Nazir Virji
- USDSM BA degree in literature and education in 1971
- Teacher
- Parents
A few brave souls defy misguided hysteria even in times of major societal stress. They swim against the tide and remain faithful to their ideals. In order to work towards a more hopeful future, and in its own right, we have to acknowledged such people, and hold up their fine example.
I have in mind my UDSM roommate, Nazir Virji who completed his BA degree in literature and education in 1971. Like any other Tanzanian graduate, he had signed a five-year work contract with the government. This included a two-year national service engagement. Nazir was assigned to teach English Literature at the Dodoma Secondary School, a few miles from his home town. He was lucky and glad because Dodoma is where he had grown up and that school was exactly where he had wanted to plant his feet.
When Farida and I visited him in September 1973, we found him in merry spirits. He had a spacious two-bedroom house adjacent to the school that had a large backyard. Rent, water and electricity came to ten percent of his salary of about TSh 1,200 per month. Though the pay was the equivalent of about US$120, it sufficed for a decent life. He told me that he managed to save nearly a fourth of his earnings. His living room was scattered with books by Dickens, Brecht, Hardy, Ayi Kwei Amrah, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Ousmane Sembene and others. This fellow truly enjoyed rending and teaching that kind of stuff. Apart from harsh complaints about the ministerial bureaucracy in delivery of school supplies, he was the same jolly guy I had known earlier. With his broad-minded patriotic outfit and cooperative spirit, he got along well with his fellow teachers. His kind and gentle demeanour, and hardworking ethos made him a popular and respected teacher.
But Farida and I were worried. He had been afflicted with insulin dependent diabetes since childhood. We felt he was not careful about his own health and personal affairs and needed a person to reside with him to oversee hi$ nutritional and health needs, and keep his place in order. We found the kitchen in disarray, bedrooms dusty, and piles of stuff strewn around, and spent our first two days returning a semblance of order to his house. His relatives in Dodoma town had urged him to keep a house worker, and had a found a suitable person for the job. But Nazir was a stubborn fellow. He relished his independence from restrictive cultural norms and family practices. Further, he insisted on doing everything at his home by himself. Our imploring was to no avail. You worry needlessly, he told us.
But we should have been more worried. Just six months after we saw him, Nazir was found frozen stiff one grim morning by a fellow teacher who had come to find out why he had not shown up for class. At night, he had sunk into a diabetic coma. All he needed was a sugary drink, but was not able to access it on time. Had another person been around, the episode would have been a minor footnote in his life. Instead, it marked his ultimate day on planet earth.
Nazir had options, other choices. His sister who was settled in England wanted to facilitate his entry into that country. Like many of his Ismaili peers, he could have gone to Canada. But he would not contemplate such choices. As a young man he had taken to heart the edict of Prince Karim Aga Khan to become a teacher; he was inspired by his Imam to live for his country; he broadly supported Mwalimu Nyerere’s socialist policies and was a patriot to the core. Moreover he loved his students. Having discovered his calling, there was nothing more he enjoyed than to ramble on about the style, prose and essence of an Ngugl or Achebe masterpiece with his students.
In the wake of the post-1971 social hysteria among Ismailis, he did not suddenly shred his contract and leave his students in a lurch. Despite daunting personal problems, he remained a loyal teacher and citizen, and above all, a decent, noble human being. He lived and died for his nation.
It is ironic that Nazir, who was then not that devout a person, was effectively more faithful to the edict of Aga Khan IV to make Tanzania his home than my spiritually inclined Ismaili friends. It was from examples like his, the few that they were, that I drew hope that a new dawn was afoot.- ↑ Hirji, Karim. Growing Up With Tanzania. Memories, Musings and Maths. Mkuki Na Nyota Publishers (July 17, 2014)ISBN-13 : 978-9987082230. https://www.amazon.com/Growing-Tanzania-Memories-Musings-Maths/dp/9987082238
