The JPM Bridge: Ending a journey of hardship

MWANZA: IT was August 2014, a month I will never forget. The month when the crossing at KigongoBusisi stole from me what I could never recover.

I had left Dar es Salaam in haste that day, carried by FastJet towards Mwanza. A family emergency was calling me home.

But when I landed, I found no connection to Bukoba. The next flight would be the following day.

I could have stayed the night in Mwanza, but the urgency in my heart pushed me to find another way.

I boarded a bus bound for Kampala that morning, a promise of getting home the same day. And so began the journey.

When we reached Kigongo, the ferry was on the other side. And so we waited. There is something about that waiting. It is heavy. It presses down on you.

The sun rises higher, the dust sticks to your skin, the minutes stretch until they feel like hours.

Around me, thousands of faces told the same story the trader anxious to move his goods, the mother balancing a baby on her back while trying to keep an eye on another child darting between the trucks, the elderly man resting on a bundle of clothes, eyes half-closed in weariness.

The ground was alive with struggle. Petty traders tried to make a living, weaving between vehicles, balancing trays of tea, roasted maize, chapati, boiled eggs.

Mama ntilie stirred pots over smoky fires, calling for customers, their voices mixing with the rumble of engines and the sharp smell of diesel.

The air carried the pungent stench of fish and sardines. Smoke, sweat, fuel and dust became the scent of the crossing.

The toilets? They were broken, filthy, but used anyway. What choice was there? And the trucks.

On one side, at Busisi, trucks groaned under loads of goods from Mwanza’s markets including soap, sugar, flour, fabrics, hardware bound for Geita, Kagera and Kigoma. Mwanza is the Lake Zone’s commercial capital, and this crossing is its lifeline.

On the Kigongo side, trucks packed with bananas, cassava, charcoal, village produce heading for sale in Mwanza lined up in a silent, sweltering queue.

When the ferry arrived at last, it carved its path through the floating mats of water hyacinth.

We boarded, stepping off our bus as required, trusting that our belongings would make the crossing with us. Then came the scramble As soon as the ferry docked at Busisi, the chaos erupted.

Horns blared. Conductors shouted Geita! Geita! Chato! Chato! Bukoba! Bukoba! and people ran from the ferry, desperate to secure a seat before the bus filled, before they were left behind again. I reached Bukoba at last. Stepped off.

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Checked the luggage hold. My bag was gone. Laptop. Passport. ATM cards. IDs.

And with them, the most painful loss of all hundreds of photos of my son, from birth until he was two years old. I had not backed up the images.

They lived only on that laptop. And now, nowhere at all. What followed was another kind of waiting. The police station. The case opened.

And then, the long, frustrating process of following up, endless trips to the station, explanations repeated over and over, promises that led nowhere.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, but nothing was ever found. But this is not just my story For decades, KigongoBusisi has been a crossing marked by hardship. Every day, thousands endured that wait.

The sun, the dust, the scramble, the fear of theft, the uncertainty of when or if they would move.

And if the ferry was not working? Or if the lines were too long? The only alternative was to drive over 150 kilometres around the lake from Mwanza down through Sengerema and across to Geita.

A costly, timeconsuming journey that kept traders from markets, children from schools, families from each other. And so, for us of the Lake Zone, the John Pombe Magufuli Bridge is more than steel and concrete. It is a lifesaver.

It is dignity restored. It is hardship ended. The launch of the John Pombe Magufuli Bridge yesterday by President Samia Suluhu Hassan is nothing short of a game changer.

Her leadership in delivering this transformative project deserves the highest commendation.

This is not just the end of a difficult crossing, it is the dawn of a new era for the Lake Zone and beyond.

The bridge promises to unlock vast economic and business potential by linking markets, cutting transport costs and fuelling regional trade.

It means faster, safer movement of goods and people. It means improved lives for traders, farmers, students, workers and families who can now travel without fear or delay.

It is a vision delivered and credit must go to all who made it possible, including the Ministry of Works, whose commitment shines in this historic achievement.

And so, as the bridge opens, I celebrate. For myself. For my son. For every traveler who will now cross those waters with hope, not fear.