BY MOHAMED MATOPE
This year, 2020, has been a tough year for many people all around the world. The coronavirus pandemic has fundamentally transformed our sense of humanity and possibly forever changed our way of life. For now, we can’t hug, we can’t shake hands or even visit our loved ones at time when they need us the most, when they are sick in the hospital. Here in Washington DC and its metropolitan area (DMV), this year has been disproportionally somber and will probably go down as the darkest and saddest year in the history of the region and our communities. We are saddened by the passing of our dear fellow and colleague, Mr. Emanuel Bandawe, a.k.a Mr. Mwamba.
From the time I heard of Mwamba’s passing on Saturday afternoon, I was so heartbroken that I just felt compelled to go back to my photo albums to look at all the pictures I have of him. I could not believe what had just happened. So many specific memories came to my mind instantly. This was a man of personality and remarkable characteristics. He had undying and unquestionable love for his family. He loved music, great food, and had a passion for enjoying life. In most ways, this man was exceptional. His acceptance of everyone and refusal to judge or dismiss anyone unnecessarily was impeccable. As a people person, he enjoyed being with people, making people laugh, analyzing sports, and telling funny stories. I cannot stop hearing the sound of his laugh. The bottom line is, Mwamba’s life was never short on excitement
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Mr. Emmanuel Bandawe was one of the very first people I met when I first came to the United States. In the winter of 1997, on February 7, to be specific, I met Mwamba at the Dulles International Airport on my arrival to this great land of opportunity. I remember our very first encounter as if it was yesterday. I greeted Mwamba with shikamoo, and he replied Marahaba. That day, Mr. Bandawe, together with other friends, picked me up from the airport in Virginia and dropped me off in Silver Spring, Maryland.
The following week Mwamba came to our apartment in Bladensburg, where I was staying with Terry Shomari and Daniel Nyambibo. Our apartment was roughly about 8 Kilometers from his place in Hyattsville. He offered to take me to the social security offices in Wheaton, Maryland. On that day, I also greeted him with Shikamoo, and again he responded with Marahaba. From that day on, Mr. Bandawe was a frequent visitor to our apartment and always took me out for a car ride to light up my eyes, showing me different places in Maryland, Virginia, and Washington DC. The first time I explored the region, was with Mwamba. That experience alone was humbling.
Needless to say, every time we met, I always greeted him with Shikamoo. But after the third week of hanging out with him, I involuntarily stopped greeting him with Shikamoo. He never told me to stop; neither did he disapprove it, but Shikamoo just looked old, and suddenly it just didn’t fit in our relationship. Showing respect to him did not require Shikamoo anymore. He made me feel comfortable around him. He became a friend, someone I strongly trusted and could easily confide in. That was Mr. Bandawe. He could magically make you feel comfortable and belonging.
Besides making people feel easy and comfortable around him, he also made people laugh. Mwamba was charming, and his presence everywhere he went was felt like an earthquake. I remember back in those days; we would walk into a place with Mwamba, whether it is in a party, repass, funeral, or any other gathering, and the moment Mwamba walked into the crowd – the mood, the ambiance – everything changed. He would light up the room with his smile and jokes.
You know, there is one thing I will never forget about Mwamba. Back in the days when he was taking me around the city, we frequently made several stops in different houses and apartments. Sometimes he would say: “oh, we need to pull over here to see brother So-So,” sometimes it was just something as simple as “oh, I see So-So’s car in the parking lot, he must be in his apartment. Let’s go say, Hi”. Just like that, in many instances, we would end up spending plenty of time visiting deferent folks. It was because of him that I got to meet most of the folks I have come to know in the DMV Tanzanian community. Through him, I have made plenty of relationships and friendships. He was superb social connector.
In the summer of 1997, I met one of my terrific friends through Mwamba’s connections. On that day, Mwamba took me to Hyattsville Chillum Road apartment complex to visit his friend; something was going on that day. Several Tanzanian guys in that apartment ware having fun. And Mwamba and I walked in, he introduced me to every person, went to the kitchen and made some delicious baked fish and rice – more of the food a bit later on in this story – and continued with his introductions, and that is how I came to know Mr. Erick Mahai. He has remained a good friend till today. When I tell you, Mwamba was a GIANT – you would not even begin to understand the deep meaning behind that statement. He stood TALL for everyone, and he would come through for you, even when you thought no one could do.
I mentioned about his love and passion for cooking, and how he enjoyed eating good food. Oh yes, Mwamba was a food lover. This is probably prevalent to everyone who knew Mwamba well. I remember back when we were in our bachelor apartment; he used to pop up in the middle of the day, take me out to the grocery store, collect some ingredients/items and come back home straight to the kitchen. He would enter the kitchen, and when he was done, the food was simply amazing. Talk about good African food: coconut rice and beans, chicken stew, baked fish, fried chicken gizzards, and so forth. It was always a variety of dishes and never a dull moment. It got to the point where one day, my roommate complained that we cooked too much food and that we should think about saving money. To which, Bandawe answered: “we only live once!” and yes, of course, he did finish up his remarks with a lousy joke. Oh boy, that fella could cook!
One day he spontaneously came to the apartment and said, “Mwanangu, I need to take you out shopping. You need to start dressing like you are in America now. We need to replace your entire wardrobe”. I thought he was joking, but I was wrong. That’s the day I found out, not only did he love cooking and good food, but the guy was also into fashion. Every day he would come up with a new style of fashion. Even though I have never been into his room, I assumed that his closet was full of designer clothing. Bandawe took fashion cues from everywhere, the likes of Kanda Bongoman and Tyson Beckford. I am telling you, if this guy were Congolese, he would have been a “Sapeur.” His style was nothing short of elegant!
I remember this one time when I went to pick him up from his house to honor an invitation for an occasion held at the ambassador’s residence in Potomac. This guy came out looking crisp and sharp like a knife. He had on a dark blue suit with a matching dark brown tie with a pocket square fold. I will never forget that day. With the suite, he wore a plain white shirt with an overly shiny black moccasin shoes matching his belt. I felt so bad for myself. He made me look like his gatekeeper. We got to the ambassador’s place, and the moment we entered the house, the whole place suddenly got some extra light in it. He certainly drew everybody’s attention with his swagger. Mwamba was so good in making explosive entrances.
Sadly, to say, now that looking back into my friendship with Bandawe, I feel so hurt and guilty at the same time. I last spoke with him over six months ago. In that conversation, he gave me his updated cell phone number and invited me to visit him in Delaware. I promised him that I would and got carried away with life and never managed to follow through on my promise. It is not an excuse that life got in the way, and it breaks my heart that I didn’t make time to visit him. I haven’t seen him in person for over three years, and this by itself kills my conscious. I wish I had made the extra effort to go and visit him. This is probably the biggest lesson to many of us around here in the DMV. We tend to forget – Life is short, and sometimes death is sudden. We should meet more frequently and spend more time with not only our families but also great friends like Mwamba.
Significantly, you just couldn’t underestimate his love for his motherland country. Although Mwamba had lived in America for over 25 years, he always considered Tanzania his home. He never left behind his Tanzanian roots and culture. He was big fan of Yanga and, what photographic memory he had when it comes to the description of old Tanzanian football matches. He loved to talk about Tanzania politics and general welfare.
Mwamba passed away on Saturday, May 16, 2020, at Delaware Memorial Hospital, he succumbs to short illness. Mwamba’s legacy will live on through his wife, two biological children, and one adopted child. Emmanuel Billy Bandawe, my dear eternal friend, we will miss you beyond eternity. Go with the angels and Rest in Peace, Mwamba!
The End.
May 19, 2020