By Adonis Byemelwa
In a rare blend of grace, faith, and civic reflection, Bishop Benson Bagonza of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tanzania (ELCT), Karagwe Diocese, recently made an unannounced visit to Kagera Regional Commissioner Fatma Mwasa—Tanzania’s 26th and first female leader of the region.
What began as a pastoral gesture evolved into a striking commentary on power, character, and the shifting political climate in the country.
“I heard she was unwell,” Bishop Bagonza remarked with calm sincerity. “So, I thought, why not mix a little prayer, a little faith, and a little politics—just enough to lift her spirit?”
Despite her illness, Mwasa received the bishop warmly, offering not just hospitality, but what he described as a moment of genuine connection: laughter, honesty, and—most importantly—listening.
In an increasingly tense political atmosphere where critics of the government often face surveillance or suppression, Bagonza’s words landed with weight.
“I’ve seen a long list of generals, brigadiers, colonels, captains—even lieutenants—lead this region. But Fatma? She carries no scent of authoritarianism. No whiff of corruption,” Bagonza said. “That alone makes her leadership stand out like a flame in the dark.”
The bishop’s reflections veered beyond casual admiration. They revealed a deep concern for the moral architecture of Tanzanian leadership today—a subtle but pointed critique of how power is often wielded.
“True integrity in leadership can be measured by how a person handles power, and how they relate to wealth,” he said. “And in Fatma’s case, she handles both with striking humility.”
That humility was evident, he noted, not just in her actions but in her ability to truly listen, not to respond, but to understand. “Most leaders I’ve met, they hear you just to answer you back. She listens to absorb.
She doesn’t perform leadership. She loves it. Maybe the Qur’an I saw on her desk has something to do with it,” he added, hinting at a quiet spiritual strength anchoring her style.
Bagonza, known for his outspoken defense of justice and his frequent clashes with political authorities, didn't hold back when reflecting on the deeper challenges facing Tanzania.
“Every political party has its angels and its devils,” he said pointedly. “CCM has both. The opposition too—some of its angels have been stolen by CCM, and some devils among them are worse than what you’ll find in the ruling party.”
His words, layered with irony and moral conviction, struck at the heart of Tanzania’s polarized politics. “Our mission should not be to kill the devils,” he said. “It should be to turn devils into angels. Even Wasiojulikana—the unknown agents—if they exist, they are devils, no matter who sends them.”
Still, it was his final reflection that echoed with unsettling relevance. “I fear leaders who choke on the word justice and yet loudly pronounce peace, while their faces and voices reek of conflict,” he warned. “But Fatma speaks of peace with a face that radiates it.”
His unscripted visit, layered with wit and wisdom, was more than just a courtesy call. It was a quiet act of moral witnessing—a testimony of what leadership could be in a region, and a nation, searching for a balance between authority and compassion.
Whether those in power will heed the bishop’s reflections remains to be seen. But one thing is clear: in the small, sunlit office of a regional commissioner, a kind of truth was spoken—and it echoed far beyond the walls.