Tribute to Lundenga, the man who made Tanzania walk tall in heels (and hope)

TANZANIA: IN the world of Tanzanian pageantry, one name rises higher than a contestant in high heeled shoes on a shaky runway: Hashim Ibrahim Lundenga.

Or as we all knew him, Anko Hashim.

A man whose life was stitched together by passion, persistence and panache.

He wasn’t just the godfather of beauty queens — he was a queenmaker, wardrobe curator, stage builder, etiquette coach, counsellor and when necessary, a master of “weka hiyo khanga vizuri watoto wa kiume wasione ndani.”

But Uncle Hashim wasn’t born on a catwalk or inside a boutique. No sir. He came from Kidatu, Ifakara, in Morogoro, born on May 21, 1956.

Like many Tanzanians of his generation, he began life humbly, starting school in 1963 and later attending Azania Secondary School from 1970 to 1973 — a school known for producing both scholars and heartbreakers.

But Hashim was neither. He was a dreamer.

He pursued procurement at IFM (yes, he once studied buying and supplying — little did they know he’d spend years supplying Tanzania with beauty queens).

He joined Urafiki Textile Factory in 1979, working diligently as a procurement officer until 1997.

Many people don’t know this, but before he was sending girls to represent us at Miss World, he was responsible for making sure the fabric they wore made it to the factory in time.

In the 1980s, before Miss Tanzania came calling, Anko Hashim was busy spinning moves and shaping grooves.

He helped found the Tanzania Disco Music Association (TDMA) and was its first Secretary General — organizing dance battles before TikTok was even a thought.

He teamed up with groups like Ruaha Galaxy and John Ngogo to bring music and competition to the youth.

Fast forward to 1993. A Tanzanian girl, Miriam Ikoa, wins a beauty pageant in Kenya. Yes, Kenya. For Lundenga, it was an eye-opener. How could a Tanzanian girl shine across the border when her own country had no platform for her glow-up?

He shook the dust off the national tiara and went straight to the National Arts Council (BASATA) and the Ministry of Education and Culture.

By 1994, with help from businessman Prashant Patel, owner of White Sands Hotel, and some legal backing from Dr. Rakesh Shah, Miss Tanzania was back — and back with a strut.

His company, Lino International Agency, ran the show from 1994 until his retirement in 2017. And not just ran it — he built it.

From recruiting regional reps to ensuring dresses didn’t malfunction mid-walk, Lundenga did it all.

He once famously said: “Beauty is not a pretty face. It’s grooming, discipline, how you present yourself.”

You could have Angelina Jolie’s cheekbones, but if you couldn’t say good evening with confidence, Uncle would gently tell you, “Bado hujafika.”

Of course, it wasn’t always rosy. The swimsuit segment had activists breathing fire and church elders squinting in disbelief. But Uncle handled it with grace and wit.

“We follow Miss World standards,” he’d explain. “How else can you judge someone’s figure if they’re in jeans or a hijab?”

Was it controversial? Absolutely. Did he back down? Never. He believed in competing globally and knew that if our girls were to win on the world stage, they had to play by the same rules — not just show up with a khanga and a smile.

The legacy of Anko Hashim isn’t just found in crowns, sashes, and applause. It’s found in the careers of women who began as hopeful contestants and are now powerful voices.

His stage gave many women the power to be more than pretty faces. It taught them how to own rooms, run projects and represent Tanzania with elegance.

Since the Miss Tanzania story began its safari in 1967, Theresia Shayo made history as the very first titleholder, more than a beauty queen, but a pioneer who opened the door for Tanzanian women to step confidently into the spotlight.

She later settled in Germany, but her legacy lived on as a symbol of poise, courage and opportunity – although the powers that be banned the pageant on moral grounds…

The pageant then took a long nap before it was brought back to life in 1994 by the passionate hand of Anko Hashim Lundenga, through his Lino International Agency.

This revival ushered in a vibrant new era of queens who would go on to define more than just runway walks.

Aina Maeda, the first crown bearer of this second wave, went on to live abroad with her family. The next, Emily Adolf, followed a similar path.

Shose Sinare proved that a sash could translate into corporate power, as she transitioned from the crown into a successful banking career, as her successor Saida Kessy chose a quieter life, settling with her family in Arusha.

Then came Basilla Mwanukuzi, who broke the mold by stepping into public service as a District Commissioner and eventually taking over the very pageant she once won—now managing Miss Tanzania through her company, The Look.

And in perhaps one of the pageant’s most impressive chapters, Hoyce Temu rose from the national stage to the international one, becoming Tanzania’s Deputy Permanent Representative to the United Nations in Geneva.

That’s what we call beauty with serious diplomacy.

Miss TZ 2000 Jacqueline Ntuyabaliwe, who the music world knew as K-Lynn, made waves with two Bongo Flava albums before switching careers into interior design.

She also married the late media mogul Reginald Mengi, adding entrepreneurial flair to her already impressive story.

Then came Millen Magese, who used her crown to launch a global campaign against Endometriosis, earning the BET Humanitarian Award and solidifying her place as a warrior for women’s health.

Angela Damas joined her in this mission, helping shine light on a condition long ignored.

Faraja Kotta Nyalandu created ripples in the education sector, founding Shule Direct and Ndoto Hub to empower the next generation.

Nancy Sumari soared to continental fame after being crowned Miss World Africa and has since become a celebrated children’s book author and youth mentor.

Wema Sepetu, despite not making waves at Miss World Poland, returned home and flipped the script, becoming a film star and a beloved pop culture icon.

Nasreen Karim took a more philanthropic path, heading the Enjipai Maasai Women Foundation, helping women in the Maasai community through sustainable art and craft ventures.

Of course, not every influential name came with a crown. Some women didn’t win the top prize, but walked away with enough poise and purpose to shape the nation.

Jokate Mwegelo is the perfect example. Though she was only second runner-up at Miss Tanzania where she strode in as Miss Temeke, she skyrocketed into national leadership. She served as District Commissioner in both Temeke and Kisarawe.

And now Jokate holds the powerful role of Secretary General for the ruling party’s youth wing.

Sophia Khalid Byanaku, another example, who made it to the Miss Tanzania Top 10 as Miss Tanga, is today the Director of Doctor’s Plaza Clinic.

She is also a girl influencer, a respected health policy expert, and yes, the proud wife of Prof Mohamed Janabi. Yes, THE JANABI you and I know!

So, the next time someone shrugs and says Miss Tanzania is just about catwalks and glitter, kindly redirect them to this living, evolving history lesson.

Because this isn’t just a pageant—it’s a springboard for greatness.

Unfortunately, his final curtain call came in 2021, when Uncle Hashim suffered a stroke and began receiving long-term care.

On April 19, 2025, the curtain fell on one of Tanzania’s most impactful lives. He passed away at Kitengule Hospital, surrounded by loved ones — and likely a few beauty queens trying to convince him to eat his soup.

Hashim Lundenga turned a forgotten competition into a national ritual. He believed in the potential of young women when society was still debating their place.

He showed us that beauty, when paired with purpose, can open doors to boardrooms, embassies, parliaments — and yes, even Instagram reels with meaning.

Uncle, you may have left the stage, but the lights still shine on the path you paved. From the runways of Dar to the red carpets of the world — Tanzania walks tall because you believed we could.

Rest easy, Anko Hashim.

The show will always go on — but it will never be the same without you.