Refugee children battle for education in Tanzania. Photo: Courtesy
By Adonis Byemelwa
International Migrants Day 2025 arrived quietly for many, yet its presence could be felt almost everywhere. In cities shaped by labour migration, in border towns defined by transit, and in households sustained by remittances, movement was already part of daily life long before the calendar marked 18 December.
Observed each year on this date, International Migrants Day asks the world to pause and look again at migration, not as a distant policy challenge but as a human condition. In 2025, that pause felt heavier, sharpened by conflict, climate pressure, economic uncertainty and widening inequality.
The global theme, “My Great Story: Cultures and Development,” encouraged a shift in tone. It suggested listening before judging, recognising that migration is not a single narrative but millions of overlapping lives, each shaped by necessity, ambition, loss and resilience.
Across the world, movement continues at a scale unmatched in modern history. More than 120 million people are forcibly displaced, including over 43 million refugees, while many more cross borders for work, education or family. These numbers matter, but they only hint at lived realities.
Behind each statistic is a decision taken late at night, a farewell not fully spoken, a journey that rarely unfolds as planned. Migration is seldom abstract to those who experience it; it is intimate, disruptive and deeply personal.
Economically, migrants remain central to global stability. In 2025, remittances to low- and middle-income countries are projected to reach around 685 billion US dollars, supporting school fees, medical care and small businesses. In many regions, they cushion entire economies.
However, numbers alone cannot explain why migration persists. People move because staying becomes impossible or because moving offers dignity, growth or survival. When policies ignore this human logic, systems fracture, routes become deadly, and trust erodes.
International Migrants Day exists precisely because migration has too often been reduced to emergency language. The day insists that long-term thinking, cooperation and investment matter more than reaction and fear.
In Africa, this perspective carries particular weight. Movement across the continent predates modern borders, woven into trade, kinship and culture. Mobility has long been a strategy for resilience, not an exception to stability.
On 18 December 2025, the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights joined the global observance by reaffirming a clear position: migrants are, first and foremost, rights holders. Their presence within a state’s jurisdiction triggers legal obligations, not discretionary charity.
Under the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, states must respect, protect and fulfil the rights of all persons, regardless of migration status. These include life, dignity, liberty, security, equality before the law and access to justice.
Crucially, these protections apply at every stage of movement. From departure to border crossings, transit, residence and return, rights do not pause simply because a person is on the move.
The Commission also challenged a persistent misconception. Migrants are not only people in need of protection; they are contributors. Through labour, skills, creativity and community participation, they shape economies and societies in tangible ways.
This contribution becomes most visible when migrants are allowed to integrate. Where documentation, skills recognition and access to services exist, both migrants and host communities benefit. Where exclusion dominates, vulnerability grows.
One of the Commission’s sharpest concerns remains the rise in deaths and disappearances along migration routes. When legal pathways close, movement does not stop. It becomes more dangerous, more expensive and more lethal.
No route, the Commission stressed, should become a corridor of disappearance. When it does, responsibility lies not with mobility itself, but with failures of protection, cooperation and political will.
The statement also condemned practices that continue despite clear legal standards. Summary refoulement, collective expulsions, excessive force at borders and routine detention for migration reasons undermine dignity and erode trust.
Detention, the Commission reminded states, must be exceptional, necessary, proportionate and time-limited, subject to judicial oversight. It cannot be a default response to movement.
Special attention was given to migrants in vulnerable situations. Women, children, persons with disabilities and older persons face disproportionate risks of trafficking, exploitation and violence. Protection here is not optional; it is a heightened duty.
These continental reflections found a human echo in Tanzania on the same day. While global debates unfolded, a single decision offered a quieter, symbolic illustration of what inclusion can look like in practice.
On 18 December 2025, in Tanzania, Christian Bella, also known as Obama Rasmi, was granted Tanzanian citizenship. Formerly a citizen of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, his legal status finally aligned with a life already deeply rooted in the country.
The decision was confirmed by the Minister of Home Affairs, George Simbachawene, who also granted citizenship to footballer Kibu Denis. The timing was not lost on those who noticed the coincidence.
For many Tanzanians, Bella is not defined by paperwork. Known widely as the King of Vocals, his music has long crossed borders effortlessly, playing at celebrations, on radio stations and in shared moments of joy.
Born in the DRC, Bella began his career at fifteen as the leader of a band called Chateau, owned by Frank, a close associate of the late Papa Wemba. His early years were shaped by collaboration, travel and cultural exchange.
Like many artists, his journey was inseparable from movement. Music carried him across borders, and borders slowly reshaped his sense of home.
Public reaction to the citizenship announcement reflected this reality. For fans and fellow musicians, the decision felt less like an administrative act and more like a formal recognition of belonging already earned through years of contribution.
At the same time, Simbachawene was clear that citizenship carries responsibility. He stated that individuals who engage in unethical conduct may have their citizenship revoked, emphasising that inclusion operates within the rule of law.
In Tanzanian legal practice, revocation is not arbitrary. It follows defined procedures and applies in limited circumstances, reinforcing that citizenship is both a protected status and a civic bond.
Tanzania’s role in migration extends beyond individual cases. For decades, the country has been one of Africa’s major refugee-hosting nations, receiving hundreds of thousands from Burundi, the DRC and other neighbouring states.
This history has shaped national institutions, local communities and public attitudes. Hosting refugees has never been without strain, yet it remains part of Tanzania’s regional identity.
The granting of citizenship on International Migrants Day thus carried layered meaning. It connected policy to personhood, history to present choice.
As the day ended, its message lingered less in formal statements than in quiet recognitions like Bella’s. Migration, when managed with law and dignity, becomes less about control and more about shared futures.
“My Great Story,” the theme suggested, belongs not only to migrants. It belongs to the societies willing to see themselves reflected in those who arrive, stay, contribute and belong.
In 2025, International Migrants Day did not ask the world to solve the migration problem. It asked something quieter, and perhaps more demanding: to listen, to notice humanity in motion, and to accept that every journey leaves a mark on us all.
The father of the Tanzanian nation, Julius Nyerere, understood this instinctively. He spoke of migrants as neighbours, not strangers, and governed with that belief, offering refuge, land and dignity. His legacy reminds us that compassion, when practised consistently, can turn displacement into belonging and movement into shared purpose.