From Hormuz to Sinza Madukani: How global tensions end up in your pocket

DAR ES SALAAM: HISTORY, as it turns out, is not merely a collection of dusty events and longdead personalities.

It is, in fact, that one relative who insists on reminding you that you have made this exact mistake before, and worse still, are about to make it again, with enthusiasm. Take the First World War, for instance.

On 28 June 1914 in Sarajevo, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the AustroHungarian Empire, was assassinated by Gavrilo Princip, a 19-year-old Serbian nationalist.

However, this dramatic assassination was not the root cause of the war, but rather the trigger for a crisis that had been building for years beneath the surface of European politics.

Austria-Hungary reacted swiftly, blaming Serbia and issuing a strict ultimatum. Although Serbia accepted most of the demands, it did not comply fully.

This partial refusal was enough for Austria-Hungary to declare war on 28 July 1914.

What followed was a rapid chain reaction.

Russia mobilised in defence of Serbia, Germany supported Austria-Hungary, France backed Russia, and Britain entered the war after Germany invaded Belgium.

Within a matter of weeks, nearly all of Europe was drawn into conflict, whose deeper causes lay in four main factors.

Firstly, it was nationalism. It created strong feelings of identity and ambition, especially in the Balkans, threatening large empires like Austria-Hungary.

The second factor was the alliance system that divided Europe into two rival camps, ensuring that any conflict would spread quickly.

Third was imperialism that greatly increased competition for colonies and global influence, including, and specifically, the infamous scramble for Africa.

Militarism came fourth, as countries had built powerful armies and were itching for war, making peaceful solutions less likely.

The Second World War lasted four devastating years, resulting in millions of deaths and widespread destruction.

It ended in 1918 with victory for the Allied powers against Germany and its friends.

In 1919, the Treaty of Versailles imposed harsh penalties on Germany, forcing it to accept blame and pay heavy reparations.

These conditions later contributed to the outbreak of the Second World War.

In simple terms, the war was not sudden but inevitable, with the Sarajevo assassination merely pressing the start button on a long-prepared global conflict.

And just like that, within weeks, mind you, the entire continent was at war.

If that sounds absurd, it is because it was.

But here is the important part: The assassination did not cause the war in the way a matchstick causes a fire.

The fire was already there, dry wood of nationalism, the kerosene of militarism, and the delightful chaos of alliances that ensured if one country sneezed, the others would immediately catch pneumonia.

It was less a war beginning and more a war finally admitting it had been coming all along.

Now, ordinarily, one would read such history, nod wisely, and move on with life.

But unfortunately, the present day has a way of inserting itself into such reflections with the subtlety of a marching band.

Because lately, the world has been behaving in a manner that feels… familiar.

You have powerful nations exchanging verbal and lethal drone messages that are decidedly not festive in tone.

You have strategic strikes, retaliatory actions, and the sort of military commentary that makes even the calmest individual briefly consider Googling “efficient trench digging techniques.”

And yet, here we are. Not in Europe. Not in 1914. And certainly not signing any alliances that would drag us into a global conflict before breakfast.

So, one might ask: Why worry?

Ah. Because while wars may begin with bullets, their effects travel rather more creatively.

Enter petrol prices…..

Now, I must say, the recent behaviour of fuel prices has been nothing short of inspirational, if one is inspired by chaos.

Petrol has risen with such confidence, such swagger, that one might be forgiven for thinking it has rebranded itself as a luxury item.

And what is truly admirable is how everyone else has followed suit.

The vegetable vendor, who has never once referenced global oil markets in his life, has raised prices.

The barber, who, I am convinced, has been using the same chair since 2004, has raised prices.

Even the fellow who sends motivational quotes on WhatsApp is probably revising his subscription model as we speak.

It is a masterclass in collective enthusiasm.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, has captured the gravity of the situation quite like the good old Friday Night DJ.

You know this man.

This is not merely a DJ. This is a custodian of joy. A curator of happiness.

A man who, until recently, greeted every Friday with the energy of someone who personally invented music.

And now?

Now he stands behind his booth, staring into the middle distance like a philosopher who has just realised that diesel prices have emotional consequences.

The smile is gone.

The beats are still there, yes, but they carry the weight of economic reality.

Friday nights, once sacred, are now… negotiating.

“Ladies Free” nights, those pillars of social optimism, are hanging on by a thread so thin it could double as a political promise.

And all because somewhere, far away, grown men with maps and military hardware are having disagreements.

Which brings us, rather neatly, back to history.

Because if there is one thing history teaches us, it is this: You may not be invited to the conflict, but you will most certainly receive the bill.

In 1914, much of Africa, including what was then Tanganyika, found itself entangled in a war that had nothing to do with its people, simply because of colonial ties.

Decisions made in Europe had consequences felt thousands of miles away.

Today, the situation is different, thankfully.

We are independent, sovereign, and not obligated to join anyone’s war simply because someone signed a document in a distant capital.

But – and this is where it becomes mildly inconvenient – the world is now connected in ways that ensure no one is entirely insulated.

You may not see drones streak across the sky, but you will see prices rising in your market.

You may not hear mortars or see drones with war heads zip past, but you will hear your wallet quietly protesting.

And so, while there is no immediate need to dig bunkers (though I maintain it is not a terrible hobby to consider), there is every reason to pay attention.

Not with panic, but with understanding.

Because history does not repeat itself in neat, predictable patterns. It is far more mischievous than that.

It offers hints. It whispers. It nudges. And then it watches to see whether we have been paying attention.

In the meantime, life continues.

The DJ, one hopes, will rediscover his smile. The Friday nights will persist, because human beings are remarkably stubborn about joy.

The “Ladies Free” signs will endure, if only out of sheer defiance.

And we, ever adaptable, will continue to gather, to laugh, and to complain, because complaining, unlike petrol, remains wonderfully affordable.

So yes, the world may feel a touch dramatic at the moment.

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Prices may rise. Headlines may alarm. And somewhere in the back of your mind, the idea of a shovel may linger.

But for now, we carry on. We watch. We wait. And most importantly, we laugh.

Because if there is one thing no global crisis has managed to inflate, it is our sense of humour.