they were elected? I know this well, because once, a few elections ago, I tried to become an MP in my home district in Lushoto, Tanga Region.
What stopped me from becoming a member of the Bunge wasn’t my lack of experience in politics, nor my lack of appeal with the voters. What sunk my campaign was a simple lack of funds.
In order to get elected I would have had to spend millions of shilling dispensing drinks and other gifts to potential supporters. The simple truth was I did not have deep enough pockets.
Getting elected in Tanzania has little to do with political ideals or but everything to do with money. How much has a candidate in his coffers? How much is he going to hand out?
This is why I am sitting here writing this piece today and not sipping an ice cold beer on the terrace of a luxury villa overlooking the ocean, preparing myself for a trip to Dodoma to discuss the state of the nation.
Oh happy days! And good luck to those who are fighting the war against corruption. Perhaps one day you will realise who the enemy is. Yourself. Yes, you! This war will be a long one.
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