Tanzania Comedy Awards: The Kings of Laughter and the Mystery of Punchline’s Absence

It began, as all great Tanzanian things do, with a loud announcement, a little controversy and a pile of cash big enough to make even the dourest mzee consider a career change to comedy.

The Tanzania Comedy Awards (TCA) arrived like an Instagram Bongo Flava beef, with a whole lot of sparkles and laughter that would flow like free beer in a village wedding.

The stakes? Outlandishly high! 30 million shillings for Best Comedian of the Year — so large an amount that even tax collectors were threatening to quit their professions.

Best Male and Best Female Comedian got 20 million shillings each, just to keep the gender equality in financial comicality.

And then a cool 5 million shillings to each nominee to say well done, because every good joke comes with a little pocket money, right?

And at the centre of this boisterous fiesta was Bongo Flava star Omary Nyembo aka Ommy Dimpoz, the man who had the audacity to turn Tanzanian comedy into a serious-business affair.

“Comedy is not timing,” he declared, with the assurance of a man who just told a joke so good that even the bank teller a few blocks away broke into a smile.

It’s about giving these great minds their due appreciation, not a slap on the back and a mouldy joke at the water cooler!”

The Executive Secretary of BASATA Dr Kedmon Mapana was also spotted drooling at the event, not out of hunger though, but out of excitement.

“This,” he announced, as if he had stumbled upon the source of eternal youth, “is a celebration of our creative spirit!

And it’s time our unsung heroes of humour got their day in the sun — or at least a well-lit stage!”

Now let’s bring on the heroes of the night — the titans of Tanzanian laughter.

Her Excellency Mama Dr Samia Suluhu Hassan was crowned Ultimate Champion of Comedy. That’s right, our very own Madam President!

She reminded us that running a country is as much about signing papers and making serious speeches — sometimes — as it is about delivering a perfectly timed joke that sends the country into stitches.

The late (but always great) King Majuto was inducted posthumously into the inaugural Comedy Hall of Fame.

Seems like comedians never die; they simply join forces to generate endless laughter from wherever they roam.

Coy Mzungu coyly and deservedly took home the Tuzo ya Heshima, recognizing a man who can turn a traffic jam into stand-up material. Cheka tu…

Lucas Mhuville known as Joti won two awards — Best Comedian Actor of the Year and the Legend People’s Choice Award.

If the evening was a comedy festival, Joti was the headliner.

Then came Jol Master, who unleashes jokes so funny it would leave permanent marks on the nation’s funny bone.

His winning Best Comedy Special of the Year could have made the Askari Monument smile, were it not too busy striking a pose.

Nanga, the clever comedian, won Best Male Comedian of the Year, showing that, with the right hands, a joke can cut as cleanly as chef’s knife through a ripe mango.

Leonardo (not DiCaprio, tafadhali) walked home with People’s Choice Best Comedian, cementing his position as the people’s clear favourite.

Asma, who was named Best Female Comedian of the Year, served up performances that were not mere sets of jokes but the proclamation that comedy knows no gender.

Eliud Samweli was winner of Best Male Stand-Up Comedian and Neila bagged Best Female Stand-Up Comedian,

This ensured  that you don’t always have to be getting laid or even making a career out of it (skilfully narrated in a hilarious segment) to make it in comedy.

You just need to know how to hold a mic, get a group of people to breathe heavily and floundering in your control while considering frying their Neila in a pan, all at the same time.

You are anointed Best Funny Leader of the Year: Honourable Makongoro Nyerere, son of the great Mwalimu himself, combining patriotic pedigree with absolute comedic flesh.

Think of a royal jester who holds public office — that’s Makongoro for you.

The Best Comedy TV Show went to the hit TV show Kitimtim, a win for every remote control that has ever been clicked through Tanzanian channel after Tanzanian channel in search of a reasonable laugh.

And finally, Dogo Sele, a tiny titan in the world of comedy, was named best kid comedian, reminding us of all that age is no object when it comes to making people laugh until they cry.

Meanwhile, I was informed that the Tanzania Comedy Awards were awarded by public vote, online.

This means that if your social media followings are weaker than a cup of tea (with too much water), the odds were pretty much not in your favour.

It’s a hard truth, but that’s showbiz, mjomba.

But there was one thing that had me scratching my head — not a single nominee hailed from Punchline, Tanzania’s longest-running English-language stand-up gig.

Why? Had the nomination committee left their eyeglasses at home? Was it a protest over jokes told in the Queen’s (ops! sorry I forgot) King’s tongue?

Or is it just that Evans Bukuku and his Punchline crew live in a parallel universe known as Masaki?

For those of you who don’t know, Masaki is where people drink oat-milk iced lattes, discuss the latest developments in global affairs over sushi, and pretend they’ve never heard of mchemsho.

As a result, mainstream Tanzanian comedy flourishes in venues like DDC Magomeni Kondoa, where Swahili reigns supreme as the language of laughter and jokes are forged directly from the trials and triumphs of everyday experience.

So, could Punchline be too posh for a national event like TCA? Maybe.

Or perhaps it’s an oversight.

Either way, it’s one of those great Tanzanian mysteries — like why people keep asking, “Umefika?” when they can know you’re still stuck in traffic somewhere near Mwenge.

Before you think I’m just heaping on the funny cards now, let me drop a little knowledge.

Two of the biggest names in Tanzanian comedy today, Leonardo (not DiCaprio, tafadhali), and the genius behind Cheka Tu, Coy Something, both came out of the Punchline ecosystem!

But guess what? The duo read the room, packed their jokes and migrated from the Masaki audience to Kigogo and Manzese kwa mfuga mbwa, where the actual laughter (and votes) is.

Now, let’s say I had reached out to Evans Bukuku for comment ahead of filing this piece. It probably would have gone something like this:

Me: Hello Evans, congratulations for making Tanzanian comedy become a new gold mining enterprise in the entertainment world. How do you feel about having no “Punchline” nominees or winners in the Tanzania Comedy Awards?

Evans: Er… first of all, here in Tanzania there are Comedians, and there are Wachekeshaji. Mine are Comedians. Real standup comics who can do 90 minutes on stage, never losing steam or jokes. Wachekeshaji? They are capped at five minutes and two punchlines.

Me: Oh, so we’re saying that the Tanzania Comedy Awards is Wachekeshaji-based and not true comedians based?

Evans: Please don’t put words in my mouth, Mr. Go back on your recording and listen closely to what I said.

Me: Yeah, yeah, I’ll log that when I get home. So, how does the voting and judging process work? Do you think it was handled well?

Evans: Oh definitely, yes! No complaints on that part. Why? Because the Wachekeshaji audience is MOVING WIDER than the Comedians’ audience. Do your math.

Me: Therefore, you mean, because the Wachekeshaji audience only supports their own. They didn’t vote for Comedians.

Evans: Can you rewind the tape, please…

(At this stage he rises, dusts himself off and disappears into the shadows like a form one teacher who’s just dropped an ancient riddle for homework.)

Moral of the story? Tanzanian comedy has come into its own — and this time, the joke isn’t on the comedians.

In the meantime, the awards have just confirmed that Tanzanian entertainment is graced by comedians who are real rockstars today.

They’ve figured it out and are now hogging all the limelight, beating Bongo movie actors, who are now more interested in Instagram beefing than making new movies.

So, humourists of the world — keep telling those jokes!

And to the Wachekeshaji — don’t stop firing those punchlines, in Yombo Dovya and Mburahati.

Remember, if you want that Tanzania Comedy Award trophy, you best be rolling an army of online voters and a Swahili-speaking audience!

Long live Tanzanian comedy!

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